Chapter I

The novel opens with Mrs. Ramsay assuring her son James that the weather will be nice enough tomorrow for a trip to the Lighthouse. As James entertains himself by cutting out pictures, Mr. Ramsay asserts that the weather will not be fine, which provokes James to want to impale and kill his father. Mrs. Ramsay knits a stocking for the Lighthouse keeper's little boy, who has a tuberculous hip. Charles Tansley agrees with Mr. Ramsay about the unlikelihood of going to the Lighthouse the next day, and Mrs. Ramsay reflects on the fact that neither she nor her children find him agreeable; he is odious and self-centered.

After dinner, the eight Ramsay children go to their rooms. Mrs. Ramsay considers them too critical, noting that they focus too much on the differences between people. She has errands to run in town and invites Charles Tansley to join her. On the lawn, they pass Mr. Carmichael.

Mrs. Ramsay and Charles Tansley enjoy each other's company on the walk, although Mrs. Ramsay pities him. They walk out onto the quay and gaze at the Lighthouse before Mrs. Ramsay stops in to run an errand at a house in town. Charles Tansley waits for her there, and as she silently comes down the stairs, he finds her exceptionally beautiful. He feels proud to accompany her back to the house, holding her bag.

Chapters II-III

Back at home, Mr. Ramsay again tells James that a trip to the Lighthouse will not be possible. Mrs. Ramsay is angry that he is continuing to disappoint their son.

In an attempt to console James, Mrs. Ramsay looks through a magazine to find a picture of a rake or a mowing-machine for him to cut out as an engaging challenge. She hears the sound of men talking in the background, and their voices soothe her. She compares their voices to the sound of the waves beating against the shore--guarding, supportive, and constant. She also muses, however, that the sound of the waves represents destruction and ephemerality.

Mrs. Ramsay comes across a picture of a pocket-knife for James to cut. She then looks out the window and notices Lily Briscoe on the lawn, remembering that Lily is painting her portrait and that she is supposed to keep her head steady.

Chapter IV

Out on the lawn, Lily Briscoe stands alert by her painting, keeping "a feeler on her surroundings" to prevent people from looking at it. She is extremely finicky about having her work viewed by anyone but William Bankes, who approaches her. Lily and Mr. Bankes reside in the village, and they have developed an alliance out of their brief conversations and their frequent encounters. Mr. Bankes respects Lily's good sense and orderliness.

Suddenly, Mr. Bankes and Lily notice Mr. Ramsay, in a private moment, glaring and saying, "Someone had blundered." At this moment, Mr. Bankes suggests that he and Lily take a stroll. It is with difficulty that she turns her eyes from the picture, contemplating with quiet desperation the difficulty of translating her artistic vision directly to the canvas. The two companions stroll off in "the usual direction" toward the break in the hedge at which they can see the bay, the place where they walk every evening.

Watching the waves, Lily is saddened by the realization that distant views outlast the people who gaze upon them. Mr. Bankes reflects on his friendship with Mr. Ramsay, and on a past time on Westmorland Road when Mr. Ramsay had showed his simplicity by admiring a group of small chicks. It was at this time that their friendship had ceased and had become dependent on repetition. He considers Mr. Ramsay's life and how his children both add something to his life and destroy part of it. Lily urges Mr. Bankes to "think of [Mr. Ramsay's] work," for which she has the utmost admiration. Ever since Andrew told her to think of the subject of his work by imagining a kitchen table when no one is there to see it, she sees a scrubbed kitchen table when she thinks of Mr. Ramsay's work. Mr. Bankes believes that Mr. Ramsay is among the men who have finished their best work by the time they are forty. Indeed, Mr. Ramsay made a serious contribution to the field of philosophy at the age of 25 and has merely amplified or repeated this work since. Though Lily has a keen respect for Mr. Ramsay's intelligence, she finds him vain and believes that Mr. Bankes is a finer man.

Arousing them from their thoughts, Jasper shoots a gun, scattering a flock of birds into the sky. Again, Mr. Ramsay proclaims, "Some one had blundered!" with intense and tragic emotion that causes him both shame and indulgent revelry.

Analysis

The opening chapters of the novel firmly establish several of the main characters. Mrs. Ramsay immediately appears as a nurturing and domestic woman whose beauty is of particular interest to those who know her. Her roles as wife and mother form the center of her universe, and she has a burning desire to please her family and guests. Mr. Ramsay, on the other hand, is guided strictly by rationality and intellect. To his wife's dismay, he can be inconsiderate in his desire to live by truth. He is infinitely practical and self-absorbed, and his repeated expostulation that "someone had blundered" initiates his pattern of loudly and publicly voicing his cerebral anguish. He lives very much inside his own head, not even noticing Lily and Mr. Bankes on the lawn.

These opening chapters also provide a thorough initial portrait of Lily. She is very private and somewhat anxious, and despite her recognition of Mr. Ramsay's vanity, she loves the family very deeply and feels very loyal.

One of the great innovations of modernist novels is the stream of consciousness technique, whereby the writer tries to capture a character's unbroken flow of internal thoughts. Thus an author can describe the unspoken thoughts and feelings of a character without the devices of objective narration or dialogue. In To the Lighthouse, Virginia Woolf makes constant use of this technique, and it is established as the predominant style from the beginning. In this novel, the action occurs not in the outside world but in the thoughts and feelings of the characters as exhibited by the ongoing narrative. Although there is a narrative voice apart from any of the characters, a large portion of the narrative consists of the exposition of each characters' consciousness. Some sections use entire pages without letting an objective voice interrupt the flow of thoughts of a single character.

As a literary device, stream of consciousness was perhaps the most fitting counterpart to contemporary work being done by Sigmund Freud regarding the existence and function of the human unconscious. Freud newly posited the theory that there is a portion of the mind to which we do not have complete access, with the implication that we cannot know all of our own thoughts, fears, motivations, and desires. Writers and artists of this period were intrigued by this concept, and they sought in various ways to depict and illuminate the human unconscious. Although stream of consciousness (as its name implies) is the illumination of thoughts and feelings that characters consciously experience, Woolf reaches much further into the human mind than a conventional narrative about the past, providing an intimate view of a character's interiority.

Woolf not only expresses the flow of each character's thoughts, but she also weaves them together into a narrative that flows seamlessly from one character's thoughts to another's without any obvious break or disruption.

Woolf was also a master of a related literary form called free indirect discourse, in which the identity of the narrator is not entirely clear. The novel abounds with dialogue that is not demarcated by quotation marks, as well as phrases and passages that could easily be spoken or merely thought. This form of narration is told in the third person, but it conveys a sense of the character's internal thoughts from the character's own experience, thereby expressing these thoughts somewhere between a first-person and third-person mode of narrative.

Woolf's use of stream of consciousness and free indirect discourse enhance the themes of the novel. To the Lighthouse forcefully conveys the subjective experience of reality, and the proliferation of stream of consciousness indicates that a person's experience cannot be truly viewed through the objective lens of a third party. Instead, Woolf suggests that reality is more like the accumulation of the various perspectives and experiences of individuals. Mrs. Ramsay, for instance, cannot be accurately described by one person. She can only be fully understood as the collection of different impressions of her.

Similarly, the narrative chain that Woolf creates, linking the consciousness of various characters in an unbroken flow, emphasizes the connections between people that Mrs. Ramsay always tries to establish. Though each character is separate, their influence and dependence on one other is undeniable. Their interwoven thoughts form the narrative quilt, and they both propel one another's experiences and emerge from one another's perspectives.

Chapter V

As Mrs. Ramsay watches Lily Briscoe and William Bankes pass by outside, she tries to calm James by suggesting that the weather may, in fact, be nice enough to go to the Lighthouse. She uses James as a model against which to measure the stocking that she is knitting for the Lighthouse keeper's boy. As she measures the stocking, her mind is occupied by several domestic thoughts. She believes that Lily and Mr. Bankes should marry. She then considers the house and its state of disrepair. The children love it nevertheless--and it removes Mr. Ramsay from the realm of academia--and it is spacious enough to entertain guests. Though she laments its increasing shabbiness, she accepts the notion that "Things must spoil."

Mrs. Ramsay suddenly emerges from her thoughts to scold James, telling him that he must stand still, and he obeys. The stocking, she determines, is too short, and the narrator twice comments that "Never did anybody look so sad."

The narrative voice then shifts to incorporate many different views concerning Mrs. Ramsay's beauty. Some people doubt that there is anything substantial behind her incomparable, silent beauty. Mr. Bankes's reflections on her beauty predominate; he observes that "she's no more aware of her beauty than a child."

Mrs. Ramsay calms herself and kisses James on the forehead, proposing that they find another picture for him to cut out.

Chapter VI

Looking back at Mr. Ramsay, Mrs. Ramsay senses that "someone had blundered"--her husband's vanity is deflated, and he appears outraged and anguished. When Mr. Ramsay veils his torment and playfully tickles James's foot, Mrs. Ramsay delights in the triumph of domesticity. James, however, pushes his father away with hatred, and Mr. Ramsay then reiterates that there is absolutely no possiblity of traveling to the Lighthouse the next day. When Mrs. Ramsay protests that the weather might be fine for traveling, Mr. Ramsay is enraged by his wife's diversion from rationality and fact. Though Mr. Ramsay pursues truth without any consideraton for the feelings of others, Mrs. Ramsay reveres him and feels inferior to him.

Mr. Ramsay resumes his private walk, glancing in at his wife and son through the window as he returns to contemplation. He knows that his intellectual achievements surpass those of most other men, yet he is dissatisfied and longs to achieve the next level of greatness. He draws a parallel between the scope of intellectual greatness and the alphabet. He feels that he has achieved as far as the letter "Q"--which is relatively astounding--yet he fears that he will be a failure if he cannot reach "R." He considers that only about one man in an entire generation ever reaches "Z," and he consoles himself by accepting that it is not his fault that he is not the "chosen" one. He also finds consolation in the thought that even intellectual greatness is ephemeral; even an insignificant pebble will outlast the most revered works of Shakespeare.

Chapter VII

The chapter opens as a continuation of the focus on Mr. Ramsay, with James's thoughts of hatred for him. James hates his "exactingness," his egotism, and his demands for sympathy and need to be reassured of his genius--interfering with James's relationship with Mrs. Ramsay. From James's point of view, Mrs. Ramsay has all of the energy and life, and Mr. Ramsay takes it from her. She protects and surrounds those whom she loves, living for them and leaving nothing of herself by which she can even know herself anymore. In fact, Mrs. Ramsay never wants to feel finer than Mr. Ramsay; she wants always to feel subservient, and she allows him to be more important than she is although he depends upon her.

Mr. Carmichael suddenly passes by as she considers the frailty of human relations; he casts a shadow over the page of the book that she is reading to James. For a reason unclear even to Mrs. Ramsay, she calls out to him to ask if he is going indoors.

Analysis

The major adult characters in To the Lighthouse each have unique ways of creating a sense of stability and permanence admist the chaos and ephemerality of life. In contrast to Mrs. Ramsay's search for stability in the realms of emotion and domesticity, Mr. Ramsey finds stability in the rational domain of philosophical thought. This is the domain in which he also seeks to make a contribution that will transcend his lifetime, providing him with a sense of eternal relevance, though he recognizes the improbability of this aim, knowing that "he would never reach R."

Mr. Ramsay glorifies the idea of the genius and the idea of an individual, like himself, devoting his life to the discovery of truly significant and enduring ideas. Despite the fact that he grasps this notion as his real chance to create something permanent in his lifetime, he cannot deny the fact that he will most likely never achieve this goal. What is more, he acknowledges the meaninglessness and impermanence of any significant contribution to human culture, through his revelation that "The very stone that one kicks with one's boot will outlast Shakespeare." Mr. Ramsay surely understands the ultimate impossibility of permanence in this world, yet he is unable to free himself from this desire to make a lasting impression on it.

He repeatedly mutters the words, "Someone had blundered," which is a line from a poem by Alfred Lord Tennyson called "The Charge of the Light Brigade." The poem itself recalls a disastrous battle during the Crimean War in which Britain lost many men and jeopardized its forward defenses. In its popular interpretation, the poem is a tribute to heroism and courage in the face of crushing defeat, and thus it bears acute significance for Mr. Ramsay's plight. As he confronts his imminent failure, he searches for ways to glorify the heroic effort instead of the success--after all, philosophers seek but do not achieve wisdom--and he longs for the level of respect and admiration after his death that was granted to the soldiers who lost their own lives fighting valiantly. His preoccupation with glory and his persistence, though seemingly indications of his strength, are actually manifestations of his insecurity and neediness.

In additon to further character development, these chapters also continue the patterns established in the novel's opening by remaining loyal to the idea of reality as subjective. Chapter V incorporates a collection of views about Mrs. Ramsay's beauty, suggesting that as a person, she is truly the sum of all of the different perspectives about her. Also, the text further subordinates action in the external world to the processes of the mind. Dialogue and events are often presented merely parenthetically, as insignificant ornaments for a text dominated by descriptions of thoughts and feelings. The novel asserts that life and reality, in essence, are defined by and created out of people's intimate internal existence.

Chapter VIII

Augustus Carmichael is an unhappy opium user who visits the Ramsays' house each year as an escape. He does not trust Mrs. Ramsay. Though she goes out of her way to be friendly to him, he does not respond, and Mrs. Ramsay knows that this is because of his wife, who is "odious" and controlling, causing Mr. Carmichael to shrink from Mrs. Ramsay. This rejection causes Mrs. Ramsay emotional injury, for it forces her to consider that all of her generous impulses are only an indication of her self-satisfying vanity. It makes her "aware of the pettiness of some part of her," as well as of the self-serving aspect of human relationships.

Mrs. Ramsay turns her thoughts back to James, her most sensitive child, and decides that she should continue reading the story to him. As she reads, her thoughts wander to her husband, who has stopped (as usual) at the hedge in front of the house.

As Mr. Ramsay looks through the window at his wife and son, the narrative shifts to his speculation on an article in the Times about the Americans who visit William Shakespeare's house every year. He reflects on greatness and progress, and he tries to imagine how different the world would have been without Shakespeare. In order to assuage his own sense of failure, he wants to believe that "the world exists for the average human being; that the arts are merely a decoration imposed on the top of human life; they do not express it: Nor is Shakespeare necessary to it." He tries to disparage greatness and exalt the ordinary man in order to protect his own pride in the event that he never achieves the success that he wants.

As he ponders, Mr. Ramsay takes his habitual walk, pausing to stand alone on a piece of land being eroded by the sea and thinking that this erosion to nonexistence is also his own fate. He believes that it is his fate to confront the ephemerality and superfluity of human existence, and it is his very tendency to acknowledge his own insignificance that inspires reverence in others. However, as he looks at Mrs. Ramsay, he deprecates his own sense of domestic comfort, feeling personally unjustified and nonsensical in his method of finding happiness in a world of misery. Lily Briscoe and William Bankes, however, see Mr. Ramsay's self-deprecation as the disguise of a man afraid to confront his own feelings, though Lily admits that the shift from Mr. Ramsay's thoughts to the preoccupations of the domestic world must be great. Mr. Ramsay looks at the sea and turns away.

Chapter IX

Mr. Bankes regrets that Mr. Ramsay behaves so unusually. For her part, though Lily Briscoe does not mind his self-importance, she is bothered by his narrowness of mind. The two friends watch Mr. Ramsay, and Mr. Bankes tries to extract Lily's agreement that Mr. Ramsay is "a bit of a hypocrite," but as he advances towards them, Lily feels that he is sincere and true, and she reflects upon the flood of love that she feels for the Ramsays.

Just as Lily is about to offer a criticism of Mrs. Ramsay to balance the criticism of her husband, she turns to Mr. Bankes and sees a youthful and powerful love in his eyes as he watches Mrs. Ramsay through the window. This rapture makes Lily forget what she was going to say, and she feels eased and grateful for such depth of emotion.

Lily then looks back at her painting and becomes upset, feeling that her own work is "infinitely bad," and she considers how she might have painted it differently. As she focuses her thoughts again on Mrs. Ramsay's loveliness, she muses that women are less capable of worship than men are. She thinks of how Mrs. Ramsay has tried to convince her that "an unmarried woman has missed the best of life," but Lily does not want to marry, for she enjoys her solitude and her work.

Lily now recollects a time when she sat on the floor with her arms around Mrs. Ramsay's knees, feeling that Mrs. Ramsay had some sacred knowledge about the world. In that moment, Lily longed for unity with Mrs. Ramsay, convinced that intimacy was indeed knowledge. She feels a new sense of intimacy with Mr. Bakes when he turns his gaze on Lily's painting, though she has to remind herself that she must let someone see it. When Mr. Bankes asks her what she has intended to portray with the triangular purple shape, Lily replies that it is a depiction of Mrs. Ramsay reading to James.

Chapter X

Mrs. Ramsay's daughter Cam dashes past Mr. Ramsay and Lily's painting, and she does not stop running until Mrs. Ramsay calls her name for the second time. Her mother sends her to ask Mildred (the family's domestic assistant) whether or not Andrew, Minta Doyle, and Paul Rayley have returned yet. When Cam returns to tell her that they have not returned, Mrs. Ramsay suspects that Paul has proposed and Minta has accepted. James tugs at Mrs. Ramsay to ask that she continue reading.

As she reads, Mrs. Ramsay thinks about having urged Paul and Minta, after lunch, to take a walk together. She considers that it would be unacceptable for Minta to be out with Paul for so long if they were not engaged, and she thinks about Minta's parents, who are far different from their tomboyish daughter. Minta's mother, among others, had accused Mrs. Ramsay of being domineering and of robbing them of Minta's affections, but Mrs. Ramsay thinks the charges are untrue.

Mrs. Ramsay thinks of James and Cam, lamenting the fact that they must grow up. Though she believes that all of her children are gifted, she is most impressed with James, and she is sure that he will never be this happy again. Mr. Ramsay thinks that it is nonsensical to take such a "gloomy" view of life, and Mrs. Ramsay believes that despite his gloom and desperation, Mr. Ramsay is truly happier and more hopeful than she is. She feels that she is in a constant battle with life, which looms terrible before her.

Though Mrs. Ramsay persuades people to marry and have children, she recognizes that she might have made these same choices too early. She wonders whether she and Mr. Ramsay share the unnamed element essential to marriage.

As it grows later and darker, Mrs. Ramsay becomes anxious that Andrew, Minta, and Paul have not returned. She looks at James and then at the three strokes of the Lighthouse as it is being lit, two short and one long. Mildred enters to take James to bed before he has a chance to ask about going to the Lighthouse again, but Mrs. Ramsay can see that he is thinking about it, and she suspects that he will remember this disappointment for the rest of his life.

Analysis

This section of the novel begins a discourse on art that will continue through to the end. Woolf explicitly offers Lily Briscoe's somewhat rough and vague artistic philosophy as the painter stands before her canvas, unable to formulate or enact her vision. Looking at the various objects in her visual field ("hedges and houses and mothers and children"), she is at a loss about how to connect them. Her painting must be mainly about unity, about the drawing together of disparate elements to create a unified and cohesive work.

The art of unity and cohesion is a theme that resonates throughout the text and is strengthened in later chapters with Mrs. Ramsay's (and even Mr. Ramsay's) attempts at drawing together the people and moments that are separated from one another. Coherence (of people, paintings, and moments) is an issue of central importance throughout the novel. Mrs. Ramsay is principally concerned with the merging of people, as she demonstrates in the dinner scene. She hates the fact that her children notice people's differences and distinctions, while she wants only to focus on points of connection and coherence. In this way, Mrs. Ramsay is an artist of the social realm. Mr. Ramsay, though highly intellectual by nature and concerned with distinctions and categorizations (his physical domain, after all, is by the hedge, which is a symbol of divison and distinction), is also ultimately concerned with merging and coherence. To make a lasting contribution is to bring a common element to all the time periods where the contribution is appreciated. Later, wanting to reconnect to his dead wife and her living wishes, he will draw past and present moments together by finally enacting the Lighthouse trip.

These chapters also solidify some latent feminist themes that persist throughout the novel. Though Mrs. Ramsay is a fairly typical feminine wife-mother, the novel abounds with women who do not behave conventionally and who demand a level of control and independence that would have been seen, at the time, as quite masculine. Despite Mrs. Ramsay's pleadings and warnings, Lily refuses to marry. Like Mr. Ramsay, she is committed to her work and longs for recognition. She is an independent and solitary figure who remains unmarried by choice and not by necessity, which stands in direct contradiction to the social norms in Britain at the time (as verbalized by Mrs. Ramsay). When Charles Tansley, a more exreme upholder of misogynist views, tells Lily that women can neither write nor paint, Lily resists the pressure to shrink under his offensive reprimands.

Even so, Lily is not entirely free from the pressure to fulfill conventional expectations about her gender role, for she often feels guilt or that she has failed when she does not meet these expectations. Later, she will not be able to offer Mr. Ramsay the sympathy that he so desperately wants, which will lead her to feel ineffective as a woman.

Mrs. Ramsay's four daughters, Prue, Rose, Nancy, and Cam, also rebel against the traditional female model. For Prue and Rose, the rebellion is mainly silent. Though they behave as others expect of them, they secretly long for a very different existence than the one that their mother leads. They are uninterested in being entirely consumed by fulfilling the role of wife-mother. For Nancy and Cam, the rebellion is somewhat more evident. Nancy is to reveal her independence during her walk with Paul and Minta. At the end of the novel, she will reveal that she is not a domestic woman when she forgets to order sandwiches for the expedition to the Lighthouse. Cam is seen devilishly darting across the lawn, ignoring the stereotypical female characteristics of being soft, quiet, and obedient. She does not comply with Mrs. Ramsay's first request for her to return, and she puts up great resistance against her father at the end of the novel.

Minta is also an independent woman with stereotypically male characteristics. Mrs. Ramsay remembers that Minta used to walk around with a hole in her stocking and marvels at how different she is from her parents. She describes Minta as a "tomboy." Even Mrs. Ramsay herself, despite her seemingly complete contentment with her feminine role and her encouragement to others to marry early, sometimes wonders if she made a mistake by choosing this path so quickly. She wonders if other women should postpone such important choices.

Chapter X directly addresses the phenomenon of consciousness, demonstrating (and even explicitly commenting upon) Mrs. Ramsay's capacity to read to James and, simultaneously, to be engaged in a constant stream of thought and speculation. The novel captures the idea of layered consciousness and explores the ways in which thought occurs at different levels.

Chapter XI

Mrs. Ramsay muses that, because children have an exceptional memory, one must always be cautious about what one does in front of them, and now Mrs. Ramsay is glad to have some time alone. She draws a parallel between a solitary person and a "wedge-shaped core of darkness"--an image that is reminiscent of the purple triangle in Lily's painting that represents Mrs. Ramsay--in that, because it is invisible to others, it is limitless. It is only this invisible self, she believes, that finds peace and stability, representing a triumph over the force of life that she battles. As she stares out the window, she feels united with the long, steady third stroke of the Lighthouse. She reflects on the idea that people, when they are alone, attach themselves to inanimate objects and feel that the object both expresses and is the person viewing it. She finds herself thinking and taking comfort in the Lord and is immediately frustrated with herself because she does not believe in God, reason, order or justice and sees this thought as a silly indulgence.

Mr. Ramsay passes by his wife on the way over to the hedge and is disheartened by her aloof expression of sadness. As Mrs. Ramsay continues to stare at the light, she thinks of all the happiness that she has had and decides that "It is enough!" Though Mr. Ramsay finds her beautiful and is hurt by her distance, he resolves not to disturb her. However, as he passes by her again she senses that, though he would never ask it of her, he wants to be able to protect her, and she offers a gesture of love and generosity by calling to him.

Chapter XII

Mrs. Ramsay takes her husband's arm and they walk together, though she is unable to tell him about the fifty-pound cost of work to be done to the greenhouse. Instead she talks about Jasper shooting birds, about Charles Tansley, and about the flowers in the garden. They discuss their children. Mrs. Ramsay talks of Prue's blossoming beauty, and Mr. Ramsay expresses his hope that Andrew will work hard enough to receive a scholarship. Finally, Mr. Ramsay summons the courage to tell his wife that he does not like to see her looking as sad as she did earlier, and they both become uncomfortable when she is upset by the realization that he watched her thinking.

Mr. Ramsay reflects wistfully on the days of his youth, when he could walk by himself all day long, spending all of his hours thinking and working. He reprimands himself, however, for thinking this way, reminding himself that having eight children is indeed an accomplishment. Though they begin to argue, Mr. Ramsay kisses Mrs. Ramsay's hand with great affection and intensity, bringing tears to her eyes and revealing the depth of feeling that they share.

As they walk back to the house, she thinks that though he is blind to many of the ordinary pleasures of life, he has a clear vision of the extraordinary things, and she feels that a mind like his must necessarily be different from the minds of most people. She looks at the first evening star with a surge of joy, wanting to show it to him but knowing that "He never looked at things." She sees Lily and Mr. Bankes walking together and decides, with excitement, that they should marry each other.

Chapter XIII

Lily Briscoe and William Bankes discuss which European countries and museums they have visited. Lily suggests that it is preferable not to see the pictures of others because "they only made one hopelessly discontented with one's own work." Mr. Bankes points out that the greatness of some would not be possible without the humbleness of many as a contrast. Lily has an impulse to compliment him, but she restrains herself, realizing that unlike most other people he does not want flattery.

They see Mr. and Mrs. Ramsay watching Prue and Jasper playing catch, and Lily decides that marriage is just this: "a man and a woman looking at a girl throwing a ball." This moment impresses Lily as a pure symbol of marriage, though this dramatic viewing renders each member of the Ramsay family hard-edged and separate. When Mr. Ramsay speaks, a spell seems to be broken, and Mr. Ramsay retreats to his study. Mrs. Ramsay asks if Nancy has been on the walk with Paul and Minta.

Chapter XIV

This chapter is a flashback from the perspective of the objective narrator, who answers Mrs. Ramsay's question (to the reader) by describing Nancy's setting off with Paul, Minta, and Andrew on their walk to the beach. Minta has a powerful effect on Nancy, who feels elated whenever Minta takes her hand and downtrodden whenever Minta drops her hand.

At the beach, they separate, and Nancy and Andrew are both conscious of allowing the couple to be alone. Nancy wades out to small pools of water, looking over at the horizon and ruminating on the simultaneous vastness and smalleness of things. Running onto the shore to avoid the incoming tide, she takes refuge behind a rock only to find Paul and Minta kissing, and she is outraged.

As the party climbs up the cliff, Minta realizes with a start that she lost her grandmother's brooch. She is severely distraught, and they all return to the beach in search of it. Because the tide is too high, they decide to return later when they might be able to find it. Paul and Minta walk ahead, and he tries to comfort her by explaining that he is famous for finding things. He silently resolves to leave the house at dawn to find the brooch and, if unsuccessful, to buy her another from Edinburgh. As they approach the house and Paul sees that the windows are lit, he knows that they are ready for dinner and his eyes "feel full."

Analysis

Mrs. Ramsay feels certain that every experience is truly transient, yet she remains compelled to connect herself with symbols of permanence. She reflects on this tension as she sits at the window knitting (also a manifestation of her desire to weave and stick everything together into a cohesive whole) and staring at the Lighthouse. For Mrs. Ramsay, the steady stroke of the Lighthouse represents stability and permanence. For this reason, she connects herself to it, unites herself with it, in hopes of gaining a similar sense of connection to the present and to eternity. Mesmerized, Mrs. Ramsay figuratively attaches herself to and becomes the light, assimilating her own existence into this radiating energy and thereby asserting its creative force. Ironically, although this light is steady and enduring, it is also broken into pulses, which undermines its supposed stability. In addition, she refers to the inanimate things to which she unites herself in order to share in their permanence, yet none of these things is actually inanimate or permanent. Trees, streams, and flowers are all objects or systems that change or die. Once again, these tensions undermine Mrs. Ramsay's gesture of unity with symbols of endurance, and therefore the novel suggests the futility of her attempts.

Even the rhythm of Mrs. Ramsay's thoughts changes to mimic the rhythm of the pulsating light, capturing the three-stroke pattern in her thought structure. As she looks up to "meet the stroke of the Lighthouse," her thoughts proceed in three subsequent phrases of almost equal length, ending with "the long steady stroke, the last of the three, which was her stroke." In additionn the repetition of the phrase "sitting and looking" embodies the rhythmic pulses of light, indicating not only that Mrs. Ramsay senses a deep personal connection with the light, but also that she is inhabited by its energy and rhythm. It becomes her life force, reaching her from the Lighthouse at a great distance.

Mrs. Ramsay's vision of the essence of the individual as a "wedge-shaped core of darkness" is interesting in its resonance with Lily's abstract depiction of Mrs. Ramsay as a purple triangle in her painting. This image potentially reveals some of Mrs. Ramsay's underlying feelings about human relations and their frailty, for though she tries to draw people together, a wedge is an emblem of separation. Instead of finding peace and stability in the idea of social communion, she suggests that true stability can only be reached by this invisible core self, which is entirely private and removed from the reflections and influence of others. In this very perrsonal moment, Mrs. Ramsay's stream of consciousness reveals a fundamental dissonance with her most prominent values, and its complexity adds depth to her character.

In Chapter XIII, Lily's work emerges as the novel's expression of the unique power of an artist (a characterization of Lily and her work that the final chapter will complete). Though Mr. Ramsay struggles to gain control and immortality through his intellectual endeavors, he is unable to attain this level of success. Lily, however, makes obvious the almost magical ability of an artist to come close to attaining this goal by creating a product of universal significance. As she sees Mr. and Mrs. Ramsay watching Jasper and Prue playing catch, she views them through an artist's lens and, in the space of a few moments, envisions them as symbols: of husband and wife, of marriage. She makes these individuals abstract representations of one of the most significant social relationships, and in so doing, she hints at her intense powers of creation.

Chapter XIV is a flashback entirely enclosed within parentheses. At the end of Chapter XIII, Mrs. Ramsay asks if Nancy has followed Paul and Minta on their walk, and this question is followed by the narrator's descripton of Nancy's decision to accompany them, as well as a description of their walk. This section is taken out of real time--exploring the subjectivity of time and experience--and out of the context of the progressing narrative. In fact, Chapter XV will be a jolt back into the present, when Prue responds directly to her mother's question.

Chapters XV-XVI

Prue responds to Mrs. Ramsay's question from the end of chapter XIII, saying that she thinks that Nancy did go with Minta and Paul on their walk.

Mrs. Ramsay considers that Paul is less likely to have proposed with Nancy present. Suddenly, Jasper and Rose enter the room, relaying Mildred's question about postponing dinner until all of the guests have returned, and Mrs. Ramsay declines to do so. She is irritated by the tardiness of the four who set out on their walk, feeling that this is a special occasion on account of Mr. Bankes's final willingness to attend.

Mrs. Ramsay charges the children with the task of choosing her necklace, knowing that Rose particularly appreciates this privilege. Mrs. Ramsay once again thinks of her children growing up, and she is saddened by the prediction that Rose will grow and suffer.

As Mrs. Ramsay watches the birds through the window and broaches the topic of Jasper shooting them, Jasper feels rebuked. He then feels ignored as Mrs. Ramsay turns her attention to a noise in the hall indicating that the four tardy adventurers have returned.

Mrs. Ramsay walks downstairs, accepting her guests' quiet "tribute to her beauty" as though she were a queen, and she wonders if Paul has proposed. The clamor of a gong announces dinner.

Chapter XVII

Sitting at the head of the table, Mrs. Ramsay instructs her guests where to sit, indicating that Mr. Bankes should sit beside her. She notices Mr. Ramsay at the other end of the table, frowning, but she feels indifferent to him at the moment, feeling that it had all "come to an end." She silently laments that the room is shabby and that "nothing seemed to have merged," knowing that "the whole of the effort of flowing and creating rested on her." This thought brings her to action. She makes small talk with Mr. Bankes, feeling a sense of pity for him that Lily Briscoe detects. Lily remains removed from the conversation, thinking of her painting and deciding that she will fix it tomorrow by moving the tree more toward the middle.

Mr. Tansley is disgusted by the "rot" they all talk. He avoids participating in the conversation and considers that the silliness of women makes civilization "impossible." He asserts himself toward Mrs. Ramsay by reiterating that they will not go to the Lighthouse the next day.

Lily questions her concern for Mr. Tansley's chauvinistic opinions about women, and when she addresses him, Mr. Tansley is well aware of the fact that she is doing so only to annoy him, because it is clear to him that she (with all of them) despises him. Mr. Tansley wishes to be alone in his room, working, but he also wants to prove to Mrs. Ramsay that he is not a "dry prig." However, when he turns to speak to her, Mrs. Ramsay is already talking with William Bankes about an old friend, Carrie Manning, with whom she has lost touch. Mr. Bankes tells her that "people soon drift apart," and he reflects on his own frustration at his feeling of obligation to attend this dinner on account of his friendship with Mrs. Ramsay although he has nothing to say to her and would rather be working. He and Mrs. Ramsay make small talk as a way of imposing order and uniformity on the situation, and Mr. Tansley notices its insincerity, feeling that it is all nonsense and longing to assert himself again.

They speak of going to the Lighthouse, and Mr. Tansley feels resentful that none of them recognizes his significance. Noticing Mrs. Ramsay's desperation about how the members of the party are getting along, Lily decides to help her by being nice to Mr. Tansley, asking him to take her to the Lighthouse. Feeling that she has made a sizable sacrifice by being insincere, Lily thinks of the weakness of human relations. Her spirits are raised only by the thought of moving the tree to the middle of her painting.

Mrs. Ramsay thinks back twenty years to her friendship with the Mannings, while she realizes that Mr. Bankes no longer wants to talk about them. Mr. Bankes, Lily, and Mrs. Ramsay feel that something is lacking in the party. Indeed each person at the table fears that he or she is the only one who is not interested in the conversation. Wishing that her husband would say something, Mrs. Ramsay looks over at Mr. Ramsay, who is scowling at Augustus Carmichael's request for more soup. Mr. and Mrs. Ramsay shoot knowing glances across the table, having a silent argument about the disgracefulness or harmlessness of asking for more soup. She respects Mr. Carmichael for doing what he wishes, even given that he does not like her.

Mrs. Ramsay asks Rose and Roger to light the candles. Mrs. Ramsay and Mr. Carmichael are fixated on the dish of fruit at the center of the table, and Mrs. Ramsay feels that this unites them. She also imagines that the candlelight unites them all against the wavering, watery, ethereal world outside.

Minta and Paul arrive, explaining that they were held up by the lost brooch. Mrs. Ramsay decides that he must have proposed and is suddenly jealous of Minta's glowing attractiveness. Mrs. Ramsay directs Paul to sit by her, hoping that he will fill her in. When he uses the word "we" with a sense of meaning, she knows that he has proposed.

As Lily asks Paul about the lost brooch, she has an impulse to help him find it and to be included in their life, but she knows that he is indifferent to her help. She is divided between feeling that love is a beautiful, exciting thing, and conversely that it is the "stupidest, most barbaric of human passions." Appropriately, Mrs. Ramsay, at this moment, is trying to devise a plan to match Lily with Mr. Bankes.

Mrs. Ramsay finally feels a sense of eternity and coherence, which causes her immense joy, peace, and a feeling of stillness. She feels as though she is hanging suspended over the party as the men discuss novels, easily unveiling their thoughts and feelings while she observes them. She continues to watch over the fruit bowl as well, deriving a sense of serenity from the arrangement. She is therefore disturbed when someone takes a piece of fruit. She looks over at her children, who remain removed from the party and seem to be amused by a joke of their own.

At the other end of the table, Mr. Ramsay is telling a story and reciting a poem, and as Mrs. Ramsay looks out the window, she hears only their laughter and voice inflections. When the story is over, she stands and sees her guests out of the dining room, watching as the scene becomes "already the past."

Analysis

As a woman very concerned with creating a warm and domestic atmosphere, Mrs. Ramsay attempts to create unity among the family and guests who are visiting the summer home. She desperately wants to create lasting and beautiful moments among her guests at the dinner table, but she is forced to recognize the ultimate brevity of this experience even if merging occurs. She despairs at the state of disunity at the beginning of dinner: "Nothing seemed to have merged. They all sat separate. And the whole of the effort of merging and flowing and creating rested on her." She wants to eliminate any distance or separations of consciousness between the people at the table, and she feels fully responsible for the creation of something meaningful.

Mrs. Ramsay's goal is finally achieved after she and Augustus Carmichael unite by looking together at the basket of fruit on the table. In this moment, Mrs. Ramsay's vision of unity seems fulfilled, and she revels in the abstract nearness of the people at the meal. She even compares this unified and stable image to the wavering, unsteady, and quickly changing world outside of the window. This comparison serves as an indication that her sense of impermanence in the moment is, in fact, misguided; the dinner will end and the outside environment will continue on as usual. She fully realizes this tension as her guests are leaving; she watches as the scene becomes "already the past." She is no longer able to indulge in the sense of beauty and transcendence by which she earlier had been overcome. She allows herself to confront the fact that the experiences that comprise her conscious reality move so quickly into the past that they almost cease to exist in the present. While Mrs. Ramsay believes in the inescapably ephemeral nature of reality, she is unable to fully release herself from the need to find permanence in her creations of beauty and unity.

Thus, her ability to draw people together in a moment of complete unity is not something permanent; it is Mrs. Ramsay's power of art, as Lily later realizes. If art, as Lily defines it, is about coherence and the joining of disparate elements, Mrs. Ramsay is indeed a masterful artist. Her joy when this moment is finally achieved is a resolution of her disappointment and anxiety at the beginning of the dinner, when coherence was utterly lacking. Though she recognizes, at the end of the meal, that even these most meaningful moments are fleeting, she later finds comfort in the idea that the meal will be remembered by all of her guests and, in that way, she has created a lasting if not permanent work of art.

The dinner scene also draws a parallel between Lily Briscoe and Mrs. Ramsay, for they both reveal their highest powers of human comprehension. Through the narratives of their streams of consciousness during the dinner, the reader becomes aware of how quickly and thoroughly these women are able to comprehend the unspoken thoughts and feelings of those around them. They both are extremely perceptive of the mental lives of others.

Chapter XVIII

As soon as Mrs. Ramsay dismisses herself from the party, Lily senses that "a sort of disintegration set in"--all of the others start going their separate ways. The subject of conversation reverts from poetry to politics.

Mrs. Ramsay walks upstairs, wanting a moment to herself after all of the dinner chatter. She wants to extract one thing from the dinner, perhaps the very essence of this gathering of people, to separate from the rest of her collection of memories, and she looks out the window at the branches of an elm tree to gain an impression of stillness, order, and stability. She feels as though the world is changing and, like the stroke of the Lighthouse, she uses the elm tree to ground herself in a feeling of constancy. She then finds the one thought of the dinner party, as fleeting as the party was, that provides the sense of stability she was looking for: she knows that the guests, for the rest of their lives, will have this memory of the party--Paul and Minta will revive their memory of the special evening even after Mrs. Ramsay has died. In this way, the party has a life extending far beyond its immediate and passing existence, and this comforts Mrs. Ramsay.

She enters the children's room, annoyed that Cam and James are still awake. Cam cannot fall asleep because she is frightened by a pig skull on the wall that James insists on keeping in the bedroom. Mrs. Ramsay covers the skull with her own shawl and lays in bed with Cam, speaking rhythmically to her of beautiful and comforting things until she falls asleep. She then walks over to James's bed, assuring him that the skull is still there. He asks her if they will go to the Lighthouse tomorrow, and she answers that they will go soon, on the next nice day. She is upset even with herself for raising his hopes, probably just for those hopes to be crushed by Mr. Ramsay and Charles Tansley.

As she walks to the stairs, she engages in an inner dialogue about her mixed feelings for Charles Tansley. When Mrs. Ramsay arrives at the top of the stairs, Prue looks up at her, proudly and reverently thinking, "That's my mother." Prue tells her that they will go down to the beach to watch the waves, and Mrs. Ramsay is suddenly filled with gaiety. Though she wants to accompany them, she feels a strong and undefinable need to stay at home. She goes into the other room, where Mr. Ramsay is reading.

Chapter XIX

Mrs. Ramsay has the sense of having entered the room for something that she wants, but she does not know what. She notices that her husband does not want to be disturbed. He is engrossed in a book by Sir Walter Scott (whom Charles Tansley had discussed over dinner, saying that no one read him anymore), obvously moved by it and rapidly flipping the pages. She knows that Mr. Ramsay is troubled by the idea that no one will read his own books, and this troubles her in turn. She resumes her knitting of the stocking.

Mrs. Ramsay thinks to herself that fame does not matter, and she once again feels that she has come here for something, not knowing what that thing is. She remembers the lines of a poem recited at dinner ("And all the lives we ever lived / And all the lives to be, / Are full of trees and changing leaves." She picks up a book, reading from different pages at random. She is roused by the sound of her husband slapping his thigh, and they look up at each other, silently communicating.

Mr. Ramsay, utterly engaged with the story, suddenly forgets his own failures and his quest for personal greatness. He is moved to tears by the death and sorrow of the characters. Stifling a desire to complain to his wife that young men did not admire him, he feels determined not to bother her and notices how peaceful she looks as she is reading. He reprimands himself for this feeling of domestic comfort and returns to his book.

As Mrs. Ramsay reads, she senses that Mr. Ramsay is watching her. He is glad that she no longer looks sad, and he is astonished by her beauty--but he doubts that she comprehends what she is reading.

Mrs. Ramsay finishes reading, and they begin a sparse conversation about Paul and Minta's engagement. During the moments of silence, Mrs. Ramsay wishes that her husband would say something, though she does sense their growing intimacy. He tells her that she will not finish the stocking tonight, and she agrees. In silence again, she realizes that he wants her to tell him that she loves him, but this is something that she finds herself unable to say. She stands and looks out the window, feeling that he is watching her and finding her beautiful. She turns to him and smiles, knowing that, although she has said nothing, he knows that she loves him. She tells him that he was right--it will be too wet tomorrow for a trip to the Lighthouse--and she knows that he can feel her love.

Analysis

Mrs. Ramsay's reliance on the tree outside the window (standing tall like the Lighthouse, but much closer) to offer her a sense of stability and order is immediately reminiscent of the tree in Lily's painting, which has been an object of thought throughout the dinner. For Lily, this tree also represents order and stability. By moving it to the middle, she will create a composition of unity and balance, and this composition will be more likely to endure. She will combine all of the elements into a coherent picture, and her ability to do this expresses her artist's sense of control and order. This connection between Lily and Mrs. Ramsay, both looking to trees as representations of stability, is particularly important in light of the novel's conclusion, when it seems that only Lily's ability to fulfill her artistic vision from ten years earlier can save the Ramsays. Lily's later completion of the painting is evidence that something from the night of the dinner party has staying power, just as Mrs. Ramsay had wished, even if that permanence exists only through memory and artistic representation.

The symbolic power of the tree gains further resonance through Mrs. Ramsay's recitation of lines from Charles Elton's poem, "Luriana Lurilee"--"And all the lives we ever lived / And all the lives to be, / Are full of trees and changing leaves." Trees (like water and like nature in general) dichotomously represent both stability and change. Though the deciduous tree itself remains fixed, the leaves on its branches annually repeat the life-death cycle.

Water, too, is a common symbol of the tension between constancy and change. Mrs. Ramsay is comforted by the water's rhythmic lapping against the shore, yet it is also the force that causes the erosion of land over time. Its constancy gives it the power to cause decay. The dual representative purpose of the tree and of water indicates, more generally, that the Ramsays cannot escape the realities of human existence, where the greatest moments last only as long as memory keeps them.

The boar skull in the nursery, in particular the fact that Mrs. Ramsay covers it with her shawl, provides deep and immediate symbolism as this section of the novel nears its conclusion. "The Window" is in large part about the characters' fear of the passage of time and the disappointment, suffering, and destruction that naturally accompany the process of aging. The skull is a clear symbol of the decay of time. The animal from which it came is now nothing more than a skull hanging in the children's room, without meaning or purpose. Its placement in the nursery is significant given Mrs. Ramsay's preoccupation with wanting her children to stay young and to avoid all of the suffering of age and experience. This skull, which so frightens Cam, represents the inevitable end of life and meaning. The animal itself is not remembered through the skull anymore, and Mrs. Ramsay cloaks the skull and its awful significance with her own protective clothing.

When Mrs. Ramsay covers it with her shawl, it parallels her attempts to soothe her children with her warmth and beauty. Just as she tries to shield them from harsh reality (the fact James will not go to the Lighthouse, for instance), she tries to shield them from this grotesquely realistic image. Even so, as she tells James, the skull still hangs beneath the shawl; she can hide it, but she cannot fully erase its looming presence, since the skull still takes up its share of space in the room and in their lives. Later, in the "Time Passes" interlude, the shawl slowly unravels from the skull as the ravages of time take over, with no one to resist or hide the decay. As the house is taken over by natural life processes such as overgrowth and decay, the skull as symbol of death and disintegration is slowly exposed.

The silent communication that occurs between Mr. and Mrs. Ramsay throughout the book (and at the end of Chapter XIX, in particular) is perhaps the most compelling expression in the novel of the fluidity of consciousness. The married couple seem to ask and answer one another's silent questions without any conscious effort. It is fitting that Mrs. Ramsay should retreat into her self as a silent and invisible wedge-shaped darkness, not able to express or openly reveal her feelings, during these times of deepest expression.

Chapter I

Mr. Bankes, Andrew, Paul, Minta, Prue, and Lily return from their walk on the beach and then retire to their rooms. All of the lamps are slowly extinguished except that of Mr. Carmichael, who customarily lies awake reading Virgil.

Chapter II

Once everyone is asleep and all the lamps are put out, an "immense darkness" envelops the house, seeming to swallow and obliterate everything in it. Everything becomes indistinguishable and entirely still except for a breeze, the "certain airs" that enter the house. The breeze seems to ask each thing in the house how long it will endure. The airs, directed by "some random light" perhaps emanating from the Lighthouse, now enter the bedrooms and cease, for the bedrooms and the people in them are steadfast and the airs have no need to question when they will "perish and disappear." The airs then move through the rest of the house and then cease again, slamming a door in the kitchen with a final sigh. At this moment, at midnight, Mr. Carmichael blows out his candle.

Chapter III

The days pass, and autumn (with its threat of winter) arrives as night "succeeds to night," lengthening and darkening. Through all of the foreboding and life-crushing darkness, the yellow moonlight provides a mellowing influence and keeps the waves lapping against the shore without fail. It seems that "divine goodness" looks upon the house and its characters--but it is not pleased, and it closes the curtain again, confusing them and making it seem that their calm will never return.

An era of desolation and erosion follows. The world seems out of order and full of confusion. It becomes useless to ask the night "as to what, and why, and wherefore."

One dark morning, Mr. Ramsay stumbles along a passage with his arms outstretched for Mrs. Ramsay--but she had suddenly died the night before.

Chapters IV-V

The narrator indicates that time has passed by declaring that the Ramsays' house is now empty "and the doors locked and the mattresses rolled round." The "stray airs" that entered the house in Chapter II of this section appear again, meeting no resistance from anyone. They bluster around the house, its belongings now aged and unused, revealing that there was life in the house's past. The light from the Lighthouse still enters through the window, leaving its image on the opposite wall.

Even during this time of uninhabited desolation, something of the Ramsays pervades the house. The sea airs seem to reiterate their questions: "Will you fade"--"Will you perish"--and some force in the house answers, "We remain." The integrity of the almost entirely undisturbed silence gives the house a noble presence--until Mrs. McNab, the housekeeper, comes as directed to open the windows and dust the bedrooms.

Mrs. McNab makes her way through the house, cleaning it free of age and decay. She is world-weary and life-trodden. She hums a song that she has sung for twenty years. She feels that life is "one long sorrow and trouble," and she wonders, "how long shall it endure?" Then, some recollection brings her joy, for she grins and resumes singing her old song.

Chapter VI

Spring arrives, and Prue Ramsay (looking quite beautiful, people say) marries. But Prue dies that summer in an illness connected with childbirth.

The house continues to be overtaken by time and age, and the Lighthouse continues to shed its authoritative light on the house through the windows. It illuminates Mrs. Ramsay's shawl, which slowly unravels off the skull in the nursery. Mrs. McNab continues to enter and clean the house for a time, until complete silence falls again, disturbed only by the occasional sense that something is falling.

Andrew Ramsay dies instantaneously in France while fighting in World War I. The war revives people's interest in poetry, and as a result, a volume published by Mr. Carmichael has unexpected success.

Chapters VII-VIII

Time wears on with no one to witness it at the Ramsay home. The chaos of storms and lightning batter the house. Days, nights, months, and years run "shapelessly together," bringing a sense of "brute confusion." The house remains desolate and empty.

Mrs. McNab picks a bunch of flowers from the house's garden, thinking it will do no harm since it seems that the family will never come again and the house will probably be sold. Despite her efforts at cleaning the house, its years of disuse and the difficulty of getting help during the war made it impossible for her to do as much as she would have liked. She thinks of Mrs. Ramsay, now dead, and Mrs. Ramsay's clothes, which she will never wear again. She imagines Mrs. Ramsay coming up the drive with one of the children in her grey cloak, and it is clear that Mrs. Ramsay's presence still lingers in the house. She remembers how Mrs. Ramsay used to tend to the garden and the pleasant way she had about her. Mrs. McNab surveys the work--it is too great for one old woman--and she leaves the house to its quiet solitude.

Chapter IX

The house has been deserted, left to rot and ruin, and the airs that enter the house and nibble away at it seem to be triumphant. Toads and swallows have nestled in, and the plants are overgrown. Mrs. McNab now feels powerless to prevent nature from overtaking the abandoned home. The job of reviving the house is too great for one woman. Nothing now withstands the forces of decay and destruction that replace every indication of previous life here. There is none left to watch over the house but the Lighthouse, whose beams enter and survey the rooms.

Finally the Ramsays write Mrs. McNab, telling her of their intention to return to the house for the summer. Mrs. McNab, Mrs. Bast, and Mrs. Bast's son George restore the house as best they can, groaning about the tremendous task. Mrs. McNab remembers Mr. Ramsay and his odd solitude and blindness to others. Sitting with a cup of tea, Mrs. McNab unwinds her ball of memories of the Ramsays. After days of cleaning inside the house and tending to the mess of a garden outside, the task is complete. Then Lily Briscoe arrives late one evening in September.

Chapter X

The house is full again, with Lily, Mr. Carmichael, and Mrs. Beckwith there to visit. Lily lies in bed listening to the ocean, feeling quite peaceful. Mr. Carmichael stays up late reading as he used to. He thinks, as he shuts his book, that it all looks "much as it used to look" ten years ago. In the morning, Lily awakes sitting bolt upright in bed.

Analysis

The rhythm of the novel changes drastically in this middle section. In "The Window," time is subjective and extended, with the events and thoughts occuring essentially over the course of a single day. Time there is not strictly chronological; it is dictated by the consciousness of a particular character at a particular time, and a moment can elapse in a single sentence or it can take several pages. Time is not linear in that chapters move backwards and forwards, and reality bends to fit the narrative.

In "Time Passes," however, the pace of the novel rapidly accelerates, and ten years elapse over the course of about twenty pages. Linear chronological time replaces subjective time as the consciousness of characters disappears almost entirely from the narrative, while objective reality takes over. Almost nothing of the Ramsays remains. Three family members, including Mrs. Ramsay, die unexpectedly, and the house is now frequented by a character who had been completely absent from the first section of the novel.

Death and destruction take over, just like the characters had always feared. The narrative gives a sense of great potential lost. Amdist the chaos of merciless time, however, the Lighthouse beams still enter the house.

The elusiveness of the Lighthouse is matched by its permanence and everpresence, and this characteristic is explored in the narrative of "Time Passes." In this section, since the house remains empty for ten years, the narrator has complete sovereignty over the text, except for brief interludes by Mrs. McNab. Like the Lighthouse, the narrator presides over the abandoned house. Here the function of the Lighthouse is firmly solidified; its immovable endurance becomes obvious, and it illuminates the ravages of time.

Though the stroke of the Lighthouse lays itself with "authority upon the carpet in the darkness, tracing its pattern," it still cannot exert its influence over the changing world of the Ramsays. The Lighthouse bears witness to these happenings, but it does not interfere with or inhibit them. It is incapable of withstanding or denying the effects of time or the paths of individual consciousness.

Thus the Lighthouse is neither partial nor invasive, merely drawing attention to the changes taking place and making them perceptible to the reader by illuminating them. This function of the Lighthouse again parallels a main role of the narrator in the novel. The narrator chooses to witness, comment upon, and render the story, making it perceptible to the reader, while maintaining the distance of an outside observer who does not interfere. This distance gives readers the sense that the various consciousnesses of the characters determine the shape and rhythm of the text without intervention by the narrator (or even, if we are caught up in the story, without intervention by the author). Woolf creates a reality that, from within the novel, is determined solely by subjective consciousness.

The depiction of subjective consciousness and subjective reality is further achieved in "Time Passes" through the spasmodic, bracketed announcements of the deaths of Mrs. Ramsay, Prue, and Andrew. The narrator's lack of objective, informative, or creative authority is apparent not only in the narrative's reflections and impressions of the characters, but also in these scattered accounts of distinctly factual events in the novel. For example, here is the news of Prue's death: "[Prue Ramsay died that summer in some illness connected with childbirth, which was indeed a tragedy, people said, everything, they said, had promised so well.]" The abrupt, isolated accounts read almost as news briefs or short interruptions of the narrative to convey information of which the narrator has just become aware. They are parenthetical and disruptive of the narrative rhythm, suggesting an element of surprise even for the narrator, thereby indicating that the narrator is neither omniscient nor prescient of the various elements of the plot.

In addition, this narrator does not even have complete knowledge of the events themselves; like a third-party observer, some of the knowledge is secondhand. Prue Ramsay died "in some illness connected with childbirth," but the narrator is apparently not aware of the details. Most of the information provided between brackets simply relays the impression of an unspecified "people," and this detail emphasizes the uncertainty of facts that have been garnered from an unrevealed source. Readers who prefer ominiscient, reliable narrators will be disappointed that there is no objective certainty even regarding information as factual and significant as the death of the Ramsays. The narrator is characterized as the unknowing, inactive witness and recorder of the fictional world. In this sense the pulse of the Lighthouse is like the flash of a camera, illuminating for the record but not interfering with the Ramsays' house, and illuminating the inside of the house only through selected windows.

Chapter I

Lily Briscoe sits alone at the breakfast table early in the morning, unable to understand or express her own feelings about Mrs. Ramsay's death. Today, there will be an expedition--Mr. Ramsay, Cam, and James are going to the Lighthouse, though the children are late to depart and Mr. Ramsay has lost his temper because Nancy forgot to order the sandwiches. Lily feels "cut off from other people" and like a stranger in this house, lacking attachments and relations. The world seems aimless and chaotic now that Mrs. Ramsay, Prue, and Andrew are dead, and she feels strangely numb to these changes.

When Mr. Ramsay passes by, Lily pretends to drink from her empty coffee cup to avoid his penetrating gaze. Suddenly, Lily remembers that the last time she sat at this table, ten years ago, she resolved to complete her painting by moving the tree closer to the middle. She did not, however, complete it, so she decides to finish it now. She sets up her chair and easel on the lawn in what she believes to be the exact location of her previous setup, and she suddenly knows what she wants to do with the painting.

But Mr. Ramsay's presence on the terrace paralyzes her and makes her unable to paint. She stalls, trying to avoid his gaze and his declaration--much as he had declared the night before--that she would find them "much changed." He also appears as domineering toward his children, for he essentially demanded that James and Cam go with him on this trip to the Lighthouse, and Lily feels that their spirits are being subdued.

Setting her clean canvas on the easel, she hopes to ward off Mr. Ramsay, but she finds it simply impossible to work while he is at such a close distance. He silently demands something of her that she cannot give, something that Mrs. Ramsay had given. Suddenly, she feels a surge of anger directed at Mrs. Ramsay for dying, for having left her here, and for leaving behind a feeling of emptiness. Nevertheless, she is convinced that she is, in fact, numb to Mrs. Ramsay's death, and she wonders why she tries to make herself feel emotions that are not real.

Finally, she decides that the cost of insincerity is worth placating and dismissing Mr. Ramsay, so she decides to recreate the look of rapture, sympathy, and delight that Mrs. Ramsay had demonstrated so many times. Mr. Ramsay approaches Lily, and she resolves to give him what she can.

Chapter II

Mr. Ramsay notes that Lily looks somewhat shrivelled, and he approaches her, not really conscious of his hope to evoke her sympathy. Irritated that Lily avoids direct interaction by looking at the sea and speaking of the Lighthouse, Mr. Ramsay emits a loud groan, and Lily feels guilt and self-hatred for not responding to it with the sympathy that she thinks other women would. Mr. Ramsay begins to explain the significance and difficulty of this trip to the Lighthouse, for Mrs. Ramsay used to send gifts to the men and children who lived there. He talks of how exhausting and painful such trips are, and Lily feels overwhelmed and tortured by his need for her sympathy. She becomes anxious for him and the children to take off on their expedition. She stands in silence, feeling herself an ineffectual woman for not being able to fulfill the emotional duties traditionally expected of women; she is failing to console him in his self-pity.

Grasping for something to say, she comments on his beautiful boots, and he is pleased. This restorative interaction leads them to a peaceful reconciliation. Suddenly Lily is overcome with genuine sympathy for him, but just as she is finally able to express it, Cam and James solemnly emerge from the house. Lily feels frustrated, wishing that they would provide the sympathy that she almost entirely failed to give. The three travelers proceed to the boat with the brown paper parcels, leaving Lily feeling impressed by the melancholy troupe, inferring that they are bound by some common feeling. Lily now sees Mr. Ramsay's unornamented beauty and newly appreciates his commitment to bare truth.

Chapter III

Lily is both relieved and disappointed that the three Ramsays have left. As she looks at her canvas, she sheds the "disorderly sensations" of the previous several minutes and tries to remember how she originally envisioned this painting. She has extreme difficulty actually making the first stroke, knowing that "one line placed on the canvas committed her to innumerable risks, to frequent and irrevocable decisions," but she knows it must be done, and she executes a quick stroke. She paints rthymically, stepping back to survey the brown lines. She always feels a sense of complete vulnerability before painting, "like an unborn soul."

She speculates that her work will only be hung in the servants' bedrooms or stuffed under a sofa. She feels insecure, wondering why she should paint if no one will view her work. She tells herself that she is not, in fact, capable of creating.

Suddenly, her artistic faculties take over and she begins painting almost unconsciously, without any disturbance from thoughts of the outer world. She remembers Charles Tansley's discouragement, but she feels a rising tenderness for him as she recalls a day that she spent on the beach with him and Mrs. Ramsay. Mrs. Ramsay was writing letters and watching as Lily and Mr. Tansley skipped stones across the water, getting along quite well. Lily imagines that Mrs. Ramsay was somehow responsible for this scene, as well as for Lily and Mr. Tansley's brief episode of communion. Mrs. Ramsay's simple presence stripped an individual of anger and irritation and brought people together.

This recollection refashions Lily's memory of Mr. Tansley more sympathetically, and Lily realizes that, in a sense, this refashioning represents Mrs. Ramsay's own persisting creation of a work of art. Both Lily and Mrs. Ramsay were, in their separate ways, "making of the moment something permanent." This revelation offers Lily a sense of shape and stability amidst chaos, and she feels that she owes it all to Mrs. Ramsay. Walking to the end of the lawn, she sees a boat apart from the others with its sail being hoisted. She knows that this is the Ramsays' boat, and she watches as it passes the other boats as it sails out to sea.

Analysis

In the section called "The Lighthouse," time returns to its original pace in the novel and reality is, once again, defined by the consciousness of the characters. In fact, the first and third parts of the novel seem to collapse into each other, completely obliterating the middle section. The novel has moved from subjective time to linear chronological time and back again. "The Window" ended at night, with the characters going to sleep and entering a period of darkness. Now, "The Lighthouse" opens with Lily sitting at the breakfast table, and the reader almost feels as though this could be the very next day. However, it is not the very next day--the period of darkness has lasted not for one night but for ten years--and the life of the Ramsays has been irrevocably altered, now that three members of the family, including Mrs. Ramsay, are dead.

Despite Mrs. Ramsay's physical absence, her presence remains in the house and in the memories of those who knew her best. During "Time Passes," Mrs. McNab often vividly envisioned Mrs. Ramsay walking toward the house, tending to her garden. Now, in "The Lighthouse," Lily keeps looking over at the drawing-room steps, imagining and sensing Mrs. Ramsay's seemingly permanent presence. The novel is infused with her consciousness throughout "The Window," and this final section reveals that her consciousness has persisted as a central consciousness even after her death.

Though Mrs. Ramsay's thoughts are not directly expressed anymore, her influence is apparent, especially her influence on Lily. Some essential, invisible aspect of her character is imparted through Lily, who even begins to feel a sympathy for Mr. Ramsay that she was never able to feel while Mrs. Ramsay was alive. In this way, Lily embodies some of the beloved woman's "wedge-shaped core of darkness" in its most positive construal. In a sense, this reproduction of Mrs. Ramsay's individual creative power represents the fulfillment of Mrs. Ramsay's wish for permanence and stability.

Just as Mr. Ramsay's anxiety centers around the regret that his life's work will never bring him a sense of lasting recognition, Lily Briscoe worries about the long-term status of her paintings. She is generally considered a rather mediocre artist, and her concerns that her paintings will be thrown into attics and otherwise forgotten are not unfounded. Her emotional investment in the endurance of her own work produces the same general sense of unfulfillment for Lily that their own anxieties and efforts do for the Ramsays. However, unlike the Ramsays, Lily is eventually able to abandon the desire for permanence, and she comes to embrace the uncertainty and instability of experience. Somehow, the distant sight of the Ramsays on the boat sparks a pivotal epiphany, when Lily's creative energy swells to outpouring. The process of removal from them and relinquishment of her anxiety results in the unveiling of Lily's most sympathetic feelings for the Ramsays, and these feelings inspire her vision.

Chapter IV

In the boat, Mr. Ramsay is sitting between Cam and James (who is steering), fidgeting and becoming impatient with the lack of wind to speed them along. Macalister and Macalister's boy (who is rowing) have also come along to help. Cam and James, feeling angry that their father forced them to come along on this trip, hope that the breeze will never rise. Desiring to thwart the entire expedition, they had made a silent pact "to resist tyranny to the death."

Meanwhile, Lily's reflection on Mrs. Ramsay's preoccupation with marriage produces a degree of scorn and resentment for the dead woman. Though Lily has chosen not to marry, the memory of Mrs. Ramsay's presence now compels her to second-guess her decision. But when she considers the flaws in the Ramsays' past relationship, as well as the problems facing other married couples, she suddenly feels triumphant.

Once the boat gets a little farther out into the water, the sails catch the breeze and the boat takes off. Mr. Ramsay and Macalister smoke a pipe, and Macalister recounts the story of the great storm last winter. Mr. Ramsay reprimands James whenever the sail slackens. In their anger, James and Cam only catch a word here and there of Macalister's story, for they are focused on their father and his reactions. Cam is suddenly filled with a sense of pride for her father, knowing that if he had been caught in the storm, he would have been an adventurous hero. But then she remembers her pact with James and suppresses this feeling, remembering that Mr. Ramsay has subdued them once again with his authority and has forced them to do his bidding.

In any case, the speed of the boat fills both James and Cam with a sudden sense of excitement and escape. Mr. Ramsay is also invigorated, suddenly exclaiming, "We perished ... each alone," and then, in a gesture of repentance, indicates the shore and their house, which is now too far away for Cam to distinguish.

Mr. Ramsay curiously crouches in the center of the boat, succumbing to self-pity and reflecting on the exquisite pleasure of women's sympathy. He recites poetry despondently so that all can hear. Cam becomes enraged.

Cam thinks of their house and of their lives, realizing how much of it is in the past, and she too murmurs her father's words,"we perished, each alone." Mr. Ramsay begins to tease her about not knowing the points of the compass, and he marvels at the vagueness of women's minds. However, he finds women endearing for this very reason, and he resolves to make Cam smile. James fears that Cam will succumb to Mr. Ramsay and that he will be left to fight the tyranny alone. Cam does try to resist her father's entreaty, seeking to remain on the side of justice. She longs, nevertheless, to pass on a silent token of her love for her father without upsetting James, who now remembers that his mother also used to give in to Mr. Ramsay's whims. Cam is tempted by his words, his oddity, and his passion, but she finds his blindness and tyranny intolerable. Torn between father and brother, between feelings of love and bitterness, she says nothing.

Chapter V

Lily sees the boat just as the sail catches the breeze and speeds up. In contrast, she feels weighed down by the sympathy that she failed to offer to Mr. Ramsay. She has always found it difficult to praise him, which has made their relationship feel neutral. As she walks back to her canvas, she wonders why her recollection of that day with Mrs. Ramsay and Mr. Tansley on the beach is so vivid, and she resumes her painting. She feels as though she is sitting beside Mrs. Ramsay on the beach. She imagines Mrs. Ramsay sitting silent by her side, the two women resting in the "extreme obscurity of human relationships." As she dips into the paint, she feels she is dipping into the past.

Lily turns her thoughts to the Rayleys (Paul and Minta), collecting her impressions of them. Her efforts at painting and at "tunnelling her way" into the past become a single endeavor, and she feels triumphant at the thought of telling Mrs. Ramsay that the Rayleys' marriage was not a success (Paul fell in love with another woman). Feeling a hint of contempt for the dead Mrs. Ramsay, Lily celebrates the facts that she has not married and that the Rayleys' marriage failed, for these facts signify some form of victory for Lily and her choice not to marry. She still, however, feels a burning, celebratory surge when she remembers Paul looking for Minta's brooch. She considers the notion of being "in love." Because she can move the tree to the middle of the painting, however, she feels indivdually centered; she has no need for marriage. Her work is her companion in a different sense, and it endows her life with significance and feeling.

Surfacing from her dream-state of memories about William Bankes and Mrs. Ramsay, Lily looks at Mr. Carmichael, who is basking in the sun. She wants to get his attention, to speak to him, but she does not know what to say. Looking over at the drawing-room steps, she feels that they are unbearably empty without Mrs. Ramsay's presence, and she is suddenly overcome by an intense longing for the deceased woman. She thinks of the ephemerality of life, of how everything vanishes and nothing stays--except art. Words and paint, she decides, do persist--even if they are shoved under a sofa. The moment that is captured in a work of art, in a sense, remains forever. She begins to cry, and as she aches for an understanding of life in all of its brief miraculousness, she calls Mrs. Ramsay's name aloud.

Chapter VI

[Macalister's boy cuts a square of flesh out of the side of a fish to use for bait, and the fish, still alive, is thrown back into the sea.]

Chapter VII

Lily is grateful that her cries have not commanded Mr. Carmichael's attention, for it would have ashamed her for anyone to hear this "ignominious cry." Her pain and anger subside, and Lily returns to her painting. She is trying to depict the hedge. She again feels the soothing perception of Mrs. Ramsay's presence. She imagines Mrs. Ramsay, as she often does when she is painting, raising a wreath of white flowers to her forehead and walking across fields. She looks out across the bay and sees the boat, which is now halfway across. The Lighthouse appears a great distance from the shore this morning, and Lily continues to watch the boat with curiosity.

Analysis

The bracketed presentation of Chapter VI immediately recalls the brief parenthetical reports of the death of the Ramsays in "Time Passes," and it, too, concerns mutilation and death. In this case, however, the act of cutting out a piece of a fish's flesh for bait and throwing it, still alive, back into the sea, represents survival in the face of difficulties. A being can persist for a while in this undoubtedly cruel and constantly changing world, though one must frequently expect, through one's experience, to be largely or permanently altered. Just as the death of the Ramsays and the decay of their house were painful manifestations of change and the passage of time, the remaining characters, like the fish, are able to exist mainly as they did before. Unlike the death announcements in the previous section, though, the ultimate (even if temporary) survival of the fish seems to be a good omen for the remainder of their lives.

Lily's reflection on Mrs. Ramsay's preoccupation with marriage produces scorn and resentment for the dead woman. Though Lily has chosen not to marry, even the memory of Mrs. Ramsay's presence compels her to second-guess her decision. But marriage is also a difficult experience. When she considers the flaws in the Ramsays' past relationship, adding to them the problems facing other married couples, she feels suddenly triumphant. She honestly confronts the tension between the advantages and disadvantages of marriage, rather than simply fulfilling a traditional role or simply rejecting it.

Their lives had not all turned out the way that Mrs. Ramsay had hoped, and Lily's amusement in considering that fact slowly gives way to her scorn for Mrs. Ramsay. Lily's feelings of negativity, however, are quite possibly a displaced fear of being without Mrs. Ramsay for the rest of her life. She is filled with a desperate longing for Mrs. Ramsay, crying out to her across the lawn and allowing tears to stream down her face.

Though James and Cam silently agree upon their pact to undermine their father's efforts and to withhold from him as much of what he wants from them as they are able, neither of them is capable of suppressing the feelings of sympathy and pride that arise on their boat ride to the Lighthouse. Despite his demanding nature and his poetic murmurings, he is old, and he makes Cam feel ultimately very safe. Cam even echoes some of the lines of poetry that he dictates, such as "we all perished, each alone," illuminating how influenced she has been by her father, if unwittingly. By its very nature, the quotation therefore represents a way in which humans are unified--through mutual influence--in addition to expressing the common experience of facing one's individuality. More explicitly, the words describe an inevitable, lonely, separate reality, the opposite of what Mrs. Ramsay has tried to weave and merge together.

Chapter VIII

As they progress toward the Lighthouse, Cam looks at the shore and feels that it has become "more distant and more peaceful." When the boat slows down, the world seems to stand still, with both the Lighthouse and the shore seeming immovable and fixed. At this moment, they all feel closer to one another. As Mr. Ramsay reads, James remains fearful that his father will become impatient and speak sharply to him, demanding something impossible. James feels a surge of violence again at the thought of tyranny and despotism, at the thought of his father demanding that he do something he does not want to do. He decides that if Mr. Ramsay does scold him, he will strike him in the heart with a knife.

James tries to understand the source of this anger, and he recalls a time in the past when his father told him that it would rain tomorrow and they would not be able to go to the Lighthouse. He also remembers how his mother would stiffen at Mr. Tansley's demands, leaving James's side in order to tend to Mr. Ramsay's needs, which made James feel impotent and ridiculous. His father's presence is still oppressive to him. James stops thinking, the wind finally picks up, and everyone feels relieved as the boat continues toward the Lighthouse.

Chapters IX-X

Looking out over the bay, Lily considers the extraordinary power of distance. She contemplates how the bay seemed to swallow up the Ramsays.

Cam looks at the island where the Ramsays' house is, seeing the island for the first time from the sea. She tells herself a story of adventure about escaping from a sinking ship. She feels liberated by the passing away of her father's anger, James's obstinacy, and her own anguish. She thinks back to the times when she would come in from the garden to find her father talking with another old gentleman in the study, reading the Times and conversing. Remembering his kindness at these times, Cam now thinks that her father is not vain or tyrannical. She wants James to see it, too, but she knows that he would be unconvinced. As the island becomes blurry in the distance, Cam realizes that she feels incredibly safe in Mr. Ramsay's presence, and she again murmurs, "how we perished, each alone."

Chapter XI

Looking at the sea, Lily meditates further on the effects of distance, thinking about how distance can change how people feel about each other. She notices that she feels differently about Mr. Ramsay, who now is far away and remote, than she does about Mr. Carmichael. The house remains still, and this early morning quiet makes the situation seem unreal to Lily. She supposes that the boaters will reach the Lighthouse by lunchtime, and she suddenly becomes distressed to note the disproportionate arrangement of ships on the sea.

Lily returns to her painting, wanting to start afresh with a new and invigorating impulse, and she urges herself to wait for it. She looks over at Mr. Carmichael, thinking about his newfound fame and imagining what his poetry must be like, and then thinking about Mr. Carmichael's dislike of Mrs. Ramsay. She thinks of Charles Tansley, his fellowship, his marriage, and the time that she heard him denouncing the war and advocating brotherly love, which seemed entirely inconsistent with the man whom she had known.

Lily determines that, in order to truly see and understand Mrs. Ramsay, a person would need fifty pairs of eyes. She considers the Ramsays' marriage, concluding that it did not constitute matrimonial bliss, what with her impulses and his temper. Lily recalls their brooding silences and the way that Mrs. Ramsay would evade her husband, pretending not to see him.

Suddenly, a figure appears fleetingly at the drawing-room window, causing Lily to feel a sense of torture and a longing for Mrs. Ramsay. She cries out the woman's name, horrified by gripping desperation. She wonders where the boat is; she now desires Mr. Ramsay's presence.

Chapter XII

James notices that his father, who is still reading, looks very old. He thinks that the two of them share a sense of loneliness as truth. They are approaching the Lighthouse, and James is pleased with its "stark and straight" appearance. Mr. Ramsay grows hungry and announces that it is lunchtime.

Macalister's boy points out the location where three men drowned, frightening James and Cam. Finally, Mr. Ramsay praises James, telling him that he has steered them successfully, and Cam knows that this support is exactly what James has wanted. From their boat, they can see two men at the Lighthouse ready to meet them. James and Cam watch Mr. Ramsay as he watches the distant island, both wondering what he is thinking. As they approach, Mr. Ramsay jumps up with parcels for the Lighthouse men in his hands, and his children join him.

Chapter XIII

Though she is tired from the effort of looking at the distant Lighthouse and the Ramsays' boat, Lily decides that "He must have reached it" and feels relieved. She believes that she has now given Mr. Ramsay what she was incapable of giving him earlier that morning. Mr. Carmichael stands beside her, and a silent understanding passes between them.

Suddenly, Lily turns back to her painting. She is no longer concerned about what will happen to it once it is finished. Looking at the empty steps and the blurred canvas, she paints a single line down the center. She finally feels that she is finished--she has had her vision.

Analysis

In a novel that succeeds at distancing itself so fully from the tradition of standard, omniscient narrative, it is no wonder that it ends at the very moment when the characters merge with the key symbol of the narrator. Reaching the Lighthouse is symbolic of closing the divide that allowed subjective consciousness to thrive; entering the realm of the Lighthouse draws the characters into a place where they cannot independently exist. (They never quite could, since the author was always behind the narrator; the Lighthouse always did reach the Ramsays' house with its light.) This passage to the non-conscious and permanent witness is not a full closing of the divide, since the island and Lily Briscoe remain outside of the union, Lily with paintbrush in hand.

As the Ramsays move closer and closer to the Lighthouse, Lily is progressively more prepared to achieve her artistic vision. Ten years after she made her first attempt, she is finally able to complete her endeavor, in large part because this novel constructs distance as crucial for the creation of art. Lily's declaration that "it was finished" refers both to her painting and to Woolf's book, now that Lily herself claims the title of artist-creator. She now encompasses both the figures of Mrs. Ramsay and the Lighthouse, watching the family from a distance. She has become their witness and the one who makes their lives perceptible to the reader.

The conclusion of the novel also portrays Lily relinquishing her need for stabilty and permanence. She now is content to exist solely in and for the present. Since it has been a symbol of stability and endurance, the Lighthouse is no longer needed for this purpose; it becomes completely obscured by distance and haze. It seems to melt into the haze, suggesting the instability of the Lighthouse even as a distinct physical object.

When Mr. Ramsay reaches the Lighthouse, the unity is not just literal (in that the boat physically converges with the Lighthouse) and symbolic (in that the objective source of light merges with subjective consciousness), but it is also an abstract unity that relates this moment in time with the events of ten years before. Although unity has served as a symbol of permanence throughout the novel (even for Lily, who wishes to unite herself with Mrs. Ramsay), Lily releases herself from the need for unity, permanence, and stability. She is still on the island, and she does not require complete assurance that Mr. Ramsay has reached the Lighthouse. She is exhausted with the effort involved with meeting her need for symbolic stability, and her new perspective permits her to relinquish this need entirely.

Lily's final artistic gesture is also a representation of this general relinquishing of control. Throughout the novel, Lily has intended to find stability and order not in marriage, as Mrs. Ramsay suggests, but in the simple act of moving the tree in her painting more to the middle of the canvas. Like the Lighthouse, the tree is a symbol of stability and permanence, although its ability to be moved undermines its position and lends it an undeniable transience. In the final moments of the novel, Lily is inspired to complete the painting that she has been struggling with for over ten years, and she fully comes to terms with the fact that it will be hung in attics and destroyed. She no longer feels a need to use her art to tie her to the vast expanses of reality. Instead she is able simply to embrace the ephemeral and beautiful nature of this moment, the moment when distance allows her to be inspired by form and shape. She has no further need of imagining Mrs. Ramsay's shadow on the steps, now that she can do without ideas of stability. She no longer needs even to see her own canvas clearly. Indeed, the tree that she has long intended to draw is represented in her vision as a simple, perfunctory line. The Lighthouse and the tree, which were the ultimate symbols of stability and permanence in the novel, are now made completely unrecognizable. Lily is able to embrace the unstable transience of this moment and finally find artistic and personal fulfillment.

• Biography of Virginia Woolf
• About To the Lighthouse
• Character List
• Major Themes
• Glossary of Terms
• Short Summary
• Full Summary and Analysis
• Summary and Analysis of The Window: Chapters I-IV
• Summary and Analysis of The Window: Chapters V-VII
• Summary and Analysis of The Window: Chapters VIII-X
• Summary and Analysis of The Window: Chapters XI-XIV
• Summary and Analysis of The Window: Chapters XV-XVII
• Summary and Analysis of The Window: Chapters XVIII-XIX
• Summary and Analysis of Time Passes: Chapters I-X
• Summary and Analysis of The Lighthouse: Chapters I-III
• Summary and Analysis of The Lighthouse: Chapters IV-VII
• Summary and Analysis of The Lighthouse: Chapters VIII-XIII
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