Long Days Journey Into Night
Introductory Acts of Othello and Long Day’s Journey Into Night
Introductory acts are normally a very crucial part of plays in drama. They serve as a foundation, introducing main characters and the plot, and they also capture the audience’s attention making them anticipate what is to come in later acts. An effective introduction is one that presents its main features, such as characters, plot and themes, in a compelling manner that impacts the audience. Although the plays Othello and Long Day’s Journey into Night have very different introductory acts, they are both still effective.
To begin with, the introductory act in Long Day’s Journey into Night serves as an effective basis for the play, enticingly introducing the main aspects. The four family members and main characters are presented to the audience, just as in Othello primary characters, as well as a few secondary characters, are revealed in the first act. In the beginning of A Long Day’s Journey into Night, it almost seems as though the play centers on a happy, normal family. It begins just after the family breakfast, which is a significant daily ritual when families come together to connect. However, as the first act progresses, the audience begins to realize that this is not so, especially after the major quarrel between James Tyrone and his son Jamie. This argument introduces one of the main themes in the play, and that is James Tyrone’s miserliness and the effects it has on his family. Jamie and his father have a very tense relationship and often gets into arguments, with Jamie blaming his father for most of the problems occurring in the family, such as Edmund’s illness, “It might never have happened if you’d sent him to a real doctor when he first got sick,” and the initiation of Mary’s morphine addiction “…he was another cheap quack like Hardy! You wouldn’t pay for a first-rate-”. The family seems to be on a downward spiral, and Mary, therefore, sinks back into her old ways, revealing another major theme, whereby the characters are stuck and do not want to move forward.
Much like Long Day’s Journey into Night, the first act in Othello effectively captures the audience’s attention with a compelling introduction. This play begins in the middle of a conversation between Iago and Rodrigo which quickly reveals the first plot of the play. We learn that Iago is the antagonist, willing to do anything to get revenge on Othello for choosing Cassio for a promotion instead of him, “I know my price, I am worth no worse a place”. Soon after, we are introduced to Barbantio, Desdemona’s father, who has just learned of his daughter’s elopement to Othello and is enraged. Although Othello is a respected man in Venice, the marriage is unacceptable because of his different racial background. This brings about the prevailing theme of racism in the play and betrayal in the play. Murray Carlin alleges, “Othello is about colour, and nothing but colour.” Although Othello, as the protagonist, is not introduced in this first act, his importance is made clear. The playwright of Othello introduces major characters and themes, as well as the plot in the introductory act, just as the playwright of Long Day’s Journey into Night does. It is done effectively, even though both playwrights have a different style of writing.
Furthermore, the introductory acts in both plays are proved to be effective because of the impact they have on audiences. Long Day’s Journey into Night is a modern play, thus is intended for a modern audience, while Othello is a classic play written in the Elizabethan era and was intended for an Elizabethan audience. Nonetheless, the first act of both plays impacted their audience. The conflict in Act 1 of Long Day’s Journey into Night between James Tyrone and Jamie excites the audience as they learn more information about the dysfunctional family members. They learn about Edmund’s illness as well as Mary’s addiction. The audience was also shocked when they found out about Mary’s use of morphine again at the end of the act, “Her long fingers, warped and knotted by rheumatism, drum on the arms of the chair, driven by an insistent life of their own, without her consent.” According to critic Lewis Gannett, “No play Eugene O’Neill ever wrote speaks more eloquently to the reader…” Moreover, in Othello, the protagonist who bears the same name as the play is notably absent in the first act. This actually impacts the audience as they are anticipating his reveal in the next act. They await the confrontation between him and Barbantio on his marriage, and they are also anticipating Iago’s plans for revenge and how it would be executed in later acts. Critic Edward Pechter said, “Othello has become the tragedy of choice for the present generation.”
Although both plays Othello and Long Day’s Journey into Night are different in many ways, the plays share a common aspect in a compelling introductory act. They both introduced main characters effectively and presented a few major themes and the plot. This, along with their style of writing, made audiences excited for more and left them in anticipation and suspense for what is to come.
The Real Addicts
At first glance, Eugene O’Neill’s gut-wrenchingly poignant and heartbreakingly raw play, Long Day’s Journey into Night, appears to tell the story of Mary Tyrone’s morphine addiction and how her family responds to the situation. Often, however, we find that great works of literature are not so one-dimensional as that. There is another important aspect to this piece – the alcoholism of Mary’s husband, James and their two sons, Jamie and Edmund. On the surface, the men’s consumption of alcohol appears to be no more than a couple of emotionally drained men attempting to the take the edge off, as it were. But after a closer and more thorough reading, something becomes quite apparent: the men are addicts as equally as Mrs. Tyrone is. In fact, the claim might be made that they are, in fact, drunkards who are much further lost in their addiction than is the drug-addicted woman who is their wife and mother, especially because they have not admitted to their problem; they have not even entertained the thought that this likelihood exists.
The play takes place on the day of Mary Tyrone’s relapse and, seemingly, it revolves around that. However, there is something else going on – alcoholism. When read with a slightly more cautious eye, it is difficult and maybe even impossible to deny that the three men in this play, James Tyrone and his sons Jamie and Edmund, are alcoholics. The alcoholism may prove to be even more detrimental than Mary’s addiction for a myriad of reasons. The men are sneaky about their drinking; they drink constantly throughout the day while Mary appears to relieve herself only once; they constantly discuss the drug abuse while utterly failing to acknowledge the possibility of alcohol abuse; and they are able to deny their addiction so easily because there are three of them and only one of her and the addiction seems to find a certain strength in numbers while attacking the vulnerability of the minority. It is for these reasons that the possibility of alcohol abuse is quite conceivable and, indeed, has the potential to be even more injurious than Mary’s drug addiction. For if a person does not admit to a problem, a solution for that problem will never be sought. In the case of addiction, as is apparent here, what could possibly be more dangerous than that?
The first sign that there is alcohol abuse among the men – Mr. Tyrone, Jamie and Edmund – is the sneakiness with which they go about their drinking. In Act 2 of the play, which occurs at about quarter to one in the afternoon, Edmund is seen reading a book while his father and brother are outside working and his mother is upstairs. Catherine, the servant girl, brings him whiskey, presumably because he has asked her to do so. He then asks that she call the others for lunch rather than doing it himself. Catherine, rather snidely, remarks, “you’re making me call them so you can sneak a drink before they come” (O’Neill 421). And Edmund does indeed spring out of his chair and sneak a drink while she goes to the door to call Mr. Tyrone and Jamie. Her comment seems knowing – as if it has happened other times in the past and Catherine understood what his intentions were. A few minutes later, when his brother Jamie joins him, Edmund encourages him to “sneak one while you’ve [Jamie] got a chance,” to which Jamie responds, “I was thinking of that little thing.” After they’ve drunk, Jamie “measures out two drinks of water and pours them in the whiskey bottle and shakes it up” (422). They deliberately go out of their way to cover their tracks. In a study entitled “An Index of Alcoholic Drinking Behavior Related to the Meanings of Alcohol” conducted by Harold A. Mulford and Donald E. Miller, both of the State University of Iowa, “310 respondents responded positively to one or more of the 12 items” that were listed as signs of alcoholism, one of them being “I sneak drinks when no one is looking” (27-28). Jamie and Edmund employ this exact behavior – they sneak drinks when no one is looking and then, on top of of that, they cover their tracks by replacing with water the whiskey that they have consumed.
Since Mr. Tyrone is the man of the house and, technically, the whiskey belongs to him, he does not have quite as much opportunity or need to sneak about his drinking or cover his tracks. However, there is a certain slyness to his drinking. For instance, in Act 3, he goes to get a “fresh bottle of whiskey” and Mary remarks that “he’ll sneak around to the outside cellar door so the servants won’t see him. He’s really ashamed of keeping his whiskey padlocked in the cellar” (O’Neill 451). There is a certain craftiness to this behavior. Perhaps he locks his whiskey to keep it from his sons, but perhaps he locks it away because he is ashamed of how much he has and how much he consumes. It is true that he does not literally sneak his whiskey, but he is certainly sly about his consumption. Mary and Catherine seem to be aware of this deceit – they use the word “sneak” itself to describe the behavior of the men.
The second indicator of serious alcohol addiction and perhaps the most obvious indicator is the continual nature of the men’s drinking, especially when contrasted with the singular nature of Mary’s substance abuse. In the second act of the play, we learn of Mary’s relapse. There is a terrible conversation between Edmund and Jamie during which they conclude that their mother has succumbed to her addiction once again (O’Neill 422-424). Interestingly enough, O’Neill’s biological mother, after whom Mary Tyrone is modeled, “kicked her drug habit,” according to Zander Brietzke in his article “Too Close for Comfort: Biographical Truth in Long Day’s Journey into Night” (25). There are strong autobiographical ties in this play and this may be another connection: O’Neill’s mother did overcome her addiction and, though Mary does relapse, the reader does not pick up any evidence that there is a second time – there is yet hope for a recovery, for she has only given in to her addiction once.
The men, however, are a different story. It is nearly impossible to pinpoint a single time when James, Jamie and Edmund are drinking because they hardly ever put down the glass of whiskey. We see their consumption of alcohol throughout the entire play – in fact, they drink so much that by the end of the play, all three of them are drunk. In Act 4, when Edmund comes home, it is noted that “he is drunk now, too, but like his father he carries it well” (O’Neill 454). A little while later, when Jamie returns home, he is described as being “very drunk,” so much so that he is “woozy on his legs. His eyes are glassy, his face bloated, his speech blurred, his mouth slack like his father’s, a leer on his lips” (469). Again, there is a noteworthy biographical tie here, for O’Neill’s real life brother, after whom Jamie is modeled, did indeed drink himself to death (Brietzke 25). The comparison here is clear: Mary Tyrone abuses morphine once and O’Neill’s mother eventually overcame her drug addiction while Jamie Tyrone drinks so much that he causes himself to arrive at a state of extreme drunkenness and O’Neill’s brother eventually drank himself to death. In fact, according to Michael Hinden in his article “O’Neill and Jamie: A Survivor’s Tale,” Jamie O’Neill, the author’s brother, “destroyed himself” with his drinking (438). Now, since we can see how these two addictions came to an end in real life and we can see the biographical similarities in this play as a whole, it seems very likely that O’Neill’s intention for his fictional characters was not wholly different than the family members by whom he was inspired. Perhaps he was suggesting that it was the drunken men who were truly addicts, not his mother, not Mary.
The third hint indicating that the addiction of the men is much deeper than Mary’s addiction is the fact that her addiction is so commonly and so frequently discussed while the men’s addiction is never even mentioned. Throughout the play, each of the men discusses Mary’s morphine addiction at least once with one of the other men. Jamie first voices his suspicions to his father when he says that he “woke up and heard her moving around in the spare room” and that it scared him because he “couldn’t help remembering that when she starts sleeping alone in there, it has always been a sign– [of a relapse]” and his father responds quietly that it was “like a curse she can’t escape” (O’Neill 415). After this, it is Mr. Tyrone who brings it up to both of his sons:
“If your mother had prayed, too–She hasn’t denied her faith, but she’s forgotten it, until now there’s no strength of the spirit left in her to fight against her curse. But what’s the good of talk? We’ve lived with this before and now we must again. There’s no help for it. Only I wish she hadn’t led me to hope this time. By God, I never will again!” (432)
And it is Edmund who is last to discuss the matter. He does so bitterly and brokenly, describing the addiction as a horrible thing to see and notes that the “hardest thing to take is the blank wall she builds around her” in order to lose herself, for “she takes it to get that effect,” at least she did this time, according to his observations (461). The men cannot resist talking about Mary’s situation. Jack W. Entin, in his piece entitled “Long Day’s Journey into Night,” sums up their process perfectly with the statement that “each in his own turn holds forth in a lengthy emotional, almost kaleidoscope account of berating the others in the family for their faults, indifference, and selfishness” and also notes that “it seems that all of the members of the family are both loved and loathed at the same time” (318). They are extremely perceptive when it comes to Mary’s plight, yet not one of them has acknowledged the possibility of being in the same position as she is.
Furthermore, not only do Mr. Tyrone, Jamie and Edmund discuss the matter among themselves, but they also address her directly. Edmund is most pitiful, Jamie is most blunt and Mr. Tyrone is most disappointed, and each of them ultimately approaches her personally and individually. This time, it is Edmund who initially speaks out. He tells Mary that he is “trying to help” because it is bad for her to forget. The right way is to remember, he says, so that she will always be on her guard. “You know what’s happened before. You know I hate to remind you. I’m doing it because it’s been so wonderful having you home the way you’ve been” (O’Neill 418). He is pleading with her, gently, not to fall back into her old habits. Jamie, on the other hand, is not so compassionate. “Do you think you can fool me, Mama?” he asks her, “I’m not blind” and when she denies a knowledge of what he is implying, he responds, “No? Take a look at your eyes in the mirror!” (426). His manner is curt, his language is clear and there is no denying the meaning of his words. When Mr. Tyrone finally confronts her, it is described as a “grief-stricken” encounter. “Why couldn’t you have the strength to keep on?” he mourns. This question is in alignment with John Henry Raleigh who asserts that Mr. Tyrone “believes in self-responsibility” in his article “Communal, Familial, and Personal Memories in O’Neill’s Long Day’s Journey into Night” (71). Perhaps he is trying to help her overcome her addiction. But he gives up so easily when she denies knowing what he is discussing, as she has done previously with Jamie, and he “hopelessly” remarks, “never mind. It’s no use now” (429). Perhaps his concerns are rooted more in burying his addiction than in healing hers.
Finally, we see the addiction of the men culminating in their existence as the majority. For there is a certain strength in numbers and it is much easier to attack the vulnerable minority (Mary) than to penetrate the strength of the majority (Mr. Tyrone, Jamie and Edmund). Each of these men appears to be an alcoholic as exemplified through their constant drinking, the sneakiness of their drinking and the utter lack of acknowledgement of a potential drinking problem; thus, when these three alcoholics are put together in one unit, they form a strong group. There is a certain unity in their shared addiction and that unity is present in their communal drinking and in their conversations as they continuously discuss how best to handle Edmund’s sickness and, more importantly, Mary’s addiction. For example, in Act 1, Mr. Tyrone scolds Jamie for mentioning Edmund’s sickness in front of Mary and Jamie retorts that hiding things from her is the wrong way to handle the situation (O’Neill 411). They find a great advantage in their similarities because they allow the men to hide in one another’s drunkenness. Mary, on the other hand, is all alone in her drug addiction. She has no shadow beneath which to hide. She is the vulnerable one. She is the one easily attacked. A little farther along in the same act, when Edmund claims that he is not suspicious of his mother, Mary replies, “Oh, yes you are. I can feel it. Your father and Jamie, too” (419). She understands the weakness of her position – the weakness of the minority. The men exploit that. They use her vulnerability to create a distraction for themselves. Mr. Tyrone, Jamie and Edmund drink constantly, but they use the weakness of one, the minority, to cover up and distract from their own weakness – the weakness of three, the weakness of the majority. This is a weakness that is far greater, for they have not yet admitted it and they are able to conceal the true nature of their addiction under the guise of a ‘harmless act’ of which all three of them partake.
In an article entitled “Reality and Its Vicissitudes: The Problem of Understanding in Long Day’s Journey into Night,” Stephen A. Black notes that there is an “assumption that understanding gives people control over themselves, over circumstances, and over nature itself” (57). In their efforts to save Mary from her addiction by seeking to understand it, Mr. Tyrone, Jamie and Edmund utterly fail to save themselves. So many signs of alcoholism are apparent – the sneakiness of the drinking, the continual nature of the drinking, the absolute failure to acknowledge it while focusing so greatly on the addiction of another and their method of retreating into the comfortable majority where everyone else is doing the same thing that they are doing. It is hard to ignore such a real, such a thorough portrayal of alcoholism. It exists greatly in this play – the men are serious addicts. It is true that Mary has a dangerous morphine addiction, but it is also true that the men have an alcohol addiction; indeed, they are much more intensely lost in their addiction – for they do not even know yet that it exists.
Black, Stephen A.. “Reality and Its Vicissitudes: The Problem of Understanding in “Long Day’s Journey into Night””. The Eugene O’Neill Review 16.2 (1992): 57–72. JSTOR. 30 Nov. 2015. Web.
Brietzke, Zander. “Too Close for Comfort: Biographical Truth in “Long Day’s Journey Into Night”.” The Eugene O’Neill Review 25.1 (2001): 24-36. JSTOR. Web. 27 Nov. 2015.
Entin, Jack W. “Long Day’s Journey into Night”. The Clearing House 37.5 (1963): 318–318. JSTOR. Web. 27 Nov. 2015.
Hinden, Michael. “O’Neill and Jamie: A Survivor’s Tale.” Comparative Drama 35.3 (2001): 435-445. Project MUSE. Web. 26 Nov. 2015.
Mulford, Harold A., and Donald E. Miller. “An Index Of Alcoholic Drinking Behavior Related To The Meanings Of Alcohol.” Journal Of Health & Human Behavior 2.1 (1961): 26-31. Academic Search Complete. Web. 24 Nov. 2015.
O’Neill, Eugene. “Long Day’s Journey into Night.” The Norton Anthology of American Literature. Ed. Nina Baym and Robert S. Levine. New York: W. W. Norton & Company, Inc., 2012. 402-480. Print.
Raleigh, John Henry. “Communal, Familial, and Personal Memories in O’Neill’s Long Day’s Journey Into Night.” Modern Drama 31.1 (1988): 63-72. Project MUSE. Web. 30 Nov. 2015.
Jamie Tyrone: The Foghorn Personified
It is often said that mother knows best, and depending on who one’s mother is, this may or may not hold true. However, in the case of Jamie Tyrone, his mother certainly has a clear grasp of his situation, and shows it through the strikingly accurate portrait she paints of him: “…he’s always sneering at someone else, always looking for the worst weakness in everyone. But I suppose life has made him like that, and he can’t help it,” (O’Neill 63). As A Long Day’s Journey Into Night advances, Jamie’s mother shows an obvious understanding regarding the failures of her and her husband as parents, as well as the subsequent failures of Jamie’s youth that resulted. These scars still deeply pain him, yet at the same time have given him his grounded view of the present, setting him up for the unique role in all of the Tyrones’ lives that only he is fit to play.
Very early on in the play, it is made quite clear to the reader that Jamie’s childhood was neither stable nor happy. Much of this stems from his miserly father, who, despite being an enormously wealthy actor, has an idea of money, or rather of stinginess, ingrained in him that is not unlike that of his poor Irish forefathers. He never had the desire, or, for that matter, saw the need to provide his family with a home they could truly call their own (save a cheaply-built summer house), often dragging them from one dirty, second-rate hotel to the next on his tours. This, in many ways, left the family feeling cut-off from the rest of the world since they were unable to entertain company. Such isolation left Mr. Tyrone the only strong male role model in Jamie’s life, thereby imparting to Jamie his father’s own alcoholism. As Mary puts it: “You brought him up to be a boozer. Since he first opened his eyes, he’s seen you drinking,” (113).
Yet, unlike his father, who famously never missed a performance, Jamie could not handle his alcohol quite so well. His weak ambition, a remnant of his scattered, lonely childhood years, was dealt a further blow by the bottle, causing him to lose even the small grain of seriousness that had before been present in his life. Ultimately, he flunked out of school and let his talent for acting go to waste, relying on his father to win him parts so he could support his addiction as well as his taste for loose women (for no suitable one would have him). In short, his life as it stands can be summarized by Edmund’s recitations of Baudelaire’s “Epilogue,” particularly the last line:
I love thee, infamous city! Harlots and
Hunted have pleasures of their own to give,
The vulgar herd can never understand. (136)
Paradoxically, while the need to escape his bitter reality is now among Jamie’s list of reasons to continue drinking, he has a better hold on his circumstances than any one of the other three family members. The hard falls he’s taken and the life-altering mistakes he’s made cause him to remain grounded and prone to cynicism, often leaving him the first to point out the harsh truths the rest of the Tyrones would rather ignore. In a way, he is a personification of the foghorn situated near the family’s sea-side summer house. Just as the foghorn deters ships from natural fog, he drives both his parents and his brother from the blissful fog of their own ignorance. He is the first to point out Mary’s return to her morphine addiction, the first to state the obvious about Edmund’s health (that he had contracted tuberculosis) and the first to truly voice how badly his father’s cupidity had damaged the people around him, all things the rest of them would rather pretend weren’t true. This is the first reason his father states he has a ‘damn sneering serpent’s tongue,’ an allusion to the paradise-destroying serpent of the Bible (111).
The second reason, again alluding to Genesis, has to do with the way Jamie purposely brings down Edmund (just as the serpent successfully brought down Adam and Eve) through his poor advice and example. At first, this statement may seem to contradict his unequivocal shows of love and protection for his brother, but that is only until one realizes that his attempts at sabotage are not premeditated, but rather subconscious. He cares for Edmund, he wants him to succeed, but at the same time there’s a small part of him, a ‘dead’ part, that wants his sibling to fail. It’s the part of Jamie responsible for all of his self-hatred, the part that makes him not want to wallow in failure alone. However, all of that could be better stated in his own words as he drunkenly confronts Edmund:
What I wanted to say is, I’d like to see you become the greatest success in the world. But you’d better be on your guard. Because I’ll do my damndest to make you fail. Can’t help it. I hate myself. Got to take revenge. On everyone else. Especially you. […] The dead part of me hopes you won’t get well. Maybe he’s even glad the game has got Mama again! He wants the company, he doesn’t want to be the only corpse around the house. (169)
Ultimately, it could be said that all of the contempt Jamie harbors for himself and the way his life turned out is what makes him so apt to share his observations of other family members’ shortcomings and tragedies. However, his refusal to remain silent on the issues that surround the Tyrones make him and integral part of O’Neill’s masterpiece. He becomes a valuable tool for the progression of the story, taking it upon himself to dig up past issues and current secrets. While he definitely has his flaws, his portrayal leaves no doubt of his good heart, as well as the personal brand of reality he brings to the Tyrone family and the play alike.
Fog and the Foghorn in Long Day’s Journey into Night
1. IntroductionFog appears in many of Eugene O’Neill’s works. In Long Day’s Journey into Night, O’Neill uses not only fog but the foghorn as symbol. This paper will analyze the function of the fog and the foghorn in the play, with particular attention to Mary Tyrone. By the help of secondary literature I will emphasize the parallels first between Mary and the fog and then between Mary and the foghorn. Finally, I intend to find out which of the two symbols refers most directly to Mary and serves as a parallel to her mental state.2. The Fog and the Foghorn2.1 Mary and the FogThe first time the motif of the fog appears is when Mary talks to her husband shortly after her return from the sanatorium: “Thank heavens, the fog is gone,” she says. (O’Neill 17) Because of Mary’s past, the statement seems to present a weak flicker of hope that she will “resist the temptation this time” and come to grips with her morphine addiction. (Tiusanen 285) Already at this point one can draw a connection between Mary’s morphine addiction and the motif of the fog. (Scheibler 131) Mary returns from the sanatorium and the sun is shining (cf. O’Neill 10), which lets one hope that everything is fine. Later on, when Mary loses control over her addiction, the fog becomes thicker, and by the end of the play darkness is pervasive. (cf. Falk 181)Mary’s conversation with Cathleen also underlines the connection between Mary’s mental state and the fog. Mary does not listen to Cathleen at all, instead waxing lyrical about the past and speaking only of the fog: “It wasn’t the fog I minded, Cathleen,” she says. “I really love the fog. […] It hides you from the world and the world from you. You feel that everything has changed, and nothing is what it seemed to be. No one can find or touch you any more.” (O’Neill 123) According to the stage direction, Mary says these words in a dreamy way (O’Neill 113); the fog seems for her a way out of reality. Mary likes the idea of being hidden and protected by the fog. The fog helps her escape into the past and to dream about being a nun or a concert pianist. Mary calls herself “a pious girl” and points out her permanent longing for a “respectable home.” (111) She indirectly blames her husband for her situation and unfulfilled dreams: “I might have gone – if I hadn’t fallen in love with Mr Tyrone. Or I might have become a nun. I had two dreams. To be a nun that was the more beautiful one. To become a concert pianist that was the other.” (113) There are no fulfilled dreams in Mary’s life; she lives with regret and in loneliness, and longs for a real home, a place where someone is “never lonely” (Bogard 428). She tells Edmund: “In a real home one is never alone. You forget I know from experience what a home is like.” (O’Neill 80)Scheibler argues that there exists a close connection between the fog and Mary’s morphine addiction. “For Mary [the fog] is the realm of the imagination, of her narcotic dreams,” Schiebler writes, while “the drugs kill the senses until she can only dimly discern the objects of reality.” (131) Edmund recognizes this connection as well: “The hardest thing to take is the blank wall she builds around her,” he says, referring to when Mary takes her morphine and retreats into her dreams. “Or it’s more like a bank of fog in which she hides and loses herself.” (154) Scheibler’s idea that “even the harmless questions and observations can penetrate the wall of fog around her and destroy the illusion” confirms the appropriate use of the fog as a symbol. Fog hides you in only a superficial way from the outside world. Although one cannot look through fog, fog consists only of water and is therefore no real barrier. Why then does Edmund talk about “the hardest thing […] the blank wall” (O’Neill 120)? Naturally, one would expect that such a superficial “wall” should be easy to break down, especially for family members. In this case, however, it seems impossible for the family members to truly connect with Mary and help her; the entire family suffers from isolation and a lack of communication. According to Bogard, “the fog becomes the physical evidence of the isolation of the Tyrones.” (425 )Furthermore, Bogard calls Mary’s isolation “both her need and her terror.” (428) This conflict develops into a vicious circle: on the one hand Mary says that she likes the fog, since it hides her; on the other hand she longs for love and a home. She isolates herself, thereby losing contact with real life and with her family. Mary’s dream “to escape into a lonely world – into the convent where she could be sustained by a vision and live a simple, virginal existence” suggests that she has always tried to flee from guilt and from her problems. (ibid) As Bogard realizes, Mary’s childhood was anything but perfect and protected; her father was also a drinker, and Mary’s desire to find a salvaged home has never been satisfied. (ibid) 2.2 Mary and the FoghornThe sense of security the fog gives Mary helps to explain the contrasting meaning of the foghorn. In the beginning of the play, Mary says: “I do feel out of sort this morning. I wasn’t able to get much sleep with that awful foghorn going all night long.” (O’Neill 17) She continues: “it’s the foghorn I hate. It won’t let you alone. It keeps reminding you, and warning you, and calling you back.” (85) These words make clear that, in Scheibler’s words, “the foghorn disturbs the security and peace [Mary] feels in her dreams and […] does not let her escape from reality.” (Scheibler 137)Scheibler goes on to argue that the foghorn is evidence that Mary is not as protected as she would like to be in the fog and that her superficial “walls” are not completely impermeable. There is therefore a positive side to the foghorn; it offers hope that Mary will return to reality. That she hates the foghorn, however, shows she does not want to do so.According to Scheibler, the foghorn can also be seen as a symbol of Mary’s pain. Scheibler draws a connection between Mary’s moaning and the constant moaning of the foghorn. (138) James Tyrone calls the foghorn “a sick whale in the backyard,” (O’Neill 17) and later in the play one finds a description of the foghorn in the stage directions, which picks up on the idea of the “mourning whale” (105). The foghorn is not only a sound that should remind Mary of reality and the outside world, but one that seemes to express her inner turmoil and sense of brokenness.3. ConclusionAs we have seen, the functions of the fog and the foghorn are indisputably contrary; whereas the fog offers Mary, at least momentarily, a chance to escape into her past and dreams, where she feels safe, the foghorn tries to pull her out of her superficial harmony, which is itself just a façade. The foghorn seems at times the last best hope for Mary to return to reality, but in the end the fog wins out. The foghorn goes unheard.1398 wordsWorks CitedBogard, Travis. Contour in Time: The Plays of Eugene O’Neill. New York:OUP, 1972.427-433.Falk, Doris Virginia. Eugene O’Neill and the Tragic Tension: an Interpretative Studyof the Plays. New Brunswick, N.J. : Rutgers UP, 1958. 181-187.O’Neill, Eugene. Long Day’s Journey into Night. Ed. Ferdinand Schunk.Fremdsprachentexte . Stuttgart: Reclam, 1989.Scheibler, Rolf. The Late Plays of Eugene O’Neill: The Cooper Monographs onEnglish and American Language and Literature 15. Bern: Francke, 1970. 106-138.Tiusanen, Timo. O’Neill’s Scenic Images. Princeton, NJ.: Princeton UP, 1968. 285.
Ephiphanies in “Long Day’s Journey into Night”
While the word “epiphany” suggests positive enlightenment, it is only negative in Eugene O’Neill’s disturbing “Long Day’s Journey into Night.” Each family member undergoes a bitter revelation within the course of only twenty-four hours. Through self-examination, the four family members all finally grasp the causes of their sorry lives. James Sr.’s epiphany occurs in the form of a personal confession to his son, when he admits he would have enjoyed his life if he had continued pursuing acting rather than letting money rule his decisions. James reluctantly acknowledges that his childhood poverty led him to be a miser: “A dollar was worth so much then. And once you’ve learned a lesson, it’s hard to unlearn it (148).” His fear of the poorhouse ultimately causes James to realize that “Maybe life overdid the lesson for me, and made a dollar worth too much, and… that mistake ruined my career as a fine actor (149).” Abandoning his passion as a Shakespearean actor ultimately desecrated his life. He tells Edmund, “I’ve never admitted this to anyone before, lad, but tonight I’m so heartsick I feel at the end of everything, and what’s the use of fake pride and pretense. That God-damned play I bought for a song and made such a great success in- a great money success- it ruined me with its promise of easy fortune (149).” At this moment, when James is honest with himself, he finally realizes that money has shattered his potential and caused him a despondent life.Jamie, one of James’ sons, lives in a world much unlike his father’s, but like James recognizes that his life holds no real substance. Jamie abhors the worthless person he has become. He claims he “hates life” and “has been dead for so long (165).” His lifestyle of bars and brothels causes him nothing but self-pity, depression, and jealousy. Jamie admits to his brother, Edmund, that he never wanted his brother to succeed and “make [him] look worse by comparison (165).” He even goes so far as to say that he hates Edmund for his mother’s addiction. He quickly revokes this statement, claiming, “I love you more than I hate you. My saying what I’m telling you now proves it. I run this risk you’ll hate me–and you’re all I’ve got left (166).” By confessing what he has hidden behind for thirty-four years, Jamie plummets toward rock bottom. At this point in his hollow life, it becomes evident he cannot overcome his doubts and failures. When the optimism he places in his mother’s sobriety falters, he says “I’d begun to hope if she’d beaten the game, then I could too (165).” This discouraging confession confirms the desperate future ahead for Jamie. Mary also uncovers much about her self-destructive nature. The mask behind which she hides disappears momentarily during a morphine relapse. Like her husband, Mary regrets the choices in her youth that led her to drug addiction. If she had followed her dream and joined the convent, morphine would play no part in her life. Toward the end of the play, Mary longs for the faith she has lost: “I remember when I had it I was never lonely nor afraid. I can’t have lost it forever, I would die if I thought that. Because then there would be no hope (173).” During her soliloquy, Mary muses, “If only I could find the faith I lost, so I could pray again! (107)” These lines suggest that Mary’s prediction has come true: by losing her faith, she lost all hope. Without this hope, Mary struggles with her substance dependency and feels shameful and weak. As Mary begins to pray, she stops and proclaims, “You expect the Blessed Virgin to be fooled by a lying dope fiend reciting words! You can’t hide from her!…I must go upstairs. I haven’t taken enough. When you start again, you never know how much you need (107). This confession is the only time Mary verbally admits she can not overcome her addiction, and it signifies her surrender. In Mary’s last line, she revisits her long-ago decision to leave the “Blessed Virgin” for James Tyrone. Her constant retreat into her past confirms her revelation that by not following her dream, she created a life of sorrow. Edmund arrives upon his epiphany in the same manner as his mother, by reflecting on his past. He discloses his realization to his father over the drunken card game: “It was a great mistake, my being born a man, I would have been much more successful as a seagull or a fish. As it is, I will always be a stranger who never feels at home, who does not really want and is not really wanted, who can never belong, who must always be a little in love with death! (153).” Edmund always feels tremendous guilt for his mother’s condition, which was caused by his birth. His statements suggest an inability to cope with the difficulties in his life, therefore inspiring the feelings of rejection and not belonging. In an earlier scene, when Edmund returns from a foggy walk, he tells his father, “That’s what I wanted, to be alone with myself in another world where truth is untrue and life can hide from itself (131).” Edmund faces many pressures in his life that he cannot control. The guilt he endures eventually breaks him down and ruins his potential. While talking to his father, Edmund realizes he will never become a commendable man.Throughout “Long Day ‘s Journey into Night,” Eugene O’Neill provides insight into the dismal worlds in which each character barely lives. James Sr. sacrifices his passion of acting for his obsession with money, only to find the money was not worth his dream. Jamie admits he drove his life straight into the ground and struggled to take Edmund with him. Mary realizes that by losing her faith, she lost her joy and self-control as well. Edmund acknowledges that the sea is the only place he ever feels welcome. When each character finally breaks through the barriers of denial and fallacy in their everyday lives, their revelations are anything but the “positive” enlightenment we normally associate with epiphany.
Controllable Fate: A Refutation of Mary’s attitude in Long Day’s Journey into Night
During the long day that occurs throughout Long Day’s Journey into Night by Eugene O’Neill, the members of the Tyrone family struggle with happenings of the present because of their incapableness to move forward from occurrences of the past. For example, Mary Tyrone, the wife of James Tyrone, struggles to live in tranquility during the present due to her morphine addiction that began in the past. As early as the first act of O’Neill’s play, Tyrone introduces audiences to Mary’s struggle in the present by declaring her “bit of high-strung” (O’Neill 5) behavior that is influenced by her drug use, which was initiated from a previous medically administered morphine dosage during her child labor. Mary faces an ongoing struggle to accept both her past and present, and says, “None of us can help the things life has done to us. They’re done before you realize it, and once they’re done they make you do other things until at last everything comes between you and what you’d like to be, and you’ve lost your true self forever” (O’Neill). Mary’s biggest challenge, dealing with her morphine addiction, is something that has indeed changed her true self from what she would like to be, however her statement does not fully apply to her or her family’s life. Mary and the rest of the Tyrone family have the ability to direct their lives; the decisions that the Tyrone family has made in the past influenced the things that affect them in the present. Thus, the Tyrone family could help the things that life does to them by making choices in the present that would create good fortunes in the future.
The choices that James Tyrone made earlier in his life influence his present life that occurs during the plot of the O’Neill’s play. Though Mary’s statement in act two of the play infers that people cannot help the things that life has done to them, Tyrone could help the things that life has done to him by making choices that would benefit his future. For example, Tyrone made a choice during his early career to become an actor for a single character of a traveling show rather than the more difficult task of auditioning for diverse roles. Tyrone later admits, “That God-damned play I bought for a song and made such a great success in- a great money success-it ruined me with its promise of an easy fortune. I didn’t want to do anything else, and by the time I woke up to the fact I’d become a slave to the dammed thing and did not try other plays, it was too late. They had identified me with that one part, and didn’t want me in anything else” (O’Neill 82). Tyrone’s decision to become an actor for a sole role came with an immediate profit of earning a good salary, ye it disabled him from growing his skill and ability as an actor to that he could potentially work as an actor in other plays in the future. Therefore, Tyrone had the ability to change his present life if he would have considered the future when he was making choices in the past. An additional circumstance that James Tyrone had the power to control was Mary’s morphine addiction. Tyrone’s financial stinginess inclined his decision to hire a cheap doctor, Doctor Hardy, was known as an “ignorant fool” who should be banned from practicing (O’Neill 38). Nonetheless, Tyrone hired the cheap doctor who administered morphine to Mary, causing her to become addicted shortly thereafter. Tyrone made the decision to hire an inexpensive, hotel doctor instead of a reliable doctor; if he had paid extra money for a more expensive doctor to deliver the couple’s second child in the past, Tyrone potentially would not have to deal with his drug-addicted wife in the present. Thus, Tyrone had the ability to help things in the present if he would have made wiser choices in the past.
Tyrone merely admits to being responsible for what life has done to him and Mary by admitting that it wasn’t Mary’s fault for her drug addiction, and that “Once that cursed poison gets a hold on anyone..” (O’Neill 76), then they have no control. Thus, it was the doctor’s fault for Mary’s addiction, and Tyrone ultimately created the outcome by hiring the cheap doctor. In addition to these circumstances, Tyrone has the ability to shape his wife’s future by providing her with better care, but he instead refuses to pay for better care because he claims to have “spent thousands upon thousands in cures! A waste. What good have they done?” (O’Neill 77). Tyrone could have also hired a good doctor for his son Edmund and potentially change the anticipated fate of Edmund’s life, but Tyrone instead chooses “another cheap quack like Hardy! [Because he] wouldn’t pay for a first –rate” (O’Neill 18). Consequently, Tyrone proves Mary’s judgment about fate to be untrue because he has the ability to change the course of fate for his family. Tyrone also had the ability to change the fate of his sons, Jamie and Edmund, by teaching them good values through parenting. As a father whose experienced much more than his sons have, James Tyrone could have influenced his sons to value a hard work ethic similar to the hard work ethic that he was introduced to when he was a child. Throughout the play, Tyrone complains about how his sons neither appreciate the value of money nor the life that he has provided for them because they are handed everything instead of earning everything, which lead his sons to “know [nothing] of the value of a dollar?” (O’Neill 81). Rather than complain about the work ethic and financial value that his sons obtain, Tyrone had the power to raise them in a way that prioritizes values of high work ethic. Tyrone could have helped shaped his sons’ habits by raising them in a responsible way instead of drinking as a father, and leading his sons to become heavy drinkers later on. Mary even apologizes to her sons for her and Tyrone’s lack of providing the boys with a different life style. Mary confesses that her sons that they “never had a chance to meet decent people here. I know you both would have been so different” (O’Neill 21). If Tyrone would have raised his sons with different values, then his son Jamie would have not been dismissed from several colleges, have no job, and come home for the summer looking for support from his parents. Thus, Tyrone had the ability to manipulate his present circumstance of dealing with his son, who he considers a failure, if he would have made cautious parenting decisions in the past
As demonstrated by Edmund, who has “worked so hard before [he] took ill” (O’Neil 46), it is possible for the sons to adopt a hard work ethic. Mary’s additional insinuation that things from the past “make you do other things until…you’ve lost your true self forever” is a subjective statement based on her own life obstacles. Things that have occurred for Mary in the past, such as falling in love with James Tyrone made her do things that she would have not otherwise done. For instance, if Mary had not met Tyrone at the theatre, Mary would have continued her pursuit of becoming a nun, rather than getting married and having children. By getting married, Mary indirectly gave up her friendships and aspirations of becoming a nun or pianist. Now, Mary’s life is spent living in a place where she “never wanted to live in the first place” (O’Neill 21) with “old friends [who] wither pitied [her] or cut [her] dead (O’Neill 44). Falling in love with Tyrone was something that made her do other things until she lost her true-self forever; nevertheless, marrying Tyrone was a choice she made. Although Mary never wanted to give up her aspirations, she chose to marry Tyrone, which changed her life forever, but it should not have been a change unforeseen. Although Mary “never wanted to live here in the first place…but had to come here every summer” (O’Neill 21), Mary knew that she would not have an ideal home upon meeting Tyrone because she knew that he was a traveling actor. Likewise, Mary knew that she could not continue her pursuit to become a nun if she chose a life with Tyrone, but she chose to settle her heart’s desire for Tyrone instead.
Additionally, Mary did not straightforwardly choose to lose her friends, she chose to marry Tyrone who was can actor, and Mary knew “how actors were considered in those days”, which would result in her friends giving her “the cold shoulder” (O’Neill 44). If Mary truly valued her fate she could have not married an actor with a bad reputation to maintain her friendships, or refused Tyrone’s advances upon meeting him to stay focused on her dream to become a nun later in her life. Therefore, Mary’s statement that she cannot help the things that life has done to her is false because she could have helped the things that were done to her to an extent. The Tyrone family revisits the past during the present frequently throughout Long Day’s Journey into Night. For illustration, Mary frequently revisits her past aspirations, and Tyrone often revisits his childhood and past career. Mary revisits her past often and claims that “None of us can help the things life has done to us”. Nevertheless, the Tyrone family’s present circumstances are shaped by decisions of the past, so they have the indirect opportunity to influence what their lives will do to them. While Mary may not have intended for certain things in her life to happen to her, she had ultimate control over the things that have occurred in her life.
In similar correlation to Mary’s life, Tyrone had the power to control the overall direction of his life, as well as the power to choose how his sons would be raised. The second part of Mary’s statement in Act Two, that unforeseen challenges made one “los[e] your true self forever”, is further refutable because Tyrone’s past choices did not change his true self forever. Tyrone “first learned the value of a dollar and the fear of the poorhouse” (O’Neill 80) during his early years and continues to value money and hard work ethic in the present as well. Therefore, life experiences do not always change a person’s true self, because Tyrone’s true self never changed. Tyrone’s character is a mere example of how the Tyrone family can actually foresee life’s unpredictable happenings. While Mary views her life as a series of unfortunate events that she has no control of, she actually has control over the choices that she makes in the present, which will lead the direction of her future.
O’Neill, Eugene. Long Day’s Journey Into Night. New Haven : Yale University Press, 1956, c1955. Web.
The Autobiographical Truth in Long Day’s Journey Into Night
Aspiring writers are often told, “Write what you know.” Writers are thus encouraged to draw on their personal experiences to craft their narratives. Experienced authors often choose to create semi-autobiographical works, which contain a blend of some elements of their real lives and some of their own fictional creation. Irish-American playwright Eugene O’Neill is one such author who drew largely from personal experience to create his plays. Long Day’s Journey into Night is widely considered to be his finest literary achievement and also his most personal play. This drama has many autobiographical elements but with some important fictional characteristics. An understanding of how O’Neill draws on personal elements in the creation of this text can deepen our appreciation of this powerful work.
Long Day’s Journey into Night is a truly unique play in the way that it differs from most semi-autobiographical works. Many works in this genre are initially based on life events, but then the author chooses to veer the work in another direction. O’Neill, however, remains largely true to the events of his life. As O’Neill scholar Michael Hinden explains, O’Neill had “no need to fabricate family incidents for his plot” and actually “pruned additional family troubles from the finished play” (94). In fact, compressing the events into a twenty-four hour period is arguably the most fictional part of the production. As Hinden writes, “The play fixes a moment of time shared equally by its protagonists, reaches into the past to illuminate that moment, and presents it without editorial comment” (93). We can pin down some facts about the O’Neills’ lives in the moment, but we as the audience are left to speculate about the remainder of the characters’ lives. When examining the O’Neills’ lives, we must remember that several events and details were intentionally left out of the production. With an acknowledgment of the unusual nature of O’Neill’s writing, we can begin to examine the autobiographical elements in the play.
The four central characters in the play are based on O’Neill’s immediate family. First, James Tyrone is based on Eugene’s father, James O’Neill (1846-1920). Like his character in the play, James was an actor best known for the role of Edmond Dantes in The Count of Monte Cristo. Despite this being his most successful role, it also became the “fatal turning point in his career” (Hinden 104). He was typecast and could not find another role after it. The O’Neills spent much of their life traveling and living out of hotels due to James’s acting career. Eugene believed that this led to his mother’s morphine addiction (104). While Eugene’s portrayal of his father’s career appears accurate, James’s personal traits in the production may have been biased, particularly in regards to James’s handling of money. Hinden argues: “Friends who remembered James O’Neill protested that his presentation as a miser in the play was inaccurate. They recalled the actor as an open and generous man who always was happy to provide a handout” (101). Eugene portrays his family from his own personal lens, which is subject to bias. His characters thus closely resemble but do not completely reflect the members of his family.
Mary Tyrone is based on Eugene’s mother, Mary Ellen (“Ella”) Quinlan O’Neill (1857-1922). Like her character in the play, Ella met her future husband backstage at one of his New York performances. The two were married on June 14, 1887, and their first son James Jr. (Jamie) was born a year later. Five years later their son Edmund was born. He quickly died, however, after contracting measles from his older brother. Ella lived in conflict between blaming herself and blaming Jamie for the baby’s death (Hinden 98). Eugene chose to exchange his name in the play with his brother’s. His character is named Edmund Tyrone in the play, and the dead brother is referred to as Eugene. Some scholars speculate that Eugene made this choice to emphasize how he felt living in the shadow of a “ghost child” (101). Some believe that the play suggests Eugene’s birth indirectly led to his mother’s drug addiction (98). A doctor prescribed her morphine after a painful and traumatic childbirth. However, “whether the doctor who introduced her to morphine was a cheap hotel quack, as Mary charges in the play, or a respectable practitioner, cannot be ascertained” (99). Her drug addiction spanned many years and deeply troubled the O’Neill family. Her addiction is central to the plot of the play. Her unusual behavior in the play, such as wearing her wedding dress, is also true. However, what is left out of the play is Ella’s surprising recovery. In 1914 she retired to a convent and found the strength to give up morphine (99). In the play Eugene chose to focus on her earlier life which was still ravaged by addiction.
Jamie Tyrone in the play is based on Eugene’s older brother James O’Neill, Jr. (1878-1923). Scholars claim that Jamie’s character is the most lifelike in the production (Hinden 100). As Hinden writes, “The measles episode, school expulsions, bitterness, drinking, whoring, and the train ride are the legacy of James O’Neill, Jr.” (100). In real life, Jamie was a troubled soul who could not find a healthy way to cope with his problems. He cared deeply for his younger brother, but he was always afraid his troubles would bring his brother down (101). In the play and in life, he was addicted to alcohol for almost all his life. In fact, after his mother’s death in 1922, he “never had another sober day” (99). His drinking eventually became so terrible that Eugene had to distance himself from his brother in real life (101). Jamie actually tells his brother to keep his distance in the play. His character warns, “At the first good chance I get, I’ll stab you in the back” (O’Neill 821). As is predicted in the play, Jamie slowly drank himself to death and died at age forty-five.
Edmund Tyrone is O’Neill’s self-portrait, and as Hinden describes is “somewhat disingenuous” (104). O’Neill looks back on his younger self from a place of experience. Many details of his own life are intentionally left out. Hinden argues, “Edmund’s inexperience in the play is crucial: through his passivity the family’s aggression comes sharply into focus” (105). Edmund in the play is a sensitive person but with a dark edge, friends of the true O’Neill seem to agree that he had a sensitive but dark personality (105). What is left out of the play is his failed marriage to Kathleen Jenkins and his strained relationship with his son Eugene O’Neill, Jr. His character would have already experienced his marriage and the birth of his son by the time the play took place. As was his character, O’Neill was diagnosed with tuberculosis and was sent to a sanatorium in 1912. It appears as though his character may die in the play, but the real O’Neill did recover within a year. His time dealing with illness actually inspired him to pursue a career in writing (Clark 24). Though he received success as a writer, he lived to see a grim life. He could not escape the influence of his older brother and became a chronic alcoholic. O’Neill experienced multiple failed marriages, the suicide of his eldest son, and a Parkinson’s-like tremor which kept him sick for many years. He died of pneumonia in 1953, and his last words were, “Born in a hotel room– and God damn it– died in a hotel room” (qtd in Hinden 106). His character Edmund is a version of O’Neill isolated in time, written by an experienced O’Neill looking backward. He intentionally removes his character from the tarnish of his own experience.
Long Day’s Journey into Night was birthed out of O’Neill’s experience in a broken family that was ravaged by pain and addiction. His portrait of his family is grim, but the O’Neill family did not experience only darkness. Hinden explains:
Each of the four O’Neills lived to see a wish fulfilled. James watched his son develop into the fine artist he might have been, Ella conquered her addiction, and for a few years Jamie finally had his mother all to himself. As for O’Neill, his third marriage was a fulfilling one despite its stormy quarrels. (107)
It is important to acknowledge that, despite what the play suggests, not every moment of the O’Neills’ lives was depressing. They experienced their own moments of love and of triumph. O’Neill’s semi-autobiographical work may be a criticism of his family and the pain they inflicted upon him, but it is also his way of remembering his family and paying tribute to them. A better understanding of O’Neill’s life helps us see the way the work actually honors his family. The characters in the production as well as the members of O’Neill’s family are broken and beautiful, and because of the success of O’Neill’s work, they will always be remembered.
Clark, Barrett H. Eugene O’Neill: The Man and his Plays. Stratford Press, 1947.
Hinden, Michael. Long Day’s Journey into Night: Native Eloquence. Twayne Publishers, 1990.
O’Neill, Eugene. Complete Plays 1932-1942. Literary Classics of the United States, 1988.