Mrs. Dalloway

“How he scolded her! How they argued! She would marry a Prime Minister and stand at the top of a staircase; the perfect hostess he called her (she had cried over it in her bedroom), she had the makings of the perfect hostess, he said.” 

When Clarissa refuses Peter for Richard Dalloway, he criticizes her in veiled terms, and she feels injured because she does not view herself as someone who would make the perfect hostess. Peter’s criticism of Clarissa has proven itself to be prophetic; after all, though Clarissa felt deeply offended by Peter’s words, on the first day they meet again after Clarissa rejected Peter, she is indeed planning a party, which suggests that Peter is right and she is actually very good at being a hostess.

“She had the oddest sense of being herself invisible; unseen; unknown; there being no more marrying, no more having of children now, but only this astonishing and rather solemn progress with the rest of them, up Bond Street, this being Mrs. Dalloway; not even Clarissa any more; this being Mrs. Richard Dalloway.” 

As Clarissa walks to the flower shop, she travels amongst other Londoners who are simply carrying on with the tasks of their day. No longer can Clarissa distinguish herself from these masses of people, and this experience feels rather bleak to Clarissa. She has lost herself, her true self, in becoming one of the crowd this morning, and her long-ago marriage to Richard may have been the first step towards this sense of all-encompassing loss.

“Septimus Warren Smith, aged about thirty, pale-faced, beak-nosed, wearing brown shoes and a shabby overcoat, with hazel eyes which had that look of apprehension in them which makes complete strangers apprehensive too. The world has raised its whip; where will it descend?” 

Though Septimus’s physical characteristics enable him to blend in with other Londoners, the suspicious look in his eyes sets him apart and inspires fear in others. Septimus has been traumatized by his experiences in the war, which makes him anxious about the world at large, and his anxiety leads other people who observe him to also feel anxious.

“‘Look, look, Septimus!’ she cried. For Dr. Holmes had told her to make her husband (who had nothing whatever seriously the matter with him but was a little out of sorts) take an interest in things outside himself.” 

Rezia, Septimus’s young Italian wife, tries in vain to follow the doctor’s advice in the hopes that she can help Septimus. The doctor is unable to treat Septimus in an effective way because Septimus has no physical symptoms of illness; the problems that afflict Septimus (and, vicariously, his wife) are mental problems, ones that the doctor is ill-equipped to treat.

“And whether it was pity, or their beauty, or that she was older, or some accident—like a faint scent, or a violin next door (so strange is the power of sounds at certain moments), she did undoubtedly then feel what men felt. Only for a moment; but it was enough.”

In this passage, Clarissa reflects that she has let her husband down because she cannot be to him what other wives are to their husbands. Clarissa’s attraction to women stands between her and Richard, and her feelings of attraction to various women can surprise her with their spontaneity. She compares her feelings to those of men, knowing no other way to describe her lesbian tendencies.

“Peter Walsh and Joseph Breitkopf went on about Wagner. She and Sally fell a little behind. Then came the most exquisite moment of her whole life passing a stone urn with flowers in it. Sally stopped; picked a flower;kissed her on the lips. The whole world might have turned upside down! The others disappeared; there she was alone with Sally.”

This moment at Bourton is Clarissa’s favorite memory. The summer Sally stayed with her at Bourton was full of intimate moments between the two women, late-night conversations and fervent promises to change the world. The moment Sally kissed Clarissa was interrupted by Peter Walsh, and Clarissa remembers his intrusion as a terrible shock. His arrival represents the arrival of reality; Sally and Clarissa have no future together, which must have made for a painful realization.

“There was always something cold in Clarissa, he thought. She had always, even as a girl, a sort of timidity, which in middle age becomes conventionality, and then it's all up, it's all up, he thought, looking rather drearily into the glassy depths, and wondering whether by calling at that hour he had annoyed her; overcome with shame suddenly at having been a fool; wept; been emotional; told her everything, as usual, as usual.” 

After he leaves the Dalloway residence, Peter Walsh walks in Westminster, reflecting on his emotional outburst at the end of his visit with Clarissa. He is embarrassed at his own lack of control, which may reveal lingering feelings for Clarissa that he does not expect nor desire. The coldness that Peter senses may be explained simply by the distance that exists between a man whose love for a woman is unrequited, or by the fact that, unbeknownst to Peter, Clarissa actually prefers women. 

“‘You,’ she said, only ‘you,’ saying it with her white gloves and her shoulders. Then the thin long cloak which the wind stirred as she walked past Dent's shop in Cockspur Street blew out with an enveloping kindness, a mournful tenderness, as of arms that would open and take the tired—" 

During his walk in London after his visit to Clarissa, Peter Walsh observes an attractive young woman and follows her. This passage is a figment of Peter’s rich fantasy about the woman, who, in his imagination only, seems like someone who would treat Peter as lovingly as he wishes Clarissa had, years before. Peter’s fantasy, inspired only by a glimpse of a beautiful stranger, reveals his tendency towards a sort of immature fascination with women in general. 

“It was a trifle that led up to it—Sally at lunch saying something about Dalloway, and calling him ‘My name is Dalloway’; whereupon Clarissa suddenly stiffened, coloured [sic], in a way she had, and rapped out sharply, ‘We've had enough of that feeble joke.’”

Peter recalls a strong memory as he approaches Regent’s Park. This memory of the so-called “trifle” includes Clarissa’s clear refusal of Peter Walsh that fateful summer day at Bourton decades earlier. Sally’s mocking of Richard Dalloway inspires an unexpected protectiveness in Clarissa, and Clarissa’s defense of Richard is a threat to Peter. Later that afternoon, Peter makes his intentions to Clarissa clear, only to be disappointed.

“Septimus was one of the first to volunteer. He went to France to save an England which consisted almost entirely of Shakespeare's plays and Miss Isabel Pole in a green dress walking in a square. There in thetrenches the change which Mr. Brewer desired when he advised football was produced instantly; he developed manliness; he was promoted; he drew the attention, indeed the affection of his officer, Evans by name.” 

In this passage, Septimus is represented as one of the many young men who went to war with an idealistic mindset. The pointlessness of the legions of deaths as a result of World War I adds to the poignancy of the loss of these innocent young men who truly believed in their cause: the protection of a beautiful and traditional England. As well, the passage names Evans, the dead officer who appears to Septimus in his hallucinations. Under the influence of Evans, Septimus matured into as an admirable young man, only to be destroyed by the after-effects of a war that had no real purpose.

“It was a case of complete breakdown—complete physical and nervous breakdown, with every symptom in an advanced stage, he ascertained in two or three minutes (writing answers to questions, murmured discreetly, on a pink card).” 

During their first meeting with Dr. Bradshaw, Septimus reveals himself to be a very damaged person. Rezia Smith has high hopes for this meeting with the expensive Harley Street specialist, but Dr. Bradshaw disappoints her with his manner and his overly-quick recommendation for treatment.  

“That Peter Walsh had been in love with Clarissa; that he would go back directly after lunch and find Clarissa; that he would tell her, in so many words, that he loved her. Yes, he would say that.” 

As Richard lunches with Lady Bruton, the name of Peter Walsh comes up in conversation, which inspires a rush of positive feeling in Richard towards his wife. Somehow, the mention of another man who may continue have passionate feelings towards Clarissa causes Richard to feel his own passionate feelings towards her, and he experiences a sudden need to overcome his own repression and express himself to her. He fails, ultimately, but he does bring Clarissa roses, a gesture met with understanding and appreciation. 

“But she had to write. And one letter to the Times, she used to say to Miss Brush, cost her more than to organize [sic] an expedition to South Africa (which she had done in the war). After a morning's battle beginning, tearing up, beginning again, she used to feel the futility of her own womanhood as she felt it on no other occasion, and would turn gratefully to the thought of Hugh Whitbread who possessed—no one could doubt it—the art of writing letters to the Times.” 

In this brief thought of Lady Bruton, Woolf asserts in a gently-mocking way her own need to write literature. Lady Bruton must write, whether or not her opinion letters to the Times actually are read, and this impulse to put pen to paper, combined with her position in society as a woman, leads to a sense of creative futility with which Woolf herself is familiar. 

“But how lovely, she said, taking his flowers. She understood; she understood without his speaking; his Clarissa. She put them in vases on the mantelpiece. How lovely they looked! she said.” 

When Richard arrives home after lunching with Lady Bruton, he is unable to follow through with his plan to tell Clarissa how he loves her. His inability to talk about his emotions is reflected in the experiences of Septimus Smith and his conversations with his doctors about his condition. The British way of repressing strong emotion plays out in different ways, depending on the person, the relationship, and the feelings involved. 

“Clarissa was really shocked. This a Christian—this woman! This woman had taken her daughter from her! She in touch with invisible presences! Heavy, ugly, commonplace, without kindness or grace, she know the meaning of life!”

Clarissa and Miss Kilman, her daughter Elizabeth’s governess, dislike each other. Clarissa’s dislike for Miss Kilman relates to the fact that she believes Elizabeth is engaged in a sort of love affair with Miss Kilman; Clarissa’s problem with her suspicion has less to do with the same-sex element, and more to do with Miss Kilman’s temperament and manner.

“She was about to split asunder, she felt. The agony was so terrific. If she could grasp her, if she could clasp her, if she could make her hers absolutely and forever and then die; that was all she wanted.”

While accompanying Elizabeth on a shopping expedition, Miss Kilman feels alternately critical and envious of Elizabeth’s wealth and how easy it is for her to access lovely things, and possessive of Elizabeth’s youth and beauty. When they discuss the evening’s party, Elizabeth acknowledges that she has little interest in attending the event, and Miss Kilman has a strong reaction to the possibility that they share a disinterest in social gatherings.

“He was alone with the sideboard and the bananas. He was alone, exposed on this bleak eminence, stretched out—but not on a hill-top; not on a crag; on Mrs. Filmer's sitting-room sofa. As for the visions, the faces, the voices of the dead, where were they?” 

Septimus is suffering a particularly acute attack on his psyche at this moment. His sense of isolation as well as his hallucinations reveal the extent to which his mental illness has taken over his life. Woolf herself has had experience with psychological breakdowns, and through the character of Septimus, she explores the nuances of such an experience in detail.

“That was civilization [sic]. It struck him coming back from the East—the efficiency, the organization [sic], the communal spirit of London. Every cart or carriage of its own accord drew aside to let the ambulance pass.” 

Peter Walsh hears the ambulance traveling towards the hospital, transporting the mangled body of Septimus Smith, who has thrown himself out of a window. Peter’s light and mildly celebratory experience observing the ambulance juxtaposes his superficial personality with the dark, despairing depths of Septimus. Dramatic irony gives this moment a poignancy as Peter Walsh could have no idea that the man inside the ambulance was the same man he saw in the park having a romantically difficult discussion with his lady, but the reader knows exactly what happened then and now.

“Out came with his pocket-knife a snapshot of Daisy on the verandah; Daisy all in white, with a fox-terrier on her knee; very charming, very dark; the best he had ever seen of her. It did come, after all so naturally; so much more naturally than Clarissa. No fuss. No bother. No finicking and fidgeting.” 

Peter’s love affair with Daisy may appear to be difficult, as he is in London in pursuit of a divorce for her so that she and Peter may be together, but emotionally, he finds their relationship straightforward. The direct and natural connection they share is easier than the one he experienced with Clarissa, and he questions the validity of his emotions towards Daisy, believing on some level that a love affair must be hard in order to be true.

“I resign, the evening seemed to say, as it paled and faded above the battlements and prominences, moulded [sic], pointed, of hotel, flat and block of shops, I fade, she was beginning, I disappear, but London would have none of it, and rushed her bayonets into the sky, pinioned her, constrained her to partnership in her revelry.” 

In this passage, the evening falling on London is given human qualities, and this use of personification emphasizes the state of the city in the years after World War I. Like Septimus Smith, the city still retains the effects of the war, and even moments of lighthearted activity are restrained by images of battle and violence. Revelry can hardly feel sincere when bayonets are threatening and battlements are looming.

“The curtain with its flight of birds of Paradise blew out again. And Clarissa saw—she saw Ralph Lyon beat it back, and go on talking. So it wasn’t a failure after all! it was going to be all right now, her party. It had begun. It had started.” 

As Clarissa’s party begins, she experiences anxiety, worrying that her party will not be a success. Guests have arrived and though they are mingling, she is unconvinced that the party will go well. For some reason, this gesture of Ralph Lyon’s gives Clarissa confidence in her party; though the blowing of the curtain interrupts Ralph Lyon in his conversation, it does not derail him completely, and his pursuit of conversation against the blowing curtain pleases Clarissa.

“The lustre [sic] had gone out of her. Yet it was extraordinary to see her again, older, happier, less lovely. They kissed each other, first this cheek then that, by the drawing-room door, and Clarissa turned, with Sally's hand in hers, and saw her rooms full, heard the roar of voices, saw the candlesticks, the blowing curtains, and the roses which Richard had given her.” 

Sally Seton appears at the party unexpectedly. Clarissa notices her immediate environment, full of trappings that she and Sally had derided as younger women and evidence of her married life with Richard. She notices that Sally is less vibrant than she was in her youth, but that this change does not lessen the impact of the shock of seeing her. Clarissa manages the tumult of emotions well, hiding her true feelings as well as Richard hides his.

“What business had the Bradshaws to talk of death at her party? A young man had killed himself. And they talked of it at her party—the Bradshaws, talked of death.”

When the Bradshaws arrive late, they explain their tardiness with more truth than makes Clarissa feel comfortable, explaining that a patient of Dr. Bradshaw’s had killed himself. They bring with them the heaviness of suicide, and Clarissa feels indignant because parties are meant to be lighthearted affairs. Here, dramatic irony is at play again, as the reader realizes that the patient is Septimus Smith.