her declaration of her own madness (274), with her
simply continuing to use the term as a means of self-
protection.
When considering whether or not Lady Audley’s
declaration of madness is to be believed, we must
also consider the ease with which she was able to
make this claim. Elaine Showalter notes that, in the
Victorian Era, poverty was seen as a major cause of
‘madness’ amongst women (1987, 54), and it would
consequently have been much more likely that Lady
Audley’s declaration would have been believed
following the uncovering of her past, than if she were
a woman who had committed similar crimes but had
also been raised in middle or upper-class society.
This suggests that declaring herself mad was nothing
more than a matter of convenience for Lady Audley,
as her upbringing increased the likelihood of this
being believed, despite the fact that, when considered
alongside other Victorian indicators of madness, it
becomes clear that Lady Audley’s declaration exhibits
clear markers of a liar, both in nineteenth and twenty-
first century understandings of the term.
The Mark of a Liar
If there is any doubt left as to whether Lady Audley’s
declaration of madness is to be believed, we need
to look no further than the language she uses in the
declaration itself. As intelligent and in control as Lady
Audley is, the spontaneous nature of her claim results
in inconsistencies. She seems unable to pinpoint the
origins of her madness, first exclaiming ‘I killed him
because I AM MAD,’ and then shifting tense to reveal
‘I was mad’ (Braddon, 274). Matus (352) convincingly
argues that, though Lady Audley was not mad, she
was so aware of the possibility of madness due to
her experiences with her Mother that she became
trapped in an effort to escape her poverty and avoid
becoming ‘mad,’ an effort which tragically led to
actions with which the only way to avoid a jail or
death sentence was to damn herself to a ‘madhouse’
after all. Lady Audley’s apparent self-awareness of her
own madness plays an important role in disproving its
existence, as this self-awareness does not correspond
with her inability to determine its start and end
points. Rather than her inability to maintain a story
indicating that she may have been ‘mad’ after all, this
declaration alongside Lady Audley’s long-standing
desperation suggests that she was simply a desperate,
rational, and immoral woman who lied until the bitter
end to protect her own interests; unable to fathom a
return to the life of poverty from which she came.
Conclusion
In conclusion, this research has sought to examine
the notion of Lady Audley’s ‘madness’ in an attempt
to demonstrate that this woman did not truly suffer
from any kind of mental defect; acting rationally yet
immorally throughout the novel as a means to serve
her own purposes. The frequent use of terminology
surrounding ‘madness’ in Victorian Literature, with no
clear acknowledgement made regarding the wholly
different nature of Lady Audley’s state of mind in
comparison with other, ‘similar’ characters, indicates
a widespread misunderstanding of the difference
between genuine mental incapacity, and purposeful
deviance from societal normality.
As is common in Victorian Literature, we do not view
the life of the ‘madwoman’ from the perspective
of the woman herself. In Jane Eyre, the account of
Bertha’s mental state comes from Mr Rochester
(Brontë, 291-292); in The Woman in White, we get
the account of events from a variety of people other
than Anne Catherick herself (Collins, 5-6); and in
Lady Audley’s Secret, the only first-hand account
of Lady Audley’s actions comes as she attempts to
defend herself (Braddon, 274). If we were to hear
the true, internal motivations of Lady Audley, we may
be inclined to come to a very different conclusion
regarding her sanity, and be forced to accept that
she was a sane, desperate woman, seeking to protect
herself from a return to poverty. This makes it clear
that, when considering mental illness (when proven or
simply accused), we need to look at events from the
perspective of the individual themselves. Without this
insight, assumptions are made about peoples’ needs
without their input: a dangerous state of affairs which
leads to isolation and further withdrawal from society.
These novels may have been written in an era past,
but nonetheless offer up a valuable lesson about the
consequences of excluding the voice of individuals
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