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Content
EDMUND TYRONE
Victim
In Long Day's Journey into Night, one could easily characterize Edmund as a victim.
Bad stuff just happens to him. His painful birth caused his mom to get hooked on
morphine. Worry over his tuberculosis causes her to get hooked again. His dad is so
penny-pinching that he wants to pack Edmund off to a second rate sanatorium to
recover from his illness. On top of all that, his brother admits that part of him wishes
Edmund were dead. The fact is: Edmund is a different kind of character than the other
Tyrones. Unlike them, he is relatively blameless.
The Peacekeeper
Edmund is also the peacekeeper of the house. He's the glue that keeps this family from
falling apart. Edmund can normally be found trying to silence one of his angry,
accusative family members. His verbal smackdowns are lovingly administered in the
hope of avoiding worse conflict. Edmund tends to say things like – "Cut it out, Papa!"
(2.2.43) and even "Mama! For God's sake, stop talking" (2.2.15). Notice that these
statements come in the span of just 28 lines. In the Tyrone household, a peacekeeper
stays busy.
MARY CAVAN TYRONE
Roots of Addiction
Act I starts off with a bright ray of hope – this time Mary has really kicked morphine.
O'Neill, in typical O'Neill fashion, doesn't wait long to beat the drums of doom. By the
time Act II rolls around, Mary is already descending the stairs bright-eyed from a hit of
morphine. A heartbroken James asks, "For the love of God, why couldn't you have the
strength to keep on?" (2.1.125) That's a very good question Mr. Tyrone. Let us examine.
First, what are the causes of Mary's addiction? Edmund seems to get the blame most of
the time, simply for being born. The birth was evidently quite painful for Mary. We have
a sneaky suspicion that this pain wasn't just physical. Mary says that, before Edmund
was born, there wasn't "a nerve in [her] body" (2.2.102). But why did Edmund's birth
shatter Mary's nerves so badly? What did she fear?
The source of Mary's fear isn't much of a mystery when she says things like "I knew I'd
proved by the way I'd left Eugene that I wasn't worthy to have another baby, and that
God would punish me if I did" (2.2.105). Mary feels extremely guilty over the death of
her second son. She thinks that, if she'd been there, she could've stopped little Jamie
from giving Eugene that lethal case of measles
Later Causes
What causes Mary to start using morphine again in Act II? Could it be physical? She
does have rheumatoid arthritis, which causes constant pain, though there are other
painkillers she could take. There are also the physically addictive properties of morphine
to consider. The withdrawal is hideously painful, but then Mary has just gotten out of
rehab. Isn't she past the hard part? Maybe not. Maybe the really hard part for Mary is
returning to normal life. But what stresses cause her to relapse? Let's investigate.
First there's poor Edmund's illness. Once again he seems to help push his mom toward
drugs. Just like with his birth, however, it's not his fault. (This guy can't win.) He has
consumption (tuberculosis). Mary's father died of the same thing. So, she gets freaked
out and turns to morphine for comfort. You can tell how much Edmund fears this
scenario when he says, "I want you to promise me that even if it should turn out to be
something worse, […] you'll keep on taking care of yourself" (1.1.224). Mary gives him
her word of honor. Unfortunately, her word is just no good where morphine is
concerned.
Mary's Choices
With all of the above in mind, (Eugene's death, Edmund's birth, cheap doctors,
Edmund's illness, Mary's loneliness, the family's suspicion) doesn't the choice to use
morphine still fall on Mary? The fact is that Mrs. Tyrone likes to blame others – this
might be her greatest weakness. She's so good at coming up with excuses, that she
very rarely has to face the fact that ultimately it's her decision. No one else is making
her use the drug. In fact everyone around her is trying desperately to get her to stop.
Tragically, on this very long day, she's just not ready.
JAMES TYRONE
The first thing we notice about James is that he's actually pretty adorable. He's naïve
and sentimental, but he's also charmingly misanthropic and very temperamental. James
is really like a big old twelve-year-old: grumpy and quick to fight, but a teddy bear on the
inside.
James's first instinct is to argue, like when Jamie pokes fun at his snoring and James
snaps back: "If it takes my snoring to make you remember Shakespeare instead of the
dope sheet on ponies!" (1.1.40) Still, he's quick to settle down again when his wife Mary
tells him not to be so "touchy," and he's downright after-school special when he talks
about his dear old mother, wiping tears from his eyes: "A fine, brave, sweet woman.
There never was a braver or finer" (4.1.135).
But this fighting instinct can be a major problem. Check out Jamie's "Character
Analysis" for more on this, but James is constantly jumping down his elder son's throat,
accusing him of being disrespectful and lazy. If you can find a passage in the play in
which both Jamie and James are present, it's almost a guarantee that they're fighting.
The Alcoholic
The word "whiskey" comes from the Gaelic for "water of life." James would seem to
agree with his Irish ancestors. He admits that he used to give whiskey to his sons as
medicine when they were children. We even see him give it to Edmund as a tonic for his
tuberculosis. Indeed he's so fond of the stuff that it's one of the very few things on which
he'll actually spend money
The Penny-Pincher
What evidence is there that James is a miser? Oh, where to begin? There's the low
wages James insists on paying his chauffeur, who makes up for his bad pay by cheating
the family on car repair bills. There's the shabby house, in which "everything [is] done in
the cheapest way" (1.1.94). James is too miserly to even turn on the lights at night.
Jamie
Jamie is probably the character we know the least – but he would want it that way. He's
cynical, bitter, arrogant, and often mean. He also has some positive sides, though;
Jamie is perceptive, speaks his mind, and is often more sensitive than he acts. (If you
want to get to know Jamie better, read O'Neill's Moon for the Misbegotten. Jamie is the
star of that one.)
So, Jamie isn't all together unlikable. But, basically everything he does is ambiguous: he
could be either a cynical, arrogant man who is mistreated by his parents or an
embittered man hell-bent on destroying the happiness of those around him.
How far back do we have to go to understand the ambiguity of Jamie's character? The
answer is: way back. He's the eldest of the Tyrone children, and was around when baby
Eugene died. Or was it murder? Mary seems certain that Jamie intentionally infected
young Eugene with measles. But can we trust Mary? She's not the most reliable source
of familial detail. Still, we can ask: was Eugene's death the result of a childish accident
or murderous jealousy
Themes
GUILT AND BLAME
The characters in Long Day's Journey are absolutely obsessed with thinking over the
past and either feeling guilty about what they've done, or blaming someone else for all
the problems they face. Once one of the children dies at a young age and the mother
becomes addicted to morphine, everyone keeps worrying about whether they should
have had another kid, who was responsible for the baby's death, why the mother
became addicted to morphine, and generally how they or others have failed as good
mothers, fathers, sons, and brother
SUFFERING
At the most basic level, Long Day's Journey Into Night is a play about people who are suffering.
The characters have basically nothing to do, as the adult sons aren't working, the father is in his
off-season, and the mother doesn't work at all. They tend to sit around, argue, and suffer the
pain of old wounds and dark prospects for the future. One son has consumption to worry about,
and the mother is addicted to morphine, but these problems radiate to the father and other son
as well, as they suffer from the consequences too. Everyone's bogged down in depressive
thinking about the way things used to be (either good or bad) and their (probably awful) future.
DRUGS AND ALCOHOL
In Long Day's Journey Into Night, the Tyrone family's past and present have been so dire that
normal coping mechanisms (family love, togetherness, etc.) can't keep up. So what do they turn
to for relief? Alcohol and drugs. These forms of retreat might numb the pain, but they also bring
their own problems – Mary's constant zoning out and Jamie's inability to hold down a job, to
name two examples. There's also a vicious cycle involved in all of this: Mary takes drugs and
the Tyrone men drink to escape, but they also feel bad about doing so, leading them to snipe at
one another even more maliciously.
FATE AND FREE WILL
One of the basic tensions underlying Long Day's Journey is the conflict between fate and free
will. All the characters want to change their lives, but at the same time, they can't get this
depressing fatalism out of their heads. The play's matriarch sums it up well when she says,
"None of us can help the things life has done to us. They're done before you realize it, and once
they're done they make you do other things" (2.1.76). We should point out that the idea of fate is
different here than in a Greek tragedy. The characters aren't pawns of the gods. In Long Day's
Journey Into Night, the word "fate" is short hand for family history and past mistakes. Each
character struggles against the tides of the past. Even though they aren't battling divine will,
they are all in least in some way shaped by forces that are out of their control.
Victim
In Long Day's Journey into Night, one could easily characterize Edmund as a victim.
Bad stuff just happens to him. His painful birth caused his mom to get hooked on
morphine. Worry over his tuberculosis causes her to get hooked again. His dad is so
penny-pinching that he wants to pack Edmund off to a second rate sanatorium to
recover from his illness. On top of all that, his brother admits that part of him wishes
Edmund were dead. The fact is: Edmund is a different kind of character than the other
Tyrones. Unlike them, he is relatively blameless.
The Peacekeeper
Edmund is also the peacekeeper of the house. He's the glue that keeps this family from
falling apart. Edmund can normally be found trying to silence one of his angry,
accusative family members. His verbal smackdowns are lovingly administered in the
hope of avoiding worse conflict. Edmund tends to say things like – "Cut it out, Papa!"
(2.2.43) and even "Mama! For God's sake, stop talking" (2.2.15). Notice that these
statements come in the span of just 28 lines. In the Tyrone household, a peacekeeper
stays busy.
MARY CAVAN TYRONE
Roots of Addiction
Act I starts off with a bright ray of hope – this time Mary has really kicked morphine.
O'Neill, in typical O'Neill fashion, doesn't wait long to beat the drums of doom. By the
time Act II rolls around, Mary is already descending the stairs bright-eyed from a hit of
morphine. A heartbroken James asks, "For the love of God, why couldn't you have the
strength to keep on?" (2.1.125) That's a very good question Mr. Tyrone. Let us examine.
First, what are the causes of Mary's addiction? Edmund seems to get the blame most of
the time, simply for being born. The birth was evidently quite painful for Mary. We have
a sneaky suspicion that this pain wasn't just physical. Mary says that, before Edmund
was born, there wasn't "a nerve in [her] body" (2.2.102). But why did Edmund's birth
shatter Mary's nerves so badly? What did she fear?
The source of Mary's fear isn't much of a mystery when she says things like "I knew I'd
proved by the way I'd left Eugene that I wasn't worthy to have another baby, and that
God would punish me if I did" (2.2.105). Mary feels extremely guilty over the death of
her second son. She thinks that, if she'd been there, she could've stopped little Jamie
from giving Eugene that lethal case of measles
Later Causes
What causes Mary to start using morphine again in Act II? Could it be physical? She
does have rheumatoid arthritis, which causes constant pain, though there are other
painkillers she could take. There are also the physically addictive properties of morphine
to consider. The withdrawal is hideously painful, but then Mary has just gotten out of
rehab. Isn't she past the hard part? Maybe not. Maybe the really hard part for Mary is
returning to normal life. But what stresses cause her to relapse? Let's investigate.
First there's poor Edmund's illness. Once again he seems to help push his mom toward
drugs. Just like with his birth, however, it's not his fault. (This guy can't win.) He has
consumption (tuberculosis). Mary's father died of the same thing. So, she gets freaked
out and turns to morphine for comfort. You can tell how much Edmund fears this
scenario when he says, "I want you to promise me that even if it should turn out to be
something worse, […] you'll keep on taking care of yourself" (1.1.224). Mary gives him
her word of honor. Unfortunately, her word is just no good where morphine is
concerned.
Mary's Choices
With all of the above in mind, (Eugene's death, Edmund's birth, cheap doctors,
Edmund's illness, Mary's loneliness, the family's suspicion) doesn't the choice to use
morphine still fall on Mary? The fact is that Mrs. Tyrone likes to blame others – this
might be her greatest weakness. She's so good at coming up with excuses, that she
very rarely has to face the fact that ultimately it's her decision. No one else is making
her use the drug. In fact everyone around her is trying desperately to get her to stop.
Tragically, on this very long day, she's just not ready.
JAMES TYRONE
The first thing we notice about James is that he's actually pretty adorable. He's naïve
and sentimental, but he's also charmingly misanthropic and very temperamental. James
is really like a big old twelve-year-old: grumpy and quick to fight, but a teddy bear on the
inside.
James's first instinct is to argue, like when Jamie pokes fun at his snoring and James
snaps back: "If it takes my snoring to make you remember Shakespeare instead of the
dope sheet on ponies!" (1.1.40) Still, he's quick to settle down again when his wife Mary
tells him not to be so "touchy," and he's downright after-school special when he talks
about his dear old mother, wiping tears from his eyes: "A fine, brave, sweet woman.
There never was a braver or finer" (4.1.135).
But this fighting instinct can be a major problem. Check out Jamie's "Character
Analysis" for more on this, but James is constantly jumping down his elder son's throat,
accusing him of being disrespectful and lazy. If you can find a passage in the play in
which both Jamie and James are present, it's almost a guarantee that they're fighting.
The Alcoholic
The word "whiskey" comes from the Gaelic for "water of life." James would seem to
agree with his Irish ancestors. He admits that he used to give whiskey to his sons as
medicine when they were children. We even see him give it to Edmund as a tonic for his
tuberculosis. Indeed he's so fond of the stuff that it's one of the very few things on which
he'll actually spend money
The Penny-Pincher
What evidence is there that James is a miser? Oh, where to begin? There's the low
wages James insists on paying his chauffeur, who makes up for his bad pay by cheating
the family on car repair bills. There's the shabby house, in which "everything [is] done in
the cheapest way" (1.1.94). James is too miserly to even turn on the lights at night.
Jamie
Jamie is probably the character we know the least – but he would want it that way. He's
cynical, bitter, arrogant, and often mean. He also has some positive sides, though;
Jamie is perceptive, speaks his mind, and is often more sensitive than he acts. (If you
want to get to know Jamie better, read O'Neill's Moon for the Misbegotten. Jamie is the
star of that one.)
So, Jamie isn't all together unlikable. But, basically everything he does is ambiguous: he
could be either a cynical, arrogant man who is mistreated by his parents or an
embittered man hell-bent on destroying the happiness of those around him.
How far back do we have to go to understand the ambiguity of Jamie's character? The
answer is: way back. He's the eldest of the Tyrone children, and was around when baby
Eugene died. Or was it murder? Mary seems certain that Jamie intentionally infected
young Eugene with measles. But can we trust Mary? She's not the most reliable source
of familial detail. Still, we can ask: was Eugene's death the result of a childish accident
or murderous jealousy
Themes
GUILT AND BLAME
The characters in Long Day's Journey are absolutely obsessed with thinking over the
past and either feeling guilty about what they've done, or blaming someone else for all
the problems they face. Once one of the children dies at a young age and the mother
becomes addicted to morphine, everyone keeps worrying about whether they should
have had another kid, who was responsible for the baby's death, why the mother
became addicted to morphine, and generally how they or others have failed as good
mothers, fathers, sons, and brother
SUFFERING
At the most basic level, Long Day's Journey Into Night is a play about people who are suffering.
The characters have basically nothing to do, as the adult sons aren't working, the father is in his
off-season, and the mother doesn't work at all. They tend to sit around, argue, and suffer the
pain of old wounds and dark prospects for the future. One son has consumption to worry about,
and the mother is addicted to morphine, but these problems radiate to the father and other son
as well, as they suffer from the consequences too. Everyone's bogged down in depressive
thinking about the way things used to be (either good or bad) and their (probably awful) future.
DRUGS AND ALCOHOL
In Long Day's Journey Into Night, the Tyrone family's past and present have been so dire that
normal coping mechanisms (family love, togetherness, etc.) can't keep up. So what do they turn
to for relief? Alcohol and drugs. These forms of retreat might numb the pain, but they also bring
their own problems – Mary's constant zoning out and Jamie's inability to hold down a job, to
name two examples. There's also a vicious cycle involved in all of this: Mary takes drugs and
the Tyrone men drink to escape, but they also feel bad about doing so, leading them to snipe at
one another even more maliciously.
FATE AND FREE WILL
One of the basic tensions underlying Long Day's Journey is the conflict between fate and free
will. All the characters want to change their lives, but at the same time, they can't get this
depressing fatalism out of their heads. The play's matriarch sums it up well when she says,
"None of us can help the things life has done to us. They're done before you realize it, and once
they're done they make you do other things" (2.1.76). We should point out that the idea of fate is
different here than in a Greek tragedy. The characters aren't pawns of the gods. In Long Day's
Journey Into Night, the word "fate" is short hand for family history and past mistakes. Each
character struggles against the tides of the past. Even though they aren't battling divine will,
they are all in least in some way shaped by forces that are out of their control.
