Mrs. Ramsay - A Mystery Wrapped in an Enigma, Squeezed Into a Book That's Just a Little Too... Tight.

Virginia Woolf’s To the Lighthouse holds a myriad of characters, the most interesting and enigmatic of whom would probably be Mrs. Ramsay. The mother of eight and wife to a rather dry intellectual, Mrs. Ramsay consistently contradicts herself. She finds ways to belittle herself next to her husband, and in the same chapter raise herself up as a beautiful, almost goddess-like woman. She both feels powerful and powerless, in an interesting mix of feelings which, if anything, makes her more difficult to understand, rather than shedding light on her personality.

When she reads to her child, James, Mrs. Ramsay contemplates her relationship with her husband, and concludes that “she did not like, even for a second, to feel finer than her husband” (Woolf 42). Interestingly, she even feels that she can’t trust the truth of her thoughts around her husband, as if having true thoughts would make her better than her husband, who prides himself on his intellectualism. That she doesn’t like to feel as if she’s better than her husband points to a classic ideal of the nineteenth century (and even into the twentieth and sometimes today) that the woman was less than the man in a relationship – property for the man to do with as he pleases. It would appear that Mrs. Ramsay conforms to this ideal, that she must always be lesser than her husband – the greater of the two parts of the marriage. However, this represents only one side of Mrs. Ramsay’s proverbial coin. When she isn’t in close proximity to her husband (in either body or mind), she has a very different view of herself. When Mr. Carmichael is over, she admits that, “She bore about with her, she could not help knowing it, the torch of her beauty,” and goes on to describe her own beauty in a very positive sense (44). This first person description, coming again directly from Mrs. Ramsay, depicts the startling foil within Mrs. Ramsay herself. On one side, she adamantly wishes to be lesser than her husband, on the other she clearly knows she’s a very fine, beautiful woman. That she feels two extremes of the spectrum indicates that she really doesn’t know how to feel about herself, and as allows others to define her self-image.

Once more, when Mrs. Ramsay plays with James and thinks about his later life, she thinks how he won’t ever be as happy later as he was when he was a child, but , she “stopped herself, remembering how it angered her husband that she should say that” (62). Even in thought, Mrs. Ramsay has a sense of apprehension towards doing something which might make her husband upset – in this moment, she’s fully incapable of having an independent thought. Society and a very, very long marriage have indoctrinated her to completely accept her husband’s values, even when they are completely different from her own. This Mrs. Ramsay has a completely different outlook from the one who flaunted and openly acknowledged the bright torch that is her beauty. And yet, when Mr. Ramsay leaves her mind, she asserts, “No happiness lasted; she knew that” (67). It would seem that her only encumbrance to being able to form her own thoughts and ideas is her cynical, dry, and even childish husband. As Mrs. Ramsay features prominently in the novel (one could even say her character is the most important), clearly her relationship with Mr. Ramsay is also pivotal. Mr. Ramsay drives her character to be so enigmatic, and quite paradoxical, even. Mrs. Ramsay’s twistedness of character provides an un-grounding point for the rest of the characters. Where everyone else has a set of characteristics that do not seem to change, Mrs. Ramsay finds herself in a constant state of flux depending upon whom she surrounds herself with. As the main character, how, then, can she become dynamic if she already changes her state of mind and being just because of the people she surrounds herself with??

I’d propose (and I’m going out on a limb here, because I’ve never read Woolf before), that she may find a state of steadiness – she can no longer change her mind every so often, but comes to a point where she must choose something and stay with it, thus making a reverse in the world of dynamic characters, and coming to rest in one place rather than finding many new ideas to change her perspective. But, that last bit we’ll have to leave to the novel and each one’s own imagination!

Misery in Marriage

Today in class, a certain question was raised about a certain someone being happy in her marriage to Mr. Collins. I intend to answer the question with the utmost clarity and decisiveness.

I’m going to make this perfectly clear: the word “happiness” does not apply in any way, shape, or form, at any point in time, to Charlotte after she marries Mr. Collins. In fact, a better word to describe the Collins’ marriage would fall more under the scope of absolute misery.

Let’s begin with the object of Charlotte’s eternal misery, Mr. Collins. From the very outset of the engagement (not the marriage, the engagement), Charlotte demonstrates that she clearly understands the horrific entity that is Mr. Collins. In a rather colorful demonstration of indirect characterization on Austen’s part, Charlotte describes Collins as “neither sensible nor agreeable, his society was irksome, and his attachment to her must be imaginary” (Austen 83). As almost all negative commentary on Collins’s personality comes from indirect characterization, everyone but Collins knows that he’s basically the single person that no one wants to be around (with the exception of Lady Catherine). Charlotte’s certainly not a fan, and she knows that part of Collins’s interest in her is due to the fact that he wants to get back at Lizzy. Charlotte doesn’t even care. All she wants is to be secure in life, happiness was never part of the equation. She willingly sacrifices her happiness to be a part of Collins’s game with Lizzy.

With the event of her marriage, Charlotte’s potential happiness takes a downward turn, as Elizabeth observes during her visit to Rosings Park. When Collins talks about working in his garden, “Charlotte talked of the healthfulness of the exercise, and owned she encouraged it as much as possible” (104). So, basically, Charlotte does everything she can to kick Collins out of the house so she can have time to herself. She desperately needs an escape. Charlotte and Collins have been married less than six months at this point in the novel, and already Charlotte does everything she can to escape the union (barring actual divorce. This is the late 18^th century, divorce is still a no-no, and only possible under certain very explicit situations. See this link if you wish to learn more). Though she thought she was prepared for a loveless marriage, one that might potentially grow love in the future, Charlotte clearly underestimated the supreme awfulness of the situation at hand. Society never taught her how to handle something of this nature, so she runs away from it.

Moreover, she has to deal with Lady Catherine, arguably one of the most intolerable women of any fictional era, and, coincidentally, a historical allusion to Catherine the Great of Russia. Catherine the Great, though very powerful and well-known, was not often well-liked. In fact, she had a small circle of people who liked her very much, and a large conglomeration of people who didn’t like her at all. Lady Catherine de Bourgh intentionally mirrors her historical predecessor to the very last, to emphasize the utter misery in which Charlotte must spend the rest of her life. One night when playing cards after dinner, “Lady Catherine was generally speaking – stating the mistakes of the three others or relating some anecdote of herself” (111). This represents Lady Catherine de Bourgh’s general action and attitude. She’s self-important and haughty, and the only person who likes her is Collins (that’s her “small circle” which parallels that of Catherine the Great). Pretty much everyone else can’t stand her, but they’re nice to her because she has money. Charlotte has to deal with this woman at least once weekly, sometimes more if Lady Catherine is feeling condescending and ambivalent enough. That alone in and of itself would be enough to make any person with half a rational brain – which Charlotte most certainly has – miserable for all of eternity. Out of propriety, society requires Charlotte to interact with the woman and seem as if she likes Lady Catherine, but, in reality, the woman is completely intolerable.

In conclusion, security and happiness are very different concepts. While Charlotte has the money and stability she wanted, she doesn’t have anything to facilitate a feeling of happiness or felicity. Her husband, from the very beginning, isn’t described as an agreeable person. Charlotte has to actively work to get almost-happy time to herself, and is constantly confronted with a nasty woman who adamantly feels the need to criticize everything everyone else round her does and says. These are not the elements of a happy marriage, or even a happy life situation. Charlotte is secure, not happy. These are two completely different ideas, of which only one can apply to the new Mrs. Collins. 

Society - The Monster or the Master?

The late and great Jane Austen penned many an insightful, witty novel, perhaps none more insightful and witty than the classic Pride and Prejudice. While some might deign to say that it’s just another trashy romance, in reality it combines humour, high society, and relationships into a tightly-packed, socially relevant novel about the trials and tribulations of growing up as a woman during the transition from the eighteenth to nineteenth centuries.

Perhaps one of the most important and relevant messages in Pride and Prejudice – even for today’s audience – lies in that a person (particularly a woman) must choose to be active in her life, and not allow the constraints of society and money to shape her expectations of life and herself. This especially comes through in the very evident juxtaposition between Charlotte and Elizabeth. Both of these women want to be secure in later life, but each takes a surprisingly different approach to gaining this security. In fact, both women have very different definitions of what security means.

Austen’s message most prominently comes to light in the two girls’ reactions to Mr. Collins. Charlotte very clearly states that, “Marriage had always been her object, it was the only honourable provision for well-educated women of small fortune” (Austen 83). At twenty seven years old, Charlotte literally does not care. She simply requires a reasonably well-matched marriage; the feelings, specific situation, and other details are of absolutely no consequence to her. Charlotte absolutely conforms to society. Elizabeth, on the other hand, refuses to allow society’s design to shape her life. Upon Collins proposing to her, Elizabeth exclaims, “You could not make me happy,” clearly articulating that, contrary to Charlotte’s idea of security, Elizabeth believes security to lie in happiness rather than monetary value and comfort (73). More than juxtaposing only Charlotte, Elizabeth juxtaposes all of English society. Austen essentially employs Elizabeth as one huge slap in the face for English society, stating that a woman should have (and does have) the power to choose a partner for love over money, in the same way that a man can. Austen uses this juxtaposition to articulate that although the everywoman (Charlotte) will consistently follow society, there is another way (Elizabeth).

Clearly, both of these women want the same result out of life – some form of security. However, the word “security” emanates different meanings for each. Charlotte rides with the generally accepted, socially farmed-out meaning: a comfortable income and husband who can provide said income = security. Elizabeth, the rebel child, takes a completely different road. For her, security begins with love, none of this “the love will grow from the relationship” crap that people who arrange marriages have been spouting since the beginning of time. The money, for Elizabeth, grows (hopefully) secondary to picking the right man to love. She refuses to be unhappy in a societally secure relationship over being happy in a possibly less wealthy situation.

Moreover, even each woman’s situation seems to grow into a juxtaposition of the other’s, after Charlotte’s marriage to Collins. When Elizabeth observes Charlotte’s air when Mr. Collins is not present in their home she notices that, “When Mr. Collins could be forgotten, there was really a great air of comfort throughout” (105). Clearly, Charlotte does not find any happiness in her current situation. Had she felt any positive feelings at all for her marriage (above convenience and relief), Charlotte might endeavor to be slightly closer to her new husband, as a newlywed and all. However, she actually does her best to get him out of the house, forget about him, and go about her own work! Following society’s guidelines becomes one of the least emotionally rewarding decisions Charlotte makes, and she has no choice but to live in this discomfort for the rest of her life. Elizabeth, however, finds herself enjoying life after she rejects Collins. She finds herself often fraternizing with Mr. Wickham, and openly admits “Mr. Wickham’s society was of material service in dispelling the gloom,” which arose from the departure of Bingley and his family from Netherfield, in addition to recent events with Collins (93). Lizzy quickly moves on with her life, and her decision to flaunt authority and go against society has, thus far, worked very well for her. Austen demonstrates that sometimes, though it may seem wrong to go against society, defying society comes out with the best individual results.

And, to conclude, isn’t the individual result more important than the conglomerate result which society desires? The fact is, not all the women in a society can hope to marry up and have comfortable livings in nice parishes where stuck up rich women tell those young ladies how to properly arrange their living room furniture. There simply aren’t enough good, rich men for that. So, instead, Austen proposes that a better way to gain happiness and security in life is to do something that makes you happy, rather than trying something which society dictates you should try, in the minute hope that maybe everything turns out okay. 

Milton's Evolution

Well, I know this post is technically 2 days late, but, as they say, better late than never!!

Today, I thought I’d talk about the radically different tones between Paradise Lost and Milton’s poem “When I Consider How My Light Is Spent.” Quite frankly, I’m surprised at how different the two are. As I discussed in one of my earlier posts, Milton basically holds nothing back in his massive preaching of God in Paradise Lost, but in this poem, Milton takes a much different tone. Rather than the high and mighty path we see in the epic, this short poem is much more solemn, and Milton uses it to reflect upon his purpose in life, and discover whether he was meant to work harder that he did, or if he was meant to do something less.

The very first clue that Milton is using this poem to reflect on his life comes in the very first line, when he says, “When I consider how my light is spent,” indicating clear and knowing contemplation of life and his part in it (Milton, 1). More importantly than showing a fleeting, momentary event of contemplation, Milton here demonstrates that he often thinks about his place in the world, in the use of the word “when.” Milton appears to genuinely care what his purpose in life is, and he wants to go on a journey to find out. As a good, Christian man, this actually follows quite well along the Cristian faith, falling in with the idea of using life to learn what God’s purpose for you is. Through this poem, Milton demonstrates his good Christian character. However, the tone put forth in this poem is very different from the tone in Paradise Lost, even from the very beginning. In the beginning of Book 1, Milton states that he will “justify the ways of God to men,” essentially setting himself up as a priest, someone with utmost authority (1.26). Milton also says this in a way to assert that he knows his purpose – to tell man why God does what He does. Historically, this makes sense, because “When I Consider How My Light Is Spent” dates at around 1655, while Paradise Lost was published in 1667. It can then be assumed that, sometime between 1655 and 1667, Milton discovered his purpose, and began to fulfill it through writing and publishing Paradise Lost.

One could even say that Milton began his spiritual journey through the poem “When I Consider How My Light Is Spent.” Milton asks whether he should be expected to do hard labour for God, without his sight or a physical light to guide him, and he receives this response: “Who best bear His mild yoke, they serve Him best” (Milton, 10-11). Evidently, Milton begins to see that, though he cannot do hard labour, or work in the way that he used to, when he could see, he can still serve God in his own way. Milton begins to find himself again, and regains the purpose that he lost when his sight failed. Now, Milton can be a part of humankind again, not hindered by his blindness. Milton can belong. Belonging is, often, the most important part of life. A person can have all the food, shelter, and warmth in the world, but a life without belonging, purpose, and human contact can literally cause a person to die. Studies have shown that people – especially children and infants – actually require a sense of purpose and belonging to live, otherwise the person in question (especially babies) can actually give up on life and simply die. The poem “When I Consider How My Light Is Spent” is Milton’s attempt at continuing his search for a sense of belonging and purpose. As a continuation, Paradise Lost would be the ultimate culmination of Milton’s journey.

So, in a sense, Paradise Lost is not Milton’s journey to self-knowledge, but rather a demonstration of what he now knows because of his journey. The tone of the poem “When I Consider How My Light Is Spent” is unknowing, unsure, and searching. Milton doesn’t yet know what he is supposed to do to serve God, and he wants to find out, and begins to. Conversely, Paradise Lost oozes sureness, confidence, and trust. Milton knows exactly who he is and what he wants, and he doesn’t fear what people might say about his high and mighty personality. The God Complex, so evident in even just Book 1, isn’t an accident or fluke of how Milton was writing, but actually is purposeful and meaningful. Milton meant for his epic poem to come off in the way it does, because Milton truly believes that he has learned his one true purpose, and that purpose is to define God and His ways for the likes of man.