Welcome, Everyone! A very Happy New Year to ALL!
Wilkie Collins' The Woman in White has generated much enthusiasm around these halls - much like when it appeared in Charles Dickens' journal in serial form back in 1860. We plan to start this discussion today, January 2. 2007 - nearly 150 years after Wilkie Collin's wrote what is considered to be the first sensational novel.

Today let's talk about first impressions. How long did it take you to get into the story? What do you think of Wilkie Collins' ability to draw the reader into his tale? When would you say the story is set?

Oh, and will you share how much of the story you have read? If you've finished and know the outcome, please try to be aware that most of us have not. You don't want to be a spoiler, do you? What a way to start the new year!

I am thoroughly enjoying this book! I have read just as far as the assigned reading. Having to stop just as we were about to get into Marian’s diary was a test of willpower! I find the writing style to be very easy to read and follow. The story pulled me in right away, with the first encounter with the woman in white. This is in sharp contrast to many classics which take 50 to 100 pages to get going.

This excerpt from the preface of1860 surprised me:

“An experiment is attempted in this novel, which has not (so far as I know) been hitherto tried in fiction. The story of the book is told throughout by the characters of the book. They are all placed in different positions along the chain of events; and they all take the chain up in turn, and carry it on to the end.”

This story telling method is used fairly often now, at least in the types of books I read. I always enjoy hearing the story from different points of view. I think we, as readers, get a more well-rounded view of events that way.

I think the story is set in the early to mid 1800’s. I reached this conclusion in two ways.

First, a footnote in my edition mentions that Regent’s Park, which Walter Hartright walked on the western side of on his initial walk back to London, when he encountered the woman in white, was not open to the public until 1845. It seems to me that Walter would have walked through the park, if he could, since he wanted “to stroll home in the purer air.”

Second, when Walter rescued Pesca from the sea, Pesca “ascended the steps of the machine” with Walter’s assistance. I didn’t know what a bathing machine was, so I looked it up and found this article in Wikipedia:

Bathing Machine

The time period of bathing machine use also fell within my guess of early to mid 1800’s.

GOOD MORNING. Your first question is answered promptly, JOAN. LAURA found it in the preface, and 'Walter Hartwright' also explains it in his opening remarks. The story is to be told as it would be by witnesses in a court of law, in order "to present the truth always in its most direct and most intelligible aspect"

That should present a challenge for Mr. Collins, as he must take on the style and personality of different 'witnesses' in telling this story.

I have read the book before, but my present re-reading is only half through the current assignment. I naturally did not remember many of the interesting small details, so I am enjoying the book just as much as though I hadn't read it before. Perhaps more, as I probably catch more of the undertones and inferences.

Babi

Good morning and Happy New Year! What a great book!

I admit I've read ahead of the assignment ... couldn't stop!

But as I've done in several other book groups on SeniorNet,
I'm very aware to avoid any spoilers, and will be really careful!

I agree that mid-19th century is a good approximation of the time.
In Middlemarch, wasn't there a date for expansion of railroad travel in the U.K.? Does that help us here?

I didn't like Wilkie Collins' storytelling technique and as we go through the novel I hope to give examples of why I didn't like it.

In "How to write Mysteries" by Shannon Ocork, rules of how to write a mystery are given:

1. All clues discovered by the detective must be made available to the reader. (That is where Fair Play comes in.)

2. The murderer must be introduced early. (This doesn't mean he must make a personal appearance, but the reader must know of his existence. Quite obviously, one should not introduce a new character on page 214 and reveal him as the villain on page 215.)

3. The crime must be significant. The reader's attention isn't going to be held by "who threw the overalls in Mrs. Murphy's chowder?" It is for significance that the crime is usually murder, though kidnapping, blackmail, theft, and the like will also do.

4. There must be detection. The solution mustn't be stumbled on, it must be sought and found.

5. The number of suspects must be known, and the murder must be among them.

6. Nothing extraneous may be introduced. This is the "toughie" but it shouldn't be that hard a rule to follow if you remember the kind of story you're writing.

Although I didn't care for Collins's storytelling technique, I did enjoy the story and it wasn't very hard to get into the novel from the start. I think I finished it in just a few days.

I have read this book several times before, and remember the plot pretty well, although not all the details; I'll be careful to avoid "spoilers". I hate it when someone spoils a plot. I reread the first 9 chapters last night. It goes like the wind--just sort of sucks you in.

The complete absence of details enabling one to date the story is a little surprising. There is no mention of historical events, politics, or even details of dress style to help. Much later in the book, something is said that makes it clear that the story opens in 1849. I think the exact date is unimportant--we are just supposed to be reading a narrative that took place in the recent past (recent to 1860).

When I go for my usual swim at the YMCA tomorrow, I will be particularly grateful that I am not clambering down the steps of a mobile shed, clad in a tent, to be thrown in the water by a burly woman and fished out again.

A friend of mine in college was taught to swim by her grandmother, including a peculiar little kick of the foot at the end of each stroke which was designed to keep your bathing dress from wrapping itself around your ankles.

I'm glad I live now.

I thought that Walter's reluctance to take the teaching job, which he himself described as "inexplicable" and "unreasonable", might have been a premonition (and foreshadowing) of the unhappiness he was to experience as a result of meeting and falling in love with Laura. Also, his feelings of unease about taking the job are shortly followed by the eerie meeting with the woman in white, all of which helps set the mysterious tone for the novel.

I have still only read Walter's narrative. I'll read Gilmore's tonight. (If I can force myself to stop there!)

I just searched Bathing machines WOW I had never heard of them and it is hard to imagine in this day.

Emotionally speaking Collins' style is such that it feels as though I am sinking into a deep pillow and can't get out. The story is impossible to put down and almost forces you to read to the point of exhaustion.

Intellectually I know that Collins is using many tricks t keep the reader engaged. There is always another twist in the labyrinth. However not all the characters have real depth. Strangely to me, Fairlie is very interesting since I am not sure if he is the true villain of the piece or just a mean Narcissist. The two lovers , Hartwright and Laura, I have met before in other books and they offer no surprises of character, only of plot.

In other words, the plot is not an outcropping of the persons personalities but the characters are made to fit the plot.

Judy

I did enjoy the way the friend was so bubbly and so caught up in taking on the ways of all things English. I can't imagine their peculiar institution of "bathing".

I doubt that Wilkie Collins had the opportunity to read Shannon Ocork's "How To Write Mysteries" -- it was written in 1998 -- and Collins died - 1889.

I have been reading it online and thoroughly enjoying it. Walter Hartright's story is told in the first person as I suppose all the other stories will be told. I am a fan of first person narrative. The changing of who is telling the story is a good technique as long as each teller can remain a distinct from the others.

Hi. I'm starting to read the story online -- haven't quite finished the assignment yet. I find Collins style delightful. You wouldn't want all writers to adopt it, but it is refreshingly individual. Although I'm quite prepared to get annoyed at him for his portrayal of the role of women.

I haven't finished the assignment yet either. I find Wilkie Collins writing style exciting. After only reading a few pages, I want to know what is going to happen. My mind, because of how the author writes, is full of questions: Who is this woman? Why is she wearing white? When Walter Hartright takes his new position, what will he experience? Is it a house full of secrets?

I like the bathing machines. They are cute in a way. When the woman dressed in white asks "Can I get a fly, or a carriage of any kind?" Does the word "fly" tell when the story is set?

Great question! I didn't catch that one. Would that be a predecessor of the Hansom from the Holmes books by, brain spasm here - forgot who wrote Sherlock Holmes........Conan Doyle.

Good morning!
I like the way the Farlie household is so lightly described in the first chapters ... we, the readers, have no idea what to expect, do we?

Good point, about whether the horse-drawn vehicles are similar to those in Sherlock Holmes stories. Just reminds us how we tend to think of Holmes as a real person, not as a fictional character.
Will we soon feel that way about Laura Farlie? She obviously is a strong, influential character; this is clear, I think, although we do not hear from her -- in the first person -- this early in the book.

I was re-reading last night, to find out why Walter hesitated to take the position, and I couldn't find that in his conversations (before I fell asleep). Who can assist here?

I knew what bathing machines were, but I was tickled at PAT's story of the grandmother who taught her granddaughter a little kick of the foot while swimming, to keep the long bathing skirts from tangling her legs. Can you imagine? People tangled in clothes in the water today drown!

Marian Halcombe is, so far, the much stronger personality and best drawn character. Laura Fairlie comes across as somewhat limp. Since 'compliance' and 'pliability' are apparently key to the approved feminine character, Marian is portrayed as somewhat un-feminine, though extremely pleasant and well-bred.

What did you think of Collins observation that the "younger generation are nothing like so hearty and so impulsive as some of our elders. I constantly see old people flushed and excited by the prospect of some anticipated pleasure which altogether fails to ruffle the tranquility of their serene grandchildren."?

IMO, the basics remain the same. The younger, self-conscious generation finds it essential to remain 'cool'. The older generation (us) is happy to find diversion and amusement, and relishes their pleasures without being at all abashed.

Babi

Mippy - I found the part about Walter's hesitation in taking the job in the last few pages of section III of his narrative. (Pages 18-22 in my Penguin edition, probably something entirely different in yours.) Does that help?

I don't think the fact that Laura and Anne Catherick look so much alike can possibly be a coincidence. I have a theory (a hunch?) as to why that might be. Anyone else? After reading Gilmore's narrative last night I think I might need to write out a family tree to keep track of who all these people are, and what financial interests they have.

My favorite character so far is Marian. Does the fact that she's not an enticing marriage prospect (either physically or financially) give her more freedom to interact naturally with the male characters? I love her straightforward conversations with Walter. I agree with Mippy, Marian is a much stronger, better-drawn character than Laura, at least so far. Can't wait to read her diary.

"Pace is not suspense, though the two, together, make a successful novel even if the plot is pedestrian and the characters less than Dickensian. You can have suspense without pace and pace without suspense, but you don't want to. You want them both and you want them plenty."

"What pace is: Pace is the forward progression of your story at its appropriate rate. Pace allows for anticipatory pauses to shiver and for atmosphere to spell bind and for moments for the reader to identify and empathize with the situation and the characters' troubles. Pace presents the story in its best way."

"Pace is the building of momentum and the sustaining of tension for maximum effect of the climax and the satisfying end." ~ "How to Write Mysteries"

Pacing is what bothers me about Collins novel. I feel because he used the "type" of format that he did that the "pacing" of the novel is not what it should be. To me it doesn't move the novel forward fast enough. On the other hand his suspense is brilliant and that is what makes this such a good novel. It is true that like the book says you can have suspense without pace, but to me pacing is an important part of telling the story.

If I'm not mistaken Poe invented the "detective" story, while Collins was one of the first writers to create the "mystery" story. I suppose when you think about it all the characters in this novel do a bit of "detecting". But generally speaking it was Poe who first invented a story where there was a specific character who did the "detecting" thus you have the first "detective story".

Do writers create their characters to fit their stories? I think it all depends on the plot. If the plot is character driven than the characters are created first and the plot is created around them. On the other hand if your story is plot driven than the characters are only secondary. Mystery stories for example are plot oriented.

" Does the fact that she's not an enticing marriage prospect (either physically or financially) give her more freedom to interact naturally with the male characters?"

I think that's exactly right. (Note: we're already beginning to think of the characters as real people, not just characters).

I love the portrayal of Walter's mother in the beginning. A nice foil to the more stereotypically "old" Mr. Fairlie. Yes, Collins admits that Seniors can "rock"!

Scrawler, I was glad to see an opposing viewpoint on the storytelling technique. A differing opinion always makes me think further. I look forward to finding out more about what you did not like about it.

GinnyAnn said, “The changing of who is telling the story is a good technique as long as each teller can remain a distinct from the others.”

I agree. I think that the voices of Hartright and Gilmore are very distinctive. I read both men’s contributions to the narrative with interest, but with completely different interests. Gilmore’s part was quite formal and businesslike, and he conveyed lots of important information with regards to possible financial motives. Hartright’s narrative was more personally conveyed and full of emotion. I was struck by his descriptions of people:

“…I never saw my mother and sister together in Pesca’s society, without finding my mother much the younger woman of the two.” (pg. 14, B&N edition)

“…and I said to myself (with a sense of surprise which words fail me to express), The lady is ugly!” (pg. 35)

“…it will always remain my private persuasion that Nature was absorbed in making cabbages when Mrs. Vesey was born, and that the good lady suffered the consequences of a vegetable preoccupation in the mind of the Mother of us all.” (pg. 49)

LOL! The description of Mrs. Vesey is not one I will soon forget!

For me the chararacters lack the inner life necessary to make them true icons of Victorian fiction. The woman in white is peculiar and creepy and whets my curiosity. But I have not fallen into the land of Great Literature. That doesn't mean I am not enjoying or appreciating the book, its plot and the adventure of it all.

Marian is drawn more in depth than the other characters. However her inner life, or as much as the author reveals, is so entwined with her love for her half sister that I feel it a bit bizarre. (Perhaps because I have never had a sister or a half sister.) She is by far the stronger and more interesting of the two but not an object of interest to men because of her "manly looks".But what she feels about men is not open to us as yet.

I wonder why the woman in white wore only that color? Is it symbolic? White is the lack of color and perhaps symbolizes other lacks in her life? Ah, all will be revealed, I'm sure.

Judy

It seems like every book I have read set in a period close to this time has one female character that stands out from all the others as a stronger more forceful character who is much more in charge of her life than all the others.

Joan, I fear saying too much about the similarities between The Thirteenth Tale and The Woman in White at this point. Not only do I not want to spoil The Thirteenth Tale, but I have far to go in The Woman in White. I will say this…

The “feel” of the two books is similar --- an air of mystery, suspense, and the feeling of missing pieces to the story. The writing style is not comparable, in my opinion. And, yes, both stories do have people who look alike as a mysterious element. I am wondering if that isn’t going to be the key item Diane Setterfield took from this tale.

"...I had now arrived at that particular point of my walk where four roads met - the road to Hampstead, along which I had returned; the road to Finchley; the road to West End; and the road back to London. I had mechanically turned in this latter direction, and was strolling along the lonely high-road - idly wondering, I remember, what the Cumberland young ladies would look like - when, in one moment, every drop of blood in my body was brought to a stop by the touch of a hand laid lightly and suddenly on my shoulder from behind me.

I turned on the instant, with my fingers tightening around the handle of my stick..." ~ "The Narrative of Walter Hartright, of Clement's Inn, London": Part III: p. 63

I can understand why this was a "show-stopper" scene on the stage because it certainly gives that "feeling" in the book. I don't know about you, but it sent chills down my spine - perhaps because I really wasn't expecting it.

I was lulled into the action of Hartright coming casually to a cross-roads (and in a sense this scene represents a cross-roads of his own life) and musing about what the young ladies of Cumberland would look like.

To me the sense of touch is the most important "sense" we have as human beings. It is what physically connects us not only to our fellow man/woman, but also to other things. And depending on our experience with "touch" we respond in many ways. Look what happened to Hartright when: "the touch of [a] hand [was] laid lightly and suddenly on [his] shoulder...".

His response of tightening his fingers around the handle of [his] stick sent just as many chills down my back as did the hand on his shoulder. In a flash there were a thousand unanswered questions festering within my brain. Would he attack this unknown person? Who was the person? What would happen to this character just as he was at his own cross-roads? Would he survive? And on and on...

So between our past experiences and our present experience the sense of "touch" can be very powerful, indeed. Touch very often is the reason why we respond to our emotions deep within us either for good or evil.

I'm also not finding a problem with the pace. Hartright completes the story up to the point of his leaving, and Gilmore immediately picks up the thread.

From all I have read, JOAN, the average man of that time definitely did not care for strong, independent, outspoken women. They were considered 'mannish', unfeminine, and definitely not suitable for a peaceful marriage. The desirable female was, as Hartright described Laura, pliable and trusting. She would leave the matters of the world in the hands of her husband, and give him unquestioning obedience. (That last does set the modern woman's teeth on edge, doesn't it?)

Was it Jan who wrote of Mrs. Vesey, the woman who 'sat' her way through life? Gentle, smiling, asking only to be allowed her 'calm enjoyment of a calm existence'. The cabbage analogy did make me laugh. Still, I found myself liking the good lady very much in her farewell to Walter Hartright. "I am very sorry you are going away. You have been very kind and attentive; and an old woman, like me, feels kindness and attention. I wish you happy, sir-I wish you a kind goodbye." I felt as though I had finally met Mrs. Vesey for the first time.

Babi

I have been avidly reading all morning as I just picked up my copy of "The Woman in White"

There seems to be no rational reason for Hartrights reluctance to accept the post his friend found for him. It appears that it is all based on Hartrights intuition that he should not go to the country. I think it was a way of Collins setting the stage for what was to occur on the way home and in Cumberland.

Marian Halcombe would have not been seen as a desirable woman in the time setting of Collins novel. She had too striking a countenance and presence. Her strength would have terrified men of the day. They would have considered her a threat to their authority. The man was definately master of his wife's destiny.

Laura who was delicate, fair and pliable would have been considered an ideal wife and mother. (YUKK!)

Do I like the style of the novel? Yes indeed. I love English literature of this era. I was interested to read that Dickens and Collins were good friends. Both have written about social ills if not of different kinds of ills. Dickens tended to focus on the ills of the lower classes. Yet there must have been wealthy women who suffered just as much but in a different way. One cannot imagine being of sound mind and being shut in a lunatic asylum at the time this novel was written. It would have been hell on earth.

Carolyn

I had a sleep test last night.

we found a gas leak so our gas had to be turned off cold house computer at other end from fireplace so I may be in and out till it all gets fixed. Reading WIW on pc. until the library copy comes in.

perhaps Marian was based on his first mistress Caroline Elizabeth Graves who had the gumption to leave him and marry another man!

I have been trying to make note of passages about women in white. I thought these two were significant. In the first one, Mr. Hartright compares the dress of the ladies gathered together. The second is an excerpt from a letter from Marian’s mother to her second husband, Mr. Fairlie.

“I was struck, on entering the drawing-room, by the curious contrast, rather in material than in colour, of the dresses which they now wore. While Mrs. Vesey and Miss Halcombe were richly clad (each in the manner most becoming to her age), the first in silver-grey, and the second in that delicate primrose-yellow colour which matches so well with a dark complexion and black hair, Miss Fairlie was unpretendingly and almost poorly dressed in plain white muslin. It was spotlessly pure: it was beautifully put on; but still it was the sort of dress which the wife or daughter of a poor man might have worn, and it made her, so far as externals went, look less affluent in circumstances than her own governess.” (pg. 56, B&N edition)

“This poor little Anne Catherick is a sweet, affectionate, grateful girl, and says the quaintest, prettiest things (as you shall judge by an instance), in the most oddly sudden, surprised, half-frightened way. Although she is dressed very neatly, her clothes show a sad want of taste in colour and pattern. So I arranged, yesterday, that some of our darling Laura’s old white frocks and white hats should be altered for Anne Catherick, explaining to her that little girls of her complexion looked neater and better all in white than in anything else. She hesitated and seemed puzzled for a minute, then flushed up, and appeared to understand. Her little hand clasped mine suddenly. She kissed it, Philip, and said (oh, so earnestly!), “I will always wear white as long as I live. It will help me to remember you, ma’am, and to think that I am pleasing you still, when I go away and see you no more.” This is only one specimen of the quaint things she says so prettily. Poor little soul! She shall have a stock of white frocks, made with good deep tucks, to let out for her as she grows——’” (pg. 60)

I deduced from these two passages that poor women wore white muslin, and that white was a normal color for children to wear. Therefore, women of the class and level of society of Marian and Laura did not normally wear white. However, we do have an understanding of why “the woman in white” wears white from the second passage --- “I will always wear white as long as I live. It will help me to remember you, ma’am, and to think that I am pleasing you still, when I go away and see you no more.”

"You can have many different scenes, characters, and actions, but the integrity of the whole piece will come, mostly from the atmosphere which, in each scene, should contribute to and work toward the overall effect. So you want your atmosphere appropriate, immediate and long-lived. The atmosphere of your mystery will be its "mood," which can be light or dark or any shade between. You want it in your first paragraph, your first line. You want it from your first word to your last.

The atmosphere of your mystery is the envelope it comes in. It's the first thing the reader sees, the first thing he feels, and the last thing he remembers." ~ "How to write a mystery

"The heat had been painfully oppressive all day; and it was now a close and sultry night.

...The moon was full and broad in the dark blue starless sky; and the broken ground of the heath looked wild enough in the mysterious light to be hundreds of miles away from the great city that lay beneath it. The idea of descending any sooner than I could help into the heat and gloom of London repelled me. The prospect of going to bed in my airless chambers, and the prospect of gradual suffocation, seemed, in my present restless frame of mind and body, to be one and the same thing.

...I wound my way down slowly over the heath, enjoying the divine stillness of the scene, and admiring the soft alternations of light and shade as they followed each other over the broken ground on every side of me. So long as I was proceeding through the first and prettiest part of my night-walk, my mind remained passively open to the impressions produced by the view; and I thought but little on any subject - indeed, so far as my own sensations were concerned, I can hardly say that I thought at all." (p.62)

..."The policeman looked at the card that was handed down to him.

"Why are we to stop her, sir? What has she done?"

"Done! She has escaped from my Asylum. Don't forget: a woman in white. Drive on." (p.71) ~ "Narrative of Walter Hartright, of Clement's Inn, London": Part I

On page 62 Collins paints an atmosphere of "oppressive" heat and a sultry night. "The moon is full in a dark blue starless sky; and broken ground of the heath looked wild..." all of which gives us a dark and mysterious atmosphere.

But than it changes when Hartright winds "down slowly over the heath, enjoying the divine stillness of the scene.." and also draws the reader into Hartright's musing so much so that we are caught off guard the same as Hartright when "the touch of a hand [is] laid lightly on [his] shoulder.

Finally, in the last paragraph we learn that the woman in white has escaped from an Asylum! It is interesting that Collins gives us the next line: "Don't forget: a woman in white..." as if from this point on we could ever forget this woman.

Keeping in mind that "atmosphere of your mystery is the envelope it comes in. It's the first thing the reader sees, the first thing he feels, and the last thing he remembers." Even though the last few lines are dialogue I believe that these lines leave us with a dark atmosphere the same as we started and it is as if the envelope was closing and we were drawn deeper inside it.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, Carolyn (Kiwi Lady)! Have a happy and healthy year!

One of the things Walter Hartright admires about Marian's figure is that her waist is natural; she is not wearing a corset.

I do enjoy the way many of the settings are described. I prefer to read the more detailed descriptions so I can close my eyes and see where I am reading about. No one has said anything yet about the male head of the household; an invalid prisoner of his own chambers.

As a physically handicapped person I find his description a bit appalling.And then I wonder as I sit in front of my computer am I really so different than that nervous little man and his coin collection.

This is what I have been thinking about while reading this book. I get the impression women were committed to asylums unjustly. I believe women were named insane for a number of reasons, not always just reasons either. I hate to think what asylums were like during that time. A woman's madness seems to be used often in Victorian novels: There is a mad wife in Jane Eyre. Now we have Anne Catherick. Mad women are not just written about in novels either. Scrawler mentioned earlier, I think, Mary Todd Lincoln. During this period could a woman easily commit her husband to an asylum?

Walter Hartright"What had I done? Assisted the victim of the most horrible of all false imprisonments to escape;...."

Those two words stand out to me False imprisonment.

When Miss Fairlie plays Mozart on the piano, does that give an idea of the time setting? Bookjunky, I enjoy reading the descriptive passages too. Many writers today don't spend as much time writing long descriptive passages. I feel like the action is more important than the description of a room or a season.

Scrawler, I wondered exactly what you wrote when I read it thinking that I had found out a bit of the woman in white. I am reading on line but don't think I will be able to keep it up due to traveling so did not sign up to partisapate. Thanks for posting it.

I found an interesting site on Victorian Women..not only their dress but their education and what was expected of them.

VICTORIAN WOMEN

Walter Hartright did admire Marian Halcombe. He admired her intelligence, her thoughtfulness, her devotion to her sister, her strong sense of duty. I realize Hartright is the protagonist, Laura is the love interest, and the Woman in White is the center of the mystery, but Marian begins to seem to me the most memorable character of the book.

On parting, his first impression of her physical appearance is altered. "..her dark eyes glittered - her brown complexion flushed deep - the force and energy of her face glowed and grew beautiful with the pure inner light of her generosity and her pity."

Babi

As I mentioned before my copy of the book has a 30 page intro by N.Rance. I quote:

"The two novelists (Dickens , born in 1812 was the senior by 12 years) had met in 1851. To Collins, unlike Dickens , it was a matter of principle not to marry. In the mid 1850s his more strictly bachelor days ended when Caroline Graves entered his life in sensational circumstances which inspired the scene in WIW of Walter Hartrights meeting Anne Catherick. ..The original incident was noted by Sir John Millais ,the celebrated painter, and Collins friend.

One night John was walking home with Wilkie and his brother, Charles, (who was married to Dickens daughter), As the friends walked along in the beautiful, moonlit summer night they were arrested by a peircing scream coming from the garden of a nearby villa. It was the cry of a woman in distress. The garden gate opened and a beautiful woman , dressed in flowing white robes dashed out. She approached the three men but then continued to run.

Millais and Charles reflected on the beauty of the woman but Wilkie persued her. This was the impetus for the novel.

Others say that the woman was Catherine Graves, who was Wilkies Mistress and with whom he had a companionable and equal relationship. She was never a palid angel in the house.. She was witty, charming and competent. However Collins could not be moved when it came to marriage and in 1868 Caroline married someone else. Collins attended the wedding which was a brief one. Caroline soon returned to Wilkie who , with a second mistress, had fathered two children."

Quite a man our Mr. Collins!

Judy

Judy - Collins must have had something going for him! I am not sure what! Maybe he was unusual in that perhaps he treated women as if they had a brain and ideas and that was the fascination.

Carolyn

Re: Post #48, Hats, women in the 1800s were considered "property" and in the early 1800s men could do anything with their "property" that they wanted to - they could even sell their wives. No a women had no rights. She wouldn't have been able to commit her husband unless she had a male relative that was willing to help her.

A few posts back I posted something about pace. If you remember, "pace is the building of momentum and sustaining of tension for maximum effect of the climax and the satisfying end." How do we get [pace]? "We make the reader care. We make the reader interested in the outcome as though it's his head on the line, his health, wealth, and happiness, his hide in danger.

And how do we do that? We stir him emotionally. First we catch him up in the situation; that interests his mind. Then we touch his heart or his fears or his dreams. We want him to identify with the hero or heroine, we want the reader to vicariously transfer his own private emotion to the fate of the principals in our story. And we do that by pace..." "How to Write Mysteries"

"The confession of her heart's secret burst from her in those pleading words. I had no right to hear them, no right to answer them: they were the words that banished me, in the name of her sacred weakness, from the room. It was all over. I dropped her hand; I said no more. The blinding tears shut her out from my eyes, and I dashed them away to look at her for the last time. One look, as she sank into a chair, as her arms fell on the table, as her fair head dropped on them wearily. One farewell look; and the door had closed on her - the great gulf of separation had opened between us - the image of Laurie Farlie was a memory of the past already." ~ "Hartright's Narrative continued": Part XIV p. 158

A wonderful paragraph - doesn't it grab you emotionally! We care about the characters - oh how we care. We are caught up in the lives of these characters - in their hearts and dreams - and in their thoughts! But than meanwhile....

This is where I have a problem with Collins pacing. Because the next section is: "The narrative of Vincent Gilmore, Solicitor, of Chancery-Lane, London"(p.159) and so it goes on and on for several pages. In fact we don't see or hear Hartright again until page 415.

He is talked about throughout the pages from time to time, but we fail to actually see or hear him and more importantly hear his own thoughts. Because it is through the characters' thoughts that we gain insight to their various emotions and from these emotions can relate to them through our own experiences with our own emotions and thus become closer to the characters.

There is a golden rule in writing in that you should "show" not "tell".

I can understand that Collins wanted to try something different and I believe his format did work in serialized form, but I think it looses something in book form. I also think that the audience of that day accepted the book form because they had already read the serialized version and enjoyed the story so much that the format didn't really matter.

I've read some of this book and find it somewhat predictable...(Rather like the movie I saw before Christmas "Notes on a Scandal"....Casey brought it with him to view as an Academy memberfor his approval) As soon as the the lawyer's misgivings on the disposition of Laura's monies upon her upcoming marriage were revealed, ..... aha...now.. what is that schemer of the husband to be going to pull...?? Victorian identity theft no less. Colkot

first epoch ii does the delightful description of Pesca remind you of any other "colorful foreigner" characters in other books?

first epoch viii some of us rush through life ans some of us saunter through life, mrs vessey sat through life

such a great line! what type are you? what are some of the factors in life that you think make us behave in these ways?

first epoch viii this is a metter of curiosity, and you have got a woman for your ally. under such conditions success is certain, sooner or later

what a remark! are women more curious then men? why would you say so or not so?

Jorek, Doesn't Agatha Christie refer to Hercule Poirot as 'The Little Belgian'. Poirot also mangles the language though not as violently as Professor Pesca does. Until he left the scene, I wondered if he was going to be the detective in this story. Will we see him again?

I notice the lovely detailed descriptive passages occur in Walter Hartwright's narrative, while Vincent Gilmore's narrative is quite stark and lawyerly. Very much in character for both of them.

From the foreshadowing that's being done, I think we are in for a very tense and scary story.

I can't wait to get on with it. Juanita

It was not that long ago that women were still considered too stupid to manage money. They could not open charge accounts in their own names or take out any sort of hire purchase or even have a mortgage. Seems unbelievable now!

What I find ironic, CAROLYN, is that in the well-to-do strata of society, the men seem not to notice that their financially 'stupid' wives are managing large households, with large staffs, and handling a budget commensurate to that management. We simply don't see those things we take for granted.

This line caught my eye: "..with that courage which women lose so often in the small emergency, and so seldom in the great..." Not just women, I think. Most people seem to respond with their best in major emergencies.

I remember a story a friend of my mother's told me, about her mother. Her mother was an English lady, raised in an era when women were 'delicate' and fainted when faced with any stress or shock. They were living in Mexico one of the children fell into the lake. Her delicate mother jumped into the water, grabbed her child and swam with her back to safety,...long skirts and all. Once they were safely ashore and the child being cared for..the mother promptly fainted in the proper ladylike manner.

It seems to me that every story I've read which involves a lawyer contains some acerbic or sly commentary on lawyers or the law. Therefore I was amused, but not surprised, to find this statement by Mr. Gilmore.

"It is the great beauty of the Law that it can dispute any human statement, made under any circumstances, and reduced to any form." Alas, that is undoubtedly true!

Babi

I like Marian Halcombe and she is the one that I most relate to.

"I have been sadly distrustful of myself, in this difficult and lamentable matter, ever since I found out my own ignorance of the strength of Laura's unhappy attachment. I ought to have known that the delicacy and forbearance and sense of honour which drew me to poor Hartright, and made me so sincerely admire and respect him, were just the qualities to appeal most irresistibly to Laura's natural sensitiveness and natural generosity of nature. And yet, until she opened her heart to me of her own accord, I had no suspicion that this new feeling had taken root so deeply. I once thought time and care might remove it. I now fear that it will remain with her and alter her for life. The discovery that I have committed such an error in judgment as this, makes me hesitate about everything else. I hesitate about Sir Percival, in the face of the plainest proofs. I hesitate even in speaking to Laura. On this morning, I doubted, with my hand on the door, whether I should ask her the questions I had come to put, or not." ~ "The Narrative of Marian Halcombe Taken From Her Diary" (p.191)

"Some authors of mysteries like to make their victims people worth killing, and some like to make them innocent and undeserving of their fate...The mystery novel thrives on individualism." "How to write mysteries"

I believe that Collins had created two very individual characters in Marian and Laura. They may be half sisters, but they are totally different in both personality and description. Laura to me is the "innocent" character and "undeserving" of her fate. On the surface she gives us the impression that she is the typical Victorian woman.

On the other hand Marian is not typical of the woman of the mid-19th century or is she? As we have seen in the above paragraph on the surface Marian seemed to have a strong personality - one who knew what she wanted and acted on it. Now we see that even Marian had her doubts.

As I have researched the women of the 19th century for my own project, I have found that although many women looked and acted like Laura on the surface that underneath they resembled Marian's personality more.

I've fallen behind, I see. We are supposed to start with Marian Halcombe's diary Tuesday, and I'm still immersed in Mr. Gilmore. Catch up time.

Babi

Scrawler

Refer to my post (#52) re the two women in Collins life. One astrong, intelligent and intellectual woman (Caroline0 and the other, the mother of Collins three children, a poor Norfolk girl who Collins met when she was 19. Her name was Martha Rudd but for respectabilitys sake, Collins always referred to her as "Mrs. Dawson".

The two women knew of each other and spent holidays together with Wilkie as a family. True Bohemiasm or you could say that Mr. Collins got away with murder.

Judy

Oh how the note about hire purchase& financials hit home. I was a single career woman in London England from 1947-58 I had my own checking/savings accounts (I worked for LLoyds Bank) Can you imagine my disbelief when I went to buy something not long after my marriage and was told that I had to have my husband's permission??! (refused to patronise the establishment ever afterwards)

Fast forward to the USA from 1959 onwards: eventually I ended up taking care of all the financial aspects of joint home ownership,insurance,planning, disposal of cars, credit cards etc.(My late husband hated paperwork.) Thanks to his good sense in including me in most of the joint major decisions..and our ideas of separate checking/savings with a 2nd signer in case of emergencies.... I have good credit in my own name now, All women should think about that kind of inclusion in financial affairs... Colkots

We should ponder on Quaker women. My great grandmother was a Quaker and a midwife. She had her own business in the days when women fainted etc.She also acted as a herbalist. She made her own potions some of which she made for us when I was a wee girl. If we look back in history Quaker women had a lot more inclusion and autonomy than other women. They were unfazed by anything life threw them. They were also at the forefront of the fight against slavery. My great grandmother was one of the strongest women I know. Despite losing several children in their infancy to incurable diseases and one beloved son in the Great War she continued to LIVE her life and assist others. I wish I had got to know her better. She passed on at the age of 92 when I was 14. I was in awe of her as a child because of her dress mode. ( she still dressed like a Quaker in the early sixties) My mother laughed when I told her as an adult how much I was in awe of her. Mum said she was the dearest, kindest and most sensible woman she knew.

Carolyn

LauraD, thank you very much for the link.

I, too, wondered if it was normal for inmates of an insane asylum to be dressed in white. Moreover, I also wondered why Laura was wearing white muslin while the other ladies were dressed in colorful, more expensive material.

I did a little research on insane asylums. I found this site which contains original source documents and some interesting historical information:

Lunatic Asylum

Click on the Asylums.pdf link. Here are a couple of excerpts:

The first lunatic asylums were set up in the mid-eighteenth century for the mentally ill, and were sponsored by rich patrons as a charity.

The patients’ family had to pay a weekly gee to cover food and lodging (although for the very poor the fee was often waved).

Because of this, some asylums took advantage of rich patients to make money. The richer patients would be charged more and often kept in the asylum for no real reason with no intention of a cure.

In these cases it was extremely difficult for patients to prove that they were cured, since no medical evidence was required to institutionalize a person, and any resistance to treatment could be seen as proof that they were mad.

There was no formal procedure for admitting someone to an asylum – they did not have to be examined, and so people could be put in an institution simply because they were inconvenient.

County asylums became compulsory in 1845, and records of admission and discharge had to be kept (this was to stop people who were not ill being put in an asylum).

This need for records was fuelled by a great fear held by the general public, that they might be ‘locked up’ when they were not il;. From 1828 it was compulsory that two doctors signed an admissions form for every new patient, after having examined the patient on different occasions.

Hats, this information agrees with your post #48.

Also, the dates of the last two excerpts may help us determine the time period of the book. I don’t recall reading anything about the admissions process for Anne.

There is a picture of a patient, a girl of 15, who is wearing white. Hmmm…no definitive answers on the white clothing though.

As for why Laura wore white, I have two thoughts: 1) She wore simple clothing to put her on a more even plane with the other two women. Laura was described as very beautiful, while the other women were described as manly, ugly, and cabbage-like. If Laura dressed down while the other women dressed up, the field could be evened a bit. 2) She consciously or subconsciously remembers her mother’s kindness toward Anne in giving Anne white clothing and so Laura wears white to hold the memory of her mother, and maybe Anne, close to her.

Scrawler said in post #54, “This is where I have a problem with Collins pacing. Because the next section is: "The narrative of Vincent Gilmore, Solicitor, of Chancery-Lane, London"(p.159) and so it goes on and on for several pages. In fact we don't see or hear Hartright again until page 415.”

Scrawler, you have the advantage of having completed the book and having a complete perspective on it, which I don’t have (yet). I find this criticism interesting and I am going to keep it in mind as I continue my reading.

Jorek, I think I am somewhere between a rush and a saunter! Definitely not a sitter.

Hats, you must have caught my post in the minute I had it there prior to editing! My excerpts originally didn't come through, so I had some fixing to do! Funny!

I'm way behind - as usual - it's holiday time here and just so much to do...

Have read your great posts - so many aspects raised -

I don't have time to find and quote the passage but Collins' description of Marian Halcombe put me in mind of George Eliot - was he using Eliot as a base for his character? He even uses 'Marian' which Eliot preferred in place of 'Mary Ann' - the way Marian Halcombe's countenance lights up is also reminiscent of Eliot.

Wish I could spend more time here...later perhaps.

.

LauraD, did you think of Emily Dickinson? I remember reading that Emily Dickinson wore white all of her life. I hope my memory serve me well. I know Emily Dickinson lived the life of a recluse. Why did she choose to wear white? Maybe I am straying away from Laura Fairlie.

Gumtree, I am behind too.

LauraD, your article is very interesting about the asylums. The words in your article support, I think, the statement made by Walter Hartwright about "false imprisonments." These are the words from your article.

"This need for records was fuelled by a great fear held by the general public, that they might be ‘locked up’ when they were not il;. From 1828 it was compulsory that two doctors signed an admissions form for every new patient, after having examined the patient on different occasions."

Some thoughts on Frederick Fairlie, Laura's uncle:

We don't know the nature of Mr. Fairlie's malady, but it seems to me to be a type of hypochondria. Marian describes Mr. Fairlie as "an invalid." "I don't know what is the matter with him, and the doctors don't know what is the matter with him, and he doesn't know himself what is the matter with him. We all say it's on the nerves, and we none of us know what we mean when we say it." Part VI of Hartright's narrative.

Fairlie himself refers several times to "the wretched state of my nerves" as not being able to withstand any changes in his surroundings, any loud noises, or exertion of any kind. He closes his eyes while Hartright is speaking because the light is too much for them. And then he thinks he hears the "horrid children" in the garden who are Nature's construction of "machines for the production of incessant noise." (This part was too funny.)

For me, Fairlie is a comic figure, and I find him greatly entertaining but I don't have any sympathy for him. I don't think Collins meant us to feel sorry for him. My impression is that Fairlie hides behind his "malady" in order to avoid anything he considers unpleasant, whether it's conversations he'd rather not have, people he'd rather not deal with. He seems to be over-acting the state of his nerves a bit much.

On the other hand, it's also occurred to me to wonder whether some kind of mental instability runs in the Fairlie family. Laura hasn't seemed particularly stable emotionally (although she does seem stronger as we get into Marian's diary - is that just the difference in who's describing Laura?) and neither is her look-alike, Mary Catherick (who knows what issues she's got!). I think someone's already asked whether these two women could be related to each other (as well as to Mr. Fairlie), since they look so much alike?

For Joan- Post #61 - More on the Fairlie estate, or "whose house is it anyway?"

When Laura's father Philip Fairlie died, the estate went "in course of law to the second brother Frederick." So technically, it's Frederick Fairlie's house. But Laura is to inherit the estate if Frederick dies without leaving male issue, which certainly seems likely. However, Laura would inherit only a life-time interest in the estate, and the estate would then pass to her own male issue. If Laura were to die single and childless, the estate would revert to her cousin Magdalen, the daugther of the third Fairlie brother, Arthur. Part III, Gilmore's narrative.

My these English succession laws were complicated!

"...Mrs. Lincoln always had a free spirit inside her. She appreciated freedom to travel where she wanted and to say what she felt and to buy what struck her fancy. As an aging widow, Mrs. Lincoln advised her young daughter-in-law to hire a servant to tend her baby so that she could "go out every day" and "be as gay as a lark." It was perhaps "all the better...for young men to settle down early," but, Mary once told a friend, "if I had a daughter - I think I would not give her up so easily." ~ "The Insanity File"

"...An even more surprising example of the "un-Victorianness" of Queen Victoria is her daring to write what most nineteenth century woman only secretly thought about men: that they were the cause of all the sufferings of women. With her own "confinement" near at hand the young Princess Vicky must have worried on paper to her mother about the birth. The Queen responded with assurance and fortitude:

'I hope Fritz (Vicky's husband, the future Emperor of Germany] is duly shocked at your sufferings, for those very selfish men would not bear for a minute what we poor slaves have to endure. But don't dread the denouement; there is not need of it; and don't talk to ladies about it, as they will only alarm you, particularly abroad, where so much more fuss is made of a very natural and usual thing.'

The queen goes on to say: 'We poor creatures are born for man's pleasure and amusement, and destined to go through endless sufferings and trials...What is worse, she adds, is that men do not even appreciate the sacrifices made by a wife 'dear Papa [Prince Albert] even is not quite exempt though he would not admit it -- but he laughs and sneers constantly at many of them and at our unavoidable inconvenience [pregnancies].'" ~ www.victoriana.com

In my research for my own project, I did research on Mrs. William H. Seward, the wife of William H. Seward under the Lincoln administration. Although she suffered from clinical depression, she nevertheless was well read in books and discussed the issues of the day with her husband and father and in her spare time ran a station of the Underground Railroad out of her own home in Auburn, New York. This was a very dangerous enterprise engaging in sending Negro slaves to Canada through her efforts. It was against the law and if she had been caught the government could have fined her or thrown her in prison. She often refers to the area over her woodshed as "her dormitory" - this is where run-away slaves stayed until they could be sent on to Canada.

So as you can see there have been many outspoken and brave women who were far from the image of the typical Victorian women that are sometimes described in the novels of the day. I think that Collins portrayal of the strong-willed women like Laura and Marian help defuse that image of Victorian women as being soft and obedient and bring the public's attention to the plight of the women in that era.

JoanP, I feel like an intruder. You are ignoring my posts. I don't know why. I do know you are making me feel very uncomfortable. I am surprised. In the past, I have always thought of you as very polite. I will continue to think of you as polite. I must have done something wrong or said something wrong. If so, I would like to apologize.

Oh, Hats, I've been away all weekend I'm in the middle of responding to the slew of posts I am reading this morning...hold on a second, luv - I apologize for moving so slowly this morning - gosh it's afternoon already!

I'll tell you what I'm ignoring - this huge to-the-ceiling Christmas tree - as dry as you've ever seen. That's what I'm ignoring!

"Dickinson compared herself with a neglected but "happy" stone in the road, existing in "casual simplicity.. She began summarizing her identity (by 1861) as the woman in white -- prophetic words describing her ubiquitous color of clothing late in life --leading a "small life." A wonderful irony shows in Dickinson's conscious awareness of self:

A solemn thing -- it was -- I said -- A woman -- white -- to be -- And wear -- if God should count me fit -- Her blameless mystery -- And then -- the size of this "small" life -- The Sages -- call it small -- Swelled -- like Horizons -- in my vest -- And I sneered --- softly -- "small!"

This stage -- from awareness of Nature to awareness of self, from self-esteem to humility, from aloneness to solitude -- is well represented in the famous poems on solitude beginning "The Soul selects her own Society" and "There is a solitude of space."25

Dickinson

Didn't Emily Dickinson lose a fiance in war or other tragic circumstances? I bought Vanessa a book of her poetry for Christmas 2005 because I felt my daughter never sat still and smelled the roses. I told her she had to sit at least once a week and read a poem and then look about her and enjoy the creation.

I think Sir Percy is after his wifes money to pay his huge debts and I think he could easily dispense with her to get control of the capital. He has no feelings for her.

Carolyn

The woman in white, Ann Catherick, escaped from an Insane Asylum in the 1850s or 60s. She was not in a public institution since, if she had been, she would have either been chained to the wall or simply locked down in a way that she could not escape. There was no escape from these places.

The private institutions were, like those today, not fenced in. The care was personal and the the possibility of escape very feasible, if one was determined to do that. However these places were expensive. Therefore someone is spending large sums of money on her internment.

She did not seem "insane" in her actions or words....frightened, strange, and mysterious but not in a state where she needed to be completely shut away from society.

Here then is part of the mystery. Why was she shut away, by whom and when did this occur.? It is not only her costume that elicits the mood of mystery but the bizarre circumstances, which when examined, leave us wondering and curious to know more.

Judy

You're quite right, JOAN. Laura didn't always wear white. Remember she was wearing a blue and white outfit when Walter first met her. I think he made a point of her wearing white to dinner, when the other ladies were dressed more formally and colorfully. He explained his belief that she did that in order not to emphasize her much greater wealth. She did not want her sister and old governess to ever feel less than equal around her.

Before he left for London, Mr. Gilmore was convinced there was more to the ladies behavior than they were telling him. I thought this observation a good one: "When a sensible woman has a serious question put to her, and evades it by a flippant answer, it is a sure sign, in ninety-nine cases out of a hundred, that she has something to conceal." I have the impression Mr. Gilmore is a bachelor, but this is surprising insight for any man. Perhaps this is why he also says: "No sensible man ever engages, unprepared, in a fencing match of words with a woman."

I do wonder what he would consider appropriate preparation for such a fencing match.

Babi

Joan- I wanted Vanessa to take her mind off business. She is a Chartered Accountant and was working about 14 hours every week day and one whole weekend day. I felt she was not enjoying life and had no beautiful things in her mind. So I made her promise that on Sunday each week she would read one of Emilys poems at the beach ( she lives at St Heliers Bay) on a fine day or just sit at home quietly read a poem and then look out of the sliding glass doors into the garden. They have quite a lot of birds come around because Cenk feeds them. She changed Companies a few months ago and her work load is much lighter.

Carolyn

JoanP and Babi, thank you for the information about Victorian women. So often these women are romanticized in movies and romance novels. I feel that Wilkie Collins isn't just writing a mystery. I think he's using his writing to give a true picture of the female's plight during this time in history. So far I see each woman, Laura, Anne Catherick and Marian leading lives of mediocrity, despair or hopelessness. Wilkie Collins seems bent on giving a true idea of how these women lived. It seems so unlike a man of this time to put such words as these in a woman's mouth. These are Marian's words.

"No man under heaven deserves these sacrifices from us women. Men! They are the enemies of our innocence and our peace...."

At first I didn't like Marian. While reading her journal, I began to like her. I thought about a woman writing in her journal during this era. The personal diary or journal must have been the only place a woman could truly relax and shed the facial mask worn for the sake of society.

JoanP, I think Emily Dickinson's personality or writings might have influenced Wilkie Collins. Emily Dickinson lived, I think, a straitlaced life like the women in Wilkie Collins book.

I think LauraD wrote a long piece about colors worn by the women in the novel. I just can't find her post now.

I find the different times hair is mentioned as an object of sentimentality interesting too.

Hats, I did not think of Emily Dickinson. I do not read poetry, so don’t know anything about her. Or, I should say didn’t. Thanks for the information, Hats!

Christymo, I agree with you about Mr. Fairlie. There is really nothing wrong with him! I don’t feel sympathy for him either. In fact, I feel a lot of annoyance with him!

White dresses are still a mystery. More in them in the next section of reading…

Joan, I did pick up on the dog’s actions toward Sir Percival. Not a good sign!

I think Mr. Fairlie agreed to Sir Percival’s demands because he wanted to get Laura married off and didn’t want to be bothered with anything. I am not expecting murder! This is a new thought for me! I am expecting Sir Percival to try to get Laura’s money though.

Hats, my post about references to women wearing white is #39.

Off to finish the last fifty pages of this week’s reading. Until later…

I agree that there's something ominous in the fact that Frederick wouldn't allow Gilmore to assert Laura's rights and essentially forced him to agree to the marriage settlement that would place all her money in Sir Percival's hands upon her death. All this talk of early deaths seems ominous too, but I think it was fairly common to make a will when getting married, given the amounts of money and property involved (also, death in childbirth was more common then than now, so Laura's early death could come about by natural causes).

Something else that just occurred to me this morning -- It didn't dawn on me until I had finished Marian's narrative that hers was not a narrative in the same sense that Hartright's and Gilmore's were. In other words, she wasn't writing for an audience. We are actually reading excerpts of her diary with no explanation of how they were obtained. And then, there's the way her narrative ends, which I don't want to ruin for anyone who isn't there yet, but... creepy!

In reference to a comment in post #86 which is " Emily Dickenson - another author with whom Wilkie Collins would have been familiar. The "Queen Recluse"- with questions concerning her mental stability. Do you think Wilkie was influenced by this Victorian authors ".

Since Emily was only 29 at the time WiW was published and only a handful of her poems were published before her death in 1886; and she did not become reclusive or do the white clothing til later in her life, I do not think she was an influence on his writing.

Been reading the posts is why I popped in.

CONTAINS POSSIBLE SPOILER FOR THE END OF THIS WEEK’S READING

Oh, my! This section of reading has left me breathless! LOL! I sound like Laura Fairlie! I do think I temporarily pick up expressions from books I am reading, especially when I am as immersed as I was just now. Do you?

Anyway, I feel a bit silly, but, honestly, the murder of Laura had not occurred to me, that is, prior to reading your posts and prior to finishing this week’s reading. I was heartened to read, just ten pages from the end of this week’s reading, that Percival is not interested in discussing his wife’s death. He told Fosco to “drop it” when Fosco inquired, “…let us say your wife dies before the summer is out---.” BUT, I don’t trust Fosco one bit! For all of Percival’s ranting and raving, I think Fosco is the one to fear.

My favoriye poetess, Emily Dickinson was born in 1830 and died in 1886.. She was well educated but never married and lived her life in her parents house in Amherst ,Mass.

She published very little before her death. Her sister had her poems published in three volumes in 1890,91 and 96.

Her personality was not like any of the characters we have met in Collins' book.

I would again look closer to home with Collins for his models. His two Mistresses, Martha and Caroline, seem very like the two sisters he portrays in the book we are readinfg.

Judy

The color white:

In Chinese and Indian tradition, white is the color of mourning, death, and ghosts. In India white also stands for Peace and Purity.

The Roman Catholic Pope's cassock is white.

In ancient China, white was the symbol of West and Metal, one of the main five colors.

In English heraldry, white or silver (color) signified brightness, purity, virtue, and innocence. (The American Girls Handy Book, p.369)

White is the traditional color of bridal dress in both western (European) and Japanese weddings. In Western wedding, a white dress is thought to be symbolic of purity (the bride has not engaged in premarital sex). This is also said to be the symbolism of the veil.

White could be associated with horror. The famous chapter 42 ("The Whiteness of the Whale" of Herman Melville's Moby-Dick speculates about it. ~ "Wikipedia"

I'd like to think that the women in this story wore "white" because of their innocence, but it could also mean "horror" or even "death." However, Herman Melville's Moby-Dick was not written until 1851. But the concept that white might represent "horror" could be contrived that in some cultures white was associated with death.

Dressing the Victorian Lady from the 1850s:

1. The first garments put on by the lady of the 1850s are the Chemise, an unshaped undergarment which reaches just below the knees and has a drawstring neckline and the drawers with back button closure, open legged for convenience and calf length with scalloped embroidered hems.

2. The next item is the corset which, with its back lacing, has a front busk closure, introduce in the late 1840s.

3. Over the Corset and Corset cover is the Under Petticoat, usually quite plain and worn as many as six at a time, depending on the season.

4. Next is the Hoop Petticoat, hailed as a liberator from the need for the excessive layers of under petticoats. Only a single under petticoat was required with the hoop.

5. The final undergarments is the Over Petticoat, often, with an elaborately embroidered him. It is worn over the layered under petticoats or, in the late 1850s, the hoop petticoat.

6. Finally, the lady dons her dress,[for example] a Fan Front bodice with capped close fitting long sleeves and cartridge pleated flounced skirt. The properly attired lady is never seen in public without bonnet and gloves. ~ www.victoriana.com

I don't know about the rest of you but as I sit here in my old worn jeans and sweatshirt, I'm really, really glad I live in the 21st century.

Marriage:

"Queen Victoria sneers at marriage repeatedly in her letters, even challenging the then accepted (and Victorian) idea that a woman could only be truly fulfilled through marriage. On hearing of the death of a thirty-four year old London society woman the Queen comments to her daughter on the fact that the deceased was 34 and unmarried:

'...though I don't consider his such a misfortune for I think unmarried people are often very happy -- certainly more so than married people who don't live happily together of which there are so many instances...'.

Queen Victoria did, however, acknowledge that marriage in the mid nineteenth century was one of the few "career" options a woman had and seemed to feel that it was better to bow one's head to this fate without too much fuss.

'Dearest, a poor girl has not much free choice; a good party presents itself, if she does not dislike the man -- and if her parents like it, why if she refuses him she runs the risk of getting no husband at all.' Should she delay too long, opportunities for a suitable marriage grow fewer and woman 'become desolate and bitter.'

The queen's most damning comment on nineteenth century marriage was, ultimately, her most "Victorian" view. Queen Victoria advised that the best way to enter into that lottery of marriage in which the husband made his wife his slave was...to be ignorant! By August of 1861 Princess Alice had become suitably engaged to Prince Louis of Hesse. Vicky was coming homing for a visit and the Queen frantically warned her married daughter:

'Let me caution, dear child, again, to say as little as you can on these subjects [pregnancy] before Alice (who has already heard much more than you ever did) for she has the greatest horror of having children, and would rather have none -- just as I was when a girl and when I first married -- so I am very anxious she should know as little about the inevitable miseries as possible; so don't forget, dear." ~ www.victoria.com

When a single woman marries a man, she gives up her own identity as a "Miss" and upon marrying takes on the name of "Mrs." + the man's last name. In effect her single person dies when she marries. Couldn't this be what Collins is referring to when he refers to Laura's death?

JOAN, I believe muslin was a popular fabric for women's dresses, being cool for the summer, and keeping its shape well.

Mr. Fairlie is quite adept at using his 'nervous' condition to manipulate and control others. That was never more apparent than in his interview with Marian and Sir Percival. When they both speak in opposition to him, he simply closes his eyes until they become silent, then proceeds with his plans as tho' they had never spoken. His attitude toward his servants is incredible. To him, his valet was nothing more than a bookstand, and he had him standing holding that heavy book of etchings when the man was obviously trembling from the strain. Fairlie is, IMO, one of the most unpleasant and obnoxious characters in literature.

I began to worry about Laura as soon as I learned her proposed bridegroom was bankrupt, and demanding a concession that no reputable lawyer, and certainly no caring guardian, would have granted. I also found it interesting that he immediately began extensive repairs to his home as soon as he was certain the marriage would take place. Then, he proposes to take her out of the country, away from all friends and family. He may have the use of the income from her fortune, but he can have the capital only through the signing of that marriage contract, ..and her death.

It remains to be seen whether Laura actually dies, but I have no doubt she is in danger of meeting with a tragic accident on her honeymoon.

Babi

I am also very glad to be living in this century as far as clothes go - so even with those filmy white muslin dresses, they had those awful undies! Sir Philip is an unmitigated cad who was prepared to accept anything from Laura as long as he could get his hands on her money. The Count seems to be a Svengali type who is able to charm and manipulate his victims. Mr Fairlie is an absolute horror who deserves nothing but contempt.- Wasnt there a Reform Bill passed about womens rights in marriage?

Count Fosco with his white mice going in and out of his pockets is driving me nuts! I think he manipulates his wife like he does his cute little white mice.

Hats ~ I agree.
The Count is a certainly an annoying person. I can't help but wonder who or what kind of actor would play his part, if this were on a BBC film, like Bleak House, which was excellent.
Can't you picture the splendid overacting which would fit his personality. What a terrible man!
The mice would be a great visual ... yuck ...

In contrast, it is difficult for me to picture his wife, the Countess, however; it requires concentration to think of a woman so willing to kowtow to a husband. Even if she craves a rich and splendid life style, how could a woman live like that? I can hardly imagine it.

Yes, Hats, wouldn't he be awful to have around the house! He certainly does manipulate his wife, as well as everybody else; at one point he says of himself and his wife "...we have but one opinion between us, and that opinion is mine."

He is a very funny character, too, indescription and action.

Marian feels an awful fascination for him, like a bird hypnotized by a snake.

Mippy and Pat H, I felt a bit shocked by Marian's fascination with Count Fosco. Marian is especially drawn to his eyes. Blackwater Park is creepy too. I missed seeing Bleak House. I am going to put it on Netflix now. I haven't finished reading the week's assignment. So, I am afraid to read all the posts. Funny, I thought of the word "hypnotized" too.

The character of Count Fosco:

Mippy, "The Woman in White" is a musical by Andrew Lloyd Webber and David Zipple with a book by Charlotte Jones, based on the novel "The Woman in White" written by Wilkie Collins." In the London cast, Count Fosco was played by Michael Crawford and in the Broadway cast the character was played by Michael Ball." ~ Wikipedia

I'm not familiar with either of these gentlemen and have not seen the musical, but I would say it would be an interesting concept to turn Collins book into a musical.

Madam Fosco:

To me the most dangerous character is Madam Fosco. Because she is controlled by her husband she has no conscious and is not in control of either her emotions or her actions. I have always found that creating villains is a lot more fun than creating heros or heroines.

Count Fosco:

Your right Hats, the image of Count Fosco with his little white mice running all over him is creepy at best - I believe it was Mariam that said that it reminded her of a dead body with rats running over the body.

Women portrayed in 19th century literature:

"...Women are supposed to be very calm generally: but women feel just as men feel; they need exercise for their faculties, and a field for their efforts as much as their brothers do; they suffer from too rigid a restraint, too absolute a stagnation, precisely as men would suffer; and it is narrow-minded in their more privileged fellow-creatures to say that they ought to confine themselves to making puddings and knitting stockings, to playing on the piano and embroidering bags. It is thoughtless to condemn them, or laugh at them, if they seek to do more or learn more than custom has pronounced necessary for their sex." ~ "Jane Eyre"

We can see by the above paragraph that Charlotte Bronte also portrayed women or at least suggested that women be treated as equals very similar to what Collins is doing with Marian and Laura. Both are questioning the mores of the times in regards to women. "Jane Eyre" was first published in 1847 and at the time was a best seller. We think of it as a classic now but when it was first published it was highly controversial.

I saw a dramatization of the "Woman in White" on PBS some years ago. I can't remember now who played Count Fosco, but I think he did a good job, and looked the part. The thing was cut too much to do justice to the story, but maybe I'll try to track it down and watch it again if it's available.

Laura has a life interest in 10,000 pounds, which will go to the countess after Laura's death, so both she and the count would definitely gain by Laura's death.

Frederick Fairlie is evidently rich enough from his life estate in Limmeridge not to care what happens to Laura's 20,000 pounds (that is now settled anyway by the marriage settlement). He doesn't care where the money goes after he is gone, because he has no heirs to worry about, and anyway, he doesn't care about anyone in the world except himself.

I have finished Marian's diary, but agree we should go slowly at this point.

I am still reading Marian's diary.

Marians Diary is put in for a purpose. It is a document as important to the story as any of the legal documents we hear of or see in the book.

I find this sentence really creepy in the entry of Nov. 30th. "- my mind feels almost as dulled and stunned by it-as if writing of her marriage were like writing of her death."

The entry of Dec. 1st is also upsetting to me. How could a woman, in full charge of her faculties be so naive at Lauras age? Especially with a companion as savvy and knowledgable as Marian?

"It nearly broke my heart to dispel her delusion, and to bring her face to face with the hard truth. I was obliged to tell her that no man tolerates a rival- not even a woman rival- in his wifes affections, when he marries, whatever he may do afterwards."

We have been warned that bad things are going to happen and I can't put the book down !

Judy

Lots to respond to, but I probably don’t have enough time to get to everything right now, so please be patient with me.

Scrawler, I was reminded of this quote from the latter part of Marian’s diary when reading your information on Dressing the Victorian Lady from the 1850s: “In my ordinary evening costume, I took up the room of three men at least.” I truly cannot even imagine!

PatH, Hats, and Joan, I am not surprised by Marian’s fascination with the Count. Early in The Second Epoch (pg. 218, B&N edition), Marian writes of the Count, “He flatters my vanity, by talking to me seriously and sensibly as if I was a man.” Put yourself in Marian’s place…she is not blessed with a pretty face, spends lots of time with Laura, who is, so the contrast of the two young women serves only to exaggerate Marian’s unattractiveness, and Marian is held back by the expectations placed on women in that society at that time. She is obviously soaking up the attentions of the Count, in spite of herself. I don’t blame her. I think I would be doing the same. Who doesn’t enjoy flattering attention?

I am not sure that the Count is manipulating his wife. I think that the Count and Countess are working together, both playing parts, like in a play. In the middle of Marian’s diary, there is an incident in which the Countess announces to Sir Percival, “I remain in no house in which ladies are treated as your wife and Miss Halcombe have been treated here to-day (pg. 288)!” The Count then agrees with her. This is not spontaneous. They had decided on this course of action, together, after a previous case of Sir Percival treating Laura and Marian badly. Then late in Marian’s diary, “Madame Fosco was fanning herself. Strange to say, her face was flushed, now. She, who never suffered from the heat, was most undoubtedly suffering from it to-night (pg. 309).” Based on a couple of clues of a similar nature about the Count that Wilkie Collins had previously dropped, I feel like there is more to the story with the Countess being hot in this instance, I just don’t know what, yet.

I have finished reading Marian's diary. I will hold off on commenting about parts nearer the end until everyone else is at the same place.

So, for something nearer the beginning and middle of Marian's diary ... her impressions (and mine) of the newly married Laura. It seems that Laura has lost a little of "that special something," her innocence about the world, maybe? that made her who she was. Marian notices it. And we learn that Laura has no illusions about her new husband. I was SOOO proud of her when she stuck up for herself and refused to sign those papers unless her husband let her read them first! The impression I got of Laura from reading Hartright's narrative was that she was so meek and mild that I fully expected her to cave in to whatever Sir Percival asked of her. But she's becoming a more fully developed character as we read about her through her sister's eyes.

The opening section of Marian's narrative is an example of a situation in literature I find particularly frustrating: the heroine (or hero, but it's usually the heroine) is about to do something disastrously stupid, and none of her friends try to stop her.

Mr. Gilmore has found out that Sir Percival is embarrassed for money, and he is betraying a mercenary motive for the marriage in his demands for the settlement. Why doesn’t Gilmore at least drop a hint to Marian, so she can work on Laura?

Laura looks forward to the marriage with dread, as an inevitable but very serious evil. She is totally dispirited by her hopeless love for Hartright, but she could rouse herself and try to save herself. She is a rich woman, and doesn’t need to marry.

Marian has even more forebodings about the marriage. Laura has stopped her from trying to interfere, but Laura is the most important person in the world to Marian. Surely it’s worth taking considerable trouble and risking a fair amount of disapproval to save her from disaster.

Collins has trapped his characters very cleverly. It was a very serious step in those days to break an engagement. Laura is caught by her scrupulous sense of honor, which won’t let her go back on a promise, or behave meanly, no matter how good a reason she has. Sir Perceval sees this and plays her like a fish on a line. Gilmore is caught by the fact that his client is actually Frederick, who refuses to authorize any action, so he would have to take extraordinary steps to act for Laura’s best interests. And Marian is caught by the fact that Laura has asked her not to interfere, and also by her concern for her sister’s distress, and desire not to upset her even more.

To save the situation, they would have to act in a way that was forceful, inconsiderate, rude even. They have been trapped by their own good manners, and head to their doom, full of foreboding but doing nothing about it.

With each turn of a page, I feel the doom surrounding Laura and Marian. Blackwater Creek is a dreadful place only because there are cruel people residing there: Count Fosco, Sir Percival and Countess Fosco.

While looking for her broach Laura meets Anne Catherick. Anne Catherick speaks of Sir Percival's "secret." She boldly calls Sir Percival a wicked man. I have to admit Sir Percival's temper is frightening.

Isn't Marian's dream about Walter Hartright an odd one? I hope the dream is foreshadowing his safe return. I see the death of the dog and the dog's blood as the coming of something morbid and murderous. Murder is discussed by Sir Percival and Count Fosco. All of a sudden murder was being discussed. I didn't see why the subject of murder was being talked about.

I am almost finished Marian's account.

I think Marian is using her journal as a way to keep track with all that is going on around herself and Laura. If Marian's memory is faulty, she can turn to her journal. The entries are accurate and reliable. I wonder if her journal will serve in a powerful way later on during this strange adventure.

"On looking back to the entry referring to the lawyer's visit, we found that my recollection of the two alternatives presented was accurately correct...It is hard to say what future interest may not depend upon the regularity of the entries in my journal, and upon the reliability of my recollection at the time when I make them."

I do not believe Marian's memory is faulty. Marian has a good memory. Her journal supports her reliable memory.

Oh, my, it seems everyone is ahead of me. My edition of the book doesn't have chapters; it has 'Epochs'. I finished the 'First Epoch' of Marian's part of the story and am about to start on the Second Epoch, where Laura and Sir Percival return home. I had all week to read Marian (I thought).

I know nothing about Count Fosco and Laura's aunt except the vague impressions I recall from my prior reading of the book. Certainly not enough to comment. I suppose I must set aside some of my other reading and concentrate on Collins.

Babi

and I've had a houseful of visitors, so the book has been on the "back burner" for a while. It's looking as though my original assessment of Victorian identity theft is coming to pass. All will be revealed.

colkots

Its a hot humid day here in Auckland. My house is 86F and very very humid. I am outdoors on the lounger under a tree. In my case I call it a shade lounger. LOL I have my book with me. Two litres of water in my water bottle -cause in the humidity you can dehydrate pretty quickly. I have a door open, all the windows open indoors and its still stifling hot.

I am a wee bit behind you but I see Fosco as a accomplice to Sir Percy. He gets his wife to do quite a bit of spying for him. Fosco is playing the part of the charmer. Inside I believe he has the heart of a devil. We shall see! For some reason he has a lot of influence over Sir Percy.

Carolyn

Poor Laura! She is under the control of not one, but two, unprincipled men who are trying to get their hands on her money. They both would profit from her death. On top of that, her sister has fallen dangerously ill and cannot do anything to protect her.

This is about as good as it gets in suspense novels, I think.

Movies, etc. of 'The Woman in White':

In addition to the Andrew Lloyd Weber musical, there has been a Masterpiece Theater presentation, and two movies.

Barnes and Noble has a DVD of 'The Woman in White' and 'The Moonstone', which sounds interesting. Netflix carries the 1997 movie with a scathing review that discourages me from renting it.

There was a 1948 movie with Sydney Greenstreet as Count Fosco, Eleanor Parker as both Laura Fairley and Anne Catherick,John Emery as Sir Percival Glyde and Alexis Smith as Marian Halcombe. I would love to be able to locate that one. I visualize Sydney Greenstreet as the Count as I read the book.

jbmillican, I love the suspense too. I just finished Marian's diary. Marian is a magnificent woman.Marian observes every tiny moment, noticing what these people are doing at Blackwater Park.

"I saw Madame Fosco, who was making the tea, pause, with the sugar-tongs in her hand, to listen for my answer."

That horrible man Fosco sings her praises too. He recognizes her bravery and her intelligence. Sir Percival is so busy wagging his tongue in frustration and anger, he's a very impatient man while Count Fosco is patient noticing the prowess of Marian Halcombe.

"I drink her health...this grand creature, who stands in the strength of her love and her courage, firm as a rock...this magnificent woman, whom I admire with all my soul, though I oppose her...."

While reading about Marian sitting in the rain and wind listening to the conversation between Percival and Count Fosco, I thought about Wuthering Heights. Catherine's love for Heathcliff leads her out on a stormy night. She becomes sick. Does she die from a lingering cold or pneumonia? My memory is possibly playing tricks. Does weather play an important role in Gothic novels?

Marian says "Oh, the rain, the rain - the cruel rain that chilled me last night!" In the name of love Marian sat on the veranda trying to glean information for the safety of her sister, Laura.

Unfortunately, Count Fosco reads Marian's journal. I wished so badly that she had a lock and key for her journal. Of course, Fosco would have picked the lock.

In the heading, Gothic novel, mood and setting is very helpful.

"So in short we can say that "gothic" is about "setting" and "mood" which in a since becomes another character in the story and adds to the plot of the over-all story."

So often, the rustling of the silk dresses could give away a woman's whereabouts. So, even sound becomes important to the Gothic novel. I think all of the five sense are played upon in a Gothic novel. This makes every page alive with suspense.

Just a quick note ~
regarding the date of the setting of our novel:
1849 is mentioned on the BBC link you gave, Joan, which seems to fit with all the other life
style details. So we don't need to speculate about that one detail.
Now to catch up on the over 20 posts since yesterday ...

A remark much later in the book makes it quite clear that the story starts in 1849. So at the moment we are in the summer of 1850.

Hats, I like your remark about the senses--good point.

Pat H and Mippy thanks for the timeline. I felt a bit lost in time. I have to go out for awhile. When I return, I will try and catch up on posts like Mippy.

Wainey and Joan, I remember Marian, I believe, talking of a bill that prevents women from being treated badly in a marriage. I don’t remember any specifics being given. The only Reform Bill I recall from this time period in England is with regards to voting rights.

Joan, yes, I do believe the Count is capable of hurting Laura. PatH talks of what the Count and Countess would gain in post #109. I can’t wait to find out what “the secret” is! I have no idea what it could be.

Christymo, I, too, was very proud of Laura for refusing to sign a document with which she was not familiar. Frankly, I was surprised. Life with Sir Percival has hardened Laura.

PatH, I share your frustration in no one helping Laura. However, I agree with your last statement that “to save the situation, they would have to act in a way that was forceful, inconsiderate, rude even. They have been trapped by their own good manners, and head to their doom, full of foreboding but doing nothing about it.” While societal norms today are different and would allow for speaking up in order to help Laura, people still often keep their mouths shut, or don’t want to meddle, and allow others to make bad decisions.

Someone briefly mentioned hair jewelry. I made note of this quote a couple of pages from the end of the First Epoch:

“’Dear Laura’ was to receive this present – a shabby ring, with her affectionate uncle’s hair for and ornament, instead of a precious stone…”

I thought, “Gross!” But, then I had to research it, of course. Here are a couple of websites explaining the custom and with pictures of hair jewelry:

Northhampton Hair Mourning Jewelry Exhibit

I couldn’t make the second link work for some reason, but try typing this in your web browser: http:// victorianhairjewelry.com/

The Married Women's Property Act of 1882 gave married women the right to retain ownership of property.

Property Act

"Divorce was only available to the wealthy, as it was a costly process. The motion for divorce began with an action for recovery of damages against the corespondent and a suit in the ecclesiastical courts for a separation "from bed and board," both of which were tedious and expensive. Once these charges had been successfully prosecuted, they were followed by a divorce bill, which had to pass through all its stages in both the Lords and Commons before a divorce or "a vinculo matrimonii" could be obtained. It was not until 1857 that a separate Court for Divorce and Matrimonial Causes was created.

Pleas for judicial separation were heard in the King's Bench court by a jury or in the guildhall in the evenings, and were termed "actions for criminal conversation," which amounted to charges of adultery...The criminal conversation is not prosecuted criminally, but produces only a civil suit for the recovery of damages, estimated in money. The jury determines the amount of these damages, by the degree of union and conjugal happiness existing before the criminal conversation which destroyed it, and by the rank and fortune of the parties. The smallest appearance of negligence or connivance on the part of the husband deprives him of all remedy against the seducer, who owes him nothing. A divorce is generally granted by act of Parliament in these cases; and marriage as generally takes place between the lovers. The publicity which such prosecutions necessarily occasion, and all the details and proofs of the intrigue, are highly indelicate and scandalous. The testimony, for instance, of servants, of young chambermaids, who are brought into open court to tell, in the face of the public, all they have seen, heard or guessed at, is another sort of prostitution more indecent than the first. Morals are far from being purified by this process; but the substantial infringement is prevented.

Neither the defendant nor the plaintiff was allowed to give testimony in person in court. A guilty verdict against a corespondent could destroy a man both financially and socially. If he could not pay damages immediately, a warrant was issued, and he was sentenced to prison until such time that he was able to pay.

Parliamentary divorce was created about 1690 by a private act of Parliament, in a society in which divorce was legally prohibited. As the process could cost several hundred pounds it was reserved for the aristocracy. These divorces could be obtained between 1690 and 1857, but only by those men who could afford it and whose wives had committed adultery. What made parliamentary divorces so desirable was that, once granted, both parties were allowed to remarry. By 1810, the requirements for allowing a bill of divorce were that a wife's adultery had to be proven and testified to by two witnesses; that the marriage had been sound before the adultery was committed; and that there was no evidence that the husband had neglected, abandoned or otherwise given his wife cause to commit adultery. The House of Lords also required proof that a successful action of criminal conversation tried in common-law courts had been decided in the husband's favor, and that deed for separation had been granted him in the ecclesiastical courts. After 1700, a husband was allowed to keep his wife's marriage portion, but in return he was made to provide an annuity for her maintenance. After 1811, this amount was to be decided by both parties and entered into a deed of settlement, which was to be drawn up prior to presenting a bill for parliamentary divorce. However, in order to receive this, the divorced woman had to promise to remain unmarried and to conduct herself in a manner above reproach."~ "The Writers Guide to Everyday Life in Regency and Victorian England" pp. 81-82

Deeds of Private Separation:

"Deeds of Private Separation were contracts drawn up between husband and wife's trustees stating that they had agreed to separate. Most provided that the husband agreed to allow his wife an annual allowance for her maintenance, and that the wife ceased to hold her husband responsible for any future debts. Additional clauses might involve custody of children and promise of the husband not to molest or make his wife return to him by force. As these agreements meant that both parties would achieve their end (that is, to be rid of the other), most went along this course and thus avoided the almost impossible alternative of going through church or courts, neither of which officially recognized the validity of these deeds. In every way, these deeds arranged for a separation of the parties only, and no one deceived themselves into believing that they equaled a divorce." ~ "The Writer's Guide to Everyday Life in Regency and Victorian England"pp. 82-83

Did Laura's love for Walter Hartright give Sir Percival Glyde grounds for divorce? I personally don't see Glyde going through a messy and lengthy divorce in order to gain Laura's monies. I also think he was in need of immediate funds, but what means would he choose in order to get what he wants?

A question that keeps popping up in my mind is why did Laura's father insist on Laura marrying Sir Percival Glyde in the first place? Didn't he know what kind of a man he was?

My book has three Epochs, but no numbered chapters (at least not like some of you seem to have). The First Epoch includes Hartright's narrative, Gilmore's narrative, and a small part of Marian's diary (up to Dec. 22, the day of Laura's marriage). The Second Epoch includes the second part of Marian's diary, and then Fred Fairlie's narrative, and I'm afraid to look too much further or I may ruin the ending for myself!

Each person's narrative is subdivided into "chapters" or "sections." For example, Hartright's narrative has 15 sections identified by Roman numerals I through XV.

I think the online version that is linked in the heading uses this same format.

As long as you identify which narrative we should be reading, I think we'll all be on the same page.

I have the Penguin classics version which also has the Epochs.

carolyn

My book is exactly like Christymo's. The Second Epoch ends after "The Story Continued in Several Narratives." I think there are only three epochs, unless I missed something.

I foresee a problem ahead. My book is a Bantam Classic paperback, printed in 1985. It is divided into chapters that so far correspond to those that the rest of you have, and presumably will continue to do so. So far, it has worked fine to say "read all of Marian's narrative" or whatever. But now, after about 60 pages of short narratives, Hartright's narrative resumes, for the last few pages of chapter 27, and continues for 125 pages, through the end of chapter 39. There are then 26 more pages, several narratives. I'm guessing we will want to break somewhere in the middle of Hartright's long narrative. Since I've already read the book, so there are no spoilers for me, I'll take a look at the online version and see how easy it is to correlate the versions.

I wonder how it was divided when it first came out?

SCRAWLER, I believe the purported reason for Laura's father arranging her marriage before his death, was his concern to provide for her welfare, as she would have no parent to guide her. If this is true, than his good and trusted friend, Sir Percival, must have run through his fortune since that time. A poor choice, and one that seems odd to me.

Mrs. Fosco's demeanor reminds me of children I once knew, who were unnaturally still and quiet. As it happened, their behavior was due to fear of an abusive father. Fosco appears almost to mesmerize others, and I suspect Mrs. Fosco is afraid of him. I also suspect his avoidance of Italy, and his desire to know the whereabouts of any other Italians in the area, is due to his being a wanted man in Italy.

Babi

Actually,I've skimmed ahead.. this was before Christmas.. so...and yes I do agree with your post Joan..regarding the "institution of marriage" being the common theme in all these works.. As I said before, these days, women don't have to be married to be fiscally knowledgeable & responsible..that's one change for the better. Looking forward to the long weekend whch is supposed to be cold, snowy & miserable...just the best chance to READ! Colkots

Joan, my Bantam book is also divided into three parts. They do not correspond to the Epochs: Epochs 1 and 2 are Part 1, and Epoch 3 is Parts 2 and 3. I'll work on this some more and report back.

My copy was published by Random House in 1937 (with forward by Alexander Woollcott) as part of their Modern Library series.

It has 3 Epochs
First Epoch
15 chapters of The Story Begun by Walter Hartright.
6 chapters of The Story continued by Vincent Gilmore.
3 chapters of The Story continued by Marian Halcombe.
Second Epoch
10 chapters of The Story continued by Marian Halcombe.
1 chapter of The Story continued by Frederick Fairlie.
2 chapters of The Story continued by Eliza Michelson.
The Story continued in several Narratives
The Narrative of Hestor Pinhorn, cook of Count Fosco
The Narrative of the Doctor
The Narrative of Jane Gould
The Narrative of the Tombstone
The Narrative of Walter Hartright
Third Epoch
11 chapters of The Story continued by Walter Hartright.
7 chapters of The Story continued by Mrs. Catherick
The Story continued by Count Fosco
3 chapters of The Story Concluded by Walter Hartright.


My book also has the "The Moonstone" (380 pages) preceding "The Woman in White" (462 pages).

I'll admit, this is confusing. I've put the schedule in the header, but not sure if Walter's Narrative makes sense. Do all books have chapter numbers? Maybe we should give the last sentence in the section...

Read up to - "I left her; and set forth to pave the way for discovery - the dark and doubtful way, which began at the lawyer's door." Will put this sentence into the new heading.

In my book, the sentence we are to read up to is at the end of chapter 28,the second chapter in Part 2. In the online book it is a little way into the 3rd epoch, at the end of Roman numeral III.

The Roman numerals in the online version don't always coincide with the chapter breaks in my version, though at this point they do.

Ooops - chapter 28 in my book too, Pat. Good thing someone is awake at the wheel!

See you in the morning!

Thanks for the Jane Smiley excerpts, Joan. These two lines were of particular interest to me because they seem almost contradictory:

“By contrast to Dickens, Collins writes like a member of society in which he fits fairly well and whose norms he feels comfortable with. Collins' works give pleasure rather than pity, terror or trancendence."

If the first statement is true, then I can understand how the second could also be true, if I had not actually read The Woman in White. I agree that the novel does not give terror or transcendence. However, wouldn’t even people of the day pity Laura and Marian and the situation in which they find themselves. If I assume they wouldn’t then the question of why not comes to my mind. Maybe people of the day would not pity Laura because she was wealthy, physically attractive, healthy, or they did not perceive that she was in any real danger, like we have. Hmmm…I don’t know.

I have been toying with the idea of the title of The Woman in White having a double meaning. Of course, it refers to Anne Catherick, wearing white, who is a subject of mystery. Could The Woman in White also refer to Laura? We wondered why she wore a white, muslin dress to dinner. Someone (I apologize for not remembering who) conjectured that she didn’t want to appear wealthier than those around her (I hope I paraphrased correctly).

In the fifth part of Marian’s diary, Laura tells Marian, “I used to fancy what I might have been, if it had pleased God to bless me with poverty, and if I had been [Hartright’s] wife. I used to see myself in my neat cheap gown, sitting at home and waiting for him.”

This quote supports the idea of Laura not wanting to be wealthy. I also think it may foreshadow a day when she and Hartright are together and living simply, and she will then become a woman in white too. It may be a wild thought…

My book published by "Broadview Editions" is based on the original serial format which has neither epochs or chapters. Each narrative is numbered however.

"...In the 1850s Collins had writen a series of articles for "The Leader" entitled, "Magnetic Evenings At Home," based on his own observations of "mesmeric experiments": these were practices whereby one person was given the power to affect another's mind and body. The enormous popularity of mesmeric seance throughout all levels of Victorian society culminated in a sensation known as the "Mesmeric Mania of 1851," a phenomenon that Collins integrates into structure and themes of the novel. As an early form of hypnotism, "animal magnetism" was believed to be an electrical current produced by the touch or "pass" of the "magnetizer" (the mesmerist) that allowed the mesmerist to influence the will of the individual subject (the magnetized). Alternatively the mesmerizer might instruct the individual subject to gaze at, and concentrate on, a small object (often a candle flame); after a period of time the subject would fall into a trance. The individual would supposedly remain fully conscious, but would lose possession of himself - his will to act or speak independently was temporarily suspended (unless the mesmerist spoke to him) and he would apparently become completely unaware of his surroundings.

Certainly, what makes Count Fosco such a fascinating and memorable villain in Collin's novel is the mesmeric power he exerts over practially every character in the novel - his wife, Sir Percival Glyde, Marian Halcombe, even his pet mice. Despite the charming manner and jovial disposition of the Italian nobleman, his penetrating gaze and paralyzing touch enable him to manipulate all to his will and whim. He himself boasts of his ability to control the minds and bodies of others, thanks to the "luminous experience" of both medical and magnetic science. He is acknowledged by many to be "a man who could tame anything." Indeed, his undue influence over Marian is manifest in her confession that he "has interested me, has attracted me, has forced me to like him" (240), despite the fact that she and her half-sister Laura Fairlie have also come to fear and distrust him. Friendship also knows no bounds where the Count's influence is concerned for when Sir Percival becomes unsettle and excitable, [the Count's firm hand slowly tightened to grasp on Sir Percival's shoulder, and the Count's steady voice repeated, "Be good enough, if you please, to remember it, too."] (p.269)..." Introduction to "The Woman in White"

"Animal magnetism is also known eponymously as mesmerism after Franz Mesmer who postulated the existence of magnetic fluid or etheral medium as a therapeutic agent. The (conventional) English term animal magetism translates Mesmer's magnetism animal. Mesmer chose the word "animal", for its root meaning (from latin animus="breath") specifically to identify his force/power as a quality residing in the bodies of the animate beings: (humans and animals). Mesmer chose his term to clearly distinguish his variant of magnetic force from those which were referred to, at that time, as "mineral magnetism, cosmic magnetism and planetary magetisms." ~ Wikipedia

"Mesmerism and hypnosis (as we now understand hypnosis) have nothing in common except their shared historical roots, and the experience of the mesmerized subject is significantly different from that of the hypnotized subject." ~ Wikipedia

"Hypnosis is a natural physchological process in which critical thinking faculities of the mind are bypassed and a type of selective thinking and perception is established. Although some individuals experience and increase in suggestibility and subjective feelings of an "altered state of consciousness", this is not true for everyone. In fact, some supposed hypnotic indicators and subjective changes can be achieved without relaxation or a lengthy induction by means of simple suggestion or waking hypnosis, a fact that increases the controversy and misunderstandings around hypnosis and hypnotic state." ~ Wikipedia

Perhaps this is where the horror comes into play. "...I can hear his voice, as if he was speaking at this moment. I know what his conversation was yesterday, as well as if I was hearing it now..." [Marian Halcombe's Diary - June 28th (p,240)]

Count Fosco's eyes and voice mesmerize us in much the same way that Dracula and the Mummy did in early 1930 horror films. If you want to read a great story about mesmerism read Edgar Allan Poe's story: "The Facts of the Case of M. Valdemar". I also heard the story on CD as it was recited by Basil Rathbone. Anyone who has ever heard Rathbone's voice knows what I'm talking about - the man simply put "mesmerized" me.

The estate: the estate is entailed, so its disposition follows rigid rules. Everyone who gets the estate has only a life interest in it, meaning they get the income of the property (3000 pounds) during their lifetime, but can't sell it or change who it goes to after they die.

When Frederick dies without children, it goes to Laura. If Laura dies unmarried, it goes to a cousin. If Laura marries, and dies without children, her surviving husband gets the use of the estate for his lifetime, then it goes to the cousin. If Laura dies leaving a son, he inherits the estate when his father dies, but his father has the use of it until then.

In addition Laura has money of her own from her father: 20,000 pounds outright, and a life interest in 10,000 pounds.

In appreciating how much money this is, remember that Hartright was offered 5 guineas a week as a drawing master, 210 pounds a year, and thought it generous.

Joan

Thank you for the many insights and for the words of Jane Smiley. However, for HER the book brought pleasure and entertainment rather than terror. That doesn't mean it will be so for any of us.

Smiley was honest and I will be too.. Th book by the author is intended to be full of Horror and Terror ! Not only the naivety and position of Laura and the circumstances of Ann , but the truly evil characters found in the story-the cunning Count Fosco and his wife and the narcissistic, sardonic Fairlie are chilling.

Percival too is as bad as they come but seems much more obvious in his cunning and perhaps not quite as smart as the more sophistacated villains. Laura is so innocent that I find her the most unbeleivable character in the book. She is the proverbial innocent, riding for a fall.

Judy

I, too, am stumped by Countess Fosco, but I think the idea that she (and maybe Marian too) are mesmerized by the Count sounds very plausible. My first impression was that the Countess was totally dominated and terrified by her husband, but she seems to be taking a bit more active role with the eavesdropping, etc. When she was out of breath at one point, wasn't the implication that she had rushed off to the village to retrieve Marian's letters from Laura's maid before they were delivered? All at the Count's bidding probably, but still...

As for Sir Percival, I think he's just a very selfish, very desperate person. I don't think he has any affection for Laura but sees her merely as his financial salvation. I don't think he's jealous of Walter, but he's afraid that Walter knows whatever secret the Cathericks know, and that could destroy Sir Percival. (Can't for the life of me guess what that secret might be!) On the other hand, after listening in with Marian on the conversation between the Count and Sir Percival, Percival did seem rather appalled by the idea of even talking about Laura's death, so he doesn't strike me as truly evil (the way the Count does).

We're expecting bad weather here this weekend, so I'll be holed up at home with no access to a computer again until Tuesday. Happy weekend everyone!

LauraD, I think Jane Smiley is wrong about pity and terror. Who could not pity Anne Catherick? She seems so helpless and lost, yet determined to do what she feels she must. And she certainly has had a miserable time.

The terror is not going to affect us the way it did Collins' less sophisticated audience--we've watched too many B grade horror movies. But there is plenty of creepiness, and eerieness amd effective, menacing moods, and we have more horror to come, too.

JOAN, you misread my post, I think. I'm not suggesting that Countess Fosco was abused as a child. I actually knew children who were unnaturally still and quiet, due to fear of an abusive father. The countess is now behaving in a manner that is unnatural for her in her earlier persona, and I believe she is completely cowed by her husband.

Countess Fosca's change from the outspoken champion of women's rights to the woman who doesn't make a move without checking first with her husband, reminds me of Shakespeare's "Taming of the Shrew". I don't believe her eavesdropping indicates a self-initiated activity. I think she does nothing whatsoever but what her husband tells her to do.

As for Sir Percival's reaction to identifying Hartright, it rings false to me. I'm no psychologist, but I felt that Sir Percival seized upon any excuse to find blame in Laura, to offset in some degree his very blameworthy harm to her.

CHRISTYMO was wondering what secret the Cathericks could know that could destroy Sir Percival. The first thing that pops into my mind is the most obvious one, and therefore may be totally wrong. I suspect the 'lady in white', ensconced in an asylum, is Sir Percival's daughter by Mrs. Catherick. That would certainly have ruined his chances with Laura before the marriage. If he still fears whatever she could say after the marriage, I can only wonder if, in his younger days, he actually married the woman now known as Mrs. Catherick? That would render his marrige to Laura invalid, and he would lost all he has gained from it. That is the only secret I can think of that would ruin the man.

Babi

BaBi I have the same impressions as you have from the story. Either Sir Percival was married to Mrs Catherick or he has a wife locked up in an asylum somewhere. Another thought was that he murdered a previous wife and Mrs Catherick knows about the murder. Either way Mrs Catherick plays a pivotal role in the fortunes of Sir Percy and could stand in the way of him realising his desire to claim all of Laura's money.

Carolyn

" Laura is so innocent that I find her the most unbeleivable character in the book."Judy

Judy, I don't see Laura as an unbelievable character. I feel Laura is a perfect image of the unmarried Victorian lady. Her innocence bespeaks her wealth. Living in a wealthy home, with Mrs. Vesey as governess, has allowed Laura protection from the dark or hazardous sides of society.

I find Marian Halcombe more unbelievable. How many Victorian women were so outspoken? How many Victorian women would cross examine or speak up to a male figure? I would say not many women in Victorian society were like Marian Halcombe.

LauraD, thanks for the interesting link about hair. JoanP, you said to keep color in mind. I think we have discussed black already. I did notice Mrs. Michelson, the housekeeper, took notice of the dress worn by Mrs. Rubelle. by the way, she's never called Nurse Rubelle, I don't think. Is she an impostor hired by Count Fosco?

Anyway, Mrs. Rubelle's dress is "the plainest black silk, inappropriately costly in texture and unnecessarily refined in trimming and finish, for a person in her position in life." In other words, a nurse would not have been able to afford such a costly garment.

In the Victorian Era the wealthier women stayed at home to protect hearth and home. Were women working, whether blue collar or white collar, always underpaid? I remember reading about Florence Nightingale. If I remember correctly, she came from a wealthy family. Her family despised the fact that Florence N. chose to go in to nursing as a profession. I also remember during the Crimean war prostitutes often worked as nurses. I hope my memory is not playing tricks on me. Now I can not remember how I began posting what I am posting. I hope this post is not too far off the beaten path.

Florence Nightingale

Nursing Spectrum

You might want to scroll down to Magnet Force No. 4.

Hats ~ I agree with you! Some women in Victorian times were strong and moved up to postitions outside the usual parameters. Nurses and teachers had the potential for positive examples. And Queen Victoria herself!

Mippy, I thought of Queen Victoria too. It's impossible to read about this time in History without remembering Queen Victoria.

Well, now I am flummoxed. Everything I have read about the Count causes me to be suspicious of him, and to fear the worst from him. Now I read the startling words of Sir Percival, on his return from his hasty trip to confront Mrs. Catherick. Count Fosco desires to speak with him immediately, and Sir Percival counters with: "If you want to badger me with any more of your infernal scruples, I, for one, won't hear them."

The Count has scruples?!! Either I have sadly misunderstood the man, or Sir Percival is blind to his true nature. Considering that the Count seems to have some sort of hold or control over him, that is hard to credit.

I don't know what to think. ...Babi

"...In a far more sinister way, Foso is the "evil genius" who was wrought a profound and sustained transformation in his wife. The former Eleanor Fairlie was free-spirited, gregarious, and even irascible, but "[a]s Madame Fosco (aged three-and-forty), she sits for hours together without saying a word, frozen up in the srangest manner in herself" (239)~ "Introduction" p.23

No, I don't want to be around when Madame Fosco wakes up - she is the one who does all the action - it may be the Count that commands her to do so, but it she who acts. Therefore, I think she is the more dangerous of the two. For if anyone should harm her Count she will undoubtly become a tigeress!

"While Fosco's mental influence over others is apparent, it is the woman in white (Anne Catherick) who enacts the pivotal mesmeric trance without which the events of the novel could not unfold. When Anne Catherick "lightly and suddenly" lays her hand on Walter Hartright's shoulder, not only is "every drop of blood in [his] body [...] brought to a stop," but he loses all self-possession. Hartright recounts how "the loneliness and the helplessness of the woman "touched" [him]" such that "no earthly right existed on [his] part to give [him] a power of control over her, even if [he] had known how to exercise it". Contrary to his better judgment and his sense of duty, he falls under her sway, "distressed by an uneasy sense of having done wrong" (70). From this moment, Hartright describes how "the woman in white got between me and my pencil, between me and my book" (71). Despite her apparitional, indeed opaque status, the woman in white is in full possession of her story and always the presiding consciousness through which Hartright's experience is processed herself of all [his] enerigies, who has become the one guiding influence that now directs the purpose of [his] life." She is, indeed, a "dangerous woman to be at large" (53, 184).

Ultimately, Anne Catherick is not to be contained. Her strange, hypnotic power reverberates and reaches beyond the pages of the text to seize hold of the reader as well. Indeed, reactions of the readers to the novel were compared to the same kind of suspension of the will that mesmeric subjects might have experienced. In fact, many reviews drew upon physiologically charged terms such as "extraordinary fascination" and"thrilling" to describe the experience of reading the novel. In her famous review of the novel, Mrs. Oliphant claimed that the novel had laid a "spell" on her, while Edward Fitzgerald reported that even though illness forced him to put the novel down, "The Woman in White" nonetheless continued to "exert a sort of magnetism" on him." ~ Introduction p.23

Even now we are wondering where Anne Catherick is, so in a sense she has even at this reading put a "spell" on us. We are submerged in the lives of various other characters, but at the same time in the back of our minds Anne Catherick is wandering to and fro forcing our attention away from the others. She is indeed: "a dangerous woman to be at large".

The Count's scruples: The scruple the Count has shown so far is a practical one, not a moral one. He wouldn't let his wife be a witness when he also was one. I think Sir Percival fears some further quibble will prevent him from getting what he wants.

I expect the Count does have scruples of aesthetics or manners, or practical ones, but not moral ones.

Do you think he is capable of murder, Pat? Of course, he might have mesmerized the Countess into doing the deed.

Why am I , and many of you "mesmerized" by the Woman in White? I think the words of Robert Browning tell it all:

Our interest's on the dangerous edge of things.

The honest thief, the tender murderer,

The superstitious atheist."

In our book all the "bad guys' have conflicting elements to their personalities. There are secrets to be unravelled and we will follow the thread to the end of the labyrinth to find out what is hidden there.

Meanwhile, the "good guys" are open and aboveboard and give us an anchor in the boiling seas of perfidy and manipulation.

Judy

The information on mesmerism is fascinating, Scrawler! It gives me a whole new perspective on the novel.

I think all of the characters in the book are believable, even as odd as they might be. Truth is always stranger than fiction.

I have no idea where Anne Catherick is now. I think the dog was Anne Catherick’s mother’s dog. It accompanied her when she came to Sir Percival’s. I don’t know why she would have come, except that it has something to do with “the secret.”

BaBi and Carolyn, you have given me some good ideas of what the secret could be. Somehow, I had thought it would be something more outrageous, but what, I don’t know.

I think the Count is definitely talking murder, but whether Laura will actually be murdered or not remains to be seen. I don’t see Sir Percival doing it. His behavior has been the most predictable to me.

I am going to reread the conversation between Sir Percival and the Count about scruples. I found it confusing, almost as if there was some alternative definition of scruples being used.

I think by "Scruples" Sir Percival meant Count Fosco's desire to act in an orderly fashion, not moving too quickly, thinking before acting. A scrupulous person can act with patience and not have a moral bone in his body. Sir Percival is totally impatient, acts without thought while Count Fosco is very patient, counting the cost of each move made, no one can hear him walking. There is patience even in his footsteps. In this way, Count Fosco is scrupulous.

It is frightening how every person the ladies can trust are made to disappear. Walter Hartright is gone. The solicitor, Mr. Gilmore, is away. The mai taking the letters for Marian was let go. People are being moved around by Count Fosco and Sir Percival like checkers on a checkerboard. The people pleasing to these two men take the place of the other people.

Saddest of all, Laura is separated from Marian. Marian Halcombe is now in the care of Mrs. Rubelle. I hate this woman's name. It reminds me of a disease, the measles. I am worried about Marian's care without Mrs. Michelson being there.

Rubella Measles

LauraD, I bet you are right. From my standpoint, if there is a murder, I think Sir Percival will commit it. Count Fosco seems like the thinker and planner. Sir Percival is so angry I believe he could hurt another person in a New York second. I can't get out of my head the way Sir Percival bruised Laura's arms. I don't know. I can see what you are saying too.

JoanP, thank you for telling about Wilkie Collins' mistress being like Marian Halcombe. It shows a lot about WC's character. He was unafraid of the strengths of a woman.

Scrawler, thank you for explaining the word mesmerism.

I now know Mesmerism and hypnotism are different.

"Mesmerism and hypnosis (as we now understand hypnosis) have nothing in common except their shared historical roots, and the experience of the mesmerized subject is significantly different from that of the hypnotized subject." ~ Wikipedia (contributed by Scrawler)

JOAN, of course, you are quite right. I had forgotten for the moment Anne Catherick's close resemblance to Laura. Anne's father must have been a Fairlie and Laura either a half-sister or possibly a cousin.

On further thought, it occurred to me that Sir Percivals reference to the Count's "scruples" could simply mean his interference in Percival's rough treatment of Laura and Marian. I found it very difficult, all things considered, to believe that the Count is much afflicted with moral scruples. The later conversation between them, with Marian listening, confirmed that.

I was very upset with Laura's response to her husbands angry questions in the boathouse. "He insisted on it - I was alone with him - I could conceal nothing." I realize her scruples do not permit her to lie, but that doesn't mean she has to tell everything she knows. If there is no one there to support her, she has all the strength of a wet tissue! Not that it really mattered in the end, since having told him all she knows, he doesn't believe her anyway.

I agree, HATS. Count Fosco would never endanger himself by acting directly. He would have Sir Percival do the dirty work, while he himself was safely elsewhere. His constant interference with Sir Percival's harsh treatment of his wife was not, I believe, out of tenderness for ladies. If a wife is to be murdered, the husband really should attempt to convince all witnesses of his great love for her, not demonstrate his violent temper.

Babi

If you remember as part of the divorce laws I posted earlier this was said about the corespondent: "...A guilty verdict against a corespondent could destroy a man both financially and socially..."

During the 19th century a man's reputation was his most prized possesion. Perhaps Sir Perival's secret has something to do with his reputation and or his background. So keeping this in mind what does the conversation between Sir Percival and the Count say about Sir Perival's secret:

"..."We are at a serious crisis in our affairs, Percival," he said; "and if we are to decide on the future at all, we must decide secretly to-night."

"...Crisis?" repeated Sir Percival. "It's a worse crisis than you think for, I can tell you!"

"So I should suppose, from your behaviour for the last day or two," returned the other, coolly. "But, wait a little. Before we advance to what I do NOT know, let us be quite certain of what I do DO know. Let us first see if I am right about the time that is past, before I make any proposal to you for the time that is to come."

"Now, listen, Percival. I will put our position plainly before you, as I understand it; and you shall say if I am right or wrong. You and I both came back to this house from the Continent, with our affairs very seriously embarrassed..."

So we know that Sir Perival and the count have money problems, but what has that to do with Sir Perival's Sercret.

"Look here, Fosco, you and I have known each other for a long time; and, if you have helped me out of one or two scrapes before this, I have done the best I could to help you in return, as far as money would go. We have made as many friendly sacrifices, on both sides, as men could; but we have had our secrets from eachother, of course -- haven't we?"

"You have a secret from me, Percival. There is a skeleton in your cupboard here at Blackwater Park, that has peeped out, in these last few days, as other people besides yourself."

"Well, suppose it has. If it doesn't concern you, you needn't be curious about it, need you?"

"...Come, Glyde! let us be candid one with the other. This secret of yours has sought me. I have not sought it. Let us say I am curious -- do you ask me, as your old friend, to respect your secret, and to leave it, once for all, in your own keeping?"

"Yes -- that's just what I do ask."

"...Fosco! I'am a lost man, if I don't find her."

"Ha! It is so serious as that?"

"...Yes!" he said. "Your face speaks the truth this time. Serious, indeed - as serious as the money matters themselves."

"More serious. As true as I sit here, more serious!"

"I showed you the letter to my wife that Anne Catherick hid in the sand," Sir Percival continued. "There's no boasting in that letter, Foso -- she does know the Secret."

"Say as little as possible, Percival, in my presence, of the Secret. Does she know it from you?"

"No; from the mother."

"...One moment, Percival. If Lady Glyde does know the secret, she must know also that it is compromising secret for you. As your wife, surely it is her interest to keep it?"

"...He [Hartright] knows the secret, and she knows the secret. Once let them both get together again, and it's her interest and his interest to turn their information against me."

So now we know that Percival suspects that Anne Catherick knows his secret because her mother told her and he also suspects that Laura and perhaps Hartright know as well. We also are made to understand that this secret is more serious than Percival's money matters.

So what could be more serious than money. Let us assume for a moment that this secret concerns Sir Percival's reputation. What do we really know about Sir Percival's background. Where did he come from? Who were his parents? The only characters that might know about his background are Anne's mother and perhaps Laura's father. But Laura's father is dead and as Percival said Anne's mother has been sworn to secrecy.

Now it is possible that Anne, Laura, or Hartright might really know his secret, but Hartright is now out of the country. Even though Anne is missing, if she had told Laura neither of the women have yet confronted Percival about it. So perhaps neither of the women really know what his secret is about.

But again I keep going back to Sir Percival and his reputation and his background. What could be so horrible in a man's past that it should haunt him in the present the way this "secret" is haunting Percival?

Well, I reread and didn’t discover any new information! LOL!

I did confirm that the Count doesn’t know Sir Percival’s secret. However, as Joan said, I do think the Count has things well in hand.

I thought it was weird that the Count actually wrote in Marian’s diary. There must be a reason why…

As for scruples, I don’t think the Count or Sir Percival has any, except about how he appears to whatever society in which he belongs.

Harking back to Chapter 14, there is a discussion among Laura, Sir Perceval, Marian, and Fosco, while sitting by the lake. Laura takes the line that a wise man would be a good man, hence no criminal, and that crimes cause their own detection. Fosco replies that, on the contrary, the few crimes that are discovered are only a small percentage, and the truly wise criminal is the one who is never suspected.

I can easily see him committing murder, but only in a very clever way that would be unlikely to be found out. Sir Perceval, on the other hand, if he did commit a murder, would be more likely to strangle someone in a fit of fury.

Did anyone notice Marian's comment about her clothes in chapter 21? She is about to go out on the veranda roof to eavesdrop on sir Perceval and Fosco. She removes her rustly silk dress and her white underwear, and dresses in a dark petticoat and a black, hooded traveling cloak. She then remarks:

"In my ordinary evening costume, I took up the room of three men at least. In my present dress, when it was held close about me, no man could have passed through the narrowest spaces more easily than I."

Pat I am not surprised when one considers the number of petticoats and the hoops they had in their dresses that Marian would feel so light in the garments she wore when she was listening in on the Count. The clothing the upper class women wore in those days must have been claustrophobic in summer. The working class garb would have been much cooler and freer.

JoanP, it is interesting. Count Fosco At the very end of the diary, he chose to sign his name. In my mind's eye, I can see his name written in flowing, recognizable cursive at the end of the page. Our handwriting, scholars say, tell a lot about our personality.

Why did he writ his name there? I am thinking he chose to do it because, for some reason, whether because of his involvement or not, he expects Marian to recover from her illness, not only recover but live to read and write in her diary again.

This is an interesting entry in Marian's diary. When Marian returns to her bedroom, she talks about her helplessness, her inability to do the type ofeveryday duties the average woman would know how to do or a poorer class woman.

"I hardly know when I groped my way back to the bedroom, and lighted the candle, and searched (with a strange ignorance, at first, of where to look for them) for dry clothes to warm me. The doing of these things is in my mind, but not the time when they were done."

In some way, I find this entry sad.

We know that Laura and Marian do not yet know the secret, as Anne Catherick had no chance to tell them. She was interrupted or prevented each time she tried.

I, too, was struck by the Count's glee over the description of Anne Catherick. He definitely sees an opportunity in that, and the one that first comes to mind is substitution. For instance, if one is dead and one in the asylum, guess who gets to make the identification.

HATS, I took Marians strange confusion as due to the illness which had taken hold. She was apparently feverish, and that can make one feel very vague and inept, as I'm sure we've all experienced.

Fosco's entry into Marian's diary is supreme arrogance, IMO. I believe him to be absolutely sincere in his admiration of Marian...she is worthy of him...supreme compliment! But writing in her private diary and signing his name is telling her that no matter how clever she is, he is vastly more so. He is telling her she cannot win this battle against him.

Babi Babi

"...It was not until the Married Women's Property Acts of 1870 and 1882 that personal property was gradually extended and granted to married women. Prior to the enactment of this legislation all assets that a woman possessed before marriage (stock, shares, money, jewels, household goods, clothes, etc.) or acquired in marriage through wills or investments, became the sole property of her husband. As the unmarried Marian Halcombe observes: "Men! They are the enemies of our innocence and our peace - they drag us away from our parents' love and our sisters' friendship - they take us body and soul to themselves, and fasten our helpless lives to theirs as they chain up a dog to his kennel" (208). In 1884, however, another Matrimonial Causes Act challenged a husband's custodial rights. This act was a significant advance because it extended to married women some modicum of control over their own person; if a wife refused to perform her conjugal duties, the only action a husband could legally pursue was judicial separation, but he could no longer force her back to the home or have her imprisoned." (Introduction: p.28-29)

"Collins's distrust of marriage as a legal and social institution was only part of his larger concern with an all-pervasive domestic ideology that relegated men and women to their separate and most unequal spheres. Specifically, Collins's fiction takes issue with the ideology of the Angel in the House which further stripped Victorian women of their individuality..." (Introduction: p.29)

I think it is interesting how Collins's distrust of marriage was woven into this novel but not quite as strongly as some of Collins's other novels. Certainly, we have Marian's words about men and there is the theme of "individuality" within the pages of the novel, but I don't think the ideals put forth are as great as in some of his other novels. But the author's voice and his distrust of marriage do come through the pages. Had Collins not had these feelings of "distrust" do you think that his plot would be different from what it is?

BaBi, I like your explanation of Fosco's entry as a kind of warning. It is also, as you point out, a chance for him to express his admiration to her. Marian is his weak point. Surely it would be a good idea for him to destroy the diary, but he can't bring himself to do so.

He is an awful villain, but he is the only one who truly appreciates Marian, especially her less feminine qualities. I find this both amusing and annoying.

Thanks for info about women"s property rights As far as married couples were concerned, the father had total control over his children and was permitted by law to deny his wife access even to her newly born baby if he so desired. This was changed by the campaign of Caroline Norton which led to the Infant Custody Act of 1839, allowing women to petition for custody of children under the age of seven and access to those under sixteen.

The likeness between Anne and Laura reminds me of Dicken"s propensity for coincidences in his books - who was leading who I wonder - there was bound to be a family connection here!

SCRAWLER, I wonder if this book had some influence in the passage of the Women's Property Rights bill? The timing would be right, since the book was first published in 1860. Surely it would change a lot of thinking over the next 10 years before the bill came up.

I would say Anne Catherick's father had to be one of the Fairlie brothers. I can't see Frederick Fairlie as the father! That leaves Phillip, Laura's father, or perhaps...wasn't there a brother who died? Phillip seems the most likely, and I think is likely Sir Percival would know that. It would not explain what his great secret is, tho.

One of my great delights in reading this book is the small bits of irony that Collins inserts. Remember back when Marian admitted her bias toward Sir Percival had no solid foundation, and was determined to regard him fairly. I loved the tart "More discoveries in the inexhaustible mine of Sir Percival's virtues.

Another was in Edward Fairlie's account. "The moment I hear Miss Halcombe's name, I gave up. It is a habit of mine always to give up to Miss Halcombe. I find, by experience, that it saves noise. I gave up on this occasion. Dear Marian!"

Babi

Collins says that the cold Marian caught from getting chilled and wet turns to typhus, partly owing to incorrect treatment on the part of the country doctor. This is complete nonsense, but we can't blame Collins for the medical knowledge of his time. Typhus is caused by a microorganism, a Rickettsia, and is spread by lice or fleas. It wouldn't be a particularly likely consequence of a cold, as pneumonia might, because the organism wouldn't be around. Most of the treatments of the time didn't do much good, either, except for the common sense rules of care and things like setting bones. Fosco at one point suggests brandy as a stimulant to Marian's system, where the doctor wants to pursue a "saline" or "lowering" treatment. For the purpose of the story, all that matters is that Marian is worse, and Fosco has offended the doctor.

"...I am sure, my pure girl, you must want your tea. We can let the messages wait till afterwards. Come, come, if nothing else will put you at ease, I'll make the tea and have a cup with you."...The Countess insisted on making the tea, and carried her ridiculous ostentation of humility so far as to take one cup herself, and to insist on the girl's taking the other. The girl drank the tea; and according to her own account, solemnised the extraordinary occsion, five minutes afterwards, by fainting dead away, for the first ime in her life...When she came to herself, in half an hour's time, she was on the sofa, and nobody was with her but the landlady. The Countess, finding it too late to remain any longer at the inn, had gone away as soon as the girl showed signs of recovering; and the landlady had been good enough to help her up-stairs to bed...She had been giddy in the night; but had got up well enough to travel in the morning." (pp.357-358) "The Narrative of Frederick Fairlie, Esquire, of Limmeridge House"

Something screwy is happening to my posts. I posted #194 and than when I edited it my editions erased themselves. So here goes nothing:

I think can assume that the Countess did not want to kill Fanny, but simply wanted to exchange letters that Fanny concealed in her "bosom". [Interesting how Farlie is upset at the word.] At any rate the Countess probably poisoned the tea. I found it interesting that the Countess not only insisted on making the tea, but also had a cup herself.

When I looked up the word poison in the encyclopedia I found it interesting what Paracelsus, the father of toxicology said about poison: "Everything is poison, there is poison in everything. Only the DOSE makes a thing not a poison." To continue: "In the context of biology, poisons are substances that can cause injury, illness, death to organisms, usually by chemical reaction or other activity on the molecular scale, when a sufficient quantity is absorbed by an organism."

My own personal opinion was that the poison used was probably "opium". "Opium was used to help control mild pain through much of the century. It was abused as a recreational drug from as early as 1840. In 1868, it was estimated that at least 100,000 people from all stations of life were addicted to drug, which was openly sold in drugstores in pill form or as laudanum." ~ "The Writers Guide to Everyday Things in the 1800s"

I am worried about Laura and Marian too. Whenever Walter Hartright goes on investigative errands, I worry he will not return safely. After all, there are two men following him. I remember those two men following him before he went to Central America.

All of the people Laura knew so well no longer recognize her. Staying in that asylum from July to October changed her emotions and her outward appearance.

"all heard, the sad conclusion was inevitable that the change produced in Lady Glyde's face and manner by her imprisonment in the Asylum was far more serious that Miss Halcombe had at first supposed..."

It is all just too sad. Frederick Fairlie, her uncle, doesn't recognize her as Laura, neither do the servants. It is like everybody has been stricken with amnesia except for Marian and Walter.

Is this just a good story? Were women really locked away in asylums without cause during the Victorian Period?

I have only read up to the above statement in the header. I don't want to give away spoilers.

It seems a little bit unbelievable that everybody would have a lapse in memory about dates. I am surprised Marian did not use extreme caution and date her diary entries.

Actually, in the leisurely country life led by the landed gentry, dates probably got little attention. One perhaps needed to know when it was Sunday, or one's half-day off, but not the actual date.I wonder if there were even any calendars around. I can see where people recalling events would not be able to say on precisely what date they occurred.

Today is the 16th, and there have been comments on Edward Fairlie's testimony. Wouldn't it be less confusing to take the 'narratives' in order? Eliza Michelson's is quite extensive, and we learn more about her as well. She is completely taken in by the 'nobel' Count, tho', isn't she?

Babi

Believe it or not, my book has neither epochs or chapters but an strange numbering system that I have not seen before.Very confusing.

How did Collins know so much about so many things? Besides his history of mistresses or partners he did many fascinating things in his life: Here is a partial list

1841- Apprenticed to Tea merchants.

1846-Law Student

1849-Exhibits his paintings at Royal Academy-Summer Exhibition

1851-Acts with Dickens in Lytton's "Not So Bad As We Seem"

1852-Tours provinces with Dickens' Theatrical Company

1853-Tours Switzerland and Italy with Dickens

1855- His first play "The Lighthouse" is performed.

1856- Goes to Paris with Dickens and then joins staff of Household Words

1859-Mrs. Caroline Graves moves in with him. Tours Cumberland,Lancashire and Yorkshire with Dickens.

1860-The Woman in White is published in Volume form.

Collins lived till 1889 and continued to publish non stop till 1888.

Judy

Julian Hawthorne (son of Nathaniel) met him in London in 1870.- described him as soft, plump and pale, suffered from various ailments, his liver was wrong, his heart weak, his lungs faint, his stomach incompetent, he ate too much and the wrong things. He had a big head, a dingy complexion, was somewhat bald, and his full beard was of a light brown colour. His air was of mild discomfort and fractiousness; he had a queer way of holding his hand, which was small, plump and unclean, hanging up by the wrist, like a rabbit on its hind legs. He had strong opinions and prejudices, but his nature was obviously kind and lovable, and a humorous vein would occasionally be manifest. One felt he was unfortunate and needed succour!

Wainey and Judy Shernock, thank you for the information about Wilkie Collins. It is very interesting.

Babi, I understand clearly your thoughts about dates. My mind still has questions. These are my thought or thoughts. Why did the solicitor, Mr. Kyrlie, point out the lack of foresight in no one involved remembering dates? "The simplest and surest of all proofs, the proof by comparison of dates, is, as I understand, altogether out of your reach..." Walter Hartright goes on to say getting a date or dates may be possible. At this point, Mr. Kyrlie responds "On the day when it is recovered, Mr Hartright, you will have a case."

I would think that those who owned homes with servants would keep the idea of dates foremost in their minds: There would have been servants to hire, trips to take, People were returning home from India back to Britain and back again, parties to give and letters to write to family and friends. Surely, dates, of some sort were written down.

Maybe dates would not have been as important to the poorer classes. Many of the poorer class, like Hester Pinhorn, could neither write or read. "I am sorry to say that I have never learnt to read or write. I have been a hard-working woman all my life....make allowances for my not being a scholar. Still, I am sure such a servant would have a way of knowing times and dates, perhaps, just by using their daily work hours as a sketchy way.

Is there a simple answer why there were no dates? Usually, the household went on with a simple but daily routine. Mrs. Michelson clearly remembers the hours for breakfast. "The breakfast hour was late at Blackwater Park-sometimes as late as ten, never earlier than half-past nine."

With the arrival of Count Fosco and Sir Percival and as these men got tighter control of their plans, the house routine became totally upset. For Marian, a lady fully intelligent and observant, everything became worthy of her attention down to the time of day. "The clock struck the quarter after one, when I laid my hands on the window-sill of my own room..."

True, HATS, the time of day was mentioned when it was pertinent, but I recall the mention of specific dates only on important occasions, such as settling the date of the wedding between Laura and Sir Percival. And of course, one dates the entries in a diary or journal.

It does, naturally, make it harder to establish a sequence of events for a hearing in court. Of course people who were traveling and has schedules to keep would keep track of dates. During this period at Blackwater, however, no parties were being given, no vistors expected, etc. One knew the times to catch the local train, but it came daily, and there was nothing to impress a particular date on one's memory. It would be more a case of 'I remember it was a Wednesday, because....', but which particular Wednesday might not be retrievable. I wonder if there was so much as a calendar in the house?

I was fascinated by Count Fosco's masterly handling of Fairlie. As he has shown before, the Count has a genius for reading the characters and weaknesses of others, and using the knowledge to his advantage. Frederick Fairlie is at first delighted with the Counts recognition of his 'sensitivity' and sympathy with his nervous condition. His admiration changes rather rapidly,when the Count persists in pursuing his agenda despite Fairlie's numerous attempts to cut the visit short. The Count even interrupted him! "...rode over me, as it were, without even the coachmanlike attention of crying 'Hi!' before he knocked me down." I LOVE IT!

Babi

"Typhus is any one of several similar diseases caused by "Rickettsia" bacteria. The name come from the Greek "typhos", meaning smoky or hazy, describing the state of mind of those affected with typhus.

"Rickettsia" is endemic in rodent hosts, including mice and rats, and spreads to humans through mites, fleas and head, body, and public lice. The insects often flourish under conditions of poor hygiene, such as those found in prisons or refugee camps, amongst the homeless, or until the middle of the 20th century, in armies in the field.

"Endemic typhus" (also called "flea-borne typhus' and "murine typhus" is caused by "Rickettsia typhi", transmitted by fleas infesting rats, and, less often, "Rickettsia felis", transmitted by fleas carried by cats or posums. Symptoms include headache, fever, chills, joint pain, loss of appetite, nausea, vomiting, and cough.

Typhus in history:

Typhus was common in prisons, where it was known as "Gaol Fever". Sometimes in criminal trials typhus from the prisoner on trial infected court personnel. In London, typhus frequently broke out among the ill-kept prisoners of Newgate Gaol and then moved into the general city population.

1. A major epidemic occurred in Ireland between 1816-19, which soon spread to England.

2. Many died of typhus during and after Irish potato famine in 1846 to 1849.

3. One of several epidemics in Baltimore, Memphis and Washington DC from 1865-1873.

Development of the vaccine:

The first major step in the development of the vaccinne was Charles Nicolle's 1909 discovery that lice were the vectors for epidemic typhus. This made it possible to isolate the bacteria causing the disease and develop a vaccine. Nicolle attempted a vaccine but was not successful in making one that worked on a large enough scale.

Henrique da Rocha LIma in 1916 then proved that the bacteria "Rickettsia prowazekii" was the agent responsible for typhus; he named bacteria after H.T. Ricketts and Stanislaus von Prowazek, two zoologist who died investigating a typus epidemic in a prison camp in 1915.

Once the crucial facts were recognized, Rudolf Weigl in 1930 was able to fashion a practical and effective vaccine production method by grinding up the guts of infected lice that had been drinking blood. It was, however, very dangerous to produce, and carried a high likelihood of infection to those who were working on it.

A safer mass-production-ready method was determined by Herald R. Cox in 1938, involving egg yolk and this was tested and put into hevy use by 1943." ~ Wikipedia

I found it interesting that "typhus" comes from the Greek word "typhos", meaning smoky or hazy which certainly describes Marian's description when she became ill: "Why do I sit here still? Why do I weary my hot eyes and my burning head by writing more? Why not lie down and rest myself, and try to quench the fever that consumes me, in sleep?

I dare not attempt it. A fear beyond all other fears has got possession of me. I am afraid of this heat that parches my skin. I am afraid of the creeping and throbbing that I feel in my head. If I lie down now, how do I know that I may have the sense and the strength to rise again?

Oh, the rain, the rain -- the cruel rain that chilled me last night!" (p. 350) "Miss Halcome's Narrative concluded"

If we know that the "rain" did not cause Marian's illness than we have to ask ourselves how did she get it? We can safely assume that she probably didn't get it from any of the prisons. But what about the disease being transmitted to "court personnel"? Or to the Irish imigrants who transmitted the disease to the English. Marian did go to a public inn to give the letters to Fanny. Could she have gotten this disease there in much the same we that we get the flu by contact with others during the flu season?

I can't remember. Did Dr. Dawson say that Marian suffered from Typhus? I don't think that was the diagnosis given by Dawson whom I trust. The other doctor, the one called in by Fosco or Sir Percival said Marian had Typhus. I hated the way Dr. Dawson was treated. He was treated like an old country doctor who knew nothing that would help the patient.

"'It is not typhus fever,' he remarked sharply. 'I protest against this intrusion, sir. No one has a right to put questions here but me. I have done my duty to the best of my ability--'"

So, who was in the right the new doctor or Doctor Dawson? I trusted none of the new people brought to Blackwater Park. I thought these people must have been hired and warned to do whatever Fosco and Sir Percival desired.

Neither of them was right according to modern knowledge, but I think Collins means for the doctor from London to be right. Dawson didn't admit it was typhus until the London doctor said so.

Of course, Fosco is also deliberately picking a fight with Dawson so he can get him out of the way at the crucial time.

Pat, that's true. Neither doctor was right. Scrawler, thanks for the information on Typhus.

In relation to the forgetting of dates.

Collins is witholding this information from us. The book is like a puzzle. Parts are being given to us piece by piece. If we had all the peices the suspense would be lost. We keep reading (at least I do ) with the hope that I will discover a missing piece on the next page or on the next (Ad infinitum).Our brains want to make the partial whole and Collins knows this and dangles facts and then we find out they are not quite what we thought.

Like Hartright we (at least, I) have trouble always making sense of the facts we have been given because as the light is shone on them, they grow brighter . Yet they are also like a prisim with many facets.

The book is also a mystery in the sense that the important facts are very murky and have light shone on them very, very slowly. (If you get paid by the word or by the page this is a necessary technique).

However puzzles can come to satisfying conclusions and I'm sure this will eventually happen. Meanwhile Marians Diary must be one of the most important points since the author gave it so many pages. Hmm... I will try to make a partial list of important facts thtat are certain in my next post Or perhaps others wish to do this.

Judy

In relation to the forgetting of dates.

Collins is witholding this information from us. The book is like a puzzle. Parts are being given to us piece by piece. If we had all the peices the suspense would be lost. We keep reading (at least I do ) with the hope that I will discover a missing piece on the next page or on the next (Ad infinitum).Our brains want to make the partial whole and Collins knows this and dangles facts and then we find out they are not quite what we thought.

Like Hartright we (at least, I) have trouble always making sense of the facts we have been given because as the light is shone on them, they grow brighter . Yet they are also like a prisim with many facets.

The book is also a mystery in the sense that the important facts are very murky and have light shone on them very, very slowly. (If you get paid by the word or by the page this is a necessary technique).

However puzzles can come to satisfying conclusions and I'm sure this will eventually happen. Meanwhile Marians Diary must be one of the most important points since the author gave it so many pages. Hmm... I will try to make a partial list of important facts thtat are certain in my next post Or perhaps others wish to do this.

Judy

Oops ! Please forgive the double post.

Judy

I would say that even more questions were raised in this section of the reading than were answered. While I feel like I have a good idea of “the big picture,” the details are still fuzzy. It is going to be fun working through this puzzle!

I have read only through this week’s assignment, and won’t be reading further until Saturday. I want to spend some time analyzing this section with all of you.

I don’t think Collins will leave the physical similarities between Laura and Anne as a coincidence --- at least I hope not! There must be a connection. Cousins?

I don’t think Marian had typhus. I don’t think Collins necessarily wants the readers to believe she had typhus, but given the medical knowledge of the time (or lack thereof), I think readers of the time may have thought Marian had typhus. This false belief by the readers would make any coming revelations about Marian’s true illness even more of a shock to them.

I found myself chuckling throughout Edward Fairlie’s account too!

Scrawler mentioned that “everything is poison, there is poison in everything. Only the dose makes a thing not a poison.” I just read this somewhere else! I think it was used in a historical mystery that I just finished called Silent in the Grave. What a coincidence!

The lack of dates in some of the testimony is a bit confusing, but I think a timeline, not necessarily with exact dates, could be created. Hmmm…I would like to do this, but am not sure I will have time…Oh, just before posting this I see that Judy has had a similar idea.!

I thought the testimonies we read this week were a result of Walter’s investigations. Now, this information is what he is taking to the lawyer.

Warning! Contains spoilers if you haven't yet read through"the dark and doubtful way".

You're right, Judy, we are definitely unraveling clues as we go along.

In the matter of the dates: "Lady Glyde's" death certificate reads July 25. "Anne Catherick" was re-committed to the asylum on July 27. Laura's memory is that she was examined by the doctors as soon as she arrived in London. Her memory after this is confused, but if she was committed immediately, or even the next morning, she didn't go up to London until after her supposed death. If they can find anyone who saw her alive as Lady Glyde after the 25th, they have evidence that it was someone else who died as "Lady Glyde".

It seems to me a little improbable that the issue of dates comes up so early. Already, when Hartright writes to Frederick Fairlie and Mrs. Michelson he stresses the importance of exact dates. But Hartright had had a while to think about it before he acted.

If, indeed, there is a discrepancy, the villains had a piece of luck. Mrs. Michelson sent for Dr. Dawson the day Laura left, and normally he would have made a note of the date, but he didn't because he was sick.

I wasn't 'surprised' to read of Laura's death; I just didn't believe it for a moment. Laura dying of heart disease, when we know that Anne Catherick said she was dying? Here is the Count's substitution scheme.

It occurs to me there is one 'fact' that could be established, tho' I don't know if Hartright or Marian (ie., Collins) will think of it. I assume Laura has been seen by a doctor on some occasions in her life. Isn't is likely he could testify that she had no heart disease? And Anne Catherick's friend and protector surely knows Anne was dying of heart disease. That alone should go far toward establishing who was actually in that coffin.

Babi

What bothers me is why was Anne Catherick put in the asylum in the first place? I don't believe for a moment she really belonged in that institution.

Is the narrative of Jane Gould of any importance? Her narrative is very short. She was there at a very important moment, the closing of the coffin. Why is her narrative included?

Frederick Fairlie's narrative is very interesting. The Countess, his sister, follows Fanny to the inn. Obviously, she knows Marian had given letters of particular importance to Fanny for F. Fairlie. The Countess drinks tea with Fanny. After the tea, Fanny faints dead away. The letters were still in Fanny's bosom. Although the notes had not been taken, anyone could tell those notes had been tampered with and read. Of course, they were read by the Countess.

The double whammy is that there has been a switcheroo done to Anne Catherick and Laura Fairlie. We are to think Laura is dead.

Just posting to say sorry that I've been so lax about joining in.
I do read all the posts every day and find all your thoughts most interesting. I have kept up on the reading.
Currently being very aware of each date due to personal events going on, I have a great deal of trouble stepping back in time to characters who do not know what the date is. Sorry to be down about this, but it's difficult for me to add anything to the discussion at present.

In edit: Hats!

Hi Mippy, I missed you!

I'm in the same boat, Mippy. I've been reading and following the discussion, and finding it all very interesting, but just don't have much to add myself at the moment. I did feel that my interest waned a bit with the narratives of the housekeeper, the cook, the doctor, etc., so I'm glad to be back with Walter again!

One thing I have been wondering... Why would the Count bother to do this switcheroo between Anne and Laura? He obviously had physical control of both of them at some point. So why not just kill Laura and put Anne back in the asylum? Or kill them both, if the point was to do away with Anne as the person who knows "the secret"?

Christy

The Opinions of Charles Dickens: (in regards to "The Woman in White").

"...I seem to have noticed, here and there, that the great pains you take express themselves a trifle to much, and you know that I always contest your disposition to give an audience credit for nothing, which necessarily involves the forcing of points on their attention, and which I have always observed them to resent when they find it out -- as they always will and do. But on turning to the book again, I find it difficult to take out an instance of this. It rather belongs to your habit of thought and manner of going about the work. Perhaps I express my meaning best when I say that the three people write the narratives in these proofs have a DISSECTIVE proprty in common, which is essentially not theirs but yours; and that my own effort would be to strike more of what is got "that way" out of them by collision with one another, and by working of the story..."

I believe that an example of what Dickens was talking about is found in: "The Narrative of Eliza Michelson, Housekeeper at Blackwater Park."

"I made no memorandum at the time, and I cannot therefore be sure to a day, of the date; but I believe I am correct in stating that Miss Halcombe's serious illness began during the first week in July..."

Now in my opinion this goes to characterization. One of the duties of a housekeeper is to REMEMBER dates. I think as Dickens suggested that Collins contrived this lack of information for his own sake and not in tune with the character which draws attention to the character.

Let us say that instead of dates we were trying to find out what murder weapon was used. We could just as easily give a series of weapons like: a rope, a candlestick, a revolver, a lead pipe etc. than not say what the weapon was at all or make some excuse like not remember seeing a weapon. In fact most readers would probably have not paid that much attention to the list of weapons any more than a list of dates until it was necessary to know that information. Some of us have recently read Poe's short story "The Purloined Letter" in which this is a very good example of having the item right under our noses all the time.

I find this strange. There is a name on the tombstone. This name disturbs W. Hartright. There is also the date of her death written on the tombstone. My mind wants to know the name written on the tombstone. Is this person part of the secret?

"Above it there were lines on the marble-there was a name among them which disturbed my thoughts of her. I went round to the other side of the grave, where there was nothing to read, nothing of earthly vileness to force its way between her spirit and mine."

Who does the name belong to? Walter Hartright feels almost contaminated by the presence of the name. The name worries W. Hartright so much he moves around to the other side. He doesn't want to see the appearance of the name. Who is this person????

Why not just kill Laura? I can think of 2 reasons. One is, it's safer this way. Sir Perceval benefits hugely by his wife's death. If his wife (or supposed wife) dies under medical care, of obvious natural causes, there can be no suspicion of murder.

The other is, I think Sir Perceval had scruples about a cold-blooded, carefully plotted murder. He seems pretty upset by the plot as it stands; I suspect that although he might be capable of killing someone in a fit of anger, he can't quite bring himself to plot his wife's death.

I think you're right, Joan, there has been no murder. Anne was dying anyway, and Fosco didn't do anything to hasten her death. He was quite shocked by her death, presumably because the plot called for her staying alive at least until Laura came to London. Would he have eventually hastened her death if she didn't die on schedule? I don't know.

I don't think Count Fosco wanted the murder of Laura. If he could get rid of another person with no one person's hands getting dirty, he would feel happier. This is sounding like one of those gangster movies way back when. I can hardly keep up with Wilkie Collins mind. There are so many characters. Everybody is going, coming or returning. It's all I can to keep up with who is who between Limmeridge House and Blackwater Court. Wilkie Collins does know how to weave a tale. It's Count Fosco who controls every move Sir Percival makes in the situation.

On the tombstone is the date of Laura's marriage to Sir Percival. I have been to many funerals unless my mind is playing tricks, usually, the person's birth date and date of death are on the tombstone. The date of marriage is not usually on the tombstone, is it????? I am thinking no.

Well, I started to prepare a timeline, but I think it is unnecessary. I really don’t think I will figure out any more than I already have by trying to compute the dates. The key dates on either end are June 20 and July 25. June 20 is the last date entered in Marian’s diary. July 25 is the day the body of a woman who looks like both Anne and Laura is declared dead by Dr. Goodricke. Therefore, we have a period of 35 days in which all these events we are reading about occurred.

Joan, you have a good point, questioning why people would talk to Walter. However, two or three pages prior to the end of this week’s reading, Walter tells exactly how he obtained the information from the witnesses. Marian wrote to Mrs. Michelson. Walter went to the doctor’s on behalf of Marian and was able to obtain a “copy of the certificate of death, and an interview with the woman (Jane Gould) who had been employed to prepare the body for the grave. Through this person, [Walter] discovered a means of communicating with the servant, Hester Pinhorn.” Walter states, “I obtained the Narratives of the housekeeper, of the doctor, of Jane Gould, and of Hester Pinhorn, exactly as they are presented in these pages.” So, whose didn’t Walter obtain? Frederick Fairlie’s. Maybe that is a clue, but to what I am not sure.

The Count’s agenda is clear, that is if you believe what he says. He states, according to Frederick Fairlie (and who obtained Frederick Fairlie’s testimony?), “first, I come to bear my testimony, with profound sorrow, to the lamentable disagreements between Sir Percival and Lady Glyde. … My second objective in coming to this house is to do what Miss Halcombe’s illness has prevented her from doing for herself. My large experience is consulted on all difficult matters at Blackwater Park; and my friendly advice was requested on the interesting subject of your letter to Miss Halcombe. I understood at once … why you wished to see her here, before you pledged yourself to inviting Lady Glyde.”

Basically, the Count wants Laura to go to Limmeridge before Marian can come herself and is there pleading the case.

But, I don’t recall the Count being made privy to the letter from Frederick Fairlie to Marian requesting that she come in person. Am I forgetting something? Maybe this is one of the intercepted letters.

Christymo asked, “Why not just kill Laura and put Anne back in the asylum?”

I thought there was a way to kill two birds with one stone, so to speak. Sir Percival didn’t want Anne to reveal the secret, so kill her off so that she can’t escape and reveal it. That takes care of that problem. Then, since Anne and Laura look alike, put Laura in the asylum as Anne. Lastly, say that Laura had died and collect the inheritance. Brilliant! Now, as to the particulars, I am not exactly sure, but at some point Laura was taken to the asylum or taken elsewhere, and Anne was put in her place. Then Anne died or was killed, but everyone claimed, or thought, it was Laura.

The only thing I found unusual about the tombstone engraving was the statement “sacred to the memory of Laura.” Shouldn’t it say something like “here lies Laura.” She doesn’t lie there.

Laura can not be dead. The plots of the time (And many today) do not allow for the Hero (Walter) not marrying his love at the end of the story. The only reason Collins might kill her off would be to put Marian and Walter together. But I just can't believe that will happen.

So if she is not dead the gravestone and the coffin are "red herrings" to make us think she is dead. The only person who is smart enough to conceive of such a plot is the Count who must be implicated in some way.

The fact that the two woman (Anne and Laura)look alike allow this plot to unfold . The characters who have buried Laura and given a death certificate can't all be implicated in the plot-or can they?

The Count has read Marians' diary-thus he knows how her mind works and is using it to his own advantage. The Count needs money and Laura and Percival are the conduits through which he will get the money. How he did all this will be revealed but I can't solve this right now.

Waiting for more clues to appear.

Judy

The Count and Sir Percival need money. At one point, they talked about their financial problems.

I think W. Hartright was looking at the name of Glyde. That name is "vile" to W. Hartright because he wanted Laura Fairlie to marry him. Then, she would have been known as Laura Hartright. Seeing that name, Glyde, reminded W. Hartright of his lost love, and then, he thought his dead forever love. I should have thought of this earlier.

SACRED

To the Memory of

LAURA

Lady Glyde,

Wife of Sir Percival Glyde, Bart.,

Of Blackwater Park, Hampshire;

And

Daughter of the Late Philip Fairlie, ESQ

Of Limmeridge House, in this Parish

Born, March 27th, 1829

Married, December 23rd, 1849

Died, July 28th, 1850

I would have to agree that there is something strange with this tombstone. In my book the words "Sacred" and "Laura" are in dark bold print. When an author does this he is usually trying to draw the reader's attention to the words.

So what does the words "sacred" and "Laura" mean to the characters in this book.

I doubt that Sir Percival felt that his wife Laura was sacred to him.

And probably the Count and Countess would have felt some emotion towards her, but not necessarily use the word "sacred".

Even Marian might not have thought of her half-sister as "sacred" or would Mr. Fairlie have felt that way toward his niece.

The only character who would have felt this way would have been Walter Hartright. So we can assume by this that even though Hartright didn't have the tombstone erected himself, he certainly would have agreed with the words "sacred" when it came to Laura.

But the question that I have is who had that word put on the tombstone and would it have been a word used at this time to describe the deceased person.

Another question I have is would it also be a custom to put the words "Wife of Sir Percival Glyde, Bart., of Blackwater Park, Hamshire" and "Daughter of the Late Philip Fairlie, Esq., of Limmeride House, in this Parish"? Why wasn't Laura's mother's name also included? And are the places where these men lived usually placed on the tombstone or is this the author again drawing attention not only to these people, but also to the places where these people resided for a reason?

Joan and Pat H- At first, I thought I could buy the idea that there was no murder and that Anne just died and then the idea of the switch occurred to the Count. But we can't forget that Anne was brought to the Count's home under name of Laura (all the servants were told the woman who was coming to stay was Lady Glyde) so the idea of the switch had to have occurred to the Count before he ever brought Anne to his home. Plus, if the Count didn't have some evil intentions where Anne was concerned (such as murder) why did he have her brought to his home in the first place? Just to try to learn the secret?

I like LauraD's theory "Sir Percival didn’t want Anne to reveal the secret, so kill her off so that she can’t escape and reveal it. That takes care of that problem. Then, since Anne and Laura look alike, put Laura in the asylum as Anne. Lastly, say that Laura had died and collect the inheritance. Brilliant!"

I think the Count is exactly that diabolical, despite all the "scruples" he claims to have. As Judy said, "The only person who is smart enough to conceive of such a plot is the Count who must be implicated in some way." Of course, he may have had the Countess doing all the actual dirty work, but I think he's the mastermind. Sir Percival may have had terrible motives in marrying Laura, and have been a terrible husband too, but I just don't see him as the evil villain in this story. I imagine Sir Percival is happy with the end result of Laura's death, but I wouldn't be surprised if even he doesn't know the truth about the switcheroo. He may even be telling himself that Laura died of natural causes under Count Fosco's care. Who knows? But I bet we'll find out before long!

Hats - I agree with you that it was Sir Percival's name on the tombstone that Walter found so objectionable. I didn't pick up on anything else strange about it though, so will be interested to see if any of Scrawler's theories on that play out. I bet I've missed a lot of clues along the way!

Question about Marian's diary: I think we've been told that Marian still has possession of her diary. She reads portions of it to Walter. Does that mean that she has also read Count Fosco's entry in her diary, and if so, what did she make of that? Has there been any mention of that and I just missed it?

Scrawler, I think you are onto something by asking why Laura’s mother’s name wasn’t listed on the tombstone. Could that omission be a clue to Anne and Laura’s physical likeness?

I tried to find some typical Victorian England tombstone inscriptions. I didn’t have much luck, but did find this site with pictures of grave markers, including that of Wilkie Collins!

Kensal Green Cemetery

Too bad we can’t read the inscriptions on these markers! Wilkie’s marker looks like I pictured Laura’s marker did. By the way, my book doesn’t highlight any words on Laura’s tombstone inscription.

Christymo and Joan, I, too, remember reading that Laura has her diary and was looking at it after her illness. No, there was no mention of the Count’s entry! I thought that was odd too. I think this is the passage we are thinking of:

“Although Count Fosco’s letter to Mr. Fairlie did not mention the address of the Asylum, that important omission cast no difficulties in Miss Halcombe’s way. When Mr. Hartright had met Anne Catherick at Limmeridge, she had informed him of the locality in which the house was situated; and Miss Halcombe had noted down the direction in her diary, with all the other particulars of the interview, exactly as she heard them from Mr. Hartright’s own lips. Accordingly, she looked back at the entry, and extracted the address...” (The Story continued by Walter Hartwright, II, pg. 411 B&N edition).

Yes, I think this is the first of several times that Marian’s diary will be referred to for “evidence.”

Joan, just to clarify, are we to read the remainder of the book for Tuesday?

JoanP, I am glad we spent time on the tombstone. I would have missed seeing what should have been noticed on the tombstone. LauraD, thank you for the link to the Victorian gravesites. It's a perfect site with Wilkie Collins' name there too. Scrawler, I didn't notice the mother's name not being on the tombstone.

I do believe Marian and Walter Hartright share a bond. I am not ready to say it will become romantic. They have shared many thoughts about Laura and Anne Catherick from the very beginning. When both people care so much for the same person, I think you must share a unique and tight bond with one another. For some reason, If anything happens to Marian, I see Marian as a spinster living out her days with Frederick Fairlie until his death or her death.

Count Fosco did know Anne Catherick was dying. Anne had told Laura, Laura told Marian, and Marian recorded everything in her diary,...which Fosco read. Personally, I don't believe anyone was murdered. Anne died of her heart troubles; she had said her death was imminent. The plotters didn't have long to wait, and the timing of Laura's coming to London was in their hands. There was no need to risk murder.

The scream and 'convulsions' may have been Anne's reaction when she realized she had been tricked and captured once again. I can believe they used some type of drug to quiet her at that time, and keep her quiet. The plot, as laid out by Fosco, accomplishes all their purposes without involving them in murder.

Babi

that I finished the book. So I won't say anything to those who have not.

Suffice it to say,my original suspicion that it was a case of Victorian identify theft which allowed the perpatrators to act in their own interests .. and the difficulty the victim had to prove who she actually was was correct. Colkots

"...But the veiled woman had possession of me body and soul. She stopped on one side of the grave. We stood face to face, with the tombstone between us. She was close to the inscription on the side of the pedestal. Her gown touched the black letters.

The voice came nearer, and rose and rose more passionately still. "Hide your face! don't look at her! Oh, for God's sake, spare him! --"

The woman lifted her veil.

SACRED
To the Memory of
LAURA
Lady Glyde, --


Laura, Lady Glyde, was standing by the inscription, and was looking at me over the grave." "The Narrative of Walter Hartright, Resumed" (pp. 419-420)

Atmosphere, the Mood of the Mystery:

"You can have many different scenes, characters, and actions, but the integrity of the whole piece will come, mostly, from the atmosphere which, in each scene, should contribute to the work toward the overall effect. So you want your atmosphere appropriate, immediate and long-lived. The atmosphere of your mystery will be its "mood", which can be light or dark or any shade between. You want it in your first paragraph, your first line. You want it from your first word through your last.

The atmosphere of your mystery is the envelope it comes in. It's the first thing the reader sees, the first thing he feels, and the last thing he remembers." ~ "How to Write Mysteries"

This particular scene is perhaps the best in the book for creating "mood." What better way than to have a mystery scene set in a grave yard. But there is something different about this. While the hero pines away for his lost love two "veiled" women appear.

"But the veiled woman had possession of me, body and soul. She stepped on one side of the grave. We stood face to face, with the tombstone between us. She was close to the inscription on the side of the pedestal. Her gown touched the black letters."

First of all we see once again how Collins uses mesmerism in his description of Walter when he sees the veiled woman. Next he sets this scene up by having Walter on the blank side of the pedestal while Laura's gown touches the black letters. What does this signify? Perhaps, it tells the readers that Walter being on the blank side of the pedestal he in a sense knows nothing of what happened while he was gone and Laura with her gown touching the black letters knows what really happened or at least knows some of what part she has played in the scheme of things.

What I found interesting was that instead of a long wordy paragraph, Collins draws a picture of Walter and Laura with the tombstone between them. What do they say: "a picture is worth a thousand words".

But I also want to draw attention back to the tombstone. I believe Collins is "pointing a finger" if you will at the tombstone. So what is on the tombstone that is so important. Certainly, the fact that Laura is not burried under it would be the first thought. But what about the other "words?" Could the finger be pointing at Sir Percival Glyde of Blackwater Park and Philip Fairlie?

Since both Glyde and Fairlie are on the tombstone is there a connection between them? It makes me wonder if Philip Fairlie was aware of the secret of Sir Percival.

The schedule proposed in post #244 is fine with me. I have already read The Thirteenth Tale, so the start date of that doesn't impact me.

Oh, boy! Joan, you are way ahead of me with your question of either/or on the missing mother’s name on the tombstone marker! I thought what you suggested first, that Laura’s father is Philip Fairlie but her mother’s identity is unknown. I can’t remember what we know of Laura’s mother, if anything.

Hats, I hope that Walter, Laura, and Marian will all live happily together when all is said and done. Laura would be Walter’s wife, but Marian would be an intellectual companion, of sorts.

Now, to start the next section of reading…

I finished the book and have been afraid to post anything, lest I give away something not yet addressed by the book. I have been reading all the posts every day.

This is the nineteenth century version of identity theft. Collins certainly is a master at building suspense, and twisting the plot at every turn. A classic example of 'Just when I figure out where it's at, somebody moves it.'

Juanita

I agree with your statement. "... I hope that Walter, Laura, and Marian will all live happily together when all is said and done. Laura would be Walter’s wife, but Marian would be an intellectual companion, of sorts." My post does not mention any romance between Water and Marian.

I keep up with the scheduled reading. Sometimes I get behind too. That doesn't help.

From what I recall of Laura's mother, other than that she was a very kind lady and corresponded regularly with her frequently absent husband, was that she was dark, like Marian. Laura presumably resembled her father, Phillip Fairlie. Which, again, supports the theory that Anne's father was a Fairlie.

Walter's grief on learning of Laura's death, his Mother's tenderness, the mourning, all leading up to the scene at the gravesite that Marian had once seen in a dream....it is very well done. I haven't read all Collins' work, but I am inclined to think he was right in considering this his best work.

Babi

Babi, thanks for reminding us that Laura’s mother is dark in coloring. I do remember that, now that you mention it. I notice that with books of this length and detail, I find myself thinking I know something about the plot or characters, but I am not sure why.

Anyway, if Laura looks like her father, then do we care about her mother? Maybe it is Anne’s mother we need to know about, if we assume that Anne is a Fairlie too. But, we have met Anne’s mother in the book. Now, why do I feel like we have been over this before?!?! LOL! Time to go read and figure this story out!

No, no, JoanP I see Laura, Walter and Marian living together as a happy family. I just can't come up with a suitable mate for Marian. Fosco is hanging around on the fringes. I just can't give him up to Marian yet. So far, he just doesn't seem good enough. Besides, something would have to happen to the Countess. The Countess is still alive and well.

I don't dislike the "daft" uncle either. I think he's funny. I don't think he would hurt a fly. Of course, his complaints could drive the sanest person mad. He's just eccentric.

I hope the best for Marian. I just can't see her future clearly. It's vague. Of course, if there is another death, all of the dynamics would change.

Okay, but not murder. I'm hoping the Gothic writers don't do murder. Can you think of any that do? They lock people up, but don't kill.

I have forgotten some of the characteristics of the Gothic novel. I have read the header about Gothic novels. I still have questions about what can and what can't happen in a Gothic novel. It's pretty late to have questions. I didn't realize murder is a no-no for the Gothic novel.

I have been thinking, trying to remember what I have read. I have read The Mysteries of Udolpho, Jane Eyre and Wuthering Heights. Now that you mention it I don't remember murder. I remember insanity, unknown identities or relationships and thwarted love.

I also have always felt that "The Moonstone" is better than "Woman in White", although discussing "Woman in White" in such detail makes me think twice about it.

I seem to remember dimly that Mark Twain's idea of his best work was a pretty obscure one. Was it "The Mysterious Stranger?"

What an author feels is his best work might not resonate with readers. It might be the work that expressed, however successfully or not, the ideas that were most important to the writer.

Hats, that's a very interesting point about murders. "The Moonstone" does have a murder in it, but it is late in the book and isn't the main point. Nowdays of course, people feel the more blood splattered around the better, but I don't think we have really gained by it.

PatH, I feel the same way.

I have six pages to finish. It is impossible to stop.

Got it!--but only with your clue. "Personal Recollections of Joan of Arc". I've read it, actually, but when I was a child and couldn't fully understand it. It is supposed to be the old-age recollections of her secretary. Maybe I should re-read it and see what I think of it now--I liked it then. My memory of it is pretty sketchy, except for a striking scene toward the end when Joan, who has already been executed, appears to the secretary in a dream or vision, with the smell of woodsmoke around her.

You asked about JoanK. I haven't heard from her for some days, but she found an apartment, small but sunny and pleasant, the renovations were supposed to be done early last week, and her furniture might have already arrived. It's a 15 min. drive from her daughter's. Dan (her son) is already out there, I think. She sounded very upbeat about things.

I haven't finished the book yet either, although I am getting close. Have discovered the truth about Sir Percival's big Secret, many questions now answered, but there must be a big confrontation with the Count and Countess yet to come. I'll try to hold off and finish later in the week along with everyone else.

Thanks to Joan for the reminder about Jane Eyre on PBS last night -- I LOVED it! It has been quite a few years since I read the book, but I thought the casting was terrific. Can't wait for the second installment, although I'm not sure when that will be.

On reflection, I find myself content that since Anne Catherick was dying, she should have her dearest wish, to lie beside her beloved Mrs. Fairlie. Remember saying how much she desired that? And now she has her dearest wish.

HATS, I really don't think there is any future for Marian and the Count. While she fascinated, at first, by his intellect and charisma, she came to fear and loathe him. She still fears him, far more than she ever did Sir Percival.

JOAN, I don't think Marian 'fears' the chance of Walter's failure so much, as she fears danger and risk to Walter in helping her and Laura. I suspect she would rather go on as they are now, than succeed in restoring Laura to her place at the price of injury or death for Walter.

What will their future be? I am beginning to wonder if Laura will ever fully recover. Perhaps they will live out their lives together, Walter and Marian perhaps as a couple, perhaps not, but caring for Laura as for a child.

Babi

"The Gothic romance is easily recognized on the book racks: dark cover; fleeing maiden; a house on a hill with a tower light; a storm whipping the waves, the heroine's hair, her cloak. Gothics are very much part of the "had-I-but-known" school of writing, and bring a strong element of suspense to the tale and, often, a feeling of supernatural events. A young woman arrives at the kind of house she shouldn't enter (as a visiting relative, a governess, a housekeeper) and immediately discovers that there are very strange goings-on going on...and the handsome relative/employer/owner seems to be at the root of it all. And she is the target of whatever evil is afoot. Of course, nothing supernatural is occurring (though a minor haunting as a subplot can still work), and the danger - which is real - is coming from a different quarter, some enemy of the family, for instance." The Writer's Digest Handbook of Novel Writing

The Romantic Suspense:

"This kind of mystery deals, often, with mainstream themes of love, life, happiness, and "good people" just trying to get through this life but falling, through no fault of their own, into terrible jeopardy. Usually he main character is a woman who is sexually appealing and unprotected. If these novels are set in the past, they could be called Gothics, but a true Gothic needs a grand old mansion, a wild moor, and a dark and stormy night. Daphne du Maurier's "Rebecca," in which a second wife finds herself haunted by what she thinks is her husband's love of his dead first wife and then discovers that instead the husband hated the first enough to murder her, may be the best of these. There is something sexual in the mystery of suspense that stirs and frightens readers - mostly women - in the most delicious way." ~ "How to Write Mysteries"

I would say that both these descriptions would describe "The Woman in White". You have Laura who is unprotected especially when Walter leaves. You also have the "old mansion" in Blackwater Park. Let us not forget the count and countess who in a sense are the outside threat. The one exception perhaps is there is no supernatural theme although "mesmerism" might be considered part of the supernatural in some circles. And in the chapters coming up you have Walter, Marian, and Laura "just trying to get through this life... [but]through no fault of their own, [are thrown]into terrible jeopardy." And finally we have a mystery that deals with mainstream themes of love, life, and happiness.

I enjoyed "Jane Eyre" last night on PBS although at least in first episode they left out almost 3/4 of the book. This is the problem with crossing over from book to a visual means you can loose some of the meaning behind the action shown in the movie. But all and all it was excellent with wonderful actors and actresses. I did think that the "mood" music added very much to the movie which of course no book can ever give you.

I haven’t finished the book yet either. I am just through this reading assignment. Even though we have many answers now, I have a feeling that some big “bomb” is going to drop.

Joan, your discussion questions have got me thinking about “bombs” that didn’t occur to me! Mrs. Catherick not Anne’s mother?!? Sir Percival not dead?!? These questions popped into my mind as I read the questions.

With regards to question #6, I don’t think it is unheard of for a parent to think of a child as nothing but an encumbrance. Based on Mrs. Clements’ description of Mrs. Catherick, her cold, hard character was perfectly fitting for this type of feeling (or lack thereof) toward her daughter, Anne. “Though never over-fond of my late daughter, I had a proper pride about her. No pauper stain … ever rested on my child.” I think Mrs. Catherick was more concerned with maintaining her own reputation than about the welfare of her child.

As an aside, do we know the first name of Mrs. Catherick? I thought, early on in the book, that I had read it was Anne. Then I dismissed that thought as confusion on my part. However, I can’t help but wonder, given this question, if I did read correctly and why a mother and daughter would have the same first name.

With regards to question #7, I initially believed that Walter identified the man as Sir Percival. The last lines of Walter’s narrative, section X are as follows: “My eyes dropped slowly. At first, I saw nothing under them but a coarse canvas cloth. The dripping of the rain on it was audible in the dreadful silence. I looked up, along the cloth; and there at the end, stark and grim and black, in the yellow light --- there, was his dead face. So, for the first and last time I saw him. So the Visitation of God ruled that he and I should meet.”

But, wait! If Walter was seeing him for the first and last time, how did he know it was Sir Percival?!?!

A very useful and interesting exposition, SCRAWLER. Thank you. You're very good at that sort of thing. Were you by any chance a professor of English?

I wasn't satisfied with the servant's identification of Sir Percival, as indeed the police were not. However, the inquest brought in other people from Blackwater to identify him, so I thought that was settled. I suppose Sir Percival could have arranged all this, but that would mean several people had agreed to abet him in the murder of whoever was in that burning vestry, which seems wildly unlikely.

Babi

Interesting... it never even occurred to me to doubt that Sir Percival was the person who died in the vestry fire. Who else would have been in there? But now that I've read everyone's posts, you all are beginning to make me doubt myself!

I wonder whether the Count ever guessed Sir Percival's secret, that his parents were never married so Sir P was not entitled to the inheritance? I have to admit, I had expected a much more dastardly secret than the forgery of a marriage record. I really felt like the story line of Sir P was wrapped up when Hartright explained that he chose not to reveal Sir P's crime after his death because the estate ended up going to the cousin (or whatever distant relative it was) that should have been the heir in the first place.

Joan- I think Anne wanted to be buried with Mrs. Fairlie because she showed her the kind of love and affection that Anne's own mother should have but didn't. I don't suppose Anne ever knew who her father was. I can't imagine Mrs. Catherick ever telling her the truth about that, esp. since she was so keen on reestablishing her reputation in the community.

Thanks Babi for your kind thoughts. I never went to college, but I read and researched various books on my own. For my last book that I wrote I read as many books from 1900 through 2003 that I could and now I'm reading books from 1800s for my present project. I truly believe you can understand the people of a particular period by reading what they read. It's fun for example to imagine how someone in 1847 who picked up the book "Jane Eyre" for the first time might have felt upon reading it and than I put my own feelings into the mouths of my characters.

Mrs. Catherick:

"...I want to know the secret of those private meetings of hers with Sir Percival Glyde. There is something more, in what you have told me of that woman's past conduct and of the man's past relations with her, than you, or any of your neighbours, ever suspected. There is a Secret we none of us know between these two -- and I am going to Mrs. Catherick, with the resolution to find it out."

"An old woman's advice is somethimes worth taking sir," she said. "Think twice before you go to Welmingham." ~ Hartwright's Narrative VII

The last paragraph can be seen as "gothic suspense". How many times have you watched an old black and white movie and screamed at your TV when you saw the heroine going up the dark, winding, staircase into a darken room where she had no business going and you knew that something horrible was going to happen. One of the problems I have with the "new" horror films is there is really no suspense - right from the bloody beginning we all know what is going to happen and at the end everybody will be dead or almost everybody because you have to have somebody left for the next sequel.

But in the older films and especially the suspense thrillers like Collins wrote we can still wonder like we were innocent children what's behind the door and this adds to the suspense of the scene.

Now that we are getting close to the Secret let us for a moment stop and ponder what it could possibly be. Mrs. Catherick feels that she has been wronged by her neighbors. Everyone feels that there was something going on between Mrs. Catherick and Sir Percival but what could it possibly be?

"When Sir Percival first appeared in your neighborhood," I said, "did you hear where he had come from last?"

"No, sir. Some said from Blackwater Park, and some said from Scotland -- but nobody knew."

"Was Mrs. Catherick living in service at Varneck Hall, immediately before her marriage?"

"Yes, sir.",

"And had she been long in her place?" "Three or four years, sir; I am not quite certain which."

There is a clue in this dialogue that will give us some information about the Secret. One no one knew where Sir Percival had come from and two Mrs. Catherick had been in service for several years before she left the service.

"Meanwhile, the impression on my mind was now decidedly adverse to the opinion that Sir Percival was Anne's father, and decidedly favorouable to the conclusion that the secret of his stolen interviews with Mrs. Catherick was entirely unconnected with the disgrace which the woman had infliced on her husband's good name."

So if there wasn't a sexual relationship between Mrs. Catherick and Sir Percival than who was Anne's father? And are we any closer in finding out Sir Percival's Secret? I keep going back to a "man's reputation" as being the worst thing that a man could lose during the 1800s. But what was in Sir Percival's background to make him think that he would be ruined if Anne or anyone else would repeat it?

Isn't it interesting that nobody really knew where Sir Percival came from?

Joan asked, “Anne only spent a brief time with the Fairlie's while her mother, Mrs. Catherick nursed her dying sister - or half sister. (Is this sister another detail that we should be noticing?)”

I think it is a detail we should be noticing. I noted it while doing my reading, but I don’t know how to connect it. And then Scrawler brings up another detail which I noticed but, again, didn’t know how to connect --- Varneck Hall. I know this was mentioned earlier in the book, but I can’t remember the details. Maybe it was just in reference to the same information we are given here, that Mrs. Catherick was living there, in service. I am thinking the Countess might be tied to Varneck Hall. I am feeling muddled with these details.

Christymo, I, too, was expecting a more dastardly secret. However, upon reflection, Sir Percival’s secret, the fact that he was not entitled to his inheritance, was of extreme importance, not just financially, but to his reputation. The relatively rigid class structure meant his life would be very different if he did not receive an inheritance. I think this follows your assumption, Scrawler, that a man’s reputation is the worst thing he could lose during the 1800’s.

If Sir Perceval's fraud had been discovered, he would have lost everything he cared about in the world--his money, his estate, and his position. I can't see him figuring out how to support himself by an honest day's work.

But he was in even worse danger. According to Mrs. Catherick, he could have been hanged for such a fraud, or if not hanged, transported.

It's interesting to see how important the right of inheriting wealth is to this class, many of them not suited to earning wealth. In Mr Kyrle's letter to Marian, he stresses that if Laura were to lend Sir Perceval money, it would be a fraud on her unborn children. Hartright, when he realizes the nature of Sir Perceval's fraud, sees that if Sir Perceval had not died, he (Hartright) could not have honorably kept silent about it, because of the rights of the true heir.

I am following along here sorry about the scarcity of my posts. I am trying to get a belt of trees pruned while I am having one of my spells of remission from my autoimmune problems. So much of the year I am unable to do heavy work. Its so humid here at the moment that its an effort to sit and post. I am hiding indoors now after being outside most of the morning. I wish it would rain as I have a doozie of a headache from the oppressive atmosphere.

I have to say I have extreme irritation with the upper class and their helplessness! A good days work would not go amiss I think! I am not sure if it was Sir Percival or not in the fire. As for Anne I think she is a Fairlie. Was she the illegitimate daughter of one of the two Fairlie brothers? It may seem our invalid is the culprit but with the twists and turns this novel has taken it may be that she is the daughter the other brother. I just dare not make up my mind!

I intend to do more reading this afternoon when it will be too humid to do anything but sit quietly.

Carolyn

yes, I guessed she must be related to Laura, and that poor invalid could not have mustered the energy so it must have been the wayward good-looking brother! I have been ruminating on the use of the exciting foreigner in many of the 19thC books - what about the French lady Lucy in Hardy"s Mayor of Casterbridge, Ladislaw in Geo Eliot'S Middlemarch, and now Collins gives us two - the charming and dangerous Count Fosco and the excitable but good friend Pesca. It seems that us dead dull conventional Brits need a bit of European spice in our lives!

Along with Babi, I would like to state my appreciation for Scrawler. Scrawler, your well written words keep us on track. You don't have to say you are a writer. Your words speak for themselves: clear, precise and focused. I am glad you are one of the many Seniornetters in love with words and books.

Carolyn, "I have to say I have extreme irritation with the upper class and their helplessness!"

Carolyn, I see what you are saying. I don't feel irritated as much as I feel sympathy. Thank goodness for the reformers living during this period in Victorian History.

By the way, I had no doubt that it was Sir Percival in the fire.

Joan asked, “Do you feel that Wilkie Collins is purposely "muddling" the plot with details?”

No, I think I am over analyzing and muddling myself! I tend to fall into this trap sometimes when I read a mystery that is long and full of details. I think there must be more, or that I missed something. In reality, I haven’t. I knew everything I was supposed to know from this section of reading --- Sir Percival died in the fire, Sir Percival forged a fake marriage of his parents into a registry, Anne’s father is a Fairlie, etc.

All right, no more over analyzing this section of reading! LOL!

So now we know Anne's parentage. I'm sure Collins means Hartright's guess to be correct. Mrs. Catherick was working at Varneck Hall at the relevant time, and Philip Fairlie, a good friend of Major Donthorne (the owner) was visiting at the time. Sir Perceval had never visited Varneck Hall. Laura is said to resemble her father strongly, and Anne is like her. And Mrs. Catherick shows resentment of Mrs. Fairlie.

I'm sure Mrs. Catherick is really her mother, too, since the birth took place in Old Welmington, where Mrs. Clements lived, and Mrs. C. took over Anne's care because her mother seemed to hate the baby "from the day it was born". Her unmotherly treatment is the result of her cold, vindictive nature coupled with resentment of her plight.

Thanks for the grin, VAINEY. I'm sure that not all Brits are dull; we just don't always catch their dry, straight-faced humor. But you are quite right about the English author introducing foreign characters to carry out the un-British types of behavior, like excitibility.

Q. 4, "What has made Laura so weak-minded now?" I suspect Collins has Laura as the more typical characterization of the fragile female of the period. She is the antithesis of the strong-minded Marian. The prototype female of the times was always 'weak-minded', compared with the men. She swooned in a crisis, grew pale at rudeness, etc. She would, of course, be terribly damaged by such ill treatment as Laura received, and might never recover. However, with the tender care she receives from Marian and Walter, Laura is slowly recovering.

Babi

Wainey, and BaBi, Collins illustrates another British attitude of his time: foreigners are somewhat comical, just because they aren't English. Fosco and Pesca are both comical in their appearance and manners, even though Fosco is a most intelligent and dangerous villian, and Pesca is a true and loyal friend, and still has a serious part to play in the story. I don't know if Collins himself had this attitude, but he knew some of his audience would.

"...Like his friend Dickens, Collins was openly critical of Victorian social conventions, and it was his purposeful agenda - his attacks for instance, on the institution of marriage or his sympathy for the plight of the fallen woman - that contributed, in part, to his popular appeal.

While "The Woman in White" has long been considered the first and most influential sensational novel, it is also a novel that launches a serious critique of the institution of marriage. Throughout the novel, Collins shatters the myth of the domestic sphere as a repository of peace, security, and moral values. Indeed, Limmeridge House is anything but a safe haven from the outside world; it is the site, rather, where a husband is well within his legal rights to exercise an absolute and sinister power over his wife. And Sir Percival outrageously pushes the boundaries of paternal authority: he has his wife kidnapped in claiming her inheritance as his own. Here Collins launches what is perhaps a not so subtle attack on the English Common Law of coverture. Coverture was justified by the widespread belief that women needed protection, such that a woman, once married, forfeited her legal existence and in effect, lost all protection. Under common law, a husband gained aboslute control of his wife's property, income, and body, as well as custody of their children.* Indeed, in "The Woman in White" after Laura Fairlie marries, her property, social position, and identity are subsumed by her husband, Sir Percival Glide. Marian Halcombe perhaps best sums up marriage for women as a death-in-life existence. After Laura's wedding nuptials, Marian prophetically laments that "writing of her marriage [is] like the writing of her death." (211)." ~ Introduction

Note: * Common Law also held that fathers had complete control over the guardianship of the children. Beginning in 1867, the Guardianship of Infants Act granted mothers custody of their infant children upon the death of the father, but it was not until 1925 that women were granted full custody rights to all their children.

When we think about the many rights that women can claim today, I think we need to give a silent prayer of thanks to such men as Collins and Dickens. If it weren't for them and other men like them, the woman's question and rights for women with regards to marriage might not have taken place at all.

I always find it interesting that writers and poets seem to see the need long before the general public understands the need. Having been a part of of the 1960 revolution I see how the general public look upon reformers of any kind as wanting to upset the apple cart so to speak. I'm sure it was the same in Dickens and Collins day. No doubt those in the higher class don't want to give up any of what they conceived to be their "god-given" rights. Nor could they really understand what all the fuss was about in regards to the rights of the poor.

Scrawler in some ways not much has changed the rich resent any Govt help to the poor and I have heard people say so many times that everyone who is poor is poor because of something they have done. Maybe some people create their own misfortunes but there are many many more who become poor because of illness or because they have been ripped off in business. (Non payment of a contract they have completed etc) I find it hard to stomach the callous remarks of some people about the poor.

Carolyn

Did Mrs. Fairlie suspect whose child Anne might have been? Not when she wrote the letter, but I wonder about later.

Philip himself might not have known. He wasn't around to recognize Anne's mother, and her name wouldn't have been Catherick when he seduced her. He was probably already gone from Varneck Hall by the time Anne's mother found out she was pregnant.

Anne would not have been an heir, even if Philip had admitted he was the father, unless he left her something in his will.

I don’t think Mrs. Fairlie suspected whose child Anne really was. We aren’t given any evidence that she ever suspected. I think she must have been a good hearted woman who had a genuine interest in children. She was a teacher, right?

I have just a few pages to go until I complete the book. I am ready to move on tomorrow.

Hartright talks about him in chapter 37. He was "...one of the notoriously handsome men of his time...the spoilt darling of society, especialy of the women--an easy, lighthearted, impulsive, affectionate man; generous to a fault; constitutionally lax in his principles, notoriously thoughtless of moral obligations where women were concerned."

In other words, charming and likeable, but not very scrupulous. He seduced the servant of a friend. This was unfortunately common at the time, but was disastrous for the woman involved. When she was found to be pregnant, she often was dismissed without character, and ended up on the streets.

I suspect that Mrs. Fairlie, who LauraD points out was a good woman, produced a good effect on him, but what happens after Mrs. F. died? His best friend is Sir Perceval. I find it hard to believe that a man friend, who would see Sir P. under less formal circumstances than a woman would, would not at least see that he was ill-tempered and high-handed. Philip decides that Laura must marry Sir P., and Laura, who adores her father, regards the wish as sacred.

It's ironic that Laura's honorable insistance on following her promise to her father, who wasn't always so honorable, is the cause of her troubles.

Imagine Laura's horror if she realized that Anne was her father's illegitimate child. It's a good thing that Marian and Hartright have enough sense to shield her from the knowledge.

Hmmm, Pat, now you have me wondering whether Sir Philip and Philip Fairlie were really friends - or was Sir Philip holding the knowledge of the pregnancy over his head - blackmailing him even. By getting him to promise his daughter Laura to a man like Sir Philip. Laura's father may have been a "likeable" fellow, but without scruples!

I don't think it's that complicated--I think Fairlie was too shallow to realize what Sir Perceval was like. I don't see a need for assuming blackmail-type influence. Of course Sir Perceval was out for the money, and was insincere in suggesting the marriage to Philip.

Pat said, “His best friend is Sir Perceval. I find it hard to believe that a man friend, who would see Sir P. under less formal circumstances than a woman would, would not at least see that he was ill-tempered and high-handed. Philip decides that Laura must marry Sir P., and Laura, who adores her father, regards the wish as sacred.”

This is an interesting point. To me, Mr. Fairlie seemed to be a superficial man, one who was more interested in appearances than substance; thus, his interest in attractive women with whom he had affairs.

I think Sir Percival was able to fool Mr. Fairlie into believing he was a good man. I assume that Sir Percival was able to play the part of a rich man quite easily while he was, in fact, rich. It seems that when money became scarce, that’s when he became irritable and bad tempered, which was after Mr. Fairlie’s death.

I am quoting from the Introduction of my book: "The Woman in White."

Marriage and the Woman in White:

"At mid-century, a married woman's body was ultimately the property of her husband; under common law, a wife was held in the custody of her husband, a right that he could enforce by a writ of habeas corpus. In "Commentaries on the Laws of England," Sir William Blackstone explained that in marriage, "the very being or legal existence of a woman is suspended, or at least incorporated or consolidated into that of the husband, under whose wing protection and cover she performs everything, and she is therefore called in our law a feme covert." Laura Fairlie (Lady Glyde) is not the only woman who suffers under the control of a despicable husband. Marian is shocked at the "change produced" in Madam Fosco: "On the few occasions, when her cold blue eyes are off her work, they are generally turned on her husband, with the look of a mute submissive inquiry which we are all familiar with in the eyes of a faithful dog" (239). The outrageous individual who once "advocated the Rights of Women" (256) now lives, as a married woman, in a "state of suppression" (240). Yet, even Marian admits that "[f]or the common purposes of society the extraordinary change thus produced in her, is beyond all doubt, a change for the better, seeing that it has transformed her into a civil, silent, unobtrusive woman, who is never in the way" (239). Fosco himself emphasizes the law of coverture when he points out that he and Madame Fosco "have but one opinion between [them], and that opinion is [his]" (206). Ironically, these women are actually in desperate need of protection from their villainous husbands." p. 28 Introduction

"Despite the fact that many peope in nineteenth-century England believed that the subjection of married woman under Common Law was morally wrong, marriage was considered a public and indissoluble contract which could only be terminated by death. Reforms did not come about until mid-century when many cases of domestic abuse became a matter of public record..." p. 28 Introduction

"Collin's distrust of marriage as a legal and social institution was only part of his larger concern with an all-pervasive domestic ideology that relegated men and women to their separate and most unequal spheres. Specifically, Collin's fiction takes issue with the ideology of the Angel in the House which further stripped Victorian women of their individuality. According to this idealized notion of feminine virtue, the Victorian woman was expected to be submissive, selfless, and wholly dependent upon her husband. Collin's rendering of Laura Fairlie, however, as both physical and psychological embodiment of this angel, is ultimately a pathetic figure. Even when she is married to Walter, she admits: "I am so useless - I am such a burden on both of you. [...]. You work and get money, Walter; and Marian helps you. Why is there nothing I can do? You will end in liking Marian better than you like me - you will, because I am so helpless" (480). Indeed, "The Woman in White" is "the story of what a Woman's patience can endure, and of what a Man's resolution can achieve" (49). p. 29 Introduction

I think the words "I am so usless - I am such a burden on both of you" is a fine example of "irony". And yes irony was widely used throughout 19th century novels to hammer home points similar to Collins. I do believe that authors first write to entertain, but they also write because they believe strongly or have a passion for "something" or "someone" and want us to fully understand the "what and why" behind the words.

Collins holds up Laura as "the Angel in the House" and Sir Percival as the "villianous" husband and Count Fosco as the "foreigner" who mesmerises the others in such a way that they become a reflection of ourselves or a reflection of the people in the 19th century.

As we read, we realize that many of the words and actions are exaggerted to the point that Collins drives home the point as if he was hitting us on the head with a board with a nail in it. In fact even his friend Dickens tells him: "I seem to have noticed, here and there, the great pains you take express themselves a trifle too much, and you know that I always contest your disposition to give an audience credit for nothing, which necessarily involves the forcing of points on their attention and which I have always observed them to resent when they find it out - as they always will and do." (p.627 Appendix B: letter from Charles Dickens - dated 7 January 1860).

In my opinion Charles Dickens told a better story than Collins does because he didn't lecture the readers. If you read for example, "Bleak House" by Dickens which deals over all with the same issues you can see the difference in the two authors' writings.

A word about Philip Farlie: Awhile back I asked the question why Laura's father would want her to marry someone like Sir Percival. If Sir Percival was Philip's friend and Mrs. Catherick's friend maybe he knew that Phillip was also involved with Mrs. Catherick and knew who Anne's father really was. Perhaps, Sir Percival was blackmailing Philip Farlie into allowing him to marry Laura. One might think that after his death the secret wouldn't matter any more but it could affect how the world saw Philip's heirs and therefore make it necessary to secure that Philip's secret would never be revealed.

Now that I have completed the book, I have started to read the introduction in my edition from the Barnes and Noble Classic series. The author of the introduction is Camille Cauti.

“…a move from Dicken’s brilliantly evolved characterizations, vast social sweep and scale, and stateliness of narrative to Collin’s heralding the advent of the pure sensation novel, of which The Woman in White represents an early and prime example. Collins is universally acknowledged as the master of the Victorian sensation novel, a wildly popular genre that managed to transmit the shocks and surprises familiar to readers of hair-raising Gothic novels but that contained no, or generally no, supernatural elements. Yet, the usually domestic crimes described in sensation novels – whose authors prided themselves on their realism in opposition to outrageous Gothic conventions --- were mainly of a lurid nature and many time were impossible to imagine happening in the real world. … Sensation fiction was precursor of the mystery thriller and the detective novel, and it proved extremely attractive to a Victorian audience primed with an appetite for scandal and for shocks that could not be sated by the gruesome accounts of crimes readers devoured in the cheap daily newspapers.”

This different classification was welcome news to me. Truthfully, this didn’t feel like a gothic novel to me. If "’gothic’ is about ‘setting’ and ‘mood’ which in a [sense] becomes another character in the story and adds to the plot of the over-all story (from link on gothic novel mood and setting),” then, by this criteria, I don’t think of The Woman in White as gothic. However, I think you will all agree that The Thirteenth Tale is gothic.

Joan P: You asked "Collins seems to have enlisted the sympathy and empathy of his readers with a lighter touch than Dickens. Would you say that his primary intent when writing this book was to entertain or reform?"

Although they were close friends , Dickens and Collins have very different literary styles . Dickens is considered one of Britains greatest authors. Collins , though we are seeing a resurgence presently is considered more of an entertainer than a reformer.. That's not to say his intentions were to entertain. I think his intention was to influence the mores and laws of the time. For me, his characters have neither the depth or the reality of the those that fill Dickens works. Although there is much suffering in the WIW I cannot personally identify with any one character, even though I can empathize with their suffering. Walter is too good to be true and Laura is a poor child while Marian is so selfless as to be Saintlike.

Swinburne commented about Collins:

"What brought good Wilkies genius nigh perdition?

Some demon whispered:"Wilkie have a mission".

Perhaps so.

Judy

"I might have taken Lady Glyde's life...at immense personal sacrifice, I followed the dictates of my own ...humanity, and took her life instead."

I think there is a misquote here. Fosco did not take Lady Glyde's life. Wasn't it her identity that he took instead?

Babi

I was surprised to find Pesca on the pages of the book again! But, if Walter could appear again, so could Pesca. I was anxious to see why he was back, what his purpose in the plot was going to be.

This goes back to an early post by Scrawler, where she mentioned that one thing that she didn’t like about the book was the disappearance of Walter for a significant portion of the book, and his reappearance after so much time. I am fine with Walter being omitted from the middle of the book. Marian mentioned him in her diary, but he was away and could not be reached via letter. The middle part of the book did not involve him in any way.

However, I thought Pesca’s reappearance was a bit contrived, although, because Walter was back in London, it does make sense that he would be in touch with Pesca. Moreover, Walter mentions several times during this last section of reading that he has only included parts relevant to the story. Consequently, Walter’s editing may make it seem like Pesca has appeared again out of nowhere, when, in reality, Walter may have been seeing him regularly.

Overall, I am fine with the style and characters in the book. I can understand Judy’s comment: “Although there is much suffering in the WIW I cannot personally identify with any one character, even though I can empathize with their suffering. Walter is too good to be true and Laura is a poor child while Marian is so selfless as to be Saintlike.” To me, the characters are caricatures. I can’t imagine that anyone truly like them existing. They are all exaggerated. That did not prevent me from immersing myself in the story and enjoying it.

Here is a link to some information on the Crystal Palace Exhibition:

The Great Exhibition at the Crystal Palace

You're right, Laura, Walter mentions that he was seeing Pesca all along, but hadn't mentioned it because it had no bearing on the story.

Why did Walter think that Pesca might know recognize Fosco? I guess just because they were fellow expatriates. Maybe Italians in London formed a little community. Pesca might know something about Fosco even if he didn't know he was a spy.

But it's quite clear why Fosco recognizes Pesca--they knew each other in Italy. Pesca had been a Secretary of the brotherhood in Italy, and the Secretaries knew all the members. Later, in Paris, Walter overhears the end of a conversation between Pesca and the man with the scar (presumably Fosco's murderer). Pesca says: "I remember the name but not the man. You saw at the Opera, he was so changed that I could not recognise him." Pesca had not changed, so Fosco could recognize him.

I don't see how Walter could have gotten what he needed from Fosco without this lucky chance. Only fear for his life made Fosco write the confession, and I don't think Walter could have found another weak spot.

Italian History:

"Italy remained in political turmoil for much of the nineteenth century. Despite numerous struggles for independence, the country would remain under foreign occupation, with northern Italy divided between Austria and Sardinia, and southern Italy ruled by the Spanish Bourbons.* "The Woman in White" begins in 1849, on the last day of July just after the collapse of a short-lived and ill-fated democratic republic in Italy." ~ Introduction p. 29

Note:

Only the Pope, who controlled the Papal States in central Italy, and King Victor Emanuel I, who ruled the Kingdom of Piedmont-Sardinia, were truly native Italians.~ Introduction p.29

Pesca:

"Pesca, we eventually learn, is a member of an Italian secret society. It may be a secret organization known as the "Carbonari" or it may be one of many underground resistance movements that had sprung up to secure a free and united Italy (a movement generally referred to as the "risorgimento or resurgence).* Within the Carbonari there were secret handshakes, signs, and passwords and, above all, absolute secrecy about the organization was required; betraying the cause of freedom in any way could bring swift and deadly retribution. In Collins's novel, Walter Hartright is told the name of the society in his narrative, referring to it only as "The Brotherhood." Pesca also carries the secret brand of "The Brotherhood" on his arm, and he is sworn, under penalty of death, to remain loyal to it and preserve its secrets." ~ Introduction pp. 29-30

Note:

The Carbonari was first formed in Naples during the Napoleonic era to overthrow Joachim Murat, who was then king (1808-15). It took its name from the trade of charcoal-burning, and its structure from Freemasonry, creating a hierarchy of lodges within the army and among the middle class. These secret lodges often met in the woods (where the occupation of charcoal-burning was traditionally practiced), but no matter where they met they incorporated the language of the trade into their secret organization, labeling their meeting places banacca (hut), and their lodges vendita (a place where coal was sold). Although one entered the organization at the rank of apprentice (unless he was already a Freemason), after a period of time one could be elevated to the grade of master. Despite its rules and organization, the Carbonari could never quite effect the change it so desperately desired, and it has been theorized that, as a basically middle-class society, they never really had the power of the people behind them." ~ Introduction p. 30

"Pesca's experience, we learn, is not unlike the experience of Giuseppe Mazzini (1805-72), who joined the Carbonari in 1827 as a member of the "Speranza" lodge in Genoa, or the experiences of hundreds of other Italian exiles. Mazzini was an eager and idealistic disciple and recruiter, but he admitted that the lodge seemed to be somewhat unfocused. "In my own mind," he wrote, "I reflected with surprise and suspicion that the oath [of allegiance to the society] contained nothing but a formula of obedience and not a word of purpose. My initiator had not uttered a syllable which gave a hint as to federalism or unity, as to republic or monarchy. Just war against the government, no more." Mazzini's role in the liberation of Italy was largely inspirational, as he advocated for the Young Italy movement with a messianic zeal. He pushed for the end of Austrian rule and the establishment of a democratic and unified country, calling for what he described as a "third Rome," greater than the ancient and papal Romes that preceded it. Mazzini quickly became Italy's spiritual leader in exile, a philosopher who inspired thousands of Italians and convinced them that revolution was not only possible, it was inevitable. Similarly, Pesca describes himself as "over-zealous in my younger time," and, as a result of that zealousness, he was ordered to emigrate to England to wait. There he has remained patiently for at least ten years, apparently waiting for the right moment to return to Italy and rejoin "The Brotherhood" and the fight for Italian unity. Ironically perhaps, Pesca was eventually not involved in the revolution of 1848-49,* the most significant rebellion of the previous seventeen years, and Collins does not propose any reasons, plausible or not, for this failure of "The Brotherhood" to call their ally home." ~ Introduction pp. 30-31

Note:

"In 1848, an uprising at Milan drove the Austrian troops out of the city, and a similar rebellion liberated Venice. It seemed as though the long hoped for revolution had finally arrived, and Mazzini were to Milan, where it appeared that the dream he had planned and written about was coming true. Late that year, Pope Pius IX fled Rome disguised as a priest, and a Roman Republic was declared. Mazzini was elected to the triumvirate that was to govern the new republic and it seemed that his destiny had been fulfilled. The success was short lived, however. The Pope appealed to the French for aid, and in April 1849 French soldiers arrived to retake the city. In July, just two days after the constitution of the new republic was presented, the French entered the city and the revolution was over. Mazzini was not arrested; he remained in Rome until the middle of July, then returned to his exile. Italy was not to become a democratic republic in his lifetime." ~ Introduction p. 31

I would have to agree that Collins missed the boat when he didn't include Pesca as part of the revolution that took place in 1848-49. Pesca was made a minor character whose only job was to help Walter secure the position of drawing master where he meets Laura and in the end recognizes Fosco which starts the ball rolling towards the final climax.

Since Pesca was not apart of the revolution, my question is: Did we really need to know so much about "The Brotherhood"? I think this part of the book was a little bit contrived. The fact that Pesca recognizes Fosco as another Italian could have been enough for the readers.

Again I go back to the format of the book. If this had been a normal format, the author could have weaved the information bit by bit within the story building towards a climax, but with this particular format it is impossible to do so. To me this format is like a car that won't start on an early morning cold winter day. You are in a hurry to get to where you want to go (in this case the end of the book) and now you have to stop and wait while Pesca explains about "The Brotherhood" which to me had little or nothing to do with the main three characters: Laura, Hartright, and Marian.

I understand that "The Brotherhood" gave us a sense of intrigue, but was this intrigue really necessary for the over-all story?

I understood the necessity of Walter marrying Laura before proceeding. As things stood, Laura could be re-taken and returned to the asylum; neither Marian nor Walter had any say in the matter. However, as Laura's husband, she was protected and nothing could be done against her w/o his consent.

I agree that Walter seems too good to be true, and Marian too self-sacrificing. Still, Collins has the talent to bring even minor characters alive for us in just a few lines.

The rector who alienated Sir Felix"”The rector was the worst of all innocent mischief-makers - an over-zealous man. “…..he arrived conscientiously at the conclusion that it was his bounden duty to summon the lord of the manor to hear sound views enunciated in the parish church.”

The parish clerk: “He was a cheerful, familiar, loudly-talkative old man, with a very poor opinion ..of the place in which he lived, and a happy sense of superiority to his neighbors in virtue of the great personal distinction of having once been in London.”

Who of us has not been on occasion been guilty of a "happy sense of superiority", whether based on a real or imagined 'personal distinction'? Or known someone who has. Oh, I do like Mr. Collins!

Babi

Scrawler, it's great to have a writer like you in the discussion. Your inside knowlege of constructing a story is a big help to the rest of us. You are right about the bit about the brotherhood being contrived, but your helpful historical background suggests that it might have been less obvious to Collins' audience. Those tumultuous political events had just occurred. England must have had many Italian expatriates who had been involved in the convoluted plotting going on, so an insular British reader would find it natural that an Italian character would be a member of a secret society.

We do need to know in detail how the brotherhood worked, because the point is not that Fosco is an Italian--he never denies it. The point is that by merely denouncing Fosco to the brotherhood (through Pesca) Hartright can have him killed. Fosco knows this, and it is fear for his life that makes him write the confession.

It's still pretty corny, though.

theme of innocent victim generates social as well as moral commentary.Collins, while retaining many of the conventional attitudes of his day toward women, attacks the complacency of a society that affords women little legal protection. He got the central idea for the book from Maurice Mejans collection of French criminal cases. One case involved the Marquise de Douhault - her brother seized her estates in 1787 and had then detained her in an asylum under an assumed name. Although she escaped,she was never able to regain her legal rights. The account also mentions that she was wearing a white dress both when she came to the asylum and when she left. ,

Scrawler mentions that Collins took issue with the Victorian notion of Woman as "the Angel in the House", pliant, subservient, not thinking for herself. And yet he has his hero fall in love with a pure example of the type. Laura is beautiful, which is no doubt particularly important to an artist. Her main characteristic, appropriate for an "Angel", is a sort of truthful purity: "In those few words she unconscioulsy gave me the key to her whole character; to that generous trust in others which, in her nature, grew innocently out of the sense of her own truth."

So he is happy with this rather childlike woman leaning against him and looking up to him to take care of her, while Marian sits in the background, capable, trustworthy, to be counted on in every emergency.

"The other Italian in the novel, Count Fosco, also comes to England, as a result of the political turmoil in Italy. Fosco arrives in the summer of 1850, in his words, "charged with a delicate political mission from aboard" (591). The precise nature of Fosco's mission is never completely spelled out, but we can deduce it. We learn that, like Pesca, Fosco also carries the brand of "The Brotherhood." We also learn that he receives mail bearing foreign stamps, and at least one letter apparently carrying a governmental seal. We also learn that he dies because he has evidently betrayed "The Brotherhood," and - according to Pesca - no one can betray "The Brotherhood" and live. Hartright labels Fosco a "Spy," and he apparently is just that. He has come from Italy to spy on Italian immigrants, men such as Mazzini and Pesca. Presumably he is to report back to those he represents, informing them of any revolutionary plans he may come across among the exiles he is watching. If there were any further doubt about Fosco's "delicate political mission," Hartright points out that, after her husband's death, Madame Fosco goes on record at stating that "His life was one long assertion of the rights of the aristocracy, and the sacred principles of Order - he died a Martyr to his cause" (615). Clearly, Fosco was a man Mazzini, and other Italian patriots, would reject: to them, he would be a man who had betrayed his country, his family, and his friends." ~ Introduction p. 31

Now, the character of Count Fosco makes much more sense. It is to bad that Collins portrayed him as a "comical" foreigner when he could have made the point that he was part of the Italian aristocracy and that his death was not anything that he did to Laura or any of the characters, but rather he was an example of aristocracy which in Collins eyes had to die so that the middle class could survive. This theme would have made far more sense than the one Collins chose to use.

But unfortunately this story line would not have worked well under the format that Collins used. To me the worst part of the book is when we have to stop in our tracks toward a thrilling conclusion and wait for Fosco not only to write his confession, but to have a cup of tea and a short nap as well - ho! hum!

In my opinion this scene is more than a bit contrived. There is however, several important facts that help us understand the role he played in this drama.

"...Nothing but my fatal admiration for Marian restrained me from stepping in to my own rescue, when she effected her sister's escape. I ran the risk, and trusted in the complete destruction of Lady Glyde's IDENTITY. If either Marian or Mr. Hartright attempted to assert that identity, they would publicly expose themselves to the imputation of sustaining a rank deception: they would be distrusted and discredited accordingly; and they would, therefore, be powerless to place my interests or Percival's secret in jeopardy. I committed one error in trusting myself to such a blindfold calculation of chances as this. I committed another when Percival had paid the penalty of his own obstinacy and violence, by granting Lady Glyde a second reprieve from the madhouse, and allowing Mr. Hartright a second chance of escaping me. In brief, Fosco, at this serious crisis, was untrue to himself. Deplorable and uncharacteristic fault! Behold the cause, in my Heart - behold, in the image of Marian Halcombe, the first and last weakness of Fosco's life!" (603)

Now we are to believe that the "one" fault that Fosco made was to admire Marian Halcombe - a woman - not for her beauty but for her brains. This idea goes against all of what people believed to be the Victorian stereo type of the Victorian woman! But I think we have to remember that it is not really Fosco (which would indeed be out of character for him - especially if he is part of the aristocracy) but rather it was the author himself that was speaking these thoughts.

Fascinating information on Italy and its relation to the book! Thank you all.

I assume that Marian’s last words for the novel were “THE END.” Is that what you all thought? Or did she write nothing at all. Either way, I think the meaning is the same. She just wanted to be done with the whole business of Laura’s marriage and reclaiming her identity and get on with life. Plain and simple. The end!

I assumed Marian's last words were those in which she introduces Hartright's own son to him as an august personage, member of the landed gentry "...the Heir of Limmeridge."

Thus Laura has come into her inheritance, and her son is assured of his place in the world.

LOL! Pat, what you said makes perfect sense! I see now. I still think “the end” was appropriate too! LOL!

"How do you set off the climax fireworks?

Think of a string of firecrackers. Start with a little pop and then run up the line of bombs and rockets until you get to the last.

Don't pussyfoot around now with atmospheric gush; atmosphere's of no use now. Dialogue that explains EVERYTHING is only in the way. You can't break away from the scene because it's at the moment. If you cliff-hanger away now, you' lose all the momentum you've been spiraling and twisting in, all the impact of the finale you've been building toward. In short, if you pull back now, you'll lose your juice.

Start with a small pop, any little pop you can use to get the fuse ignited, and then run. Go right into your big scene and run it through to the end.

" ~ "How to write mysteries" (pp.102-103)

Certainly, we see the beginning "pop" is strong enough:

"The same livid, leaden change passed over his face, which I had seen pass over it at the theatre. The deadly glitter in his eyes shone steady and straight into mine. He said nothing. But his left hand slowly opened the table drawer, and softly slipped into it. The harsh grating noise of something heavy that he was moving, unseen to me, sounded for a moment - then ceased. The silence that followed was so intense that the faint ticking nibble of the white mice at their wires was distinctly audible where I stood.

My life hung by a thread - and I knew it. At that final moment, I thought his mind; I felt with his fingers - I was certain, as if I had seen it, of what he kept hidden from me in the drawer.

Another man, in his position, would have needed some explanation of those words [the note left with Pesca] - the Count felt no such necessity. One reading of the note showed him the precaution that I had taken, as plainly as if he had been present at the time when I adopted it. The expression of his face changed on the instant; and his hand came out of the drawer, empty...

"Bah! we are travelling in a circle," he said; "and those clever brains of yours are in danger again. Your tone is deplorably imprudent, sir - moderate it on the spot! The risk of shooting you on the place where you stand, is less to me, than the risk of letting you out of this house, except on conditions that I dictate and approve. You have not got my lamented friend to deal with now - you are face to face with FOSCO!...

..."the skirmish was hot while it lasted. Take a seat, Mr. Hartright. We meet as mortal enemies hereafter - let us, like gallant gentleman, exchange polite attentions in the mean time. Permit me to take the liberty of calling my wife."...

"...My angel," he went on, addressing his wife; "will your labors of packing-up allow you time to make me some nice strong coffee? I have writing-business to transact with Mr. Hartright - and I require the full possession of my intelligence to do justice to myself...

" pp. 583-585)

I think Collins started out with the "pop" of firecrackers while Fosco had his hand in the drawer Hartright certainly was in danger of having his "brains" spilled on the floor, but than it begins to sizzle until at the end of what I see as the climax he not only sits down with a cup of coffee, but later on in the scene takes a nap.

Now in a different format the information that Fosco reveals to Hartright would have spilled out drop by drop instead of gushing through like a cavalcade of water almost washing over the readers' head. By now much of what Fosco revealed was not really news at all. For example had the housekeeper been true to her character's nature she would have had the date that Laura had left the house.

There are however three important questions that Fosco did answer in this section:

The first concerns Madame Fosco. Fosco says: "... Where, in the history of the world, has a man of my order ever been found without a woman in the background, self-immolated on the altar of his life? But, I remember that I am writing in England; I remember that I was married in England - and I ask, if a woman's marriage - obligations, in this country, provide for her private opinion of her principles? No! They charge her unreservedly, to love, honour, and obey him. That is exactly what my wife has done. I stand, here, on a supreme moral elevation; and I loftily assert her accurate performance of her conjugal duties. Silence, Calumny! Your sympathy, Wives of England, for Madame Fosco!.

"If Anne Catherick had not died when she did. ...I should... have assisted worn-out Nature in finding permanent repose..."

"Third question. On a calm revision of all the circumstances - Is my conduct worthy of any serious blame? Most emphatically, No! Have I not carefully avoided exposing myself to the odium of committing unnecessary crime? With my vast resources in chemistry, I might have taken Lady Glyde's life. At immense personal sacrifice, I followed the dictates of my own ingenuity, my own humanity, my own caution - and took her identity, instead. Judge me by what I might have done. How comparatively innocent! how indirectly virtuous I appear, in what I really did!"

And so ends the tale of "Fosco". The first question concerning marriage, although necessary to the over-all theme of the book, does not in my opinion belong in this part of the book. We could just as easily seen Fosco's "ideals" of marriage and his wife through various dialogue with Sir Percival in earlier chapters.

As to the second question concerning Anne Catherick, it would again in my own opinion, been better to "show" Fosco using his "chemistry" to as he put it: "assist worn-out Nature in finding permanent repose." SHOW don't tell is the golden rule in writing that adds to the suspense.

And finally, the last question that Fosco answered would probably have fallen under the category used in the course of a trial in the that the judge might say: "does the accused have anything to say before I pass sentence you..."

Although interesting, does it really belong here?

Dear, dear ones,

I have never known such withdrawal symptoms. Dragged my laptop on the plane - to the beach, believing what they said about wireless connection at the hotel. When I was unable to pick up any signal I called the Dell help desk, who had me change a bunch of settings - and still am unable to get on.

I waited until today when the library opened to get on - and am only allowed 15 minutes on the Express computer. The rest are all reserved for the day!

Please, promise me that you will peek in here on Wednesday for more conversation? If you can do that, maybe my inner turmoil at not being able to share time with you will settle somewhat. I can't bear this! There is so much more to say before we move on to Thirteenth Tale!

Love...and missing you in sunny Florida,
Joan

I can't see that Collins has pictured Fosco as a clown. He is a sinister character, tho' with what the English reader would see as overblown mannerisms that might be considered clownish. On re-thinking the question, it seems to me that English authors used foreign characters for both purposes. They were either ridiculous, or they were sinister. Collins has one of each.

Fosco tells us how he sees himself. SCRAWLER quotes some eye-opening instances of this. Remember this one?: “I am a man of the antique type. I am capable of the most exalted acts of virtue - when I have the chance of performing them. It has been the misfortune of my life that I have had few chances. My conception of friendship is sublime."

He holds to the comfortable view that it's not his fault he was not a more virtuous man; he was not permitted to be. He had few chances. A peculiar self-deception for such an intelligent man. I wonder if he really believed it.

Or this: “Judge me by what I might have done. How comparatively innocent! How indirectly virtuous I appear, in what I really did!” The man is incredible!

Babi

"The denouement is the "wrap-up," the tying up of the loose ends, the explanations of complications as needed.

But that old scene where the master-solver asks all the suspects to come into the library and then accuses one who turns out to be innocent in order to turn to the real murderer is very old hat.." ~ "How to Write a Mystery"(p.104)

"...I went up-stairs to see if the Professor was ready to go out. Just before I reached the landing, I saw his door opened from the inside; a long, delicate, nervous hand (not my friend's hand certainly) held it ajar. At the same time, I heard Pesca's voice saying eagerly, in low tones, and in his own language: "I remember the name, but I don't know the man. You saw at the Opera, he was so changed that I could not recognize him. I will forward the report - I can do no more." "NO MORE NEED BE DONE," answered a second voice. The door opened wide; and the light-haired man with the scar on his cheek - the man I had seen following Count Fosco's cab a week before - came out..."(p.612)

"Am I disturbing you?" I asked. "I did not know you had a friend with you till I saw him come out."

"No friend," said Pesca, eagerly. "I see him to-day for the first time, and the last."

"I am afraid he has brought you bad news?"

"Horrible news, Walter!..."(p.613)

"...The moment those words reached me, I stopped, and took my place with the crowd going in. Some dim foreshadowing of the truth had crossed my mind, when I heard Pesca's voice through the open door, and when I saw the stranger's face as he passed me on the stairs of the hotel. Now, the truth itself was revealed to me - revealed, in the chance words that just reached my ears. Other vengeance than mine had followed that fated man from the theatre to his own door; from his own door to his refuge in Paris. Other vengeance than mine had called him to the day of reckoning, and had exacted from him the penalty of his life. The moment when I had pointed him out to Pesca, at the theatre in the hearing of that stranger by our side, who was looking at him, too - was the moment that sealed his doom. I remember the struggle in my own heart, when he and I stood face to face - the struggle before I could let him escape me - and shuddered as I recalled it."<pp. 613-114)

"...His [Fosco] body was taken out of the Seine, in the disguise...nothing being found on him which revealed his name, his rank or his place of abode. The hand that struck him was never traced; and the circumstances under which he was killed were never discovered. I leave others to draw their own conclusions, in reference to the secret of the assassination, as I have drawn mine. When I have intimated that the foreigner with the scar was a Member of the Brotherhood (admitted in Italy, after Pesca's departure from his native country), and when I have further added that the two cuts, in the form of a T, on the left arm of the dead man, signified the Italian word, "Traditore," and showed that justice had been done by the Brotherhood on a Traitor, I have contributed all that I know towards elucidating the mystery of Count Fosco's death."(pp.614-615)

And so ends Count Fosco, but what exactly does Fosco's death have to do with Laura and Marian or Hartright for that matter? I guess the question I have is that in the course of telling the story was Fosco's death really necessary to tell the story of Laura and her lost identity. Was it really necessary to have Fosco die in such dramatic fashion or was it over-kill (no pun intended) on the part of the author to once again hit us (the readers) over the head with a board and a protruding nail.

And what exactly was the author's explanation for Fosco's death? Madame Fosco writes of her husband: "His life was one long assertion of the rights of the aristocracy, and the sacred principles of Order - and he died a Martyr to his cause." (p.615)

Note: "Madame Fosco's summary suggests that Fosco had never held the same beliefs as those of the Brotherhood and had likely infiltrated the Brotherhood as an informant."

So as I see it Fosco was punished not for anything that he did either to Laura or Marian, but rather because he was considered a traitor to his countrymen. This would certainly have been an interesting sub-plot, but again I go back to the author's format. Had he been able to weave this sub-plot in and out of the story as you would see in a "normal" mystery in my opinion it would have played out better. Within this format it feels only like the ranting of an author against the aristocracy and not really part of the story itself.

Exactly, BaBi, "The man is incredible!" I think Collins definitely means Fosco to be a comic character. Your 2 quotes show his airy self-confidence in his own virtue. His self-confidence and self-importance are invincible. His admiration for Marian is meant to be funny as well as serious: this monstrous villian melting with admiration, and Marian's horror at the very thought. I thoroughly enjoyed this broadly drawn, over-the-top charaqcter.

Me, too, PAT.

Babi

Fosco's death was necessary by the conventions of British Victorian fiction. Evil must not go unpunished. The villian must get his comeuppance, preferably by some sort of poetic justice or divine retribution, and definitely in some way that leaves the hero without blame, or even showing compassion. So Sir Percival dies as a direct result of his efforts to cover up his crime, and Hartright tries to save him but fails.

So too with Fosco. Hartright has agreed to let Fosco escape, with misgivings, in order to get the evidence he needs. But, as Scrawler so tellingly quotes:

"Other vengeance than mine had called him to the day of reckoning, and had exacted from him the penalty of his life. The moment when I had pointed him out to Pesca, at the theatre in the hearing of that stranger by our side, who was looking at him, too - was the moment that sealed his doom. I remember the struggle in my own heart, when he and I stood face to face - the struggle before I could let him escape me - and shuddered as I recalled it."

Also, Collins neatly tied up all the loose ends of the major characters, so he had to do something about Fosco. And if Fosco had survived, Hartright would have had to fight a duel with him later. In spite of his bulk, I bet Fosco was a very good swordsman, or if not, would have managed to pull some sort of cheat.

I think that the next book will not be here in time for me to read any of it until I get back from LA. I'll be out of town from 2-1 to 2-15 but unlike Joan I will have internet access it's a Mac..and wireless at that...my daughter is very tech minded and I haven't seen the new setup yet.. Ah well... Colkots

Pat H- I too thought the fact that Fosco was madly in love with Marian one of the best points of the book. So totally unexpected and unnecessary that one wonders what Collins was actually thinking when he wrote this part of the book.

Does it show that Fosco was not so terrible if he could admire Marian? Is it a way of showing that the worst villain has a soft spot somewhere? Is Fosco an example of the type of man who could admire and perhaps love Marian? Was Marian aware of Foscos secret admiration or perhaps adoration?

Laura is so pale and wan that she just doesn't succeed as a Heroine as far as I am concerned. She is more like a doll that must be propped up by her admirers.

Thank you Scrawler for all the hard work you put into this discussion. I"m not quite sure Mr Collins deserved it.

Judy

"Maybe the best way to answer that is to listen to a Beethoven symphony. By the time the last note of the coda has sounded at the end of the fourth movement, you well know it's over. When that last ringing chord hits you, every musical question has been answered, every emotional issue has been resolved, and you don't have to wait for the folks around you to start applauding in order to be certain the piece is done. If Ludwig van Beethoven had set "Ariel" to music, there wouldn't have been anything enigmatic about the ending." ~ "The Writer's Handbook of Novel Writing" (p. 130)

"Even my bewilderment has its limits," I replied. "I think I can still answer for knowing my own child."

"Child!" she [Marian] exclaimed, with all her easy gaiety of old times. "Do you talk in that familiar manner of one of the landed gentry of England? Are you aware, when I present this august baby to your notice, in whose presence you stand? Evidently not! Let me make two eminent personages known to another: Mr. Walter Hartright - "the Heir of Limmeridge."

So in your opinion does the ending of the story fulfil what is required of an ending? Are you satisfied with it?

I'm afraid I was disappointed with the ending. Throughout the novel the author seems to continuely show his strong feelings toward the aristocracy as shown by the death of Fosco. In a previous post I pointed out what Madame Fosco wrote about her husband: "His life was one long assertion of the rights of the aristocracy, and the sacred principles of Order - and he died a Martyr to his cause." (p.615)

And yet, here at the end he makes the son of Walter and Laura a part of the aristocracy. So what was Collins trying to tell us - that it was okay to be part of the aristocracy as long as you use your power and your wealth to do good and not for evil. But won't the "rights of the aristocracy" be the same in both cases?

Certainly, class in Collins time was of the utmost importance and I think the author was in fact trying to point a finger at the upper class in conjunction with how they responded to the lower classes. So why did the author make "young Walter" the heir of Limmeridge? A surprising ending no doubt, but was it a logical ending?

Keep in mind that throughout the book Collins continually makes "Limmeridge House anything but a safe haven from the outside world...". (p. 27)

Thanks Judy for your kind words.

I have been away a few days, and find that things have moved along.

I knew Sydney Greenstreet played Fosco in a movie version, so he was the image I saw and heard while reading. I thought of Fosco as someone very evil beneath a smooth, pleasant surface and was glad to see the villain disposed of.

It annoyed me that Collins introduced Professor Pesca early in the plot, then dropped him out until near the end. Walter did explain that he had been in touch with Pesca all along, but this still seemed too much like 'deus ex machina' for my taste. With all the complexities, I suppose I should be willing to allow this messy spot in the plot.

I plan to read 'Moonstone' at the first opportunity. I haven't started 'The Thirteenth Tale' yet and haven't gotten very far in 'Snow', so I'm not likely to get too far ahead of again.

Juanita Millican

I don't know what Collins intended with his choice of closure, but my thought was the contrast of the beginning with the ending. In the beginning, Walter Hartright was the unsuitable drawing master, who could not dream of aspiring to the hand of Laura Fairlie. Now, he is the father of the Heir of Limmeridge. And all due to his integrity, decency, resolution, etc., etc. I'm sure the readers of those times were quite gratified with the outcome. And I am pleased to see Laura Fairlie Hartright vigorous, energetic and happy.

No complaints. ...Babi

I was fine with the ending for Laura, Marian, Walter, and Sir Percival. It seemed weird to bring Pesca back into the story and to introduce the Brotherhood, of which both he and the Count were a part . I think this is due to me being out of both the time and the place of when and where the novel was originally published. I feel that people in England in the mid 1800’s would have relished the spy/Brotherhood angle of the story, and that’s why Collins chose to include it. If you think about it, there was a constant aura of mystery about the Count and Countess throughout the book. Moreover, Marian or Laura (I can’t recall who) calls the Count a spy in the section of the book that was Marian’s diary. Then Walter picks up on the idea and it proves to be true. My guess is that British people in the mid 1800’s would have honed right in on the slightest possibility of a foreign spy. Consequently, they may have picked up on more of the “spy clues” than we did, and would have been excited to have the novel’s end confirm their suspicions that they had harbored about the Count.

It seems to me, contrary to custom, that the heroine in WIW is not Laura, but Marian. The hero does not marry the heroine, but instead marries the feminine ideal of the period. But Marian is by far the stronger, better drawn character, and takes up far more of the book.

I don't know if I would say she winds up with nothing, JOAN. She will share her life with people she loves very much, who in turn love, admire and respect her immensely. She will always be needed, always be wanted. That is a great deal, I think.

Babi

I agree that the important woman character is Marian, not Laura. When I first read this book, over 20 years ago, I was very irritated at the treatment of the two women. Laura is beautiful and has the purity of truth that Hartright mentions. But she is helpless and clinging, a weak reed in a storm, Marian is intelligent and interesting (we don't know that Laura isn't intelligent, it never comes up). She is resourceful, good in a crisis, the sort of person you would want with you in difficult times. Yet because she is ugly, she is not taken seriously as someone who would marry, and it is assumed she will end up as a maiden aunt.

Now I think it's more complicated than that. Collins somewhat has the ideals of the time, but now that I know about his distrust of marriage, I think he is also saying something about marriage as an institution. Perhaps he is saying that Victorian marriage does not suit the needs of a strong, intelligent woman. Being merely a dependent possession, a chattel without any personal autonomy, is not for Marian.

It's not an unhappy ending for her. She misses something, the chance for physical love, and to have children of her own, but she certainly doesn't end up with nothing. She will live comfortably with Walter and Laura, who love her, and have nieces and nephews to love and be loved by. And she can call her soul her own.

I agree with all of you who think that Marian is the strongest character. His portrait of
Marian makes the entire book worthwhile!
As many of you said, I also found the "spy" connection with the Count to be a difficulty in the novel, not well woven into the plot. But it was apparently exciting to the readers of Collins' day, so we might have to resign ourselves
to plot devises popular in that historical period.

I want to say a Big Thank You to JoanP and to all of you who posted so many outstanding, inciteful comments. It's a pleasure to participate in these groups with all of you; I'm sorry I posted so infrequently.

"At the center of "The Woman in White was an issue to which many thousand readers could apparently relate - the question of identity. Disguise, masquerade, misrepresentation, fraud, and forgery are all themes that reverberate through this novel, all motifs that involve identity. Unraveling the puzzle of just who the "woman in white" actually is only leads Walter Hartright to other problems involving identity. Laura Fairlie and Anne Catherick, after all, are not the only people in the novel who assume new personae. Indeed, the desire to discover the identity and secret of Sir Percival Glyde drives Hartright's investigations throughout the second half of the novel. And the mysteries do not stop with Sir Percival. What about Count Fosco? He clearly is not the person he seems to be, the person he presents himself as being. Nor is harmless Professor Pesca, we discover. Even a character apparently as innocuous as Frederick Fairlie seems to be projecting a false persona. Hartright notes that Fairlie "had been, or had fancied himself to be, an invalid for years past," and readers quickly understand that all of Fairlie's complaints about his health are fraudulent, that he suffers from an illness simply fabricated so he does not have to interact with the world at large." ~ Introduction p.11

"Of course Laura's dilemma is at the center of the novel, and her problem is particularly unsettling for readers because it raises the question of just how one does one go about establishing one's identity - or verifying one's identity - in an age when birth records are kept in a casual manner, when DNA testing is undreamed of, and even ordinary photography is somewhat rare and mysterious. At the very moment when uncertainty about larger social, philosophical, political, and theological issues was increasing for many Victorians, "The Woman in White" takes an ordinary question - "Who are you?" - and introduces a series of legal complications that threaten to make the question impossible to answer. Laura is confronted with the fundamental issue of proving she is alive, and not buried beneath the stone that bears her name. Her struggle to accomplish this apparently simple task seemed to touch a chord in the culture, and raised Victorian anxieties as much as the ghostly apparition that startles Hartright on Hampstead Heath did...". Introduction p.12

As you can see there is one important character whose identity was not altered - Marian. We therefore can assume that Collins felt her identity stood alone and was safe. Like you I too wanted Hartright and Marian to ride out into the sunset and live happily ever after, but where would that leave Laura?

I didn't care for Laura's character either, but she was probably closer to what the Victorian era felt a heroine to be. But she couldn't survive on her own - Collins makes this very clear - she needed help. And in the end Hartright had no choice, no matter what his feelings for Marian might have been, but to marry Laura for her own protection. And I think this was a very Victorian ideal.

Remember, what Sir William Blackstone explained about marriage: "In "Commentaries on the Laws of England," Sir William Blackstone explained that in marriage, "the very being or legal existence of a woman is suspended, or at least incorporated or consolidated into that of the husband, under whose wing, PROTECTION and COVER she performs everything, and she is therefore called in law a feme convert." (p.28)

The only way Hartright could protect Laura and help her to return her identity was to marry her. In a perfect world, perhaps Marian and Walter would have married each other and Laura would have found someone else to protect her, but it was not to be. I doubt that Laura's character could have survived without either Marian or Walter's help. "... Even when she is married to Walter, she admits: "I am useless - I am such a burden on both of you [...] You work and get money, Walter; and Marian helps you. Why is there nothing I can do? You will end in liking Marian better than you like me - you will, because I am so helpless" (480).

"Indeed, "The Woman in White" is "the story of what a Woman's patience can endure, and of what a Man's resolution can achieve" (49).

Laura makes the remarks about feeling so useless before she is married--before Hartright goes to Welmingham to interview Mrs. Catherick, the start of Chapter 32 in my book. She marries Hartright in chapter 38.

I think Laura's feelings changed a fair bit even before her marriage. When she made the remark about feeling so useless, she was still in the very early stages of recovery from the shattering experience of having her identity taken away and being shut up in the asylum. Under the gentle protection and loving care of Walter and Marian, along with the relief of knowing that Sir Percival is dead, and she no longer needs to fear him, she slowly recovers her self-confidence and strength and becomes much more like her former self. This re-awakens the dormant love between her and Walter.

Of course, as you say, Joan, marriage puts her in a defined position. She can feel worthwhile just from that. Presumably she also feels worthwhile because she is making Walter happy.

Many thanks, Joan, for leading such a good discussion, and all my fellow discussants for making it such a rich and varied one. We really covered a lot of ground, and had a lot of fun in the process.

JoanP, thank you for, as usual, being a great discussion leader. Thanks most of all for giving your time. Thanks also to all the super participants. Their posts are never taken for granted.

In closing... I wonder, if we could see Marian, if we would think her 'ugly'. The idea of beauty is so different with different times and cultures. What may have seemed ugly in comparison with the ideal of Walter Hartrights day - a 'dark' woman with strong features - might be admired today.

Thank you for a most enjoyable discussion, JOAN. I got so much more out of WIW than I did when I first read it years ago.

Babi

I hadn’t thought about all the cases of mistaken identities in the book until I read your post, Scrawler! Thanks so much for all the great research you provided during this discussion.

My thanks also go to Joan for her tireless leadership of the group, and to all my fellow readers for your thoughtful insights into this novel. I am glad that there were so many differing opinions about all aspects of the book. Differences make for interesting discussions!

Now, back to The Thirteenth Tale. I wonder which book it will inspire me to read next?

I think if I were to write this novel, I would have made Marian the heroine because she and she alone had her own true identity. Everyone around her labors under a mask of some sort, but it was only Marian who actually lived in the real world and could present that world to the others. Collins could have held up Marian as a reflection of what a true woman should have been. But I'm afraid that the audience of the 1800s would not approve of such a measure - they wanted their heroines frail and helpless - so that the hero could ride to the rescue.

And yes, I too think that we should have know more about Anne, after all wasn't the title of the story about her. But to me she appeared to be nothing more than a minor character after she meets Walter she seems to disappear.

The format of the serial was a difficult prospect in the 1800's. The demand for each week's selection from magazine editors didn't give time for proof reading the way an author would have done for a book. For an example an author might have started with one thread of thought at the beginning of his writing and in the chaos of getting the weekly writing out have completely forgotten it by the next week. Dickens had that this problem. While he was writing "Oliver Twist"; he was also writing "Nicholas Nickleby" and there were several times when he didn't follow through on his earlier thoughts. Most of this was cleaned up in following editions, but some "lost" threads still appear in the novels. This might have happened to Collins as well with the thread of Anne. She might have at the beginning of his story played a more important part.

Thanks one and all for a delightful discussion - until we meet again.

Actually, I'm writing an alternate history set in the 1830s-1860s where William H. Seward becomes the 16th president of the United States instead of Abraham Lincoln. (Think Gore and Bush.) In my book the civil war never takes place, instead America declares war on Europe. It is also the story of your average American dysfunctional family - with the occasional murder and espionage thrown in for good measure or bad measure. And yes it does have a hint of "Gothic" in it as well complete with ghost.

William H. Seward's House:

"The home of the William H. Seward in [Washington City] faced Lafayette Park on Madison Place near Pennsylvania Avenue. The three-story building had a history long before [Lincoln] visited. The "Old Clubhouse" had been built in 1830 by Commodore John Rodgers, later made over it a boarding house before it was turned into the "Washington Club." In 1859, Congressman Dan Sickles shot Philip Barton Key as he walked across Lafayette Park to the Club. Key, whom Sickles correctly believed was having an affair with his wife, died in one of the Club's first floor rooms, which later became the Seward's parlor." mrlincolnswhitehouse.org

Your book sounds great, Scrawler. I hope you'll tell us when it comes out.

Great discussion, Joan.

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