Georgia Sisco

Professor Timothy Hampton

COMLIT 20C

14 December 2023

Marriage and its Many Mirrors: and How Not to Lose Yourself in the Reflection

Virginia Woolf’s novel To the Lighthouse and Homer’s epic The Odyssey both contain great literary marriages. The versions of marriage presented through the two couples—Mr. and Mrs. Ramsey and Odysseus and Penelope—are quite different. After all, one takes place in Edwardian England and the other in ancient Greece. However, both Woolf and Homer manage to communicate a key marital challenge: the process of supporting another person while maintaining one's own identity. The members of both couples differ from each other in how they achieve a sense of security and stability. Navigating these differences involves sometimes ignoring their own instincts in order to fully connect and support their partner. In this essay, I argue that the lovers undergo a process of mirroring (to varying degrees of success) their partner’s behavior in order to learn how to more fully support and protect them.

In To the Lighthouse, Mr. Ramsey finds stability and comfort in the general idea of “family” instead of in his individual and complex family members. After a frustrating and unsettling exchange with Mrs. Ramsey, he blurs his wife and child into a single entity—an object—in order to restore a feeling of safety. Woolf explains:

He was safe, he was restored to his privacy. He stopped to light his pipe, looked once at his wife and son in the window, and as one raises one’s eyes from a page in an express train and sees a farm, a tree, a cluster of cottages as an illustration, a confirmation of something on the printed page to which one returns, fortified, and satisfied, so without his distinguishing either his son or his wife, the sight of them fortified him and satisfied him and consecrated his effort to arrive at a perfectly clear understanding of the problem which now engaged the energies of his splendid mind. (Woolf, 32)

The passage begins as Mr. Ramsey stops to observe his family through a window. As the namesake for the first part of To the Lighthouse, “windows” are portrayed frequently throughout the novel. Windows have a way of framing that which is seen through them. In that way, they help viewers capture their subjects and momentarily pause time. In seeing his wife and child in such a way, Mr. Ramsey flattens the pair and removes himself from the complex relations of the scene. Woolf doubles down on this imagery as she describes Mr. Ramsey seeing his family as if a passenger on an express train, casually and momentarily raising his eyes from a book. Woolf specifies that Mr. Ramsey “looked once” at his family, implying that in just a single glance, they become nothing more than a “confirmation of the printed page.” Not only that, but in this confirmation, the two people become completely indistinguishable. It is worth noting, too, that the metaphor implies that Mr. Ramsey’s glance was briefly risen from the page, and is bound to return to the page. For Mr. Ramsey, family life provides stability and comfort, but only as a momentary two dimensional escape from the world of literature and thought.

Mr. and Mrs. Ramsey both find comfort and stability in moments of coherence. However, where Mr. Ramsey simplifies complicated dynamics into simple truths to achieve this coherence, Mrs. Ramsey finds stability in capturing and occupying a single, perfectly orchestrated moment. As Mrs. Ramsey’s dinner party begins, she feels a rare moment of coherence, thinking:

Everything seemed just right. Just now (but this cannot last, she thought, dissociating herself from the moment while they were all talking about boots) just now she had reached security; she hovered like a hawk suspended; like a flag floated in an element of joy which filled every nerve of her body fully and sweetly … Looking at them all eating there, from husband and children and friends; all of which rising in this profound stillness. (Woolf 101)

Mrs. Ramsey’s disassociation from the present moment is what brings her sense of “just right-ness.” Woolf emphasizes the intense impermanence of this feeling through her repetition of “just now,” which bookmarks the parenthetical explanation. In this “just right” moment, Mrs. Ramsey seeks security, but it doesn’t come easily. Woolf’s describes Mrs. Ramsey as “reach(ing) security,” and through this language reinforces the sense that without this moment of perfection, security may in fact be just out of reach. Where Mr. Ramsey can casually blur his family into one unit through a glance, Mrs. Ramsey must “disassociate,” “reach,” and “hover” to achieve any sense of stability or security at all. Mrs. Ramsey does not blur those around her. In fact, it is through looking at them all, each and every one, that she is grounded. Woolf takes the time to list them, writing, “Husband and children and friends” all filled her with joy. It is a careful, limited moment which Mrs. Ramsey enjoys to the fullest extent, and it sharply contrasts Mr. Ramsey’s brief and casual respite.

In The Odyssey, Odysseus stays safe by keeping his true emotions very close to his chest, while Penelope bears hers outwardly for all to see. Each is served by these contrasting strategies. The contrast is seen most starkly when the couple are first reunited. Odysseus, under disguise, recounts “stories” of his supposed journeys. Homer describes Penelope’s emotional reaction, writing:

[S]he wept as she sat listening. The skin

of her pale face grew moist the way pure snow

softens and glistens on the mountains, thawed

by Southwind after powdering from the West,

and, as the snow melts, mountain streams run full:

so her white cheeks were wetted by these tears. (Homer, XIX.241-246)

In this description, Homer compares Penelope to melting snow. Her “pale” face mirrors the white snow as she lets herself melt at the stories of this supposed stranger. Odysseus’ lies take on the form of the “Southwind,” blustering against Penelope’s “soft and glisten(ing)” skin. Despite the romantic description of Penelope’s reaction, there is a kind of strength in these tears as well. For as Homer puts it, “as the snow melts, mountain streams run full.” It is almost as though the release of her emotions, Penelope fills herself up.

Unlike Penelope’s vast, full, and beautiful sadness, Odysseus turns his emotions inwards, though they are just as strong as those belonging to his wife. The passage continues, describing the contrast between the two lovers:

Imagine how his heart ached for his lady,

his wife in tears; and yet he never blinked;

his eyes might have been made of horn or iron

for all that she could see. He had this trick—

wept, if he willed to, inwardly. (Homer, XIX.248-252)

Where Penelope’s sadness physically transformed her into a substance in transition (melting snow), Homer wills Odysseus’ eyes to the incredibly solid “horn or iron.” Both of these materials, being known for their strength, would likely have been vital in the creation of weapons. Thus, we can relate this “trick” of Odysseus’ to a battle strategy. His inward weeping protects him like a shield made of iron and horn. Though different from Penelope, his method of protection is nevertheless successful.

As The Odyssey continues, Penelope and Odysseus learn from each other's behavior. In book twenty three, the lovers mirror each other’s protection strategies. When Odysseus finally reveals his true form to his beautiful Penelope, she reacts with a coldness that rivals Odysseus’ own steely eyes. In fact, her coldness prompts Odysseus to cry out, “her heart is iron in her breast” (Book XXIII.194). In describing Penelope’s coldness with the same material used previously to describe Odysseus’ eyes, Homer ties this moment to Odyssus’ inward weeping. We can assume, then, that Penelope’s coldness too is a “trick,” or battle strategy that she uses to protect herself. Of course, this proves to be true a mere few pages later, when Penelope, finally becoming satisfied with the veracity of Odysseus’ identity, says in her defense, “Do not rage at me, Odysseus! / No one ever matched your caution!” (Homer, XXIII.236-237). Taken in context, this phrase “No one ever matched your caution” implies that her steely heart was inspired by Odysseus’ previous hesitance to reveal his feelings.

In response to Penelope’s defense of her actions, Odysseus begins to cry, echoing Penelope’s previous release of emotions. Homer writes, “Now from his breast into his eyes the ache / of longing mounted, and he wept at last, / his dear wife, clear and faithful, in his arms” (Homer, XXIII.259-261). Homer describes Odysseus’ longing as “mount(ing)” signifying a rising quantity. This phrasing rings of Penelope’s snow turned to mountain streams. Perhaps it is her freshly melted streams that have run right into Odysseus’ breast. It is through this tactic of mirroring each other's behaviors that each lover supports the other. Neither is saddled with the complete burden of support, as each partner takes turns protecting themselves and their lover in opposing ways. The passage culminates in the phrase, “she too rejoiced, her gaze upon her husband, / her white arms round him pressed as though forever” (Homer, XXIII.269-270) After each has successfully mirrored the others behavior, the space between them becomes completely collapsed into one. Penelope’s “white arms” (calling back, once again, to her body’s likeness to snow) are, through this process, eternally pressed against him.

Woolf’s novel, however, is not a story of two lovers united at long last. Mr. and Mrs. Ramsey, despite having been together for many years, both struggle to navigate their competing definitions of security. In fact, Mrs. Ramsey becomes nearly completely responsible for both her and her husband's protection, though she does not handle this (perhaps partly self prescribed) responsibility well. As the characters wander aimlessly around the house, Mr. Ramsey worries that he is a failure. Mrs. Ramsey responds, providing support, though it completely drains her. Woolf writes:

She assured him, beyond a shadow of a doubt, by her laugh, her poise, her competence (as a nurse carrying a light across a dark room assures a fractious child)… If he put implicit faith in her, nothing should hurt him; however deep he buried himself or climbed high, not for a second should he find himself without her. (Woolf, 36-37)

In this moment, everything about Mrs. Ramsey (her laugh, her poise, her competence) exists to reassure Mr. Ramsey. Where Penelope protected Odysseus by withholding security, Mrs. Ramsey gives more than she perhaps has to give. She becomes Mr. Ramsey’s caretaker and he her quarrelsome child. Her very existence becomes a shield for Mr. Ramsey. Should he give her his implicit faith, she promises eternal protection from pain. However, the experience leaves Mrs. Ramsey in shambles. The passage continues, “So boasting of her capacity to surround and protect, there was scarcely a shell of herself left for her to know herself by; all was so lavished and spent” (Woolf, 37). This stands in remarkable contrast to the moments of protection in The Odyssey. Mrs. Ramsey’s heart is made of anything but iron. Instead, she is described more akin to a cracked, empty egg shell which has lost its yolk. This, obviously, is unsustainable.

The favor of protection is hardly returned by Mr. Ramsey. In a moment of sadness, Mr. Ramsey is completely unable to offer consolation. Instead, Mrs. Ramsey orchestrates their connection once again. Woolf writes:

He wanted urgently to speak to her now… But he resolved, no; he would not interrupt her. She was aloof from him now in her beauty, in her sadness. He would let her be, and he passed her without a word, though it hurt him that she could look so distant, and he could not reach her, he could do nothing to help her. And again he would have passed her without a word had she not, at that very moment, given him of her own free will what she knew he would never ask, and called to him… and gone to him. For he wished, she knew, to protect her. (Woolf, 63)

In this passage, Woolf slowly transitions her reader from Mr. Ramsey’s point of view to Mrs. Ramsey’s. This has the effect of subtly reminding the reader of the ultimate control which Mrs. Ramsey holds over every situation. We begin with a few sentences describing Mr. Ramsey’s internal thoughts. He is hurt by how Mrs. Ramsey “looked so distant.” Yet even here, through the word “looked,” Woolf emphasizes that this feeling of distance is nothing more than an appearance. Does this imply the distance is all Mr. Ramsey’s fault? The following sentence repeats the phrase “he passed her,” this time with the amendment, “he would have passed her.” It is unclear whose perspective this sentence falls under, and that lack of clarity shifts the reader’s perspective toward Mrs. Ramsey. Finally, Mrs. Ramsey calls out to him, and Woolf places us completely in her inner thoughts. The gentle shift from one lover to the other signifies their closeness, while also emphasizing Mrs. Ramey’s ultimate control and how much she sacrifices to achieve this closeness.

With this unequal distribution of support in mind, one would expect the couple to remain staunchly disconnected, or for their relationship to fail. After all, doesn’t a successful relationship require the support and commitment of both parties? However, in the final chapter of “The Window,” we see Mr. and Mrs. Ramsey collapse the space between them and become one in a very similar way to Odysseus and Penelope. Woolf writes:

Through the crepuscular walls of their intimacy, for they were drawing together, involuntarily, coming side by side, quite close, she could feel his mind like a raised hand shadowing her mind; and he was beginning, now that her thoughts took a turn he disliked—towards this “pessimism” as he called it—to fidget, though he said nothing, raising his hand to his forehead, twisting a lock of hair, letting it fall again. (Woolf, 119)

Despite the constant distance—physical and emotional—between them, the two lovers draw together. Woolf writes of the “crepuscular walls of their intimacy,” and by comparing their connection to something which can only exist in the hours of twilight, she highlights the transitory nature of their closeness. It is ephemeral and constantly changing. And yet, in this brief moment, they are made, without conscious consent or control, all at once, “quite close” together. Mrs. Ramsey “feels” her partner’s mind as a physical thing covering, touching, her entire being. Her pessimism causes him to have a physical reaction. In this moment, the two become one.

Of course, there is a key difference between Odysseus and Penelope and Mr. and Mrs. Ramsey here. Where the Grecian nobles come together “as though forever,” Mr. and Mrs. Ramsey’s intimacy is relegated to the twilight hours. The moments when they can become one are few and far between, and even in these moments, the two remain unsettled and unequal. Mrs. Ramsey feels “shadowed” in her husband's presence, and he dislikes the thoughts she thinks.

However, the two marriages cannot be compared without acknowledging the different genres and literary movements both texts are a part of. To the Lighthouse is a modernist novel, and as with much modernist literature, it is interested in individualism. Through the marriage of Mr. and Mrs. Ramsey, Woolf explores whether or not people can really be seen as individuals. She raises questions such as: does helping someone you love necessarily mean sacrificing your own individuality? Does love always involve this giving and taking of the self? These questions are quite different from the discourse we see in Homer. Penelope and Odysseus embody a kind of symmetry in their relationship. Though Odysseus’ identity can be visibly hidden (as it is by Athena on his return to Ithaca) or tactically held back, there is very little worry of it disappearing. The two lovers take turns being emotional and indifferent, but it’s more like a dance, and their sense of self doesn’t feel at stake in the same way as it does for Mr. and Mrs. Ramsey. Despite coming out of vastly different literary movements, these literary marriages both explore the importance of supporting and loving another person across individual differences. They provide parallel (and sometimes contrasting!) meditations on how to exist as both one unit—a couple—and simultaneously as two separate individuals. It is not an easy line to walk, but it is one worth attempting. After all, a good relationship is one of the (many) keys to a good life.

Works Cited

Woolf, Virginia. To the Lighthouse. First Vintage Classics, 1927.

Homer. The Odyssey. Translated by Robert Fitzgerald. Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 1961.