Narrative Interruptions (or Connections) in Ruth Hall

The episodic nature of Fanny Fern’s Ruth Hall is part of what makes the text so enjoyable and easy to read. The transitions are swift and create an urgent sense of progression from one topic (or household or publishing house) to another, encouraging the reader to keep turning the page. Of course, this structure also allows Fern to drop in chapters that interrupt the narrative flow, making readers pause and ponder. For example, scenes like Ruth’s phrenology exam and her visit to the Insane Hospital seem to purposefully disrupt the reader’s momentum, almost asking them to slow down and making meaning of the narrative departure. I’d like to take a look at one of these narrative “interruptions” in an effort to come to a greater understanding of their inclusion. Sadly, ever since a student mentioned a sexual reading of Ruth’s phrenology exam, I can’t read it any other way, so I think I’ll take on Ruth’s tour of the Insane Hospital.

The physical appearance of the Insane Hospital seems pleasant enough. There are flowers, the building is beautiful, and Ruth’s children aren’t the least bit afraid to wander the grounds. It has all the appearances of a quiet retreat, but alas! Fern’s description of the space is immediately contrasted with the haunting, morbid air invading the grounds: “There was helpless age, whose only disease was too long a lease of life for greedy heirs. There, too, was the fragile wife, to whom love was breath—being!—forgotten by the world and him in whose service her bloom had withered, insane—only in that her love had outlived his patience” (209-10). At no point does Fern describe the residents of the Insane Hospital as mentally deficient. She tells Katy that this is “a place for crazy people” (209), but it’s clear that the people who live here aren’t insane. Or at least they weren’t before their families admitted them. The Insane Hospital is, indeed, a place for crazy people, but all Ruth can see are rich, elderly relatives and used up wives. In any other situation it would seem abrupt, but it seems only natural for Ruth to ask, “Have you had many deaths here?”

We find out that Ruth’s friend, Mary Leon, had recently passed away in the Hospital, and when Ruth asks to see the body we get further evidence that the residents of the Hospital are disturbed by cruelty and ill-treatment rather than natural chemical imbalances. As Ruth walks through the corridor a woman screams for the husband and child who ran off without her. The screams of this woman who is chained and whipped regularly affect Ruth so violently that she nearly collapses against the wall: “’Wait a bit, please,’ said Ruth, leaning against the stone wall, for her limbs were trembling so violently that she could scarcely bear her weight” (212). As if readers needed further proof, Ruth’s physical and emotional reaction to the environment of the Insane Hospital makes it quite obvious that the institution makes the residents insane (and not the other way around). And the deceased Mrs. Leon, once described as quite lovely, reflects the despair of the place. Ruth can hardly recognize the emaciated corpse with “sunken eyes and hollow cheeks” while “the gibbering screams of the maniacs overhead echoed through the stillness of that cold, gloomy vault” (213).

It seems quite obvious that Fern is questioning and critiquing the institution of marriage; especially in the ways it victimizes women. Although there could be men residing in the Insane Hospital, we don’t happen to see any of them. The inmates, so to speak, are deserted wives and mothers. What seems less obvious in the text is the idea that this type of captivity, desertion, and torture isn’t always relegated to the mental institution. Earlier depictions of Mary Leon aren’t exactly happy, but they’re usually hopeful: “Ruth was sure that, under that faultless, marble exterior, a glowing, living, loving heart lay slumbering; waiting only the enchanter’s touch to wake it into life. The more she looked into those dark eyes, the deeper seemed their depths. Ruth longed, she scarce knew why, to make her life happy. Oh, if she had a soul!” (95). As Fern’s initial description of Mary Leon continues, we find that it’s a loveless marriage that weighs on her soul in such a desperate way. She cries out to Ruth, “love me—pity me; you who are so blessed. I too could love that is the drop of poison in my cup. When your daughters stand at the altar, Ruth, never compel them to say words to which the heart yields no response. The chain is not the less galling, because its links are golden. God bless you, Ruth; ‘tis long since I have shed tears. You have touched the rock; forget that the waters have gushed forth” (96). Mary Leon’s pain stems from loving a husband who does not (or cannot) love her in return. He is rich, to be sure, but Mary Leon’s unhappy life calls a marriage based on finance directly into question.

Interestingly, even Ruth, a woman who married for love, is “drawn to Mrs. Leon by an unaccountable magnetism” (94). On one hand, the connection between Ruth and Mary Leon could exemplify the important, compelling relationships between women in the 19th century. Or the inexplicable connection between these women could be further textual evidence that the institution of marriage has the ability to victimize any woman, even one who marries a kind and loving man. As we know, Harry fails Ruth as a husband by failing to arrange his affairs before death. And now that I look more closely, I see that the “Insane Hospital” chapter is sandwiched between two chapters detailing Mrs. Skiddy’s trials with her wayward husband. Mrs. Skiddy, who is never portrayed as angelic, is practically demonic as she responds “like ten thousand serpents” to her husband’s request to come home. A chapter that initially seems like an interruption to the text actually connects to the other chapters in real, visible ways. Time and time again marriage fails the women of Ruth Hall, victimizing them in various ways. As a critique of marriage, the “Insane Hospital” chapter is a physical space connecting all these women together.