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Virginia WoolfA modern alternative to SparkNotes and CliffsNotes, SuperSummary offers high-quality Study Guides with detailed chapter summaries and analysis of major themes, characters, and more.
The three guineas described in the title are the most distinct symbol in the text. Each coin—worth a small amount of money—represents the support she is able to pledge toward an organization or an idea. If she feels that the organization or idea deserves her support, then she is willing to donate a guinea to it. Each of the book’s three parts becomes a discussion and a mediation on whether one particular organization is deserving of Woolf’s support: the women’s college, the women’s professional society, and the anti-war organization of the unnamed correspondent.
Within the text, money represents freedom. Woolf spends a great deal of time equating financial independence to freedom. The ability to fund an education and then earn a fair wage through a career is, to her, central to the equal treatment women should receive. However, due to the patriarchal nature of society, women do not have this freedom. A single guinea, then, becomes an important image: If women are not being compensated fairly and lack the financial capital required to donate to causes, the pledging of even a small amount of money takes on as much significance as a much larger donation made by a man.
Donations carry greater weight than might be expected. Most donations, Woolf suggests, come with conditions “to the way in which that guinea is to be spent” (35). When men make a large donation, for example, they can demand that it be spent in a certain manner. Because these donations are required, the demands are often essential to the running of the institution. If a college depends on donations to survive, it is more likely to acquiesce to a charitable person’s conditions. These demands often serve to perpetuate the institution’s patriarchal nature: men seek to preserve their power and—wittingly or unwittingly—donate only under the condition that the institution continue in the same manner as before, which is to say in a patriarchal manner.
Due to the conditions imposed on the donations of the guineas, Woolf finds herself in a difficult position. She does not know whether to refuse to donate to such causes, because she will never be able to match men’s donations, or to donate and make conditions of her own, which might contain similar biases and which would politicize the institutions. Woolf decides that the only moral course of action is to donate “without fear, without flattery, and without conditions” (93). She will pledge her guinea to the women’s college and the societies, but she cannot do so with conditions attached, even if those conditions are anti-war or anti-patriarchy.
As a result, the metaphor of the three guineas changes. Before, the coins represented a conditional donation, the purchasing of influence at an institution. But Woolf’s coins are different. They are given without conditions, allowing the treasurers to spend the money where it needs to be spent. This is a new form of economic freedom, surrendering influence and power for the greater good. By the end of Three Guineas, Woolf has demonstrated the need to change the way money is donated and she has changed the nature of the titular coins and what they mean.
Given the nature of the essay, letters are an important motif throughout. The essay itself begins with an acknowledgement of the basic practices of letter writing. “Three years is a long time to leave a letter unanswered” (3), Woolf admits, thereby setting up the premise of Three Guineas. This short statement carries a number of important signifiers. Firstly, Woolf concedes that the problem outlined in the letter (how to prevent war) is still pertinent. Furthermore, she signals that this letter has lodged itself in her mind for so long that she has been driven to reply. Her words are also an apology for breaking the conventions of letter writing, while operating within the format itself. Finally, she seems to address the letter to an individual, but, as a book, it is now available for a wider audience to read. Within eleven words, Woolf has established, accepted, and then broken with important conventions of letter writing.
The central thesis put forward by the correspondent—that war can be prevented and that Woolf can help—is one that Woolf herself finds deplorable, as it displays a misunderstanding of the nature of war and the nature of society. It seems as though she has obsessed over this particular letter, recognizing the same fault throughout society, and has finally felt compelled to do something about it. By addressing her letter to the individual but allowing the society to read it, she is attempting to address every person through the same personal mode. She is seeking to talk to people on an individual level—and they, in turn, will read the letter as though they are glimpsing a private conversation—thus drawing them deeper into the world than if they were simply reading a manifesto or an article.
As well as being a symbol of how to address society, the letter becomes an important motif, especially when Woolf begins to imagine further letters she might write in the future. When Woolf attempts to “draft a letter” (31) to the treasurer of the women’s school, she surrounds this suggestion with very specific words. “Let us risk it” (31), she says, with the focus on “us” and “risk.” The use of the collective pronoun suggests a camaraderie with the correspondent that is lacking in many other areas of the text. There is also a hint of patronization, as though Woolf is teaching letter writing to a child. The word “risk” is an ironic choice considering that the drafting of a hypothetical letter seems to contain no inherent danger. This facetious tone becomes increasingly familiar throughout the essay, hinting at the anger Woolf feels toward the respondent. She channels this anger through the conventions of letter writing, even when writing a letter within a letter.
This notion of a letter within a letter is important, as it takes the framing device of the essay and escalates it even further. While in the main body of the essay, Woolf only occasionally turns to imagery and description to make her point, both appear much more in the hypothetical letters. When she describes burning down buildings, she uses almost lyrical words, dropping the pretense of polite letter writing she upholds throughout most of the essay. Woolf implores the treasurer to take her donation, “not to burn the house down, but to make its windows blaze” (77), and the mode of appeal switches from a simple, descriptive verb (burn) to a much more vivid, dramatic image (make its windows blaze). By switching the style of language when writing a letter within a letter, Woolf draws a distinction between her two audiences; she writes one way for a man and another way for a woman. Each sex needs to hear a different message, so her letter-writing style changes depending on her audience.
Woolf uses characters from history and politics to illustrate her points throughout the essay. Her use of the Greek tragedy of Antigone is one of the best examples of her providing an informed, educated appeal to classical rhetoric.
In a time when a classical education included a study of Greek literature, Woolf’s use of this text positions her as the intellectual equal of the “educated men” (63). Simply by citing the story of Antigone in a discussion of the exclusive nature of education, Woolf is demonstrating that she has been able to achieve an education in her own right, in spite of the patriarchal system rather than because of it. It lends her argument weight and authority at a time when she might be considered an intellectual afterthought by certain sections of society.
The story of Antigone is also highly relevant to the case Woolf is putting together. Throughout Three Guineas, Woolf uses the story as a symbol for the essential resistance she and others must put forward against patriarchal society. Antigone defies her elders and buries the body of her brother, Polyneices, before eventually killing herself. This act of rebellion and civil disobedience works as a suggestion for Woolf: She recommends following in Antigone’s footsteps and compares the rule of Creon to the rise of fascism, saying that it is an “instructive analysis of tyranny” (76).
By using the play as an allegory for feminist ideas and a meditation on how to prevent war, Woolf folds Sophocles’ play into her own. She is adamant that the play should not be read as a simple description of the rise of fascism, taking great pains to point out the feminist implications of the text. She does this by quoting the antagonist of Antigone, Creon, who says that “we must support the cause of order, and in no wise suffer a woman to worst us” (129). Woolf rejects Creon’s patriarchy and recommends that women rebel against the rule of law and the institutions. “Things repeat themselves it seems” (129), Woolf admits, insinuating that nothing has changed in thousands of years. The patriarchy is still in place, war is not preventable, and until something is done about the former, the latter will remain unsolvable.
By Virginia Woolf