Autonomy and Despair in Doris Lessing's "To Room Nineteen"

Susan's Death as Release

In the end, the death of Mrs. Rawlings came gently—almost blessedly—for virtually all parties involved, except for the children, for whom it is never easy to lose a mother. However, Susan's four children had become well acquainted, by this point, with the mothering instincts of others: both Sophie and Mrs. Parks had filled that role, so that once the initial shock passed, the children lacked nothing in terms of their pragmatic needs.

And yet it was Susan who benefitted most from her untimely passing. How many hours had she spent enviously gazing upon the brown river running just outside her perfect garden, in her perfect white house? How often had she longed for its cool silence, the interminable motions of its course—unyielding, a function of nature in which there were no questions, no demands, and no responsibilities? The river was, for Susan, everything. Her belief that ending her life would pass her into that eternal current was hardly surprising, given her deep fixation upon it. As Lessing's story makes clear, the river functions throughout as Susan's symbol of absolute freedom—freedom she could not locate anywhere within her domestic life.

Matthew's Position After the Tragedy

Even Matthew appeared to benefit from this arrangement—that is, the end of his arrangement with his wife, which for several years had taken a course decidedly divergent from the one it had begun. He no longer had to conceal his attraction and affection for other women. Best of all, as a man in his social position, he could claim quite honestly that it was not his fault. His wife had developed a certain incurable madness. He had made all of the obligatory concessions: providing an au pair, a cleaning woman, and emotional and financial resources in abundance. His wife's sudden death would most likely only increase his value among the single—or otherwise—population of women whose company he had long since sought.

More importantly, Susan's suicide had allowed Matthew to confront his worst fear: that his wife had gone completely mad. He was able to deal with this realization in the most convenient way possible, since the taking of her own life both proved her illness and absolved him of all responsibility. Regardless of what she had told him about her supposed lover, Michael Plant, his faith in her sanity, her reasonableness, and even her intelligence had long since dissolved into doubt. The confession about Michael had only deepened his suspicion that she was beyond rational reach.

Works Cited

Lessing, Doris. "To Room Nineteen." 1978. Print.