The Theme of Identity within WIW

Identity plays an important role in ‘The Woman in White” both subliminally and in terms of pushing the plot forward. The eerie similarity between Anne and Laura and the mystery of Sir Percival Glyde’s true background all serve as plot elements that add mystery and suspense to this novel; however, themes of identity are also present in a more subtle way throughout “The Woman in White.” Aspects of one’s identity such as gender, sexuality, race, and class and the way in which these interact with one another to form one’s position in society are highlighted throughout this novel. This is exemplified in the paragraph where Walter speaks about Laura’s supposed death.

“In the eye of reason and of law, in the estimation of relatives and friends, according to every received formality of civilized society, ‘Laura, Lady Glyde’ lay buried with her mother in Limmeridge churchyard. Torn in her own lifetime from the list of the living, the daughter of Philip Fairlie and the wife of Percival Glyde might still  exist for her sister, might still exist for me, but to all the world besides she was dead. Dead to her uncle who had renounced her; dead to the servants of the house, who had failed to recognise her; dead to the persons in authority who has transmitted her fortune to her husband and her aunt; dead to my mother and my sister, who believed me to be the dupe of an adventuress and the victim of a fraud; socially, morally, legally- dead.” (p.413).

There is much to unpack from the quote written above. What first caught my eye was the way in which Laura’s identities related to her class and gender are explicated by the language above. Walter’s decision to used the word “civilized” society was the one indication for me that class is clearly an essential part of his view of Laura. That and the mention of her servants exhibits the way in which Laura’s class was a means upon which Walter worshipped her and saw her as a worthy object of his gaze. She is describes as beautiful, pale, graceful, and a member of the upperclass, making her the stereotypical ‘perfect’ woman of the victorian era.

Another form of identity that manifests itself in this quote  is that of gender. I found it interesting that when talking of Laura, she is described as the “daughter” and “wife” to the two powerful men in her life. This was interesting for me in that she is described as a daughter and wife to men rather than a woman in and of herself. Instead, she is described in relation to the powerful and privileged men of her life that she technically belonged to.  This paragraph again exemplifies intersectional identities through Walter’s explication of Laura sudden disappearance from the land of the living.

Another part of this quote I found interesting was Laura’s seemingly lack of a distinct identity and Walter’s seemingly confusion as to how a person can suddenly be gone. It seems to me that this novel is concerned with the way in which identity is not distinct or intrinsic. In fact, it is very easy for one to lie about their identity or lose it suddenly. Walter seems to be grappling with this throughout the novel as he is constantly confused by the identities of those around him. I plan on doing more research about identity within the Victorian Period but there seems to be a lot of anxiety surrounding this topic.

Housework and the Independent Woman

Marian has always been a strong character. To watch her break down over housework, I could not help but think that there was something more to the scene. The type of sadness I felt reading the passage made me feel like what Marian was experiencing was more similar to a death then preforming housework. In many ways I think was more like death.

To start Marian has always lived a life of prestige. She has never had to do housework. By her taking on this role it is showing her fall in status and the hardships to come. Marian’s lost goes beyond her status though it reaches the very core of her character. Marian has always been a very independent woman and now she must completely rely on Walter.  Marian has always had a lot of pride in the fact that she is not obedient and placid like the other woman in her life and now she is being forced into a role that is stereotyped specifically for woman. I think in taking on the housework Marian is giving up a lot more than just some free time.

I also think by performing housework Marian is solidifying her role as “mother” in the trio’s foe family, which is not a role that Marian has ever indicated wanting for herself. Marian has always proven to be a very mature person, but it has always been in ways that are “for men”. For example, her taking care of Laura’s legal affairs in terms of her marriage as best as she could. Now Marian most be mature in a maternal way. She has to tend to the house, take care of the child (Laura), and anxiously wait for her husband (Walter) to return home.

I was reassured however when Marian says “it’s my weakness that cries, not me. The housework shall conquer it, if I can’t” (Collins 433). This line is a reminder that Marian still has a fire in her. She is determined to make the most of her poor situation. While Marian may have lost her independence she has not lost her strength which has always been her defining quality.

Fun Times with Impenetrable Gloom

“Through what mortal crime and horror, through what darkest windings of the way down to Death, the lost creature had wandered in God’s leading to the last home that, living, she never hoped to reach! In that sacred rest, I leave her–in that dread companionship, let her remain undisturbed.

 

So the ghostly figure which has haunted these pages as it haunted my life, goes down into the impenetrable Gloom. Like a Shadow she first came to me, in the loneliness of the night. Like a Shadow she passes away, in the loneliness of the dead.”

That cheery excerpt concludes the second chapter-like section of the Third Epoch. (Worth noting because it amuses me: It’s located on page 555, which is hilariously similar to 666.) While I’m not sure how this quote will show up in WordPress, which has a well-observed habit of screwing with everything I do, the second paragraph is set apart from the rest of the story by a solid line. Talk about blank spaces telling the whole story–this blank space leaves the end of chapter-section two looking like an epitaph! And of course, whenever anything is overly-asserted (especially an ending, since good old Wilkie has already faked us out more than once), one must be suspicious.

So then, what’s really going on here?

Well, Anne Catherick is dead, at least physicaly, but it’s worth remembering that she isn’t legally dead, which makes the grave paragraph above somewhat ironic. I have to wonder if Wilkie Collins isn’t setting us up for one of three things to happen. Firstly, our dearest Laura could really be Anne Catherick after all. To be honest, I don’t believe this, but it’s worth considering just because of how much that passage has hammered home the memory of her death. Secondly, it’s possible that Laura will never be able to get her own name back, but that she will be able to reclaim her fortune somehow just by proving Anne’s parentage. Which would be ironic again, because then poor Anne would remain both dead and alive. I’m not too fond of this theory either, because it seems wildly implausible, but it would be an interesting twist.

What’s most likely going on here, though, is that Collins is hinting that Anne will finally be put to rest. Because, as I have mentioned, while she is technically dead, she’s legally living, and that leaves her in an odd state of limbo. That second paragraph, on the other hand, really asserts her deadness, which could mean that her state of alive-and-deadness is coming to an end. I mean, if that little epitaph is to be trusted, then Anne isn’t just dead, she has disappeared “down into the impenetrable Gloom.” Which has got to be code for super-dead or something because it is so gosh-darn deathy. (It’s possible that this is a reference to Greek mythology, where Hades rules the underworld. If Anne was a ghost all along, then her leaving for his domain, as the phrase “down into the impenetrable Gloom” certainly suggests, indicates that her spirit has finally departed this world. Which in turn indicates that she is basically double-dead.)

So if Anne is so dead she’s double-dead, what does this have to say about the rest of the story? To summarize my argument: it might be the author’s way of telling the reader that Laura’s return to her old identity is coming, it might be an ironic indication that poor Anne was never dead at all, or it might suggest that Anne will live on legally for a while yet. We shall see.

These Truths Are Not Self-Evident: Victorian Denial and Internal Bargaining

For this blog post, I will be analyzing Walter Hartright’s statement about Victorian preference for truth and examining what it means in the greater context of the novel. He says, “When an English jury has to choose between a plain fact on the surface and a long explanation under the surface, it always takes the fact…” (442). This is striking for two reasons. The first is that this quote speaks to the characters’ continual refusal to state the truth, while vehemently claiming untruths as the reality. Second, when put into a Victorian Historical context, I think this statement speaks to the lack of support in the English legal system for women, especially married ones. The law rules almost every case in favor of the richest, most male option because it makes sense or seems true to the jury and Victorian society as a whole.

The Woman in White has a set of characters that reflect this quote from Hartright. They deny reality with their words and actions, which is simpler for them despite the complications of lying. This is because Victorian culture has created a set of acceptable realities that its inhabitants mold their narratives to fit. Mr. Fairlie claims to be “one of the most easy-tempered creatures that ever lived,” after refusing to actively help Laura and expressing irritation at Marion’s severe illness. His lack of self-awareness allows him to live with himself despite his complete lack of humanity. Percival’s entire premise as a baronet is based in lie, but this is not revealed until the third epoch, and even then is not explicitly stated. Laura marries Sir Glyde despite being in love with Walter, and I think this is largely because breaking off and working through her feelings seems too complicated. In addition, she does it to preserve her and her family’s reputation as Victorian ideals dictate.

Characters in this novel refuse to acknowledge obvious truths and avoid honesty, which, as we discussed Wednesday, leads to much of the mystery and danger in the plot. Walter’s statement about a jury’s desire to leap to an obvious conclusion also applies to the other characters in the novel. Mr. Fairlie, for example, wants everything to be explained to him as simply as possible. He wants this expedient delivery not so as to understand the situation better, but so as to avoid facing anything that makes him uncomfortable. Laura expresses little desire to find out the details of her inheritance agreement, despite its effect on her life. Marion, Laura, and other characters choose to ignore the suspicions they have about Fosco and Glyde because admitting something nefarious about these men society defines as superior would challenge every tenet of their cultural ideology.

In this quote, Hartright expresses his belief that people want the simple truth, but this is proved false, or at least incomplete. Instead of the truth, characters want to avoid any realities that are difficult to accept or that challenge their concept of morality and social norms. They will accept any explanation, no matter how implausible or complicated, provided it preserves their understanding of the world. the “simple” part of these explanations is that they exclude all contradictory evidence in order to maintain believability. A good way to achieve this is by avoiding all mention of sex, emotion, or other related topics. If these are not discussed, they cannot interfere with one’s worldview, but as we read in Cohen, they still exist. I think that, based on the actions of characters in this novel, Victorians avoided so many topics in order to maintain a kind of internal plausible deniability.

Laura is Basically Walter’s Dog

Laura’s time in the Asylum affected her quite a bit physically and emotionally. The “sorrow and suffering… set their profaning marks on the youth and beauty of her face” (Collins 434), making post-Asylum Laura look almost identical to Anne. Laura also becomes increasingly childish, a trait we previously associated with Anne.

The relationship between Walter and Laura has altered drastically since Laura’s release from the Asylum. As Laura changes to become more like Anne, Walter loses romantic interest in her. Previously in the novel when Walter talked about drawing with Laura, he talked about how he could barely keep his hands and eyes off of her. Now when he talks about drawing with her he simply says he “sat by her side” (Collins 435). Walter never had an inkling of a romantic feeling for Anne, and now that Laura looks and acts more like Anne, Walter isn’t having as strong romantic feelings or any romantic feelings at all for Laura.

This makes me wonder exactly what attracted Walter to Laura in the first place. Clearly her appearance was a significant part of why Walter loved her. Earlier in the novel when Walter gushes about being in love with Laura, all he talks about is her appearance. He sees her as an object. Walter also might be losing romantic interest in Laura because she is someone who he now needs to take care of. Instead of just being able to watch her be pretty, he needs to worry about keeping her occupied and in a good mood.

The way Laura and Walter behave around each other post-Asylum reminds me of a way a dog interacts with it’s owner. Just as if Laura was his dog, Walter takes “Laura out for her walk as usual” (Collins 437). Whenever Walter leaves her, Laura gets anxious, claiming “Don’t be gone long! I can’t get on with my drawing, Walter, when you are not here to help me” (Collins 438). Laura’s anxiety about being separated from Walter reminds me of the way a dog behaves whenever it’s owner leaves. After her release from the Asylum, Laura also acts similarly to Mrs. Vesey, sitting around all day and being a very uninteresting character.

Mine: The Language of Possession and Female Objectification

“The most wretched of her sex, if she must give herself in marriage when she cannot give her love” (171) L

“She will be his Laura instead of mine! His Laura!” (185) M

“I [have] just come back from a stolen look at Laura in her pretty little white bed . . . My own love!” (194) M

“My poor, faded flower! my lost, afflicted sister!” (478) W

“In the right of her calamity, in the right of her friendlessness, she was mine at last! Mine to support, to protect, to cherish, to restore. Mine to love and honor as father and brother both. Mine to vindicate through all risks and all sacrifices” (414) W

“If I am to fight our cause with the Count, strong in the consciousness of Laura’s safety, I must fight it for my Wife.” (559) W

In simplistic terms, Laura Fairlie is the object of desire that The Woman in White works toward possessing.

Laura is loved and desired by Walter Hartright; she is sought and desired by Sir Percival Glyde; she is kissed and loved by Marian; she is stolen from Blackwater; she is cared for and coveted by both Walter and Marian in their tangled ménage á trois. In all these cases, syntactically as well as contextually, Laura is the object of desire: she is passive, the desired rather than the desirer. Similarly, she is spoken about as the possessed object – but not by Percival Glyde or Count Fosco, the ostensible villains of her life: by Walter and Marian, her husband and sister.

In the six excerpts above, Laura gets ten possessive pronouns (or, in keeping with the Laura’s syntax and context, ten are given to her). Laura is “my” love, “mine,” or “his.” She is not her own Laura; she is discussed as an object passed around from hand to hand. Marian discusses her marriage to Glyde in almost economic terms, as if Laura’s marriage is a transaction involving a change of possession. Laura herself, describing marriage, uses the phrase “give herself,” reinforcing the possessional aspects of marriage as a contract and a relationship.

Perhaps the worst instance of Laura as an object of possession is Walter’s in-narrative monologue. He refers to Laura as “mine” four times; the paragraph’s anaphora enforces the possessional language, enhancing the concept of Laura as an object of possession which Walter as “at last” gotten into his own hands.

The description of a spouse as “my wife” doesn’t seem especially ominous until connected with the numerous other instances of possessive language. Walter insists to Marian that he wants to marry Laura because it will enhance his position as Laura’s guardian angel, savior, chevalier, knight in armor, etc. – not because he loves her or is attracted to her, but because his possession of her legally will make it easier for him to “save” her (return her to her legal identity, stolen by SPG and CF through AC’s resemblance). We know this through Walter’s umpteenth use of “my” to describe Laura.

Furthermore, Laura is never given her own narrative; not once, except in her (relatively rare) dialogue, does Laura speak in her own voice. The utter exclusion of Laura as a major figure of the action reinforces her presentation as an object; she is handled, desired, passed around, and exchanged, but she does nothing, acts as nothing, performs nothing. The possessional language consistently applied to her reduces her to a possessed object, and the refusal to let her speak as herself reduces her to a thing.

Laura is reduced and possessed throughout The Woman in White. Whether or not Collins is a feminist, whether or not TWIW is meant to argue for better women’s rights, whether or not Marian is supposed to be an example of a “freed” woman – Laura is an object, through the novel’s syntax as well as its contexts. Her objectification and possession are the root of the novel’s dilemma, and her submission to these concepts is the product of them.

Not as STRAIGHTforward as it Seems…

A grand assumption that many readers of Victorian literature seem to make is that every character in the novel is straight. While this assumption is not so far-fetched, given that sex of any kind was considered taboo to speak about, this does not mean that it is always true. Victorian novels are often written in a kind of coded language that allows for the author to talk about sex and sex scandal in a way that would not offend the public. This is the case in Wilkie Collins’ sensation novel The Woman in White, for example when Marian describes how Count Fosco controls his wife using a “rod of iron” that “never appears in company – it is a private rod, and is always kept up-stairs” (Collins 222). This, rather phallic, description of Count Fosco’s control over his wife implies that he is a dominant sexual being.

Many other character’s sexuality is also indirectly talked about throughout the novel, such as the implied homosexuality of Mr. Fairlie. When speaking to Laura’s handmaid Fanny(a name that can sometimes be used to refer to a vagina or a butt), he notes that her name is “a remarkably vulgar one” and becomes incredibly upset at the mentioning of her bosom (Collins 339). The more Mr. Fairlie is forced to think about the female body, the more upset he becomes perhaps because he knows that he does not react in the way that he feels that he should: he feels repulsion where he should (according to heterosexual Victorian societal norms) attraction. Mr. Fairlie is not married and is not a desirable bachelor by any means, and other character in the novel recognize this as well. When Count Fosco asks Sir Percival if Mr. Fairlie is married, he replies by saying “Of course not”, implying that he too is aware of Fairlie’s homosexuality (Collins 326).

Despite restrictive societal norms preventing Victorian literature from openly discussing sexuality, this does not mean it was something that was not acknowledged. Authors, such as Wilkie Collins, were able to use this coded language to explore sexuality that varied from heterosexuality, which was what considered to be normal/acceptable during the time. While an open discussion of sex or sexuality would be much too profane for a Victorian audience, it does not mean that it was not present: just because it was not openly discussed does not mean it was not present.

Count Fosco, Femme Fatale

Like many character in the novel, I find myself attracted to and interested in Count Fosco in spite of myself. As the primary villain and an obvious creep, ordinarily I would turn my attention to other characters like Laura, Walter, or Marian. That being said, I keep returning to Count Fosco.  I simply cannot help myself. Therein lies his power. His character is a true enigma: obviously wicked, but deliciously exciting and charismatic. Perhaps his most fascinating trait is his ability to use sexuality and sex as a means to achieve his desires. He uses the others’ attraction to him for his own ends, and is thus able to control and manipulate all of the other players in the narrative. His wife, for example, literally eats out of the palm of his hand (p. 222) and is complicit in his crimes.  Sex becomes the force through which Fosco creates chaos.  Marian also becomes a victim of count Fosco. She knows that he is dangerous, but still finds herself drawn to his charm and seduced by his charisma. Count Fosco operates as a femme fatale within the novel. He uses sexuality as a means of manipulation. He is an exception to most forms of literature, however, because he is male while most characters who weaponize sex are women. The traditional femme fatale is almost always young, gorgeous, dark, and sultry. Count Fosco, on the other hand, is rotund and old. His allure (and perhaps some of the distrust) can be traced back to the xenophobia surrounding his foreignness (he is an Italian). Like many femme fatales, he appears dark and mysterious, almost exotic in stark contrast to the more delicate female characters who populate the pages of the novel.

The scene where his femme fatale nature becomes most explicit is the moment where he writes in Marian’s journal after she has fallen ill. Like the femme fatale who triumphs after her prey has fallen asleep after sex, here too Marian is at her most vulnerable when she has been weakened (possibly poisoned) by Count Fosco.

“I breathe my wishes for her recovery.  I condole her on the inevitable failure of every plan she has formed for her sister’s benefit.” (p. 336)

Here Fosco makes his wicked nature explicitly known, along with his mocking respect for his mark, Marian.  Marian, like many a character before her, knows that Fosco (the femme fatale) is no good, yet takes the bait anyway.  Fosco even seems to lament this in the postscipt he adds to her diary.  On one hand, he claims wish for her “recovery”, yet as a possible cause (what really made her sick?) of her sickness, this passage reeks of irony.  Even if his wish was sincere, the next statement, offering condolences on her failed plans, makes it clear that Fosco is glad to have bested her.  Like many a great villian, Fosco cannot help but to gloat in his victory.

 

The Victorian Fight for Female Rights

At first glance, Laura Fairlie/Lady Glyde and the victim in the case of “The Abominable Bride” from the BBC Sherlock Christmas special set in Victorian England (Emelia Ricoletti) live out two very different situations.

Emila Ricoletti (source)

Laura has survived, with Anne Catherick dying in her place; Emelia pretends to die in an attempt to (literally) get away with murder.

Sherlock deducing how Emelia faked her suicide (source)
Emelia about to murder her husband (source)

Anne and Laura are the victims of a plot; Emelia is the culprit of a plot. Emelia has one of her friends shoot her in the head after the murder so as to complete her alibi and for her corpse to be positively identified; Anne dies of heart failure and Laura continues to live. Both Anne and Laura have been in asylums; Emelia has never stepped foot in one – although her actions might qualify her for entrance.

All three women are clothed in white – Laura and Anne simply general white clothes, Emelia specifically in a wedding gown (hence the Abominable Bride moniker). All three women are wronged by a man: Laura and Emelia both faced abuse at the hands of their husband, while Anne is hunted down and shut away in an asylum by Glyde. Anne and Emelia were both sick, Anne with a condition of the heart and Emelia with consumption.

One of Emelia’s friends educating Holmes during his deduction (source)

In the end, however, the most important correlation between the two stories is their focus on the rights of women. Emelia’s death opens the gate for other women to avenge their suffering at the hands of men, disguising themselves as her ghost to murder the men doing them wrong. Reading Marian’s perspective emphasizes the lack of rights held by women, and Hartwright’s quest is to reveal the wrongdoings of Glyde and the Count to save Laura and give her closure (His stated goal is to “vindicate [Laura] through all risks and all sacrifices” (Collins, 414)). He will not stand for their abuse of Laura, made possible by their patriarchal power over her and Marian. While it may not seem so at first, I believe that The Woman in White is indeed a feminist novel, arguing for increasing the rights of women, so as to prevent more terrible circumstances, like the ones Laura and Marian are forced to go through. I agree with wardka’s conclusions from their last post, that Wilke Collins is advocating for women’s rights.

(As a small aside, one interesting similarity between “The Abominable Bride” and The Woman in White are the mustachioed ladies: Marian is described as having a mustache, and Molly Hooper appears in male disguise during the special:

“Mr.” Hooper (source))