How we cite our quotes: Citations follow this format: (Chapter.Paragraph)
Quote #7
The contest lay not between love and duty. Perhaps there never is such a contest. It lay between the real and the pretended, and Lucy's first aim was to defeat herself. As her brain clouded over, as the memory of the views grew dim and the words of the book died away, she returned to her old shibboleth of nerves. She "conquered her breakdown." Tampering with the truth, she forgot that the truth had ever been. Remembering that she was engaged to Cecil, she compelled herself to confused remembrances of George; he was nothing to her; he never had been anything; he had behaved abominably; she had never encouraged him. The armour of falsehood is subtly wrought out of darkness, and hides a man not only from others, but from his own soul. In a few moments Lucy was equipped for battle (16.3).
The “armor of falsehood” that Lucy dons is a self-consciously created thing. Forster emphasizes her willful denial of the truth (that she loves George), and shows us a cold, strong Lucy very different from the one we first met in the Bertolini. However, she’s using her developed will-power for evil here, by shutting herself off from others – and her own true feelings.
Quote #8
It did not do to think, nor, for the matter of that to feel. She gave up trying to understand herself, and the vast armies of the benighted, who follow neither the heart nor the brain, and march to their destiny by catch-words. The armies are full of pleasant and pious folk. But they have yielded to the only enemy that matters—the enemy within. They have sinned against passion and truth, and vain will be their strife after virtue […] Lucy entered this army when she pretended to George that she did not love him, and pretended to Cecil that she loved no one. The night received her, as it had received Miss Bartlett thirty years before (17.54-5).
Here, Forster reminds us that Lucy is not alone in shutting herself off from her own desires – depressingly, many, many people do it. The denial of true feeling is a dangerous thing when viewed this way, and Forster suggests that if Lucy keeps it up, she’ll end up like Charlotte in a few decades – ugh!
Quote #9
Lucy was silent. She was drifting away from her mother. It was quite easy to say, "Because George Emerson has been bothering me, and if he hears I've given up Cecil may begin again"—quite easy, and it had the incidental advantage of being true. But she could not say it. She disliked confidences, for they might lead to self-knowledge and to that king of terrors—Light. Ever since that last evening at Florence she had deemed it unwise to reveal her soul (19.7).
We see poor Lucy in a sad state of angst and distrust here. The fear of “self-knowledge” that she feels is pretty telling – she knows that there’s something she’s not admitting to herself (the fact that she’s in love with George – duh!), but she’s unwilling to come to terms with it.