Death, Women and Freedom in Victorian Sensation Fiction

Home , Wilkie Collins

LIBERTY OR LIFE: DEATH, WOMEN AND FREEDOM

IN VICTORIAN SENSATION FICTION

______

A Thesis

Presented

To the Faculty of

California State University, Chico

______

In Partial Fulfillment

of the Requirements for the Degree

Master of Arts

English

______

Spring 2011 LIBERTY OR LIFE: DEATH, WOMEN AND FREEDOM

IN VICTORIAN SENSATION FICTION

A Thesis

Kathryn E. Hudson

Spring 2011

APPROVED BY THE DEAN OF GRADUATE STUDIES AND VICE PROVOST FOR RESEARCH:

______Katie Milo, Ed.D.

APPROVED BY THE GRADUATE ADVISORY COMMITTEE:

______Teresa Huffman Traver, Ph.D., Chair

______Geoffrey Baker, Ph.D. PUBLICATION RIGHTS

No portion of this thesis may be reprinted or reproduced in any manner

unacceptable to the usual copyright restrictions without the written permission of the author.

iii DEDICATION

To Professor Teresa Traver, who encouraged me daily throughout this process. Thank you so very much for your commitment to this project.

To my parents, who never thought twice about helping me through graduate school. Thank you for a lifetime of support, love and laughter.

To my cousin Lara, who unknowingly inspired me to obtain a graduate degree in the first place. She received her graduate degree from California State University,

Chico and is one of the most successful people I know. When I grow up, I want to be just like her.

iv TABLE OF CONTENTS

PAGE

Publication Rights ...... iii

Dedication ...... iv

Abstract ...... vi

CHAPTER

I. Introduction ...... 1

II. Dying To Live: The Multiple Deaths of Isabel Vane ...... 12

III. Strong Dead Ladies in the Work of Wilkie Collins ...... 31

IV. Lady Audley’s Secret? Using Death for Freedom ...... 54

V. Conclusion ...... 76

Works Cited ...... 82

ABSTRACT

LIBERTY OR LIFE: DEATH, WOMEN AND FREEDOM

IN VICTORIAN SENSATION FICTION

Master of Arts in English

California State University, Chico

Spring 2011

This thesis explores and analyzes the relationship between female characters and death in four sensation novels: East Lynne by Ellen Wood, The Law and the Lady and The Woman in White by Wilkie Collins, and Lady Audley’s Secret by Mary Elizabeth

Braddon. Analysis will focus on the real, assumed and forged deaths of four female protagonists and reveal that these deaths can be seen as liberating and positive due to the opportunities they provide. Death allows female characters in sensation fiction to transcend and rupture the gender roles imposed on them by Victorian culture. More specifically, in the four novels I analyze, women move outside of their gender norms in three ways. In death or “death” (the term I use to describe false or assumed death), female characters are freed from problem marriages, gain and are able to exude strength, and have the ability to control their lives and the lives of others. These social moves, which should be nearly impossible for Victorian female characters, can happen because death is involved. vi In this study, death is seen as a source of freedom for the women of sensation fiction. While this may seem tragic, false, true and/or assumed deaths provide the freedom of social movement that can be achieved no other way. With the help of critics

George Levine, Winifred Hughes and Sally Mitchell, this thesis reveals the ways in which death, a heartbreaking event, can be seen as liberating and life-altering for the women of sensation fiction.

vii

CHAPTER I

INTRODUCTION

Prior to the sensation novel, the criminal world and the domestic world were, in the public eye, seen as separate environments. While murder and crime were available to the Victorian public in the newspapers, these circumstances were kept separate from the sanctities of marriage and family. The sensation novel did what many Victorians feared; it brought, or rather, revealed the truths behind crime, bigamy and death in the home by placing domestic characters into controversial social situations involving crime.

The well known 1982 article “What Is „Sensational‟ About the „Sensation Novel‟?” by

Patrick Brantlinger notes that, “the sensation novel was and is sensational partly because of content: it deals with crime, often murder as an outcome of adultery and sometimes of bigamy, in apparently proper, bourgeois, domestic settings” (1). Thus, the “sensation” behind these novels is that they explore controversial topics within the home, a place thought to be a safe haven from immorality. While crime and bigamy are popular topics for sensation novels, many of these stories deal more heavily with death on various levels. In the novels of Wilkie Collins, Mary Elizabeth Braddon and Ellen Wood, characters die, are murdered, commit suicide, falsify their own deaths, are thought to be dead due to accidents, are thought to have been murdered, and change and transcend identities due to death. What makes death “sensational” in sensation fiction is not just that it happens, but the purpose from which it stems. The characters mentioned above are

2 all female, so why is it that death seems to surround women in these novels? In many sensation novels, death can be seen as a means to freedom for otherwise encumbered female characters.

In the Victorian era, men and women had different roles to play in the domestic setting, and society was heavily invested in and fought to preserve these roles.

Sensation fiction does something different and unexpected with regard to Victorian gender norms: heroines do not always follow the prescribed domestic roles of innocent lady, mother and loving wife. This is what made sensation novels so popular and haunting in the Victorian era. While it is true that these “sensational” women break out of their prescribed social patterns and critics have attempted to answer “why” or “how,” scholars of sensation fiction have overlooked death as a possible answer to these questions. This project seeks to examine four novels—East Lynne by Ellen Wood, The

Law and the Lady and The Woman in White by Wilkie Collins, and Lady Audley’s Secret by Mary Elizabeth Braddon—and reveal that death grants freedoms and opportunities to female characters that otherwise would not have been accessible. Sensation fiction seems to suggest that death is the only way a woman can outsmart the gender boundaries of

Victorian society, and this reality is a cruel one. However, death can be seen as an agent of liberation, and it is the opportunities provided in death that are outlined in a positive light in this work. Men in Victorian England had many freedoms while women had few, and in many sensation novels, women encounter death or “death” (a term I will use to represent false or assumed death throughout this work), and this encounter allows women freedoms that men always had. Death paves a way for female characters in Victorian

3 sensation fiction to access freedom, and while the specifics vary from novel to novel, I wish to cover three main freedoms that are given to women through death and in death.

Death in these four novels grants women freedom from broken marriages, gives them emotional and personal strength, and allows them a certain amount of control over their lives and the lives of others that would not have been accessible otherwise. In these controversial novels, women falsify their own deaths to escape broken marriages, but assumed deaths also grant this. If a female character is thought dead (but truly is not), because society assumes her dead, society also assume the marriage ties to be broken.

Thus, the woman is freed from her marriage. Women are also “killed” (thought murdered but really alive) in sensation fiction, having no control over the situation. While this may seem inexcusable and unjust, “death” in this case also releases women from marriage.

Death can grant this freedom to women characters when not much else in her society can.

Death also gives female characters strength in sensation fiction. If women are assumed dead, they can cross social lines that they would not normally cross because no one suspects them. Also, in select novels, women gain strength through the death or attempted murder of others. Strength, courage and conviction come to women when they have had some experience with death. Control is also given to many, if not all sensation fiction women who encounter death. When one is thought dead, she can control her new life. True death can also allow a woman to control her life if she decides to take her own life. And finally, death allows women to control the lives of others, through murder, suicide, or mistaken identity. While this arrangement of freedom through death is tragic and terrible, the strength these women show through death should be celebrated.

While each character I examine in the pages to follow has her own needs, reasons and situations involving death, one common thread binds them all together. For a woman in the 1860s and 1870s, social freedoms were hard to come by. Laws and regulations prevented women from having the freedom to leave problem marriages and take control of their lives as they saw fit. For Isabel Vane, Sara Macallan, Laura Fairlie and Lady Audley, death grants them liberty. Death, a controversial topic with a negative connotation, gives a hopeful and sometimes shocking beam of light to these female characters who have previously found themselves in the dark. Speaking about shocking elements of fiction, Winifred Hughes, author of the book The Maniac in the Cellar:

Sensation Novels of the 1860s, writes that “perhaps the single most indelible image from all the sensation literature of the 1860s is that of Laura, Lady Glyde, the heroine of The

Woman in White, solemnly lifting her veil beside her own tombstone” (21). The well- known sensation fiction critic Hughes, out of hundreds of controversial, seductive and outrageous scenes, emphasizes one involving a female character and death. This scene does not just depict death, but a false death which begs to be seen as both important and alarming. The crucial interaction between female characters in sensation fiction and death, realized by myself and critics alike, demands our attention.

Criticism surrounding sensation fiction has grown over the last thirty years, and the impact of this genre of literature on scholars and the public is nearing the extent of its original popularity in the nineteenth century. Mark Knight notes in his article

“Figuring out the Fascination: Recent Trends in Criticism on Victorian Sensation and

Crime Fiction,” that “over the last thirty years of so, sensation fiction has shaken off its scandalous roots to become a respectable area of academic study” (323). While this may

5 be true, much of the criticism on sensation fiction notes or mentions death in very general terms. This criticism has left out the apparent connection between female characters and death, especially in these four novels. However, this criticism is still important for the study of sensation fiction when looking at death. Not only does Anne-Marie Beller, author of “Suffering Angels: Death and Femininity in Ellen Wood‟s Fiction” notice that

“deathbed scenes in Victorian fiction. . . were immensely popular with the reading public” (219), but after outlining several sensation novels, Winifred Hughes writes that society in the 1860s believed that “a book without a murder, a divorce, a seduction, or a bigamy, is not apparently considered worth either writing or reading” (4-5). At the height of the sensation novel‟s popularity, many readers were only interested in novels where controversial events transpired, including character death by suspicious means (like murder, suicide, or false death). Hughes emphasizes that “sensational” subject matters such as death were just as popular as they were scandalous. It is clear that critics are noticing trends in sensation fiction that involve death.

Brantlinger also explores how Victorians reacted to sensation fiction and the controversial subjects (such as death) on which it speaks. He writes that “partly because of its moral ambiguity, the sensation novel was felt to be dangerous by many of its first critics” (Brantlinger 5). Sensation novels dealt with certain aspects of life (murder, crime, bigamy) that were seen by the general public as immoral or wrong, and yet these stories were increasing in popularity. Brantlinger recognizes that the realities of death (and other topics) coming into public light was frightening to some members of society. He also notes, however, that “every good new Victorian murder helped legitimize, and prolong the fashion of sensational plots” (Brantlinger 9). Brantlinger here is referring to the

6 realities of life and how they interlock with the popularity of the sensation novel.

Sensation fiction, while some thought it dangerous, was only framing the truths of

Victorian life. Death and murder, the example proposed by Brantlinger, were realities that until the sensation novel became popular were not normally talked about, criticized or faced directly by the general public. While only mentioned in passing for many, critics seem to agree that the subject of death appears considerably in sensation novels.

Other critics, like Beller, focus more directly on death in sensation fiction in their work, and these ideas should be noted. Beller‟s article comments on the degree to which female characters are seen as being forgiven for their sins in death. In sensation novels, many female heroines die at the end of their tales, and according to Beller, critics in the past have attempted to simplify these deaths. Deathbed scenes, usually involving women who are asking for forgiveness, have been previously labeled as a way for authors to write off their heroine‟s transgressions (Beller 220). However, Beller disagrees, as do

I, with the simplicity of this belief. Seeing death as a simple plot device to make female characters ladylike again and bring mortality back into the sensation novel is an incorrect way to view the subject, Beller argues. She notes that there is an “inadequacy of reading death simply as a form of textual punishment for transgressive heroines” (Beller 220).

While Beller‟s argument goes on to discuss several sensation novels to back up her statements, the main point remains the same: death in sensation fiction is complicated with regards to women.

Beller‟s argument is convincing, but her article does not analyze the freedoms that female characters receive in death. Simply stating that death in sensation fiction is complicated does not push these works to their limit with analysis. There seems to be a

7 gap in criticism that specifically analyses how freedom through death can work in sensation fiction for female characters. However, three main critical works can be applied to my much more specific research project.

In his book Dying to Know: Scientific Epistemology and Narrative in

Victorian England, George Levine argues that in the nineteenth century, scientists, novelists and poets alike wanted access to the truth about the world, and in order to access that truth, they needed to remove themselves from the equation. Using the words of Galison and Lorraine Datson, Levine writes, “in the nineteenth century. . . a traditional activity of attempting to attain to „truth to nature‟ was assimilated to an ideal of „self- abnegation‟ in order to „let nature speak for itself‟” (3). During the Victorian era, visionaries felt that in order to discover the truths about the universe, one must remove the self (thoughts, emotions, etc), and Levine notes that this removal of the self was equal to a metaphorical death. Thus, the title of his book sums up his argument: scientists and novelists were (metaphorically) willing to die for knowledge. He writes, “self-denial, a surrender of the self to the thing studied, became a priority of that time” (Levine 3). In his book, Levine attempts to identify places in both science and novels where this ideology is occurring, and his chapter entitled “Self-Effacement Revisited: Women and Scientific

Autobiography,” he specifically speaks of women involved in this phenomenon. He makes the argument that women in the Victorian era were skilled at making themselves secondary to men (or “denying the self”) and because these skills were already so refined for women, some of them had the freedom to become scientists. Levine notes that,

“denying the self, in all these narratives, becomes a means to a freedom the men never had to seek. Rejecting the self for science meant finding it for life” (Levine 132). The

8 women outlined by Levine have sacrificed the self, and it has given them freedom to perform as men do. While Levine‟s definition of death here is purely metaphorical, sensation fiction literalizes the denial of the self in order for female characters to gain such freedoms.

Winifred Hughes is another author whose ideas are essential when looking at sensation fiction. Her book, The Maniac in the Cellar: Sensation Novels of the 1860s, is a critical look through the entirety of the genre, and as P.D. Edwards points out in his untitled review, the book “is the first full-length study of the sensation novel since. . .

1919” (221). Hughes, one of the first modern readers to analyze the genre, seems unsure as to the reasons why sensation novels became so popular. She writes that, “to its original audience in the 1860s, the sensation novel appeared blatantly recognizable as well as ubiquitous, hardly in need of official critical definition” (Hughes 18). Hughes does not seem to see sensation fiction as a critically recognized art form, noting that sensation novel plot devices are “bizarre” and melodramatic (20). While Hughes does not directly deal with the freedoms of death in sensation fiction, many of her ideas are useful in describing the novels discussed in this work. She recognizes the popularity and intensity of the genre, as well as mentions the importance of female heroines in many sensation novels. However, when analyzing death and female characters in these novels, her way of looking at death is not absolute. Points involving female character redemption are discussed in her book, and alternative readings of these plot points will be discussed at length in this work.

The truths about women‟s rights and freedoms in the Victorian era needed careful consideration in this project, and Sally Mitchell‟s book, The Fallen Angel:

Chastity, Class, and Women’s Reading, 1835-1880, explores the role of women through the time periods listed. She writes of her intentions for the book, saying that her aim is

“to trace changes in the popular image of women‟s nature and women‟s role” (Mitchell ix). She chooses to trace these changes through literature, because as she points out, “the novels of an age reflect its social standards because novelists are part of the society”

(Mitchell xiv). Mitchell looks at the role of women in her introduction, and states that the oppression of women stems from their relationship to property. She states that “for a woman to control her own body—to dispose of it or authorize its use as she saw fit— interfered with the property rights of her husband or father” (Mitchell xi). Because women were “owned” by their fathers or husbands, if they tried to control even their own body, this would be stepping outside the boundaries of their role. This idea fuelled the notion that death gives women liberties because by dying (or falsifying death), a woman can take control of her body away from the man who has property rights over it. In her chapter entitled “Sensation, Sex and the 1860s,” she specifically mentions this idea in relation to sensation fiction. She notes in sensation fiction that “woman use their bodies for social ends; they try to dispose of their own persons in their own best interests”

(Mitchell 83). Mitchell here is speaking more about female characters and unchaste behavior, but death plays a part in this as well. In the sensation novels analyzed in this work, death and “death” are used “for social ends,” and some of the deaths are even orchestrated by the women themselves, causing them to “use their bodies” in a similar way to what Mitchell describes.

These three critics, along with many others, offer a new foundation for reading these novels. Chapter Two discusses the novel East Lynne by Ellen Wood,

Chapter Three includes The Law and the Lady and The Woman in White by Wilkie

Collins, and finally Chapter Four discusses Lady Audley’s Secret by Mary Elizabeth

Braddon.

In Chapter Two, the focus of my argument is on the main female protagonist,

Isabel Vane. In the novel, Isabel has two deaths—and assumed “death” due to a train accident, and a real death at the end of the story. Throughout the chapter, I explore the ways in which these two deaths grant Isabel freedoms in her life. Both deaths allow

Isabel to have freedoms with regard to her broken marriage to Archibald Carlyle, give her the strength and freedom to move away from her identity as an adulteress, and give her more control over her life. Because she is assumed dead after the train accident, she can explore her life with a new identity, and this happens largely due to death.

In Chapter Three, I explore two female protagonists from two different novels by the same author, Wilkie Collins. In The Law and the Lady, Sara Macallan commits suicide and this death allows her many otherwise unachievable freedoms, including freedom from a problem marriage and a man who does not love her, as well as control over her life (and death) and the strength to commit the act. Laura Fairlie, the helpless wife of Sir Percival Glyde, has her death falsified for her, and this false death stirs up many different questions about her role as wife in The Woman in White. If she is thought dead by society, is her marriage still binding? May she marry someone else under a different name? How does being “dead” affect strength and control over one‟s life? All these questions and more are answered in Chapter Three.

Chapter Four, and perhaps the most intricate chapter due to the complicated nature of the female protagonist, focuses on Lady Audley. Lady Audley (also known as

Helen Talboys, Lucy Graham and Madame Taylor) not only has two deaths in the novel

(one false and one real) but also has a hand in several other deaths and murder attempts throughout the story. Death seems to surround Lady Audley, and she has the ability to manipulate death in order to have the freedoms she wants. Her false death allows her to marry a man of higher social class, but her true identity is revealed in the end, not without her first attempting to control life through death. Although Lady Audley is ultimately unsuccessful in keeping the freedoms that death has granted to her, her strength and control because of death and through death cannot be denied.

Death in sensation fiction as it relates to female characters has been overlooked by critics in the last thirty years, and the work that follows brings to light these relevant issues. This work seeks to introduce the striking (and tragic) meeting place of women and death in sensation fiction to the study of Victorian sensation and crime fiction.

CHAPTER II

DYING TO LIVE: THE MULTIPLE

DEATHS OF ISABEL VANE

In the 1861 sensation novel East Lynne by Ellen Wood, the protagonist Isabel

Vane encounters many types of losses. She loses her father, which leaves her financially ruined, and is placed in a problem marriage with Archibald Carlyle. Archibald loves

Isabel, but Isabel feels dejected when Archibald‟s overbearing sister Cornelia acts as housekeeper and does not allow Isabel any control over her own home. Isabel then loses this family life (including her three children) when she abandons them for her seducer,

Francis Levinson, after she suspects Archibald of being unfaithful. Archibald is granted a divorce (the only novel of the four that utilizes divorce) right before Isabel is involved in a train accident, leaving her disfigured and assumed dead by each person at East Lynne.

She returns as Madame Vine, a governess to teach her own children, and after much suffering and pain, dies at the end of the novel. While death is generally seen as a loss,

Isabel Vane is actually able to gain several freedoms and elements of power in both her assumed death and her actual death. Because of her assumed death, Isabel‟s problem marriage to Archibald ends. Her true death gives her strength and liberty to be redeemed for her sins. And, in both deaths, she has control over many aspects of life that she would otherwise have had no control over. Thus, Isabel Vane gains many freedoms through loss of life.

The protagonist of East Lynne hardly seems right for the main focus of a scandalous sensation novel. She is described as being “generous and benevolent. . . timid and sensitive to a degree; gentle and considerate to all” (Wood 13). There is seemingly nothing dark about Isabel‟s character or her promising future at the start of the novel.

However, one must remember that sensation novels, by definition, are filled with suspense and strange occurrences. The novel, although hopeful in the beginning, is strangely obsessed with suspense, strange occurrences and death. Beller writes that

“nowhere is the fascination with death more apparent than in the immensely popular novels of Ellen Wood” (219). Death occurs over and over again in East Lynne, and while critics like Beller and Hughes have recognized its appearance, little has been said about the purpose of death in East Lynne. As stated in the Introduction, Beller suggests that there is much more to female death than simple punishment for their sins. Death is generally seen in literature as a loss, whether it be the loss of a beloved character, or the loss of a young life. Literature also depicts death as punishment for a character‟s sins, especially in sensation novels like The Moonstone where the thief gets his (arguably) deserved death at the end of the story. While these readings are valid, not all death can be seen as having grief and negativity surrounding it. In sensation fiction, for a female protagonist like Isabel, there is something to gain in death that is both positive and powerful.

Isabel Vane‟s first death takes place after she has left her comfortable but unhappy marriage to Archibald Carlyle. She is traveling in a train with her illegitimate son when it crashes, and “the carriage, in which Lady Isabel with her child and bonne travelled, lay beneath a superincumbent mass of ruins” (Wood 320). She is treated, but

14 the nurse who helps her believes that she will not live, and moves on to other injured passengers. Then, “Lady Isabel recovered her consciousness, and found herself lying on a pallet in a ward in the hospital” (Wood 323). The doctors ask her for her name, and she gives them the name of Madame Vine, wishing to leave all trace of her past life behind her due to shame. Archibald is told by his assistant that “she is dead. She has been killed in a railway accident in France” (Wood 323). This assumed death acts in many important ways for the marriage of Isabel and Archibald. Even though they were lawfully divorced before the accident, Isabel‟s “death” completely terminates the marriage. As we will see in the following section, East Lynne suggests that death (or “death” in this case) is the only way to fully end a problem marriage.

Many sensation novels do not utilize the legal concept of divorce, and that may be because, as Daniel Pool writes in his book What Jane Austen Ate and Charles

Dickens Knew: From Fox Hunting to Whist—the Facts of Daily Life in Nineteenth-

Century England, “happy or unhappy, a marriage was difficult to dissolve” (185).

However, it is important to note that prior to her “death,” Archibald is granted a divorce from Isabel. In other novels such as The Woman in White, The Law and the Lady and

Lady Audley’s Secret, death ends marriages, but divorce is not part of the plot. Divorce, a newer phenomenon to Victorians at the time the novel was written, allows Archibald separation from Isabel and the freedom to marry again. East Lynne, written in 1861, comes only four years after divorce was made readily available to the Victorian public.

Pool writes, “the Divorce Act of 1857 took jurisdiction over divorces away from the church courts and gave it to a new civic divorce court instead” (186). Due to this change of hands from the church to a less morally weighted system, divorce was more readily

15 available. Pool continues, “the law also changed the grounds needed for divorce by permitting men to divorce on the grounds of adultery” (186). If a man could prove that his wife had committed adultery, as Archibald does with Isabel, a divorce could be granted. When the divorce comes through, Isabel thinks to herself, “it was over, then.

And all claim to the name of Carlyle was declared to have been forfeited by the Lady

Isabel for ever” (Wood 285). However “over” the marriage may seem, the novel makes it very clear that life still binds these two characters. It is only through Isabel‟s “death” that

Archibald truly feels separated from her.

Although the new divorce system seems practical and legal, Archibald still recognizes before the railway accident that Isabel is alive, and because she is alive, he has a connection to her. Mitchell writes that “legal change, as they found out and as we have recently rediscovered, is not necessarily the same thing as social change” (xiii). Mitchell recognizes that change in law is not always automatically accepted by the general and religious population. According to the law, Archibald was free to marry again, but according to his conscience, things worked differently. He tells Barbara Hare, his soon to be second wife, that “She—who was my wife—lives. . . „Whosoever putteth away his wife, and marrieth another, committeth adultery‟” (Wood 319). Archibald quotes The

Bible, saying that it is adultery to marry another woman when one is already married. At this point in the story, Archibald is aware that his divorce has gone through. The simple fact that Isabel is living causes Archibald to feel committed to his oath of marriage. He believes that, because she is alive, there is still a connection between them and therefore marrying someone else would be considered adultery. It is only when he finds out that

Isabel is “dead” that he feels comfortable asking Barbara Hare to marry him. So, even

16 though a fully legal and lawful divorce took place, the bonds of marriage are not completely broken. Only in death (or in this case, assumed death) can these bonds entirely dissolve and leave the living partner free of marriage. In East Lynne, Isabel‟s assumed death gifts this to Archibald when a divorce could not. Because a divorce takes place, and it is still not enough to completely end the marriage in the eyes of the characters, this further suggests that, in the Victorian age, marriage is truly ended only when death is involved.

Assumed death gives Isabel freedom from her problem marriage, and the problem within her marriage should be analyzed. Isabel may reflect back to times before her accident and remember moments of her marriage as happy, but Isabel was actually a prisoner in her own home. Hughes writes, “Both [Braddon and Wood] write about marriage as an unsatisfactory or illusory state” (108) and this can be seen to be true through the novel. The marriage is unsatisfactory to Isabel, but the actual bond between her and Archibald is not the problem.

Isabel‟s assumed death gives her freedom from her problem marriage, and her marriage is problematic in unconventional ways. Jeanne Elliott writes, in her article titled

“A Lady to the End: The Case of Isabel Vane,” that “East Lynne is run by Archibald

Carlyle‟s overbearing half-sister, Cornelia, who firmly pushes Isabel out of the control of her own establishment” (335). It is Cornelia who causes the problem and impedes upon

Isabel‟s domestic life and thus her marriage. When Archibald and Isabel are first married,

Archibald invites his sister Cornelia to move in with them at East Lynne. Isabel, unfamiliar with housekeeping, initially lets Cornelia be in charge of the work, and

Cornelia comments that “I do not intend to take her honours from her, but I shall save

17 her a world of trouble in management, and be useful to her as a housekeeper” (Wood

144). At first, this set-up seems like a good idea, but since Cornelia is used to controlling everything (even Archibald), she starts to control Isabel as well. She comments under her breath that Isabel is bothering her husband too much, or that she is wasting his money, and she makes Isabel feel guilty. After every condescending comment, Cornelia says,

“„Of course, Lady Isabel, I only offer my opinion; you are Archibald‟s wife, and sole mistress, and will do as you please.‟ Do as she pleased! Poor Lady Isabel laid her head meekly down upon her children, effectually silenced, and her heart breaking with pain”

(Wood 200). Wood writes that, “in her own house she had been less free than any one of her servants” (79). Isabel and Archibald do love each other and have a relatively calm married life between them, but the presence of Cornelia in the marriage is painful and hindering for Isabel, who is described as “timid and sensitive” (Wood 13). Isabel‟s personality, age and femininity do not allow her to stand up to Cornelia. Thus, this marriage can certainly be labeled as a problem marriage, but an oppressive one as well, although not in the generally accepted way. While the divorce freed Isabel from the daily presence of Cornelia, Isabel‟s assumed death gives her permanent freedom from this strange and upsetting arrangement because her ties with Archibald are completely broken after “death.” No longer will Isabel have to live with the harsh and demeaning attitude of

Cornelia Carlyle.

As we have seen, Isabel is timid and shy, and her voice is little heard in her own home. She is not seen as a strong woman in comparison to someone like Cornelia. In death, however, Isabel has strengths that she never knew existed. Elliott writes of strength that “a degree of physical weakness was never unbecoming in a Lady” (333). Isabel Vane

18 is called Lady Isabel, and the title “Lady” has a connotation other that her being the daughter of an earl, according to Elliott. It is true, though, that Isabel “is repeatedly described as physically frail” (Elliott 338). Before her assumed death on the train, Isabel seems to be not only physically weak but mentally weak. When she loses her father, she is completely incapable of being strong for herself or her family, and Archibald must save her through marriage. She then abandons her home due in part to the fact that she does not have the strength to stand up to Archibald‟s sister. However, in death, both her assumed death and her real death at the end of the novel, Isabel is able to exude strength and courage in ways she would not have been able to otherwise.

Through “death,” Isabel gains the strength to live, literally. During the birth of her first child, Isabel shows great weakness in life. Her first daughter is born, but “in the adjoining room was Lady Isabel, lying between life and death” (Wood 171). Isabel‟s strength to live almost fails her in life even though she has just witnessed the miracle of life itself. However, dying in emotional weakness is not in store for our protagonists in this story. After the train accident and her “death,” Isabel decides that “she would let him and everybody else continue to believe she was dead, and be henceforth only Madame

Vine. A resolution she adhered to” (Wood 327). Isabel, torn apart by grief after leaving her family, escapes through “death” into another identity and is able to literally live a stronger life. This female character has found a successful yet strange and distressing way of becoming a new woman in her society. She resolves to continue living under a false name (a difficult thing to do with a past like hers), and in “dying,” Isabel gains strength to accept her past decisions and is given a chance to change her life.

Levine writes that “only in death can one understand what it has meant to be alive” (2), and after the train accident, Isabel realizes that she wants to see her children.

Levine of course is speaking of the metaphorical death of one‟s identity, and Isabel‟s identity as the wife of Archibald “dies” in the accident. This is why she re-enters East

Lynne as Madame Vine, and her assumed death gives her the strength to endure it.

Missing her children, she applies for and is given a job as governess to her own children in her old home. Without “dying,” this strength would never have come to the shy and meek Isabel. In “death,” she is given the confidence to obtain the situation as governess.

When deciding whether or not to go in the first place, Isabel thinks “Humiliation for me!

No; I will not put that in comparison with seeing and being with my children” (Wood

398). Isabel finally convinces herself that the payoffs are worth the risk, and the “death” she has been through gives her strength to do so.

When Isabel is faced with her real death at the end of the novel, she suddenly has the strength to face Archibald without her disguise. When she first enters the house, she is “dreading detection” (Wood 401). Through her assumed death, however, she gains the strength to enter the house but not to be recognized (at that time). With her true death coming, she has the strength to face her once loving husband. When she is on her death bed at East Lynne, and only after her nurse Joyce has recognized her, she requests, “I should die happier if I might see him…the yearning has been upon me for days, Joyce: it is keeping death away” (Wood 609). Isabel claims that death will not take her until she sees and confesses to Archibald. This is a very strong claim, strength that only comes in death. Conscious that death is coming, Isabel has strength to make her wants and needs known to the world, and she wants to see Archibald. After Joyce finally agrees to call

Archibald to Isabel‟s deathbed, he sees that “it was the face of Lady Isabel: changed, certainly, very very much; but still hers” (Wood 611). After all her fear of discovery,

Isabel gains the courage to face Archibald when she herself is faced with death.

Critics have had several different things to say about Isabel‟s death at the end of the novel. As discussed earlier, Beller points out the “inadequacy of reading death simply as a form of textual punishment for transgressive heroines” (220). There is an inadequacy in reading female death as a negative, threatening point in a plot. Isabel‟s death, seen by critics such as Hughes to be “punitive, a punishment inflicted by Wood as the penalty for her heroine‟s adultery” (Beller 220), is not a punishment at all, but a redeeming event. This is obvious not only in Beller‟s argument, but in the text itself.

While it is heartbreaking that Isabel‟s redemption can only come through death, redemption at all for a “transgressive heroine” can be seen as liberating. When nothing else could redeem her, Isabel is granted spiritual and social redemption through her final and true death at the end of East Lynne.

Beller, a supporter of the view that Isabel‟s death is positive, interprets

Isabel‟s death “as a final blessing, bestowed by Wood as a recognition of her true goodness and patient suffering” (225). Beller here is arguing that Wood allows Isabel to die at the end of the novel as a reward; recognition for the good deeds she has done in her life and the pain she has endured by re-entering her husband‟s home. This argument can be expanded, as we will see by the quotes from the text. Death is not only a reward, but grants redemption as well. The novel suggests that death is the only way Isabel can be socially and spiritually redeemed. Beller recognizes that “if one places Isabel‟s famous demise within the wider context of Wood‟s work, it becomes clear that, for Wood, death

21 cannot be considered a punishment in any straightforward way. Generally, Wood bestows a youthful death in recognition, even in reward, of goodness” (225). Mentioning Ellen

Wood‟s work The Shadow of Ashlydyat and comparing the female protagonists premature death to Isabel‟s, Beller notices a pattern of youthful death in Wood‟s female characters who have suffered for their sins (225). Thus, Beller argues that Wood did not feel that these characters needed punishment, but rather a timely death as a reward for the pain they have gone through. Not only a reward, but Isabel‟s death can be seen as redemption for her sins. When no other redemption could come before, only in death can Isabel be granted this uplifting spiritual sensation which makes her stronger right before death takes over.

Isabel‟s death scene has been analyzed by several critics in regards to redemption. In her book, Hughes interprets Isabel‟s final death scene in a different way.

In a chapter specifically targeted at Ellen Wood and Mary Elizabeth Braddon, she explains that Isabel Vane is a “socially irretrievable” character by the end of the novel

(Hughes 115). She writes, “in the end it kills her: this is clearly the only proper response for someone in her situation, remorseful but socially irretrievable. If the author admitted any possibility of her being reinstated as a wife and mother, her plight would lose its terrible poignancy” (Hughes 115). Hughes believes that redemption here means for

Isabel‟s character to go full circle: to return to the loving wife and mother she once was.

Hughes also notes that this does not happen, because if it did, Isabel‟s troubled life story would lose its heartbreaking effect on readers.

Hughes describes Isabel‟s death as long, drawn out and emotional, but does not believe that Isabel is socially redeemed by death. Another reading of this death is to

22 consider the fact that Isabel never sets out to be socially redeemed the way that Hughes defines it, or at all. Isabel actually never attempts social redemption or restoration in life, and the novel suggests that death is the only way to gain redemption. Isabel may recognize things that used to be hers when she reenters East Lynne as its governess, but her goal is never to be granted her old status. Isabel‟s only wish in coming back to East

Lynne is to be with her children. As stated before, Isabel aims to bear the pain in order to live and teach her children. Upon entering East Lynne again, she thinks to herself as she is walking to her new room, “past the rooms that used to be hers. . . no, never more, never more could they be hers” (Wood 401). In these lines, it is clear that Isabel is not hoping or wishing for her status to be reinstated. She has simply accepted her role and is happy with it as long as she can be with her children. There is no desire in Isabel‟s heart to go full circle. Isabel, on her death bed, only wishes to see Archibald and to gain his forgiveness, and it is in this moment that death offers Isabel redemption. Isabel‟s idea of redemption is being forgiven by the man she has wronged, and her coming death gives her the strength to ask for it. Hughes recognizes this, stating “She may be forgiven, piously and tearfully, by the husband she has wronged, but she can never be taken back”

(112). Hughes‟ definition of redemption does not completely account for the fact that

Isabel does not need to be “taken back” in order for redemption to come. Death can give her the redemption she desires. Her looming death gives her the strength to ask to be socially redeemed in the way that she deems appropriate, and because of this strength, she is given redemption.

Redemption is closely tied with forgiveness, and if one is forgiven of their sins by the person the sins were committed against, deliverance from that sin can be

23 granted. On her deathbed, Isabel asks for forgiveness and it is granted by Archibald, and that is enough, in her opinion, to be socially redeemed (spiritual redemption will be discussed in the next paragraph). All other social interaction does not matter to her in that moment, and, as discussed previously, never did after her first “death.” Death gives her the strength to ask for this forgiveness. Isabel, explaining to Archibald why she originally left him, asks him if he was ever unfaithful to her. He replies, “I was never false to you, in thought, in word, or in deed” (Wood 614). Isabel, having the strength to confront

Archibald about this issue in death, finally learns the truth about their marriage. It was honest in every way. Realizing this for the first time, Isabel asks Archibald to forgive her, something that she had wanted to do since re-entering the house but was unable to until death came calling to her. He replies, “I have already forgiven” (Wood 614). By

Archibald forgiving Isabel for her sins, she is released from those sins and thus redeemed.

This is only able to come about when death is upon her. Forgiveness is what grants Isabel redemption here, and she would never have asked if death were not upon her. Hughes also recognizes forgiveness in this scene, writing, “Mrs. Wood milks the last bitter drops of emotion from the deathbed scene between Lady Isabel and Mr. Carlyle, in which he nobly forgives her and they bid each other farewell” (115). Hughes explicitly mentions the forgiveness that takes place, and this forgiveness leads the way to redemption for

Isabel. Forgiveness, granted by Archibald, gives Isabel the social redemption that she seeks when death is upon her, and no other social interactions are necessary after that short interview with her old husband. Joyce, the maid who tended to Isabel on her death bed, states that “she never spoke after you left her, Archibald” (Wood 618). Because

Isabel had no need to say anything to anyone else after she was forgiven by Archibald,

24 this shows her satisfaction with the simple exchange and her ability to die peacefully redeemed.

Forgiveness is also granted to Isabel by God in this scene, and with forgiveness comes redemption. On her deathbed, one of the last lines that she speaks is

“yes, yes: I know that God has forgiven me” (Wood 617). Isabel, in death, has made amends with Archibald and God, and both have forgiven her for her past deeds. Only in death is she strong enough to know that forgiveness has been granted. Levine writes that

“one only achieves purity in death,” and Isabel‟s sins have been washed away before her actual death occurs (1). Purity, a clean slate, and a heart not blackened by sin are given to

Isabel in her final moments of life. It is curious and unsettling that Isabel could not be given these things in life, and only death allows her this spiritual redemption.

Redemption is also given to other characters in the story through death, namely Archibald Carlyle. As discussed previously, Archibald felt that it was against the

Christian faith to marry again even though he had received a divorce. Quoting the Bible,

Archibald is clearly serious about his beliefs and how he interprets the words of his Lord.

When he quotes the Bible, it is clear that he has no intentions of marrying again; at least until he learns that Isabel is dead. In this scene, there is also a hint of shame and guilt in

Archibald‟s words. He is speaking to Barbara Hare (his soon-to-be-second wife) and he says “I have no intention of marrying any one. Nay, I will say it more strongly: it is my intention not to marry any one; to remain as I am” (Wood 319). By strongly stating that he will not marry again, Archibald clearly does not want to give his shame to anyone else. Archibald plans to “remain,” a divorced, disgraced man, and by proclaiming this individuality, it is clear that he wants no one to become involved in the negativity that

25 surrounds him. Archibald feels that if he were to remarry again that it would be a sin, and not only does he not want to carry that emotional weight, but he does not want to pass the weight on to another. And, if he were to marry again while Isabel is alive, that would be another sin committed. Obviously a very pious man, Archibald feels the weight of

Isabel‟s sins. However, in Isabel‟s assumed death on the train, Archibald is freed from his shame and heavy heart, and is able to marry Barbara without upsetting his feelings of religion. With Isabel “dead,” Archibald is able to see that, while proposing to Barbara,

“happiness is within our reach” (Wood 367).

To even begin to attempt redemption, Isabel must first “die.” This is another way in which death is significant to the freedoms that Isabel gains. Isabel, living with an illegitimate son in Europe after leaving Archibald, is aware of her mistakes and her sins because she is surrounded by them. She feels the need for deliverance from her sins, and the narrator comments that “the haunting skeleton of remorse had taken up his lodging within her” (Wood 284). Only through her assumed death is Isabel given a chance at redemption. The freedom that is gained through her true death at the end of the novel could never have been granted if Isabel had not first “died” to put her in the Carlyle home as Madame Vine. Not only are different freedoms granted in death, but her initial “death” is also necessary for those liberties to be gained.

Another freedom essential to the character of Isabel that is granted because of death is the ability to control and have power over her own life. Readers in the Victorian

Era were most likely aware of the social standards of female freedom, as described by

Mitchell. She writes “her husband owned all she possessed and everything she might earn. He could restrain and chastise her—lock her up, keep her from seeing her children,

26 beat her at will—so long as he did not endanger her life” (Mitchell xi). Victorian women, and many sensation fiction female protagonists as well, were not given much control.

And it is true that Isabel, until her “death” in the train accident, is never in control over her own life. Her father, before his death, is in control of her social situation, and Isabel “had remained entirely at Mount Severn, under the charge of a judicious governess” (Wood 13). And, as discussed previously, when Isabel is married to

Archibald and living at East Lynne, Cornelia is oppressive and abusive towards her and does not allow her to control her own home. The novel states that “poor Isabel, with her refined manners and her timid and sensitive temperament, had no chance against the strong-minded woman, and she was in a state of galling subjection in her own house”

(Wood 167). Isabel is not in control of her house or her life. On the subject of control in the home, Dan Bivona writes in his article “The House in the Child and the Dead Mother in the House: Sensational Problems of Victorian „Household‟ Management” that “the management of the external domestic space and the management of self become one and the same” (110). A woman‟s control over her home and her life were parallel, according to Bivona. The way she managed her house hold, servants and finances was similar to the way she managed her own status and the way she presented herself. By this logic, if

Isabel has no control over her domestic situation (which she clearly does not), she then has no control over her “self.” The term “self” is heavy here; for Isabel it means having no control over her own self-worth, self-esteem or social placement. Despite all this,

“death” allows Isabel to break free from these oppressive bonds and control her life as

Madame Vine.

When Isabel is involved in the train accident and is assumed dead, she is given the opportunity to start controlling her life. Her first action is to take the opportunity to live her life as someone who is not associated with sin in the eyes of others. Before the accident, the narrator states that Isabel “had forfeited her duty to God, had deliberately broken His commandments” (Wood 283) and it is clear to readers that she has sinned and committed adultery by leaving her husband for another man. When everyone else thinks that Isabel is alive, she must bear the pain of her sins. She is the epitome of sin in their eyes. They do not, however, suspect Madame Vine of sinning.

Through “death,” Isabel is able to become someone else who socially (not necessarily mentally) is free of the heavy burden of sins and can control her situation in life.

“Death” for Isabel has also caused strength to come from a higher place. After the accident and her assumed death, Isabel is transformed into Madame Vine, all trace of

Isabel Vane appears to be dead to other characters, and Isabel resolves to keep it that way. And when she is given the opportunity to go back to East Lynne as the governess of her own children, she believes it a gift from God; “at one moment it seemed to her that

Providence must have placed this opportunity in her way” (Wood 397). Believing that this opportunity has come from God shows that the new Madame Vine is not being punished by God, but is being given a chance to be successful in a new situation. Isabel, the sinner, is “dead,” and Madame Vine has not only a blessing from God but the control over her life to become a governess wherever she pleases.

Not only does Isabel have the freedom to control her new situation, she also has the ability to control her new persona. When Isabel was tied down with her family‟s tragic ruin and Archibald‟s name, she had no control over how people perceived her. Her

28 self-worth was associated with her name; Vane was financially ruined and Carlyle was associated with not herself but her husband and his reputation. After her “death,” and as

Madame Vine, she has control over how people view, judge and interpret her. While living as Madame Vine before she enters East Lynne again, she is described by her employer as “competent to her duties in all ways” (Wood 398). Isabel, as Madame Vine, has worked for Mrs. Crosby in Stalkenberg and proven herself a hard working governess.

She had no control over her associations before her “death” on the train, but because of

“death,” Isabel can define the parameters of her new personality and control how people see her.

Mainly, Isabel has control over her disguise, keeping any trace of her old, already labeled self out of the spotlight. The novel states that “there was little, if any, fear of her detection, so effectually was she disguised, by nature‟s altering hand” (Wood 402).

The accident (which gives her an assumed death) has literally given her control over her identity because it has disfigured her in such a way that no one from her old life recognizes her. Isabel does not just simply walk away from the accident and decide to live a new life, but the accident (her assumed death) actually alters her figure and face, allowing her to take advantage of the situation and take control of her new life. When

Isabel is on her true death bed, she explains to Archibald that, “I did not die. I got well from that accident, but it changed me dreadfully: nobody knew me, and I came here as

Madame Vine” (Wood 614). Isabel admits that the accident in which her assumed death occurred “changed” her, and it is because of this change that she was able to become

Madame Vine. “Death” quite literally gave her a freedom that she could not have had otherwise.

When Isabel is truly dying at the end of the novel, she may not have control over the fact that she is dying, but she does have a sense of self-control, one she never had when she was healthy and alive. When she was Isabel, she acted irrationally towards

Archibald, leaving him by Francis‟ wicked command. When her true death is upon her, she is calm and sees things clearly. She does not fear death, and says about herself, “I am already as one dead” (Wood 609). Even though she is alive, she sees herself as very near death, and because she is forgiven by God (as stated earlier), she does not fear it. Isabel at this moment is not acting irrationally, calling out for vengeance or for God to spare her.

She absorbs her death with control over her emotions. She says to Archibald, “Archibald,

I am on the very threshold of the next world” (Wood 616). Isabel can almost feel death literally upon her, and yet her words are calm and honest. Speaking to Archibald for the last time, she calmly says, “„farewell, then; farewell, until eternity,‟ she sighed, the tears raining from her eyes, „It is death I think; not faintness‟” (Wood 617). Wood places

Isabel‟s words as a sign instead of an eager shout or agonizing prayer. In this scene, both

Isabel and Archibald weep, but it is not because their emotions are out of control; they simply understand each other. In the great loss of death, Isabel is able to gain self-control and self-worth, something she was lacking before either of her deaths.

While Isabel does achieve several victories in death, readers should note that the events that must occur in order to gain those freedoms are alarming. Even though

Isabel is a strong woman in control of her life, this only comes about because of death.

Society must assume her dead for any social movement to happen, and for Isabel specifically, redemption and forgiveness only come just before she dies. This project asks readers to see death as a source of freedom, but the unfortunate truth is that female

30 characters must die for these liberties to be attained. As scholars, we must note the harsh realities of this element of sensation fiction as well as celebrate the freedoms that female characters are able to attain.

When speaking of control gained in death, we must also look at the control one has over those deaths in the first place. Isabel of East Lynne has no control over either her assumed death or her real death at the end of the novel. The train accident was of course an accident, and her true death was not murder or suicide. Death may give her control in some aspects, but the actual act of dying is completely out of her hands. As we will see in other novels such as The Law and the Lady and Lady Audley’s Secret, some female protagonists do have control over their assumed or false deaths, and their actual deaths as well. The ability to control not only life after death, but the “death” that provides that new life is a complicated phenomenon in sensation fiction.

CHAPTER III

STRONG DEAD LADIES IN THE WORK

OF WILKIE COLLINS

The work of Wilkie Collins cannot be ignored when looking at sensation fiction. Collins, some say, is the creator of the sensation fiction genre. His work was very popular in the nineteenth century and is still studied in abundance by scholars today.

Collins, who wrote 30 novels in his lifetime, has some surprising insights which contribute to his popularity. Collins scholar David Skilton, author of the introduction to the Penguin Classics edition of The Law and the Lady, writes “among male novelists of the period, Collins took an unsurpassed interest in women characters, and particularly in their intellects and ambitions, and the social restrictions imposed on them” (Skilton viii).

Collins, unlike other male authors of the time, pays special attention to women in his stories. He fills many of his novels with strong female characters that move a story forward all on their own. He explores the different ways in which their personalities affect their social situations. In The Law and the Lady, Collins gives the story telling completely to Valeria Brinton, a young newlywed who must unravel the mystery behind her husband‟s first marriage to a woman named Sara. Instead of her husband, Valeria takes charge of the story, moving it forward with confidence and courage. In The Woman in White, the narrative is shared between characters, but a large portion is given to Marian

Holcombe. She is the sister and many times the voice of the weaker female character

Laura Fairlie, a woman affected by a problem marriage and lack of control over her life.

Hughes notices this phenomenon also, writing “whether heroine or villainess, it is always a woman who demands the spotlight in the typical sensation novel” (45). In the work of

Collins, women are presented in physically, emotionally and morally strong and weak ways. But no matter their strengths or weaknesses, when death is examined in these novels, it is clear that death grants Laura, Sara and Valeria freedoms that would otherwise not be available.

The events of the novel The Law and the Lady are completely circled around a specific death. Sara Macallan, the first wife of Eustace Macallan, dies of arsenic poisoning sometime before Eustace meets Valeria. Sara‟s death fuels the events of which the novel is made up. Eustace is accused of poisoning and murdering Sara and he hides this information from Valeria. Valeria, a strong willed and enchanting female character, recognizes her husband‟s curious behavior and starts an investigation. She finds the transcripts of the trial, reading that Eustace was sent to trial “for the alleged poisoning of his wife” (Collins 88). And, as Brantlinger points out, sensation novels are “novels with a secret” (1); this is most definitely true of The Law and the Lady. However, much of the happenings we will look at in this chapter happen after the secret of Sara‟s death is revealed. The novel goes on to reveal that Sara herself took the arsenic because “she was very unhappy, and fretted a good deal about her husband” (Collins 123). Not only are the novel‟s events unfolded because of a death, but this death is incredibly remarkable when looked at more closely. Sara‟s death, like Isabel Vane‟s in East Lynne, allows for a variety of things to happen to characters within the story. For Sara, like Isabel, death is seemingly the only way out of a very unfortunate domestic situation. Sara and Eustace‟s

33 marriage is a problematic one, and her death frees her from it. Also like Isabel, Sara gains an immense amount of emotional and personal strength when death is upon her. And through death, Sara actually controls several characters, including Eustace and Valeria.

While it is distressing that Sara must die before the novel can commence, Collins calls for

Sara‟s death to not only be seen as an plot device for a mystery novel, but as an instrument of freedom for her and several characters in the novel.

For Laura Fairlie, death also works in unconventional ways. Phillip O‟Neill, a

Collins scholar and author of the book Wilkie Collins: Women, Property and Propriety, notes that “The Woman in White must still remain a central text in the Collins canon… in terms of appearance and reality” (7). Appearance and reality are large concepts in The

Woman in White, and the most interesting display happens in the middle of the story.

Laura Fairlie and Anne Catherick are two women who look alike and have similar relations to characters in the novel. Laura marries Sir Percival Glyde, an awful corrupt man who, many years before, threw Anne into an insane asylum. In an attempt to take

Laura‟s money for himself, Percival and his friend Count Fosco murder Anne but call her

Laura, bury her and put the real Laura back in the insane asylum. Walter Hartright, a man in love with Laura and the main narrator of the story, hears of Laura‟s “death” and goes to her grave, only to find a woman who “lifted her veil… Laura, Lady Glyde, was standing by the inscription, and was looking at me over the grave” (Collins 403). This shocking scene, as revealed previously, is considered by Hughes to be one of the most unforgettable scenes of sensation fiction, and it outlines the complexities of Laura‟s story involving reality, appearance and death. Laura‟s false death allows her many freedoms.

Laura‟s “death” gives her freedom from her terrible marriage to Percival and once her

34 identity has been repaired and Percival has died, she is able to enter into a happy union with Walter. “Death” releases her from her domestic situation. Because of her “death,” she is given the opportunity to be redeemed as a member of society and also gains a touch of strength as an individual. While Laura‟s and Sara‟s personalities completely differ (Sara being strong in death and Laura letting her weakness keep her mute), death grants both of these women freedom. Death, generally seen as a damaging aspect of a novel, gives characters previously unseen freedoms in these two Collins novels.

Just as Isabel is released from her oppressive and problematic marriage through “death,” Collins too uses death in this way. Collins, clearly interested in writing about women and exploring their personalities in certain social contexts, places Sara

Macallan and Laura Fairlie in problematic marital situations. For women in this time period, marriage was the ultimate goal in life. Hughes quotes Lady Audley’s Secret, where a confession is made that “„I had learnt that which in some indefinite manner or other every school-girl learns sooner or later—I learned that my ultimate fate in life depended upon my marriage‟” (Hughes 126). Hughes goes on to point out that, in many

Victorian novels, marriage was very critical for women in the social world. Their

“ultimate fate” in life, meaning their domestic life, social status, financial status, and future all depended on their husband. That being said, as we have seen earlier, Pool notes that Victorian marriages were difficult to dissolve (185). A woman during the Victorian era knew that her future depended on her marriage, but if it was an undesired situation, it was almost impossible to be released from. As we saw in East Lynne, even a divorce does not always fully dissolve a marital connection between two people. Collins‟ novels The

Law and the Lady and The Woman in White further express the idea that, for women, death is the only freedom from marriage that can be accessed.

Before we explore the ways in which death can free these women from problem marriages, the specifics of their situations must be analyzed. In The Law and the

Lady, the marriage between Eustace and Sara is loveless, desperate and oppressive rather than abusive. When they first meet, Sara loves Eustace but the feeling is not returned.

Sara, desperate for his attention, “had gone to Mr. Macallan‟s chambers in London, and had been found hidden in his bedroom” (Collins 146). Eustace, recognizing that her selfish act might ruin her reputation, “silenced the scandal in the one way that was possible—he married her” (Collins 147). This marriage, however heroic it may seem, turns problematic fast. It is only after the death of Sara that Valeria (Eustace‟s second wife) uncovers a note Sara wrote on her deathbed. It says, “you were not kind. You gave me my tea, Eustace, as if you were giving a drink to your dog. . . the instant you were out of the room I took the poison” (Collins 365). It is unrequited love that pushes Sara to commit suicide. While not as shockingly oppressive as some of the other marriages portrayed in Victorian literature, the arrangement of these characters together causes a problematic situation and ultimately a tragic end for Sara. Because neither of them have grounds for divorce or separation, it is only through death that Sara can be free of this situation in which she has placed herself.

For Laura Fairlie, her marriage is oppressive in the generally understood way.

Her husband, Sir Percival Glyde, is verbally and emotionally abusive towards her. Laura is similar to the stereotypical wife from Victorian literature and society in the late 1800s.

She is described as “a fair, delicate girl” and is shown several times to be weak under

36 pressure (Collins 52). When she “dies,” not only does she have no part in that act, but

Walter is the one who must seek out the truth and reinstate her into society, for she is too weak to do it on her own. If Laura is the typical meek woman, than Percival is the typical alpha-male husband. He often hassles Laura about her finances, wanting her to sign away her money and verbally abusing her when she questions him. At one point, he locks her in her bedroom, and Marian asks him, “am I to understand, Sir Percival, that your wife‟s room is a prison, and that your housemaid is the gaoler who keeps it?” (Collins 288). In regards to marital abuse, Elizabeth Anderman, author of “Hysterical Sensations: Bodies in Action in Wilkie Collin‟s The Women in White,” writes of the novel that “the story has been fruitfully interpreted as a complex indictment of Victorian marriage laws and practices of domestic abuse” (Anderman 79). Laura‟s marriage to Percival is full of domestic abuse, and I read the marriage the same way Anderman and other critics do. So, how does a woman become free from a situation such as this one? As we have seen and will continue to see, death is seemingly the only way. For Laura, “death” is, ironically, all it takes.

It is clear that both of these marriages are problem marriages. Death allows the women involved in them freedom from pain and oppression. Sara writes to Eustace in her death letter that “my death will set you free to marry” (Collins 362). Sara understands that the marriage contract between her and Eustace will be broken when she dies. She, however, can see no other way out. Sara, recognizing that Eustace does not love her, writes in the letter “now I know that my love is not returned, the last sacrifice left is easy”

(Collins 362). For Sara, marriage obviously should involve love. When it is clear that there is no love from Eustace, she ends her life, thus ending the marriage. This is a

37 horrifying fate, but the strength and control Sara gains because of this action are impossible to ignore. Her reasons for ending her life were many, but one fact still remains obvious: her death freed her from her disastrous marriage.

For Laura, the actions of her enemies actually allow her the freedom to marry someone she truly loves. Percival and his deceptive friend Count Fosco fake Laura‟s death, and it is through this “death” that she is given the freedom from her problem marriage. Walter writes after his discovery that “the wife of Percival Glyde might still exist. . . for me, but to all the world besides she was dead” (Collins 406). Because Laura is assumed dead by her society, the society also recognizes the marriage between Laura and Percival to be terminated. However, it is interesting to note that Laura and Walter do not marry until after Percival dies in a fire attempting to hide his illegitimacy. It is ultimately Percival‟s death that allows Laura to marry Walter. Walter writes, after revealing his love for Laura that, “ten days later, we were happier still. We were married”

(Collins 553). Because of false and true death, Laura is given freedom out of her oppressive, abusive marriage to Percival and the opportunity to be happy in a productive marriage to Walter. As we explored in East Lynne, a divorce does not completely sever the ties of marriage in the eyes of the Victorians, and it is likely that Laura would be uncomfortable marrying again if she was granted only a divorce. Although the novel never clearly addresses the fact that Percival and Laura are both still alive after her

“death” and what that means for her marriage, we can see similar trends from East Lynne happening here. There is a discomfort of marrying again when death is not certain. Laura, obviously in love with Walter, does not marry him until after Percival is dead. It is unclear if she even could have, considering her “death” and the assumed termination of

38 her marriage. Perhaps the fear was that if anyone were to find out that she was still alive

(voiding the termination of her marriage to Percival) and married again (bigamy), her reputation would be ruined. But it is still true that death (and “death”) gives Laura the freedom to be with the man she really loves.

In both marriages, a divorce would not have been granted unless adultery or bigamy could have been proven, and no indication of this is given in either novel.

Brantlinger recognizes that bigamy and adultery are not always the only actions within marriage that can cause a stir, writing about sensation fiction that “even in those sensation novels whose plots do not hinge upon bigamy, there is a strong interest in… forced marriages, and marriages formed under false pretenses” (6). Unlike East Lynne where adultery does occur, these Collins novels deal with different kinds of complicated marriage plots. Unlike with Isabel and Archibald, who had grounds for divorce, Sara and

Laura are seemingly stuck in their situations. However, for Sara, death is the only option, and she is brave enough to take it. For Laura, her “death” is created for her, and because of this, her problem marriage ends.

In addition to marriage, the idea of strength being gained in death that was analyzed in East Lynne can also be seen in these novels by Collins, especially The Law and the Lady. Sara, Eustace‟s first wife, commits suicide because she has had enough of her one-sided marriage. Sara, in Levine‟s words, denies herself. She believes that marriage should involve love and happiness, and she is not receiving this from Eustace.

In this deeply tragic and personal act, readers can see that death gives Sara many different strengths. Not only does Sara have the strength to poison herself and take her own life, but she also gains several personal strengths that cannot be accessed unless death is near.

Sara, described as a “poor infatuated creature” (Collins 146), gains strength when she is face to face with death, and this is shown through the written words of her letter. Once Valeria uncovers the truth and the writing of the letter, what happened to

Sara becomes clear. Sara, not brave enough to confront Eustace, writes, “I don‟t know how you might receive what I have to say to you, if I said it by word of mouth. So I write” (Collins 359). When death is upon her, Sara has the strength to write her true and honest thoughts down; to let them escape the prison of her mind and become real.

Because Eustace does not love her and would most likely ignore her words in a face to face confrontation about her suicide, Sara realizes that she can be strong in writing. Sara writes, “I will write a full confession of what I said to him and of what he said to me”

(Collins 361). Using this language, it is clear that she will not hold back. She has the strength to write the truth about her final moments of life. It would seem natural to be nervous or ill composed when one is planning or executing suicide, but Sara is calm and quiet. She writes, “I won‟t call for assistance. . . I will die” (Collins 364). Sara has taken the idea of death and overcome any fear she may have had. The knowledge that death is coming allows her this.

It is important to note that Sara is not alive during The Law and the Lady, and that can cause dispute as to whether or not she is a technically a character. However, her letter gives her the opportunity to have a voice, and a strong one at that. Alice Bennett, author of “Unquiet Spirits: Death Writing in Contemporary Fiction,” writes about dead narrators and these ideas can be applied to The Law and the Lady. Bennett‟s work is mostly on contemporary fiction, but her ideas can be applied to sensation fiction as well.

Bennett writes, “narration by these spirits. . . not only gives them a voice, but gives them

40 a place in the story itself as a character, rather than an object whose story exists only in the past” (465). By Bennett‟s logic, Sara is a character in the novel because she narrates part of the story, and her narrative should not be simply pushed aside and considered part of “the past” (465). The strength of Sara‟s letter is not only a reflection of her personal strength, but also of her narrative. Her voice has, in a way, come back from the dead to twist the sensation plot in a new direction. A voice that previously was kept silent by

Dexter, a man in love with Sara who destroyed the letter before the trial, is revived by

Valeria. Bennett notes that, “the narrating victim in these novels challenges a dead silence at the very center of the murder mystery and provides a means for the corpse to speak back, rather than just reducing a person to a plot device” (468). Sara‟s story (and letter) is strong enough to narrate itself, instead of being interpreted by someone else or voiced by someone alive. In death, Sara can narrate her own tale, and challenge the silence that she had the strength to arrange.

In death, Sara also has the strength to understand and recognize her pain.

Unlike Laura, who quietly bears her problematic marriage until death luckily removes her from it, Sara understands that her marriage is problematic and feels that death is the only answer. She writes of her marriages that, “life is unendurable to me, now I know that the man whom I love with all my heart and soul, secretly shrinks from me whenever I touch him” (Collins 363). Broken marriages were common for women in the Victorian age, but many did not have the strength that Sara did to actually recognize her pain. Sara‟s situation, because of this, is uncommon. Tamar Heller, author of the book Dead Secrets:

Wilkie Collins and the Female Gothic, writes “through the recurrent image of buried writing Collins represents social and textual marginality” (Heller 1). Heller suggests that

Collins uses Sara‟s letter, a representation of her pain, to show that Sara‟s situation is outside the social standard. She is unlike other Victorian women in problematic marriages because she not only recognizes her pain, but knows a way out. Thus, we can agree that Sara is much stronger that many of her female character counterparts. It is her unhappy marriage that leads her to suicide, but it is death that leads her to write the letter and gives her the strength to confront Eustace the only way she knows how.

Not only is Sara given the strength in death to write the letter and realize her pain, she also has the opportunity to be incredibly truthful in her last words. This is, if we look at the little we know of her character, something that is difficult for her before death is upon her. When she is first discovered in Eustace‟s bedchamber and causes a scandal, she does not admit the truth to save Eustace‟s reputation and sacrifice her own. This was clearly an untruthful act on her part; she loved Eustace so much that she caused a scandal and let him take the fall for it (although she most likely did not see it in this manner because of her love for him). In her letter, however, she is not afraid to be perfectly honest with her actions and feelings. She writes, “the arsenic that I twice asked you to buy for me is in my dressing-case. . . I have got plenty left to kill myself with” (Collins

363). Not only is she aware of the amount of poison needed for death, she admits to this knowledge and does not hold back the truth. Death allows her this strength. She is fully aware of her actions, and wants them to be known. If she had wanted to die a “poor infatuated creature,” she would not have been so truthful in the telling of her final moments, and she may not have even written the letter at all. But readers recognize

Sara‟s strength in her letter and her final moments of life, and death grants this strength.

In The Woman in White, although Laura has been described as very weak both before and after her “death,” there are small signs that “death” has actually given Laura strength to be independent. Before her “death,” Laura is trapped in her oppressive marriage, and notes to her sister that “we shall both be happier and easier with one another, if we accept my married life for what it is, and say and think as little about it as possible” (Collins 208). Laura recognizes that her life and identity are tied to Percival, and even though she hates her situation, she discourages anyone from trying to remove her from it. Her weakness keeps her quiet. After “death,” Laura shows some interest in becoming a stronger and more self-sufficient human being. She expresses to Walter, “I am so useless. . . why is there nothing I can do?” (Collins 469). This is one of the rare times that Laura asserts herself in the novel. It is after her experience with “death” and her freedom from a terrible domestic situation (given to her by “death”) that she does this. Walter writes that, “she was longing to assume her own little position of importance, to raise herself in her own estimation and in ours” (Collins 470). Laura wants not only to raise her own self-awareness and self-esteem, but to be noticed and recognized as a helpful individual in the eyes of the people she loves. After Walter agrees to let her sell her paintings, he notes that “she looked at me with feverish eagerness, with a breathless interest, that made me tremble for the new life of hope” (Collins 469). Walter can see the potential for a happy life for Laura after all she has been through. Because of this small step of strength (granted by “death”), Laura starts to recover from her terrifying past.

Chapter Two discussed redemption in death at length in regards to Isabel Vane, and it should be noted that redemption in The Law and The Lady works in surprising ways. The Law and the Lady slightly suggests that because Sara died for love, her suicide

43 has some type of redeeming quality. Through the reason for her death, Sara is able to gain a small amount of redemption.

In society, especially the religious circles, suicide is seen as an immoral act.

Suicide takes control away from God, and this is seen by many religious groups as going against God‟s will. Although the death is still a tragedy, a suicide, in moral terms, is no cause for praise or redemption. Pool notes in his book about daily life in nineteenth- century England that if one committed suicide, “you were, until 1832, required by law to be buried at night only. And, although suicides were thereafter permitted to be buried in a

Church of England graveyard, no service could be said over the body” (253). In the minds of the Victorians, committing suicide awarded one no religious or societal recognition. Readers, after untangling the mystery of The Law and the Lady, have obvious sympathies for Sara due to the nature of her unhappy marriage. However, it is likely that if readers only knew about her suicide, they may have less of a sympathetic reaction to her life and death. Keeping this in mind, the novel suggests that even though

Sara‟s death was suicide (and society generally views this as an immoral action), there is some redemption in her death based on what she died for. The novel writes of Dexter that

“he had driven the woman. . . to the last dreadful refuge of death by suicide! Give these considerations their due weight; and you will understand that some little redeeming virtue might show itself” (Collins 373-4). The novel partially blames Dexter for Sara‟s death, but there is something more meaningful in these words. Collins asks us a readers to “give these considerations” (all the happenings of the novel) “due weight,” and if we do this, we will be able to find some redeeming qualities of her death. The novel is suggesting

44 that because Sara died for love, her death has “some little redeeming virtue” (Collins

374).

Expanding on this, it is clear by Sara‟s writing that she loves Eustace throughout the suffering of her suicide. Her letter ends with, “I love you, Eustace—I forgive you” (Collins 366). The reason for her suicide in the first place is because Eustace does not love her, and it is clear that Sara believes marriage should involve love. She writes, “if you had allowed me to be as familiar with you as some wives are with their husbands, I should have spoken to you personally” (Collins 359). Sara is fully aware that her marriage is lacking, and she makes readers aware in her letter. She also most likely knew that her marriage did not have grounds for divorce or separation without some social destruction of reputation. More likely, however, the main reason for her suicide is the pain she feels from unrequited love. Considering all this, readers feel sympathy towards Sara, and her suicide does not seem immoral. In the article “Cosmetic Tragedies:

Failed Masquerade in Wilkie Collins‟s The Law and the Lady,” Aviva Briefel notes that,

“she explicitly links her decision to end her life to her husband‟s failure to notice her”

(470). Briefel notices that Sara‟s finite reason for death is because of her husband‟s lack of love for her. Her love is not returned, and this drives her to suicide. This is indeed tragic, but it does not seem unholy or immoral. The fact that she died because of love gives her death a poetic quality. Some readers may see Sara‟s suicide as selfish or even pathetic, but one only needs to read her heartfelt letter again to understand her feelings of love and have sympathy for them.

Other characters are also affected by Sara‟s death, and others are given redemption in parts of their lives because of Sara‟s death. Some readers may see that

45 redemption comes to Eustace and Valeria (his second wife) because of Valeria‟s detective skills, but if Sara had not died, those skills would never have been used or needed. Jennie Bourne Taylor, author of the book In the Secret Theatre of Home: Wilkie

Collins, Sensation Narrative, and Nineteenth-Century Psychology, writes of Valeria that she had “her own resolution to reopen the case and vindicate her husband‟s innocence in order to gain full possession of him and consolidate her own subjective identity as his wife” (221). Taylor believes that Valeria has an almost desperate need to prove Eustace‟s innocence, not only for their marriage but in regards to relationship control (and we will discuss later how death and control work between these three characters). It is vital here to note that, while Valeria does have strong and direct detective methods and a seemingly fearless nature, the entirety of her story would never have occurred without the death of

Sara. It is the revelation of how Sara died that redeems Valeria and Eustace to a strong marital status. Valeria knows this to be true, writing after she read Sara‟s letter that, “I dare say, after reading the dreadful confession of Eustace‟s first wife. I burst out crying— and I was all the better for it afterwards!” (Collins 370). Valeria admits that she is “all the better for it” after learning the truth about Sara‟s suicide, and these words could have multiple meanings. Valeria could simply be saying that she felt better after learning the truth. However, Valeria knows that the truth about Sara‟s death has given her the opportunity to be reunited with her husband and thus redeemed. Thus, her entire life is

“all the better” after reading the letter.

When looking at the redemption of other characters, we must note that

Eustace does not read Sara‟s letter in the novel, but leaves it up to his son to decide for him and declares, “the proof of my innocence has been found; and I owe it entirely to the

46 courage and the devotion of my wife!” (Collins 381). This, as we have discussed, is not the entire story, but the words “my wife” hold meaning. Collins could intend for this to have a double meaning. When Eustace says “my wife,” he could mean Sara, since she was once his wife, or Valeria, or both. Though most readers would not particularly read it this way, it could be said that Eustace is giving some recognition to Sara in this utterance, and thus his claim would be true. Either way, the truth about how Sara died redeems

Valeria and Eustace‟s marriage.

Not only does death grant strength to female characters in these two novels, but control is a large freedom gained as well. As mentioned in Chapter Two, control over one‟s life as a female in the Victorian period was not easily granted. Mitchell has given us a window into the world of a woman who has no control, and those harsh realities echo in Collins‟ work as well. However, like Isabel, these female characters find control in death. Sara and Laura are able to control different aspects of life in death. Sara controls her actual death, and has the ability to take control of her body through death. Sara also possesses control over other characters‟ lives through her death. Laura, like Isabel, has no control over her “death,” but it does allow her some control over the ending of her tale.

Death, a tragic part of the human existence, gives these female characters control over pieces of themselves and others which proves to be liberating and freeing rather than tragic.

For Sara, it is obvious to readers that she has control over her death. She is not ill or murdered; it is by her own hand that she dies. She writes, “I have taken the poison”

(Collins 364). By this line, Sara is admitting her control: she ingested the poison on her own. By deciding to die, Sara takes control over her body, arguably the only thing she

47 does have control over. Death allows Sara a control that she could never have in life. In the novel, when Sara is still alive, she originally obtains the arsenic because she is told that it will improve her complexion: “a plain woman with a terrible complexion, she had purposefully ingested a lethal quantity of the arsenic she had been using to improve her skin” (Briefel 466). Sara believes that improving her appearance will increase the chances for her marriage to be happy. However, the treatment fails her, and the fact that

Eustace does not love her becomes all the more obvious. Sara attempts to control her physical and marital status in life, and the treatment fails. Thus, she is denied the ability to control those aspects of her body in life. When this type of control is denied, Sara turns to a different form of control over her body: death. Briefel writes, “such sensationalistic descriptions of defacement and death convey the cataclysmic repercussions of her incapacity to control her image” (464). Because the treatment fails Sara and she is unable to control her body in that way, Sara realizes that the only thing about her body she can control is whether or not it lives, and what an unnerving realization it is. Death is the only part of herself she can control, and the realization of this then gives her the agency to commit the act.

When applied to Sara Macallan, Sally Mitchell‟s idea that women in Victorian novels control their bodies is literalized quite heavily. Mitchell mostly speaks of women who control their bodies in a sexual way, but Sara takes control to the highest level. Sara, denied control over her appearance and thus control over her possibly happier life, takes agency over her life when death allows her to realize that there is one thing she can control. As noted before, Mitchell notices the trend in Victorian literature of women use their bodies for social purposes (83), and we see this not only in Sara Macallan, but we

48 will see it used even more radically in Lady Audley’s Secret. Sara does, in fact, dispose of herself (suicide) in her own best interest because in her mind, death is the only freedom from the emotional pain she feels in her marriage. She has tried other remedies, but they have failed. For Sara, the “social end” for which she uses her body is freedom from her unhappy marriage.

If death grants Sara control over her body, then control is taken away from the conventional source. As stated previously, Mitchell makes the point that if a Victorian woman takes control of her body, she is taking control away from her father or husband

(xi). Mitchell has informed us previously that women were seen as property. By this,

Mitchell does not mean that women were seen to be equal to a piece of furniture or an acre of land that a man owned, but women and their possessions were mostly under the control and at the mercy of the men in their lives. Thus, if a woman disposes of herself and controls her body, she is taking control away from the male figure in her life. Sara, between her heartache and her letter writing, is most likely unaware that her agency frees her from the social norms of male control. However, it is interesting to note that, in death,

Sara takes away control from its usual source.

Laura, in “death,” gains some form of control over her life. As stated earlier, after her “death,” Laura is interested in becoming a more important member of her household and of society. She is given the ability to have control not over her life, but over her own estimation of herself. She does not have complete control over her new profession, as audiences realize that Walter is only pretending to sell Laura‟s drawings, writing that “Marian took them from me and hid them carefully, and I set aside a little weekly tribute from my earnings, to be offered to her” (Collin 470). She does, however,

49 have the new ability to see the purpose for her life in a new, positive light. “Death” grants her this ability. Walter writes of Laura after her “death” that her life was “suddenly changed—its whole purpose created afresh; its hopes and fears, its struggles, its interests, and its sacrifices, all turned at once and for ever in a new direction” (Collins 405). The emotional turmoil from her previous life is forgotten, and it is her false death that allows this freedom over her “new direction.”

In The Law and the Lady, Sara not only has control over her body in death, but her death controls the lives of others as well. In death, Sara has control over Eustace and his future. It is ironic that Sara was unable to control anything about her marriage in life, but her death proves problematic for Eustace and Valeria. It is also ironic to note that

Sara never meant to control Eustace in the way that she does in death. Her letter, as she writes, was meant to set him free: “show this letter to the doctor who attends me. It will tell him that I have committed suicide, it will prevent any innocent person from being suspected of poisoning me” (Collin 363). Dexter finds the letter before the police do and destroys it. Nevertheless, Sara‟s death complicates Eustace‟s life, and his reputation is directly associated with her death. During the trial where Eustace was believed to have murdered Sara, the court never comes to a verdict of “guilty” or “innocent.” If Eustace were to be granted one of these rulings, society would then be able to judge his character correctly. Instead, Eustace is given the verdict of “not proven.” The court says, “We don‟t say you are innocent of the crime charged against you; we only say, there is not evidence enough to convict you” (Collins 171). It may seem that the court is ultimately controlling

Eustace‟s reputation, but it is Sara‟s death that brings him to this point. Her ability to control her body in death also controls her husband‟s life.

There is also something to be said about Eustace‟s realization that Sara is controlling him in death. Briefel notices that “the novel makes the disheartening suggestion that a woman can only achieve a solid corporeality after death, whereas in life she is either invisible or masked” (476). Briefel believes the novel is suggesting that Sara, invisible to her husband in life, is now noticed by him in death. Eustace, after Sara has died, does not see the error of his ways in regards to their marriage, but realizes her existence more clearly now that she has control over his reputation. While Sara does gain several freedoms in death, and these freedoms are seemingly positive when it comes to women in the social realm of the Victorian era, Briefel brings us back to the harsh reality that, in order for these freedoms to come, death must occur.

The Law and the Lady explores the complications of control with female characters and death, and this is shown in the novel‟s narrator Valeria Brinton. Valeria is described as “in control of her sense of self and there are certain connotations at play in her perseverance, courage, superior rationality, etc” (O‟Neill 205). Uncommon to the women we have previously discussed who generally do not have control or strength until death (or “death”) has occurred, Valeria already has this strength. However, death does affect her sense of control in certain ways. Her happiness and her new marriage are affected by Sara‟s death. Valeria must also deal with the potential “death” of her marriage. Valeria may not need freedom and may be in control of herself, but death affects her more than she may realize.

Valeria, a woman described as “endowed with a certain strength,” does not need death to give her freedoms, but she is still affected by death (O‟Neill 206). A strong woman who plays detective throughout the novel, Valeria‟s marriage is actually

51 controlled by death, namely Sara‟s death. Sara‟s death does not control Valeria‟s actions in the detective plot, but Sara‟s death and the discovery of her death causes problems for

Valeria‟s marriage. Valeria uncovers the truth about her husband‟s soiled reputation, and that soil is caused by Sara‟s death. Although the soil is indirect (because Sara had originally intended for her letter to be found), it is her death that controls Valeria‟s happiness and the potential for her marriage. Her marriage, at this point, is in danger of

“dying.” When Valeria finds out that Eustace was accused of poisoning Sara, he leaves her, writing that “the one atonement I can make is—to leave you. Your one chance of future happiness is to be disassociated, at once and for ever, from my dishonored life”

(Collins 105). After reading the letter in which Eustace leaves Valeria, she comments that

“my courage fails me when I look back to my husband‟s farewell letter” (Collin 106).

The strong, courageous Valeria who takes control of her life is emotionally distraught when this action occurs. She claims “I dare not tell the truth about myself—at that terrible time” (Collins 106). Valeria never fully admits the helplessness she felt, but she does hint at it. Readers can then see that she is not emotionally in control of herself after she is faced with the “death” of her marriage. It is ultimately Sara‟s death that takes happiness and control away from Valeria, even if only for a short time.

As noted before, Valeria is already in control of herself and does not need death to grant her any freedoms. However, the death of Sara does allow Valeria to exercise certain freedoms. Sara‟s death causes the court case and the verdict of “Not

Proven,” and O‟Neill writes that “Valeria has a greater autonomy than is usual for a woman and thus is able to challenge the verdict of „Not Proven‟” (203). Because of

Valeria‟s strength (not granted by death but obtained before the novel begins), she is able

52 to work within her society to “challenge the verdict,” but it is Sara‟s death that gives her the chance to do this. Sara‟s death allows Valeria to become, as David Skilton writes, a

“detective in petticoats” (xii). It is death that brings about the opportunity for Valeria

(and Collins) to show off a different side of the Victorian woman to readers. This version of woman is strong and brave; courageous and fearless in her actions to save her own happiness. It is unfortunate that this strength is shown because death has occurred, but

Valeria shows readers a different side to sensation fiction because of it.

Also unfortunate but undeniable is the fact that Sara‟s death has given Valeria her happiness in the first place. Sara‟s death allowed Eustace to remarry, and his second marriage is at the core of Valeria‟s happiness. Valeria at one point exclaims to Eustace, “I can‟t live without you. I must and will be your wife!” (Collins 23). She is deeply invested in Eustace and their relationship. As stated earlier, marriages are terminated in death, and

Eustace is free to marry again after Sara‟s suicide. Valeria, a woman described as “in control” (O‟Neill 206) may indeed have control over her story, but she does not have control of the past. While Valeria is a strong female character, her happiness is reliant on outside factors beyond her control. She is still somewhat subjected to lack of control.

Valeria and readers alike cannot deny the truth that Sara‟s death ultimately grants

Valeria‟s happiness.

In the work of Collins, it is impossible to deny the presence of strong female characters. While Collins does show us some weaker, more common Victorian wives and mothers, many of his stories incorporate women who defy social law and push the social boundaries of their time. Death is one of the ways these women can exercise their strength. It is death that gives Sara strength and freedom from her problematic marriage,

53 and Laura is able to personally grow because of “death.” Although death is at times tragic, these women can be seen as stronger because of death. In discussing strength and control in death within sensation fiction, one cannot exclude the novel Lady Audley’s

Secret by Mary Elizabeth Braddon. If ever there was a strong woman in death (and

“death”), it is Lady Audley. While other female characters in sensation fiction use the opportunities that death has given them to better their lives, Lady Audley uses and manipulates actual death for this purpose. Chapter Four discusses the ways in which death affects the life of Lady Audley, another strong female character in Victorian literature.

CHAPTER IV

LADY AUDLEY‟S SECRET? USING

DEATH FOR FREEDOM

When scholars look at literature for female characters who push the social boundaries of their time, they must recognize Lady Audley of Lady Audley’s Secret by

Mary Elizabeth Braddon. Lady Audley is given freedoms in death similar to the ones that

Isabel, Sara and Laura receive, but Lady Audley is different in a major way. She is the only female character in this project who actually uses death (or “death”) for freedom.

Lady Audley uses death throughout the novel to push social boundaries rather than waiting for death to provide opportunities for social movement. Not only does Lady

Audley falsify her own death in order to marry into a better situation, she also attempts murder several times as she tries to take control of both her life and of death. Unlike

Laura Fairlie, whose false death was completely out of her control, Lady Audley takes control of death for her own purposes. Lady Audley has two deaths in the novel: one is false (and done by her own hand) and the other is a real death in an insane asylum. Her first “death” allows her freedom from her broken marriage to George Talboys, but because she is not literally dead, she commits bigamy by marrying Sir Michael Audley.

She also shows strength by using death to keep her identity a secret. Death, a force that denies the self as George Levine described previously, is a source of freedom to Lady

Audley as a woman; a force that grants freedoms and is manipulated to grant them.

Braddon‟s complicated tale of Lady Audley and her secret is one where death stands in the spotlight, and it must be included in the analysis of female protagonists and their interactions with death. As stated previously, when thinking about death as the only way sensation fiction women can express freedoms, it does seem to be an upsetting design. However, the moves that Lady Audley is able to make in her society because of death are outrageous as well as impressive for her time period. For the purposes of this project, the deaths of the novel must be laid out in chronological order, but readers of the novel know that this information is not revealed until the end of the novel. And even though the main female protagonist‟s name changes throughout the novel as she assumes different identities, I will continue to use the title Lady Audley to refer to the character.

Lady Audley is born Helen Maldon, a poor girl with a mother in an insane asylum. She marries George Talboys and notes that “Mr. George Talboys. . . fell in love with me, and married me three months after my seventeenth birthday” (Braddon 351).

Their marriage is a broken one: they are poor and unhappy and have a son. George soon leaves for Australia, promising to come back rich. Lady Audley sees George‟s departure as abandonment and also as her opportunity to change her luck, changing her name to

Lucy and marrying Sir Michael Audley. However, as Lillian Nayder, author of

“Rebellious Sepoys and Bigamous Wives: The Indian Mutiny and Marriage Law Reform in Lady Audley’s Secret,” points out, “learning of George‟s imminent return to England soon after her bigamous marriage to Sir Michael, Helen Talboys falsifies her death and advertises it in the Times, in an attempt to throw her first husband off the scent” (34).

This is the first instance of death on the timeline of Lady Audley. She notes that “unless he saw the grave in which I was buried, and the register of my death, he would never

56 believe that I was lost to him” (Braddon 355-6). From this point on, Robert Audley, Sir

Michael‟s nephew, searches for clues into Lady Audley‟s secret. In this search, Lady

Audley attempts to murder both George and Robert to keep her identity hidden. In the end, her secret is confessed and she suffers her true death in an insane asylum. With her deaths revealed, understanding the character of Lady Audley is essential when analyzing how she interacts with death for her own social means.

Lady Audley is not simply a Victorian woman who is a few steps out of place.

Hughes writes of the novel that “Lady Audley’s Secret. . . is also credited with the introduction of a new type of villainess—the frail, fair-haired child-woman with murder and bigamy in her heart” (124). Unlike Isabel who uses the opportunity “death” gives her to better her life, Lady Audley takes matters of life and death into her own hands. It is interesting, however, that Lady Audley is not seen by the other characters as, as she puts it, “a madwoman” (Braddon 345). As Hughes stated, Lady Audley is childlike, and it is only her pursuer Robert Audley who starts to see the “murder and bigamy in her heart”

(124). Other characters, including Lady Audley‟s two husbands, do not see beyond her child-bride “mask” (quotation marks indicate a metaphorical mask) until the secret of her true identity is revealed. Brantlinger also notes this character phenomenon, saying that

“her outward beauty—the blonde, blue-eyed, childlike but also coquettish stereotype of female loveliness and innocence—masks insanity, bigamy, homicide” (11). Lady Audley has the perfect disguise: she is the ideal Victorian wife on the outside, and this is what allows her more of a say in her own life. In an article titled “Strong Women and Feeble

Men: Upsetting Gender Stereotypes in Mary Elizabeth Braddon‟s Lady Audley’s Secret,”

Herbert G. Klein notes that “she is very pretty, somewhat childish, and behaves nicely to

57 everyone. She represents at least one Victorian ideal of womanhood: the child bride”

(165). By using the ideals of the Victorian woman, Lady Audley has tricked her fellow characters with her innocent and perfect “mask.” This “mask” allows Lady Audley to have incredible agency over her life and, more specifically, over death. Although she cannot keep her secret in the end, her unique character as a “new type of villainess”

(Hughes 124) is what gives her the ability to bend (and attempt to bend) death to her will.

As discussed in the previous chapters, sensation novels seem to suggest that death is the only way out of a problem marriage. Lady Audley’s Secret does this as well, but Braddon‟s work brings up several new questions within this idea. When one is assumed dead and thus the marriage also assumed dead, what is the marriage assumed after the dead is found to be alive? Also, if bigamy occurs, who is affected by death? In the novel, three different plot points highlight these questions and the complexities of marriage and death. At all three points, however, Lady Audley is granted freedoms because of death.

The first point in the story chronologically where death ends a problem marriage is the “death” of her life as George‟s wife. Her first marriage is unhappy, as

Lady Audley confesses that “George grew gloomy and wretched, and was always thinking of his troubles, and appeared to neglect me, I was very unhappy” (Braddon 352).

Lady Audley wants to be free of her problem marriage to George, and when he departs to

Australia, Lady Audley moves to change her luck. She states that “when I awoke I found a letter lying on the table by my bed, telling me that he was going to the Antipodes to seek his fortune” (Braddon 352). She also notes that “I looked upon this as a desertion, and I resented it bitterly” (Braddon 352-3). Lady Audley, assuming that George will not

58 come back, leaves her newborn son behind and finds work as a governess, soon finding and marrying Sir Michael. This of course is bigamy, but Lady Audley keeps her real identity a secret, and Sir Michael does not suspect her because of her childlike character.

Her “mask” (with the hidden terrors underneath) allows her to become someone new in order to have a financially stable second (yet not real) marriage. Helen Talboys is no more in Lady Audley‟s mind, unknown or “dead” to Sir Michael and her new life.

Any actual mention of “death” does not occur until Lady Audley reads in the paper that George is returning and she, in desperation, composes a false death story. Lady

Audley, having found happiness and good social standing with Sir Michael, refuses to give up that life and creates her “death.” And if Helen Talboys is assumed dead, like with

Laura Fairlie, her marriage is also assumed dead. Lady Audley‟s name (as Helen

Talboys) is printed in the paper under the obituaries, and “George Talboys visited

Ventnor, and ordered the tombstone which at this hour records the death of his wife,

Helen Talboys” (Braddon 357). This evidence, although false, gives society enough proof that Lady Audley is dead and, therefore, so is her marriage to George. The novel suggests that “death” is the only way Lady Audley can end her connection to George. Lady

Audley also knows that if the secret is never found out, she will not have, in society‟s eyes, committed bigamy and her marriage to Sir Michael will be considered real. By falsifying her own death, Lady Audley grants herself freedom from her problem marriage and the chance to legitimize her marriage to Sir Michael.

The second plot point where death is shown to be the only way out of marriage is at the end of the novel when Robert is notified that Lady Audley has died in the insane asylum in which he has her committed. In her true death, Lady Audley‟s

59 marriage to George really ends. Because of her true death, her marriage to George is officially terminated, and at this point in the novel, it has already been revealed that her second marriage is false. George is not considered free from Lady Audley (even though she had committed bigamy) because she is still alive and therefore the bonds are not completely severed. He can file for divorce, and the reasons why he does not are not explicit in the novel, but the novel does suggest that Lady Audley‟s final death is what ends their marriage completely. For Sir Michael, his wife had committed bigamy, and therefore his marriage never legally existed. He recognizes this after Lady Audley has made her confession, referring to her as the woman “whom I have thought my wife”

(Braddon 358). Their life together was played out like a marriage and Sir Michael treated her as such, but it was not legally true. In her death, Sir Michael and George are also free to marry again. While Sir Michael expresses no interest in this, as Robert states that “Sir

Michael has no fancy to return to the familiar dwelling-place in which he once dreamed a brief dream of impossible happiness” (Braddon 446), there is hope for George‟s future.

Robert writes after hearing of Lady Audley‟s death that “George Talboys. . . is a young man yet, remember, and it is not quite impossible that he may by-and-by find someone who will be able to console him for the past” (Braddon 446). Lady Audley‟s death, the seemingly only way for her marriage to George Talboys to be terminated, grants George this freedom.

The third and possibly most interesting plot point concerning marriage and death occurs throughout most of the novel: the notion that George Talboys is assumed dead by several characters in the story. Lady Audley attempts to murder George, and he is absent through most of the story as he recovers from this attack. During most of the

60 novel, Robert Audley is convinced that George is dead because he has found no evidence of him living. Thus, if George is assumed dead by Robert and several others, is Lady

Audley then exempt from her crime of bigamy? Of course, when she first marries Sir

Michael with knowledge that George was alive, she does commit the unlawful act.

However, when she attempts to murder George by pushing him down a well (and assumes she has succeeded), has she, in the eyes of society, legitimized her second marriage? As long as the secret of her identity is kept on an accurate timeline, she has. If

George is dead, Lady Audley is then legally free to marry Sir Michael. Robert states many times that George is dead or assumed dead. Throughout the novel, he states that

“her first husband is dead. . . at least he has been missing for some time—and I have reason to believe that he is dead” (Braddon 377) and wishes that he could “bring George

Talboys to life to-morrow” (384). With George assumed dead, society cannot claim that

Lady Audley is a bigamist or anything other than her mask portrays her to be: the ideal

Victorian childlike bride. By attempting to murder George, Lady Audley has, in her mind, successfully kept her second marriage legitimate and kept the secret of her previous life. With George “dead,” her marriage to Sir Michael can be assumed legal and real.

It has become clear that Lady Audley uses the opportunities death can provide within marriage to gain freedoms, and the freedom that many critics focus on is social status. Death (false death, attempted murder, and assumed death) is able to grant Lady

Audley a new life within society; one that involves both money and social class. Her childlike mask allows her to initially leave her marriage to George and marry Sir

Michael, and the novel notes that “she committed the crime of bigamy, because by that

61 crime she obtained fortune and position” (Braddon 377). Money and social status are obviously two of Lady Audley‟s greatest concerns. In her confession, she admits to Sir

Michael that “when you married me you elevated me to a position that he could never have given me” (Braddon 351). Lady Audley confesses to Sir Michael that by marrying him (and as a result of this marriage, faking her own death and attempting murder), she was able to reach a social status that the poor George Talboys never could. She uses death to grant her this status. Lady Audley‟s need for social status is also noticed by

Klein. Klein describes Lady Audley‟s actions as selfish, explaining that “her ruthless ambition to leave behind her sordid life and the unremitting selfishness with which she pursues her goals” is part of the reason for her manipulating death (166). While her actions may be selfish, Lady Audley has the amazing ability to use death for her own social purposes. By manipulating death and attempting to grant herself freedoms that can only come because of death, Lady Audley climbs up the social ladder. It seems, then, that

Lady Audley did not leave George because of love or marry Sir Michael because of love

(the reason that Sara Macallan used death to end her marriage). Lady Audley uses marriage and death in a different way: for her own social identity and reputation.

While the manipulation of death and marriage is apparent in this novel, the sheer strength of Lady Audley‟s character requires attention. In death (and “death”) and through death (and “death”), Lady Audley is granted personal, financial, emotional and overall strength. This strength acts as a freedom that, as a woman, she might never have gained if she had not attempted to manipulate death. Critics understand the strength that females have in this novel, and Klein writes that “although most women in Lady Audley’s

Secret are not quite as strong and powerful as Lady Audley herself, they still appear

62 stronger than the men” (170). This strength (for Lady Audley, I will not speak of the other female characters in detail) comes from the ideas and opportunities that death or

“death” can provide. Lady Audley already has strength before she attempts to manipulate death, which is unusual for a female protagonist in Victorian literature. Klein continues with his idea of female strength saying “it is their actions that determine the course of things, most remarkably of all Lady Audley who from an early age on had decided on shaping her own destiny” (170). Lady Audley knows the ideologies of manipulation and deceit before “death” comes into play, but it is death (attempted, real and false) that helps these ideologies come to light to illuminate Lady Audley‟s strength.

The initial strengths that Lady Audley possesses are hinted at in the first chapter of the novel, and the idea of “death” is already brought to the attention of the readers. When readers first meet their female protagonist, she is Lucy, a governess who is proposed to by Sir Michael. She then slips off into her room to whisper to herself, “every trace of the old life melted away—every clue to identity buried and forgotten” (Braddon

12). Readers are aware right from the beginning that Lady Audley has unusual female qualities for a Victorian woman; one of which is that she has apparently left her old life behind. Her words “buried and forgotten” suggest that she herself may have metaphorically killed and buried her old life. In this first hint at true character, Lady

Audley is speaking of the “death” of her former identity. Lady Audley later admits to, in a sense, “killing” her old identity and exchanging it for a new one. When she reveals the truth to Robert and Sir Michael, Lady Audley admits that when George left for Australia,

“I determined to run away from this wretched home which my slavery supported”

(Braddon 353). She has the ability to “die” as Helen Talboys and “go to London, and lose

63 myself in that great chaos of humanity” (Braddon 353). Lady Audley‟s old life “dies” in a figurative sense and she gains strength through this initial “death.”

When Lady Audley‟s new life (her bigamous marriage to Sir Michael) is threatened by the return of her husband George, Lady Audley must “die” to protect her new life. She uses the strength that her “death” provides to keep her new life afloat.

During this section of the story, death appears twice: the real death of a sick woman who is given Lady Audley‟s name, and the “death” of the woman married to George Talboys.

So, not only does Lady Audley use her unusual female strength to manipulate the death of an ill young woman, but this woman‟s death and thus the “death” of Helen Talboys also gives Lady Audley‟s identity certain strengths. Lady Audley, upon being informed that George is returning, understands the need to act, and she admits that “unless he could be induced to believe that I was dead, he would never cease in his search for me”

(Braddon 355). Lady Audley realizes that death is the only way to sever her ties to

George, and it is clear that because Lady Audley desires comfort and social rank out of life, using death to actually end her marriage to George (suicide) is out of the question. In order to keep her secret (and her bigamous marriage that gives her comfort and social status) intact, she uses her strength to manipulate death. Lady Audley admits a sick woman of similar age to a hotel under her name, and it is there that Helen Talboys, the wife of George Talboys, publicly dies. The death of an ill woman and thus the “death” of

Helen keeps Lady Audley‟s new identity strong and secure for a while longer. Death here grants Lady Audley the freedom to live her new life for longer, until the truth of the secret is eventually found out.

Death also grants strength to both Lady Audley and the secret of her identity through her attempted murders. Lady Audley gains confidence that her bigamous marriage and transformed identity will not be revealed when she attempts to manipulate death in the form of murder. She not only gains confidence and strength through these death attempts, but her perfect Victorian woman “mask” allows her to attempt the murders in the first place. Her ability to fool her fellow characters (especially men) with her “mask” gives her this initial strength, and the possibilities that death can provide also give her strength. Lady Audley attempts murder twice in the novel: she burns down the inn at which Robert Audley is staying, hoping to kill him and end his detective work against her. She also pushes George Talboys down a well on Sir Michael‟s property, hoping once and for all to sever her marriage ties to him and, in societies eyes (as long as the secret keeps), make her marriage to Sir Michael real. Chronologically, the attempted murder of George comes first, and it is after this that Robert Audley assumes him dead.

Lady Audley has the strength to push George down the well, and her strength comes from the possibilities that his death can bring. With George dead, Lady Audley‟s new identity is solidified because no one will then know the truth about Helen Talboys. In George‟s death, her marriage to Sir Michael could be socially accepted and “real” (although legally the marriage would not be considered real), and no one would have grounds to challenge her. If no one from Lady Audley‟s society could remember or prove that she has another husband, then in their eyes, her marriage to Sir Michael is “real.”She also realizes that

Robert Audley, who has the ability to discover the secret, must die in order for her manipulations to be as effective as they can be. She lights the curtains of the inn on fire and leaves, gaining confidence in herself and the life she is trying to preserve. Since

Robert is one of the only characters who can see through Lady Audley‟s “mask,” with him dead, no one would attempt to uncover her past. Through attempted murder, Lady

Audley‟s secret is preserved (if only momentarily) and these “deaths” grant her freedom to live the life she wants with Sir Michael.

Lady Audley also shows strength in the “death” of her identity as Lady

Audley. Lady Audley‟s admission that she is a madwoman and her removal from Sir

Michael‟s home to the insane asylum ends the rein of her identity as “Lady Audley.” She no longer has the power she once had over other characters in the novel, and is no longer recognized by society as Sir Michael‟s wife, thus ending her title as “Lady Audley,” a figurative death for her. She is called Madame Taylor in the insane asylum and is no longer identified with the luxuries she once had. The final words we hear her speak in the novel are the final words of “Lady Audley,” and those words reveal the strength she has in “death” and through manipulating death. She reveals to Robert what happened to

George, saying, “I drew the loose iron spindle from the shrunken wood, and saw my first husband sink with one horrible cry into the black mouth of the well” (Braddon 393-4).

Lady Audley, no longer afraid of her secret being found out, has the strength to tell

Robert the truth, and this strength comes from the fact that metaphorical “death” is close at hand. We also see through her final words of the novel that her childlike female

“mask” has been completely removed, and this happens because she no longer needs it.

Like Isabel Vane, who in death sheds her false identity, Lady Audley is revealed to be the villainess that Hughes describes her to be. The sweet, child-bride Lady Audley is no more.

Redemption in death for female characters that have done wrong is a significant part of sensation fiction criticism, and Lady Audley is not excluded from this.

The extent to which she is redeemed at the end of the novel is a question that many critics have attempted to answer. Hughes writes that “both Miss Braddon and Mrs. Wood demand sympathy from their fallen heroines, their bigamists or adulteresses, by making them suffer tremendously at the hands of fate and their own remorse” (108). Hughes argues that because Braddon made her protagonist “suffer tremendously” with death,

Braddon requests that readers be sympathetic and thus view Lady Audley as redeemed.

Sympathy makes readers feel compassion, and compassion leads to forgiveness.

Forgiveness, then, leads to redemption. Because Lady Audley bears her punishment in the end (dying in an insane asylum), Braddon is “demanding “that readers be sympathetic and view Lady Audley not as a villainess in her death (Hughes 108). Klein also sees Lady

Audley‟s death in the end as punishment for her sins, stating that “she cunningly practices deception and commits crimes wherever it is in her interest and is consequently punished in the end by being removed from society forever” (171). Klein sees Lady

Audley‟s removal from society (or the “death” of her identity as Lady Audley) as punishment in which Lady Audley “suffered tremendously” (Hughes 108). And, of course, the fact that she must die in the first place in order to be redeemed is tragic within itself. These two critics would agree that Lady Audley‟s death demands redemption at the end of the novel, but there is another way of viewing this event. While Lady Audley does suffer her punishment for the secret of bigamy, she is never exposed to society as an attempted murderer. Robert Audley does not tell the truth of her attempted homicides to

67 her society. Thus, if Hughes‟ idea is correct, then because Lady Audley is not punished entirely for her sins, she can be seen as only partially redeemed by death.

Robert does not expose Lady Audley to the authorities for the attempted murder of both himself and George, and Lady Audley is not punished by law for these acts. Because of this, she does not suffer as “tremendously” as possible, and therefore is only partially redeemed in death. June Sturrock, author of the article “Murder, Gender and Popular Fiction by Women in the 1860s: Braddon, Oliphant, Yonge,” notes of Lady

Audley that “both her murder attempts fail, for this sensation narrative finally shies away from presenting either a woman as murderer or a woman on trial for her life” (81).

Sturrock notices, as do I, that Lady Audley avoids going to prison and being labeled as a serious criminal. While bigamy is a crime, it does not earn her jail time. Braddon decides not to publically name Lady Audley as a murderer and send her to jail. If death were to free her from prison, by Hughes‟ logic, we could say that Lady Audley is completely redeemed because she has suffered for all of her crimes. However, she never does go to an actual jail for her attempted murder.

Lady Audley knows she will not serve a jail sentence, saying to Robert, “„I do not fear to make a confession to you,‟ said Helen Talboys, „for two reasons. The first is that you dare not use it against me, because you know it would kill your uncle to see me in a criminal dock‟” (Braddon 394). Lady Audley knows that the secret of her attempted murder will “die” when Robert walks out the door. Her reasoning proves to be accurate, as Robert, trying to decide if he should tell Clara (George‟s sister), muses only a few pages later that “he could not bear that her heart should be crushed as his had been by the knowledge of the truth” (Braddon 400). Robert ultimately does not confess the truth to

68 anyone because George turns up alive. Because Robert did not expose Lady Audley as a murderer, she only suffers for part of her sins; she dies in the insane asylum being punished for bigamy and madness. Were she to go to a “criminal dock” and die there, she might be considered fully redeemed because, as Hughes‟ suggests, the heroine must fall and “suffer tremendously.”

Even if Lady Audley herself is not completely redeemed in death, other characters are redeemed by her death. As stated earlier, George Talboys is free to marry again, and it is important to note that Robert describes George as “very happy with his sister and his old friend” (Braddon 446). George is no longer “gloomy and wretched” as he was when Lady Audley was alive (Braddon 352). His entire life has a chance to become new and different, and Lady Audley‟s death grants him this. Lady Audley‟s death also grants peace to the surviving characters of the novel. The final chapter, “At

Peace” not only hints by its title that the characters are now living peacefully, but it also describes the marriage of Robert, the possibility of George marrying again, and the purchase of a new home by Sir Michael (Braddon 446). It is because of Lady Audley‟s death that these character‟s lives are redeemed and the hurtful past can be forgotten.

We should also highlight, in regards to death, Lady Audley and her relationship to control. As Sally Mitchell has stated, Victorian woman were not given much control in life, and control in death allows these women certain freedoms that would otherwise be inaccessible. Lady Audley is an extreme case, finding the freedom of control in death in many different situations. But Lady Audley is also a special case; she not only finds control in death, but she also has control over “death” in the first place. As highlighted previously, she gains the freedom to control death and “death” with her child-

69 bride “mask” that fools other characters around her. She not only has control over her own “death,” but finds control over her life in that “death.” She also attempts to control the lives and deaths of others by attempting murder. When Lady Audley controls death, she is also granted freedoms (that could not have come otherwise) because of death.

Attempted murders (or control of the death of other characters) give Lady Audley the freedom to know that her new life is protected. Finally, the ways in which Lady Audley controls her body in regards to “death” (as Sara Macallan did in Chapter Two) allow her freedoms that she may not have otherwise received in life. Lady Audley uses death, a part of the human existence that is thought to be tragic, to gain control over her own life and others, which proves to be liberating rather than tragic.

Before Lady Audley hastily needs to control her own “death,” she and George struggle over control of the potential “death” of their marriage. While Lady Audley does decide to find a new situation in Sir Michael and claim that her ties to George are severed, it is important to note that she was abandoned by George first. George, attempting to improve his marriage by trying to get rich (but in actuality “killing” the marriage by leaving), abandons Lady Audley and her young child in the middle of the night. Lady Audley does commit bigamy, but as Elizabeth Langland, author of

“Enclosure Acts: Framing Women‟s Bodies in Braddon‟s Lady Audley’s Secret,” suggests, “one might argue that she is more sinned against than sinning in taking Sir

Michael Audley for her husband after George Talboys abandoned her with no prospect of returning unless he struck gold” (12). Critics like Langland see Lady Audley‟s attempt to control her life as bigamy, yes, but they see George‟s abandonment as an even worse action. While this project does not call for a judgment of which action is worse, it does

70 notice that George‟s plan backfires. George‟s abandonment stirred the entirety of Lady

Audley’s Secret, and by attempting to take control of his life, marriage and finances,

George potentially “kills” his marriage to Lady Audley.

Lady Audley has complete control over her false death within the novel, a freedom that most Victorian women could not possess, and it is her “mask” and the possibilities that her “death” can bring that give her this control. She confesses that she is the one who thought of the plot to put a dying woman in her place, and in fact has control over the entirety of that plot. Lady Audley, realizing that the death of Helen Talboys is the only way out of her problem marriage to George and to legitimize her marriage to Sir

Michael, must act fast when she learns that George is returning to England. She learns from the mother of a sick woman and confesses, “I was just going to dismiss the woman with a sovereign for her sick daughter when an idea flashed upon me with such painful suddenness that it sent the blood surging up to my brain” (Braddon 357). Lady Audley, by this confession, is admitting that the opportunities of death (but not the death itself because the woman is already ill) are in her control because she thinks of her “death” plot all on her own. She does not ask advice from any other characters, and acts out her plan all on her own. To reinforce the idea that Lady Audley has complete control over her

“death” plot, she admits several things about the plot all while using the word “I.” She admits that, “I visited the sick girl” and “I bought the mother” into letting her admit the daughter (Braddon 357). Even while making her confession, she states “I need not dwell much upon this business” (Braddon 357). By using the word “I” in the confession of her acts, Lady Audley is showing her agency over her false death. Unlike Isabel Vane whose false death was the result of an accident, we can see that Lady Audley has premeditated

71 and carried out her own false death with great control. This control is granted to Lady

Audley because of the “mask” that fools her fellow characters. However, death also grants Lady Audley control because in this “death,” she knows that she will be able to control her life by changing identities and marrying Sir Michael.

With regard to the sick woman who took the place of Helen Talboys, Lady

Audley does not have control over the actual death of the woman who took her place, but she does have control over the situation the woman is placed in and is able to manipulate her death to meet certain needs. The woman is already dying of an illness (and Lady

Audley has no control over this), but Lady Audley controls the place where she dies and the name she is called when she dies. Lady Audley knows the opportunities that this woman‟s death can provide her: a secure life with Sir Michael and the knowledge that

George will never come looking for her. These opportunities that death can provide are the reason Lady Audley takes control of the poor women‟s final days. This woman‟s true death grants Lady Audley the freedom to control her own life as Sir Michael‟s “wife,” and without the sick woman‟s death as Helen Talboys, Lady Audley would have no other way out of her marriage to George.

In her false death, Lady Audley controls her life (for a short time until Robert

Audley exposes her bigamy to Sir Michael). Even though Lady Audley is ultimately unsuccessful in controlling her life, she does achieve the point she set out to, and that is to “kill” Helen Talboys to throw George off and prevent him from looking for and exposing her. “Death” allows her to achieve this. With “death,” George will assume that there is no hope in looking for his wife, and Lady Audley will be free to control her new life with Sir Michael. Hughes notes that “Lady Audley is a social climber, originally

72 marrying both husbands for money and position” (127), and this is the reason, as discussed previously, why Lady Audley wants so badly to be able to control her life with

Sir Michael. Lady Audley steps beyond the limits that her identity as Helen Talboys can give her, and Levine writes about death and knowledge that “the continuing aspiration to get it straight, to understand what it means, to transcend the limits imposed by the limiting self, depends on the elimination of the self” (Levine 2). Levine here talks metaphorically, but in order for Lady Audley to transcend cultural limits, she needs to

“eliminate herself” quite literally. By eliminating herself, she can control her new life.

Lady Audley attempts to control death, but the potential deaths of Robert and

George control Lady Audley‟s future. With George dead, society will never find out that her marriage to Sir Michael is not real. With Robert Audley dead, the search for the truth about Lady Audley would stop, and she would again be able to keep her new extravagant life intact. Lady Audley recognizes that death can grant her these things, and she attempts to take control of the lives of George and Robert. Lady Audley is described by the doctor who examines her near the end of the novel as having “the cunning of madness, with the prudence of intelligence. . . She is dangerous!” (Braddon 379). This description holds true, for Lady Audley attempts, in unsubtle ways, to murder both George and Robert. She goes to the inn at which Robert is staying, and “was obliged to place the flaming tallow candle very close to the lace furbelows about the glass” (Braddon 323). When confronted about the candle, as the innkeeper shrikes “the light, my lady. . . you have left it upstairs!”, she lies and claims that “the wind blew it out as I was leaving your room”

(Braddon 324). Not only has she lied about the situation, but she has controlled the emotions of the innkeeper in her lie. The potential that Robert‟s death can bring allows

73 her to do this. If her murder attempts were successful, Lady Audley‟s secret would be safe from all of society, and she would be able to live her new life with Sir Michael in safety. In the end, however, the murder attempts are not successful and Lady Audley is granted no control over her life after her confession of the truth. Death has the potential to grant Lady Audley control of her life, a freedom that she could not have had otherwise, but control is ultimately taken away from her in the final pages of the novel.

Lady Audley controls not only the people around her, but her own physical body as well. By faking her own death, she moves outside of what a Victorian woman is supposed to be able to control about her life, and is able to control her future by controlling her body (until, of course, Robert Audley conquers her). Mitchell describes

Victorian sensation women in three parts: “A seduced woman is the helpless victim of a superior male. A fallen woman is capable of sin and therefore responsible for her own destiny. The third possibility, an emancipated woman, uses her body as she pleases for reasons of her own” (Mitchell x) When considering death, Lady Audley is most certainly an emancipated, or unrestrained, woman throughout most of the novel. As Mitchell points out, this type of woman (which describes Lady Audley) uses her body as she sees fit (Mitchell meaning sexually), and Lady Audley does this to a larger degree by concocting a death story and creating another identity for herself. Even though her physical body and possessions are supposed to be governed by her husband (Mitchell xi),

Lady Audley uses her body, thus controlling her situation in life through “death.” As we saw in Chapter Three, Sara Macallan interferes with her husband‟s property rights when she commits suicide, and Lady Audley does this to some extent as well. She leaves her young child and George, taking her body to a new situation, authorizing its use as she

74 sees fit (Mitchell xi). Then she “kills” herself, controlling another woman‟s physical body for this purpose. Not only does Lady Audley have control over her actual physical body and her identity at any given moment in the story, but by using her body for her own purposes, she finds herself a new situation in Sir Michael. Klein notes that “during their marriage she pretends to be submissive and docile, while she is really headstrong and domineering” (170). She controls her emotions and her body in front of Sir Michael to create the illusion of a submissive Victorian wife (using her “mask” as discussed previously). Readers recognize that Lady Audley can manipulate men around her (her husband George and her bigamous husband Sir Michael) with her “mask,” but it goes one step farther. Not only does she have control to manipulate death and men around her, but in doing so she is taking the control over her body away from these men. As Klein puts it,

“she violates gender, social and moral boundaries” in her “death” (170-1). Control over her body puts Lady Audley in an unusual category of Victorian woman as Mitchell describes, but the control she is able to have over her body and her “death” is striking.

We have seen death (and “death”) give freedoms and strengths to female characters in sensation fiction, but none take charge and control of death quite like Lady

Audley. Her ability to manipulate death is unique in sensation fiction, but nevertheless, death grants her many freedoms that nothing else could. She is able, even if only for a moment, to be free of her bitter and problematic marriage to George and become someone new through “death.” Her strength in death and because of death give her the freedoms to choose her own path in life. Although Lady Audley is ultimately unsuccessful in the end in regards to control over life and death, the boundaries that this female character crosses and bends still continue to strike readers today. Death in Lady

Audley’s Secret is compelling; it changes and shapes characters and circumstances in a way that no other action or manipulation could.

CHAPTER V

CONCLUSION

Throughout the last three chapters, I have explored and analyzed the women of sensation fiction and their interactions with death in each of their particular stories.

While each story has a different plot, the connection between the four novels is apparent: the ways in which female characters interact with death (false or real) can be seen by modern-day readers as both outrageous and encouraging. It is outrageous because these women must die to push the social norms of their time, and this seems unfair. It is encouraging, however, because these women have found a way to control social norms in these novels, even if it is heartbreaking. Isabel Vane, Sara Macallan, Laura Fairlie and

Lady Audley are given opportunities because of death, opportunities that would have likely come from nowhere else. These four stories overlap in three areas of freedom: freedom from broken marriages, freedom to gain and use personal and emotional strength and freedom to have control over life.

For women, a broken marriage was still a marriage—a legally binding contract between them and their flawed husbands. Sensation fiction seems to suggest that an extreme way out of these marriages is death. Isabel Vane, after her involvement in the train accident, is assumed dead. Therefore, her marriage to Archibald Carlyle is also assumed “dead.” In her “death,” Isabel‟s marriage is terminated, and Archibald remarries.

In East Lynne, death (or in this case, assumed death) has freed a woman from marriage.

Laura Fairlie, married to the awful and unworthy Percival Glyde, is stuck in an emotionally abusive marriage with no way out. After her death is falsified for her and her tombstone is placed in the churchyard, their marriage is dissolved (according to society).

Technically, Laura is still married, but to her society, there is no longer a marriage. In

The Woman in White, Laura is simply lucky that death can free her from her terrible situation. In The Law and the Lady, Sara Macallan commits suicide in order to free herself from a likewise hurtful situation. Her husband Eustace is obviously in love with another woman and has no affection for his current wife. Sara uses death as a means of escape, using her body as she deems appropriate. Lady Audley also uses death as a means of escape. In Lady Audley’s Secret, many of the secrets include death and the changing of identity. She not only falsifies her own death, but attempts to murder the people who might expose her. Death gives Lady Audley the opportunity and the freedom to become a different person and allows her escape from her poor life.

In strength through death, these women are also connected. Isabel has the strength to move forward from her train accident and become someone else. She has the strength to enter her old home again and be near her children, and when her real death is upon her, her strength does not fail her. Laura shows an improvement in personal strength after her death is falsified, a strength that quite possibly could never have been shown if

“death” did not occur in her life. Sara has undeniable strength as she decides to put her own life to an end, finishing her letter minutes before death is upon her. And Lady

Audley not only attempts to end life, she does so by summoning the strength that she has gained by “killing” her own previous identity. Lady Audley has the strength to

78 completely change her life through death; something that all of the female characters mentioned possess.

Control is yet another way in which these women are connected. These women, because of death, are able to control their own lives in a way that they would not have been able to otherwise. Isabel, because of the train accident, controls her future as

Madame Vine. She controls her appearance, her finances as a governess, and the interaction she has with her children who do not know her as their mother. Her death also controls Archibald, to an extent. Laura has more control over her life than she did before her “death,” and she has complete control over her new outlook on life after the incident.

Sara, because she takes her own life, obviously has control over her life and death. And death allows Lady Audley to attempt to take control of not only her life, but the lives of others. Because of her “death,” she can control her new life with Sir Michael, but ultimately, control is taken from Lady Audley. There may be, upon further inspection, a certain limitation to her freedoms that has been overlooked. The importance of this must be acknowledged, but the focus of this project is the freedoms themselves, not their potential limitations.

Throughout the discussion of these female characters, there is another element to their character that was previously undisclosed until now. As the specific way of interpreting death in sensation fiction surfaced in this work, another quality of these women also emerged that has gone previously unmentioned in detail. Not only does death grant freedoms to these women, but these women must also see their situations involving death as an opportunity to gain those freedoms. Death does not just hand these women a new life, control or strength—death only opens the door to new possibilities. It is the

79 wisdom and courage of these female characters that allow them to take advantage of the situations death has given them. For Isabel, the train accident only gave her the opportunity to live a new life. Death did not create Madame Vine; Isabel had courage and created Madame Vine and placed herself around her children. For Laura, her false death made her ill, but she used the freedom that her situation gave her to start gaining strength.

Laura, while week and needing her sister and new husband to do most of the freeing for her, used what courage she had to attempt to become well again. For Sara, the simple act of knowing that her suicide would free her took both wisdom and courage. She did not wait for death to free her; she took life, literally, into her own hands.

Most of all, this characteristic is apparent in Lady Audley. Lady Audley has the ability to see the opportunities that death can provide. Lady Audley actually uses death to create opportunities for herself. Unlike Isabel Vane, who simply saw an opportunity from an accident, Lady Audley creates the opportunity to start a new life by staging her own death. Lady Audley does not wait for an accidental death to free her; she creates “death” in order to create opportunity. She has both the courage and the wisdom to understand that death has the ability to grant freedoms, and it is obvious that she wants those freedoms. Rather than waiting for death or “death,” Lady Audley manipulates death

(by false death and attempted murder) in order to have freedoms granted to her. She understands that her “death” would free her from her marriage to George Talboys, and so she uses “death” as a means to gain that freedom. She understands that death can grant control, and she desires control, so she uses death for her own purposes. It is true that death frees Lady Audley from her situation, but some knowledge of how to utilize death

(or “death”) is required by these characters in order for these freedoms to be beneficial or useful.

As this project has shown, the female characters of sensation fiction are not only unusual for women in the Victorian age; they are also magnificent females in the

Victorian age. They do not see the world as many women of the time saw it: a domestic world where choices are limited and men are in control. Characters like Isabel, Laura,

Sara and Lady Audley have extraordinary things happen to them that lead them in extraordinary directions; all while having the courage and wisdom to understand and make the most of their shocking situations. Death and its unique role in sensation fiction cannot and should not stay buried under criticism and history, but should be unearthed by literature scholars and recreational readers alike.

The distinctiveness of these stories should be praised, as Robert Wolff notes in the book Sensational Victorian: The Life and Fiction of Mary Elizabeth Braddon, that

“before he died in 1894, [Robert Louis] Stevenson wrote MEB [Mary Elizabeth Braddon] from Samoa: „I remember reading Lady Audley’s Secret when I was fifteen, and I wish my days to be bound each to each by Miss Braddon‟s novels‟” (9). Readers of sensation fiction were and still are enchanted by these novels, and when one is captivated by something so much, one must study it. In Literature studies, passion draws us to connections which cannot help but be made. That has been my purpose here: analyzing and explaining connections between these novels in relation to women and death.

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