Secret-lookin'—'s if it was a mask she'd put on. That's the Mannon look. They all has it. They grow it on their wives.
The term "mask" is used numerous times in the play to describe the facial features of the Mannon clan. This description offered up by townsperson Amos Ames is significant for a few reasons. First, Ames and his ilk are intended to be a Greek chorus that comments on the Mannons, offering insight and description and analysis of their actions; this helps the audience understand more of the Mannons' facets. Second, O'Neill's description of mask-like visages of the Mannons alludes to the play's Greek influences, as Greek tragedians used actual marks to indicate or obfuscate their emotions. Third, having mask-like visages allows these characters to conceal their true feelings about the various things occurring in their tumultuous lives; they believe that they must be stoic and secretive to keep their business to themselves. And finally, the description of Christine's mask as being one that Mannon men make their wives assume nods to the physical resemblance of Marie, Christine, and Lavinia, and how these women are oppressed by their male family members and ancestors.
No! I loved him once—before I married him...But marriage soon turned his romance into -disgust!
Christine doesn't exactly what happened on her wedding night with Ezra, but it is clear that Ezra had difficulty turning his courtship of Christine into something loving, compatible, and sexually fulfilling. It is insinuated that his stern Puritan background, which comes complete with a very rigid patriarchal mindset, made it difficult for him to have sex with his wife in a satisfying manner. Perhaps he made her feel like a whore; perhaps he could not imagine his wife in the way that he saw other women he had been with (an assumption, yes, but a valid one). Christine does not get to be Ezra's wife in every sense of the term, at least as it is understood in the modern era, and instead is forced into her mask and her prescribed role. It is no wonder she seeks out Brant.
You've tried to become the wife of your father and the mother of Orin! You've always schemed to steal my place!
There are a few places in the text where O'Neill has his characters specifically mention the Freudian aspects of the text. Here Christine accuses her daughter of, essentially, the Electra Complex, in which a daughter fixates on her father and wishes to displace the mother. Ironically, Christine cannot see that Orin is consumed with her, thus falling prey to the Oedipal Complex in which a son wishes to be with his mother and kill his father. Interestingly enough, after Ezra and Christine's deaths, Lavinia and Orin do assume their parents' roles, but nothing is quite as they expected. Orin propositions his own sister, further complicating the family dynamics. Overall, the incest theme allows O'Neill to further express just how deeply the family curse has settled into its members. They cannot extricate themselves from their fate or from each other.
Her thin figure, seated stiffly upright, arms against her sides, the legs close together, the head upright, is like that of an Egyptian statue.
Lavinia is described by O'Neill and the other characters as an "icicle," a "mechanical doll," and here, an Egyptian statue. All of these are vivid images but this may be the most evocative. Egyptian statues are notoriously cold, impersonal, rigid, emotionless, and imposing. Many of them are indeed posed in a seated position, which gives the impression of power and authority. Lavinia absolutely embodies the power of an Egyptian ruler but similarly, her muteness is also pronounced. She is essentially dead, incapable of expressing herself, finding love, breaking free from her cage, etc. This is an effective simile because it provides more insight into the character and her predicament.
All victory ends in the defeat of death.
In this rather ambiguous quote (which both Christine and Lavinia find curious), Ezra muses literally on how Lincoln's victory ended in the defeat of death but how every victory in life ends with the defeat of death. It is impossible to say what other meanings he places on this phrase but it is not difficult to guess. Ezra has essentially achieved victory as a general of the Union Army. He is returning home to his family, his home, and his wealth. It thus seems as if he has victory, but in reality he is returning home to an adulterous wife, a bitter son, and a scheming daughter. His wife and her lover will end up killing him in a manner of days, thus capping his victory with defeat via death. It is a bleak, Nietzsche-esque statement that reinforces the play's inexorable sense of fate.
Let them batter each other's brains out with rifle butts and rip each other's guts with bayonets! After that, maybe they'll stop waving handkerchiefs and gabbing about heroes!
Orin's words are striking in their intensity and tone; they also constitute a vivid image that indicates the horrors and true nature of war. He is having trouble assimilating back into civilian life and cannot help but remember the silliness of pre-war rituals like the waving of handkerchiefs. Once a man sees and participates in the violence and trauma and depravity of war he can no longer stomach the insipidness of such rituals; furthermore, he cannot countenance people who haven't seen war trying to suggest they understand it. Orin is not the man he was before he went off to war, and with these words O'Neill reminds readers caught up in the drama of incest and adultery that there are perhaps greater crimes against humanity to consider.
Aye! There's peace, and forgetfulness for us there—if we can ever find those islands now!
Brant's tone is an indication that his wish to achieve rest and peace in the Blessed Isles is not to be. O'Neill describes his tone as "strange" and one of "bitter yearning." When Brant utters his wish he cannot do so without adding that he acknowledges the difficulties in attaining and the unlikelihood of this occurring. This utterance also acts as an element of foreshadowing (along with many other things going on in this act) because his reluctance to see this future unreservedly indicates that he is truly never going to make it to the Blessed Isles. They will always be a dream for him, just as they are for almost every other character.
I hate the daylight. It's like an accusing eye! No, we've renounced the day, in which normal people live—or rather it has renounced us. Perpetual night—darkness of death in life—that's the fitting habitat for guilt!
Orin uses simile and metaphor to indicate how mentally distressed he is. While writing the manuscript detailing the family's crimes, he uses only lamplight and refuses to go outside. He compares the daylight, or the light of the sun, to an "accusing eye"; this reveals that he believes God or nature are judging him for his crime of killing Brant and his role in his mother's suicide. He also suggests that "night" is similar to death and that that is the sort of environment he needs right now. He does not want the light of God/nature because he fears his sins being illuminated for all to see, and he knows that as one of the damned he belongs in the darkness of death/Hell.
Yes! That would be justice—now you are Mother! She is speaking now through you!
While Orin is not actually insane, this moment is perhaps the closest he comes to it. After having (unsuccessfully) propositioned his sister, he descends into a frenzy of despair and guilt and hopelessness. He is essentially looking for any excuse to end his pain, and when Lavinia blurts out that "I wish you were dead! You're too vile to live! You'd kill yourself if you weren't a coward!" (365) Orin moves quickly from sadness to anger to acceptance and excitement. He calls his imminent death "another act of justice" (365) and believes Christine is speaking to him through Lavinia. Clearly, Orin is losing his grip on reality, something that was already weakened by his wartime experiences, but he is also expressing, albeit subtly, his desire to be free from pain and guilt and the weight of living.
Want me! Take me, Adam!
When Lavinia utters Adam Brant's name as she is trying to keep Peter with her, it is all over. What she has done is slip out of the present, out of herself, and end up in the same situation as her mother. She is fully inhabiting the family curse, unable to achieve happiness or love but rather doomed to repeat her ancestors' mistakes. Once she realizes what she has done she stops trying to convince Peter to be with her and concludes that her fate is to remain within the house for the rest of her days. It is the last straw for poor Lavinia, who was perhaps the only character who might have escaped the family fate.
