57 pages 1-hour read

The Misunderstanding

Fiction | Play | Adult | Published in 1943

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Act IIIChapter Summaries & Analyses

Content Warning: This section of the guide features discussion of graphic violence, death, and suicidal ideation.

Act III, Scene 1 Summary

At daybreak, the Old Servant tidies Jan’s room. In reception, Martha ties back her hair and the Mother moves to leave. Martha remarks dawn has come despite her mother’s insistence that it wouldn’t.


For the first time in years, Martha feels alive and like the young girl she once was. Tentatively, Martha asks her mother whether she is still beautiful. Her mother replies she is: The crime has revitalized her. While the Mother doesn’t share her daughter’s happiness, she hopes things will improve in the future and is glad Martha can now begin her life.


The Old Servant descends the stairs to give Martha Jan’s passport. Martha reads it and, unfazed by the revelation that’s she’s killed her brother, hands it to her Mother. After a long moment, the Mother understands what she sees. Calmly, she states she always knew this fate was unavoidable—just as her suicide will be. Shocked, Martha admonishes her mother for wanting to abandon her. The Mother responds that while Martha has always been a good, respectful daughter, that isn’t enough to absolve the grief she feels. Martha is indignant: Her mother—who has always taught her that nothing matters—now professes the opposite. Martha feels outraged that, despite Jan’s 20-year absence, her mother finds a certainty in his love that she doesn’t find in Martha’s.


Martha and the Mother continue their argument over morality, duty, and meaning. Guilty of filicide, the Mother believes she deserves nothing but hell. Martha rejects this notion of sin and punishment. She reminds her mother of her complicity in their previous murders. The Mother explains she acted unconsciously, but that now she has reawakened to the weight of free will and emotion. While Jan’s death hasn’t fully restored her humanity (she explains she hasn’t wept for him), it has restored her ability to feel. Finally, the Mother makes a final declaration: Even though the world is senseless, she cannot be. She tries to leave, but Martha blocks her way.


The aggrieved Martha makes a twofold argument: Her mother owes her for her presence these past 20 years, and Jan owed her for his absence. Martha hates that Jan knew life and freedom while she knew only privation, reflecting: “I stayed here. I stayed, small and dark, bored, sunk in the heart of the continent, growing up in the thick of the land” (213). She believes it’s cruel that Jan should also take from her mother’s love. Apologizing for being unable to express her love, Martha pleads with her mother to return to the everyday life they shared.


The Mother asks whether Martha recognized Jan from the beginning. She claims she didn’t but asserts that knowing alone wouldn’t have changed her decision: If she had deferred the decision to anyone, it wouldn’t have been “to an unknown and indifferent brother” but to her mother (215). The Mother replies it is too late for her to provide such direction.


Noting that her daughter can’t cry, the Mother asks whether Martha remembers the motherly love she has forgotten how to express. She doesn’t. The Mother reassures Martha of her love but calmly remarks that, now that her heart has reawakened, she can no longer stand to live. Martha steps aside and makes a final, desperate plea for her mother’s help. Her mother replies that her exhaustion is too great and exits to die by suicide, drowning herself in the river.

Act III, Scene 2 Summary

Martha slams the door after her mother and breaks into primal screams. She twice declaims it wasn’t her responsibility to protect her brother. She curses her mother for abandoning her and Jan for always getting what he wants while she remains miserable, separated from the sea by the suffocating land and people of Europe. She declares her righteous indignation about her fate, “the injustice done to innocence” (215). Finally, she makes a resolution: She will live until her death without turning her eyes to heaven as the horizonless land demands. Instead, she will keep her eyes on earth. She declares: “I will not kneel. Deprived of my place on this earth, rejected by my mother, alone with my crimes, I’ll leave this world unreconciled” (218).


Maria knocks.

Act III, Scene 3 Summary

Maria identifies herself as Jan’s wife and asks his whereabouts. Martha equivocates. Annoyed by Martha’s evasive responses and professed indifference, Maria presses for the truth, telling Martha Jan is her brother. Martha admits she knows. Flabbergasted, Maria questions why then he isn’t there at home. Martha tells Maria she can find Jan’s body in the river where she and her mother drowned him. Maria recoils but refuses to believe her. Venturing on, Maria asserts that her love and grief entitle her to an explanation. Martha rebukes Maria for her disbelief and her appeal to emotion.


Maria mumbles she knew she and Jan would be punished for his plan. Trying to reach Martha, Maria explains Jan’s goodhearted motives and details the emotional devastation his murder has wrought on her, while also condemning Martha’s heartlessness. Incensed by this appeal to her conscience, Martha counters that her own pain from losing her mother is worse because her mother not only died but also rejected her. However, when Maria repeats Jan’s good intentions, Martha softens, explaining that she thought she had a homeland—a home in her and her mother’s crimes—just as Jan had with Maria. When Maria tries to lay a consoling hand on Martha, she recoils.


Abandoning her attempt to reach Martha, Maria claims the immensity of the tragedy has rendered her emotionless, even though she’s still visibly weeping. Martha endeavors to eradicate this final sliver of emotion, proclaiming she can’t stand to let Maria think her love means something and that the murder was an accident. The murder was fated because the fate of all is to go unrecognized. There is, Martha says, neither peace nor home to be found in life. She argues against the futility of a life that ends in death, saying: “We’re being robbed, I tell you. What’s the point of this great call, this emergency of the soul? Why cry out for the sea or love? It’s pathetic” (228). Nonetheless, Martha doesn’t want to join her mother and Jan in death.


In a final, venomous monologue to Maria, Martha declares Maria’s grief will never equal the great injustice the world inflicts on people: death. Addressing Maria as her sister, Martha advises she has two options: Either harden herself to the suffering of the world and enjoy the “speechless peace” God himself enjoys, or, if she lacks the courage to do so, join Martha and the rest of humanity in awareness of suffering and death, “that home we all share” (228). Martha exits.


Disoriented, Maria wobbles across the stage with her hands held in front of her. She beseeches God to save her, as one who has loved, from the barren land into which she’s been thrown. The Old Servant enters.

Act III, Scene 4 Summary

Speaking clearly, the Old Servant says Maria called him. She wavers but asks him to have mercy and help her. He refuses.

Act III Analysis

Act III transitions the thematic focus from absurdity and miscommunication to Existential Rebellion and Renunciation of the Absolute. Martha, Maria, and the Mother each respond to the absurd in archetypal ways. In her newfound grief, the Mother renounces life for death. Similarly, the bereft Maria forsakes life for God. Finally, Martha renounces her fantasy of total happiness by the seaside and begrudgingly acknowledges that her suffering in a world negligent to her desires isn’t unique to her.


In their renunciations of life, the Mother and Maria serve as foils to Martha, the nascent rebel. Once the only character in the play to have been happy, Maria forsakes life and appeals to God for salvation after Jan’s murder. Her withdrawal from emotion and the world echoes that of Martha and the Mother in the first two acts. Camus suggests such cloistering is a perennial temptation in a world where meaning is never secure. The motifs of this renunciation appear in Maria’s lament to Martha: “I’ll let you die as you wish. I’m blind now. I can’t even see you. And neither you nor your mother will ever be but fugitive faces met and lost amid a tragedy that never ends” (226). Maria’s indifference, her detachment from others symbolized by blindness, and the obliteration of Martha and the Mother in memory all recall previous characterizations of Martha and her mother.


The idea of common humanity appears in an ambiguous statement Maria makes following the revelation of Jan’s murder. She confesses to Martha: “In truth, I’ve hardly had time to suffer or rebel. The misfortune is greater than I am” (226). Her statement has both individual and broad meanings. Confined to Maria, these words convey how the abrupt revelation of Jan’s murder paralyzes her, preventing her from feeling both the full weight of her grief and that of her rage—which, as she says, would make her “rebel” against (i.e., attack) Maria (221). She believes the suffering is hers alone and therefore unendurable—no one can console or sympathize with her. Camus’s stage directions have Maria hiding her face from Martha as she speaks these words, indicating her withdrawal into herself and detachment from humanity. The connotation of hiding one’s face suggests Camus sees such withdrawal as shameful, if also pitiable.


Understood as a broader existential statement, Martha’s statement suggests an irony to which only Martha and the audience have access. The misfortune is greater than Maria in that it is shared—in the absurd world, many people suffer senseless tragedies. Maria’s denial of this fact stops Martha from leaving, prompting her to voice a brutal truth: Everyone is condemned to go unrecognized through life (227). For Camus, it is in the shared acknowledgment of the injustice of this existential anonymity that solidarity forms. Maria, however, deafens herself to this truth, opting against the rebellion that Camus believes frees one from isolation.


Like Maria, the Mother takes a fatalistic view of Jan’s death, pointing to Camus’s thematic engagement with Self-Determination, Fate, and the Search for Meaning in an Absurd World. Indeed, there is the connotation of preordainment in the god-like Old Servant ensuring Jan remains a stranger. However, this view ignores that Jan himself inaugurated his masquerade and that Martha and the Mother murdered him. Fatalism blinds Maria and the Mother to the purely human causes of his death. The Mother uses this logic of inevitability to explain the necessity of taking her own life. Once disillusioned and unfeeling, the Mother experiences grief and guilt over her son’s death, but these resurrected feelings are too much of a shock. Like the disillusionment that preceded them, they drive the Mother away from life. After years of living directionless, the Mother finds calming certainty in the endurance of Jan’s love for her. In existential bad faith, she latches onto the security of the predefined role of mother, forsaking the rest of herself. Consequently, she concludes she no longer has a purpose: “When a mother is no longer able to recognize her own son, her role on this earth is over” (210). For the Mother, the meaning of her life—her motherhood—becomes a reason to die following her murder of her son.


Camus further emphasizes the necessity of existential rebellion and the danger of illusions through the biblically inflected confrontation between Martha and Maria (See Literary Devices: Biblical Allusion). Like the biblical Martha, Camus’s Martha is indignant that her sibling has left her alone, responsible for the household. Like the biblical Mary, post-tragedy Maria focuses her entire self on God. However, in a reversal of the biblical symbolism, in Camus’s godless world, it is Mary who is misguided—not Martha. For Camus, workaday tasks are all one has—to turn away from them as Maria does is to renounce life. 


As the Old Servant’s final word underscores, Camus believes such renunciation can only end in devastation. Indignant rebellion against the fact of death is the only attitude that affirms the supreme value of life itself. To lose oneself in fantasies of salvation is to attenuate that supreme value. As Martha states, life is always preferable to death: “What do I want with their [the Mother and Jan’s] company? I’ll leave them to their newfound affection, to their dark embrace. Neither you [Maria] nor I have any part in it anymore” (223). Martha’s is a message of perseverance, not total despair. Martha chooses life even when everything has gone wrong and in doing so recognizes her free will. Camus believes this affirmation of life is the foundation of any human-built sense of meaning and morality. However, Martha doesn’t take Camus’s suggested next step toward community, opting instead to live out her life in solitude.

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