Volu m e II - Purdue University Calumet

occur in the outside world, but by this point in the novel Laura has already suffered a great deal from Fosco
and Sir Percival’s evil plan. Thus, Collins demonstrates that it is ridiculous and futile to shield women from
the world, and they should develop the strength to cope with the tragedies of life as Marian has done. Her
masculinity and practicality ensure that they will survive in society, but Laura's innocence leads to childlike
dependence.
To further emphasize the negative consequences of traditional Victorian femininity, Laura’s
helplessness as an ideal angel of the house leads to the loss of her identity and her near death. Fosco
audaciously emphasizes his power over Laura, for “I might have taken Lady Glyde’s life. At immense
personal sacrifice, I followed the dictates of my own ingenuity, my own humanity, my own caution—and
took her identity, instead” (628). Laura’s passivity and naïve trust in Fosco and Sir Percival blind her to
their evil plot. She willingly submits to Sir Percival merely because he is her husband, and she does not
question his motives or the motives of his friend. Fosco easily outwits her, and he carelessly takes advantage
of her obliviousness and mindless trust. When Marian rescues Laura from the Asylum and the two of them
live together with Walter, their neighbors assume that Laura is the seemingly insane Anne Catherick.
Walter confesses, that “[w]e two, [Walter and Marian] in the estimation of others, are at once the dupes and
the agents of a daring imposture. We are supposed to be the accomplices of mad Anne Catherick, who
claims the name, the place, and the living personality of dead Lady Glyde” (421). This demonstrates that
Laura does not only lose her identity, she loses her sanity as well. After her neighbors and acquaintances
mistake her for a mad woman, some of them refuse to believe that there was a case of mistaken identity.
Thus, even though Walter tries to clear her name and restore her social position, the rumor of madness still
surrounds her. Barickman, MacDonald, and Stark argue that “Laura is certainly fair and passive, but she is
so passive, so acquiescent to the various men who rule her life, and so incapable of assisting in her own
rescue that she seems a parody” (114). Collins’ harsh criticism of Victorian femininity suggests that women
who are as helpless, naïve, and weak as Laura risk their social position, their sanity, and even their lives.
342