Meg Wilkinson
May 24, 1999
Detail and Isolation in Mrs. Dalloway
Virginia Woolf's Mrs. Dalloway shows an attention to detail typical of much Modernist literature as it follows one day in an English woman's life. Many of the details which Woolf chose to include in the novel force the reader to attribute more importance to them than he or she might independently, by virtue of the fact that they appear at all.
8
This experience is similar to that of Clarissa Dalloway and Peter Walsh, who can find inordinate meaning in everyday occurrences. In their case, it is only through isolated moments of life that they can experience any sense of higher meaning. The details they notice, which would seem insignificant in other contexts, become strong symbols of the connections between human beings, but are nevertheless forgotten as other perceptions push them into more mundane lines of thought. The condensation of meaning into small details represents a modern alienation from the surrounding world, which made it necessary to experience life on progressively smaller scales. Septimus Warren Smith stands as evidence of the danger of feeling things on too large of a scale. He, too, attributes meaning to the least of what he perceives, but he finds almost all of what he sees significant. Because the characters' sense of isolation often comes to the surface during these moments of deep thought, Septimus's sustained sense of the importance in small details leaves him with a feeling of being profoundly alone. The characters in Mrs. Dalloway can only find evidence of their mutual connections in small, otherwise insignificant events, evidence which only reminds them of their isolation and thus can only be considered briefly before it becomes unbearable.
One of the most obvious ways in which Woolf signals to the reader the importance of details is through their repetition. For example, the passage of time throughout the day is marked by mention of Big Ben striking. This becomes a reference point, a detail that draws the reader out of the characters' thoughts to remind him or her (as it does the characters) that time continues to pass. Big Ben's peals have the power to redirect the train of thought of the characters, in some cases more dramatically so than in others. So, for example, Peter Walsh has no conscious reaction when it becomes 11:30, but nevertheless (speaks) to himself rhythmically in time with the flow of the sound, the direct downright sound of Big Ben striking the half hour (48). Here, Woolf seems to show the reader that Big Ben's strike is, after all, no more than a sound; Peter reacts to it as a sensory perception without associating it with time. In contrast, the sound of 2:30 sparks a reaction in Clarissa which illustrates how deep meaning may be attached to what would seem an insignificant event. Big Ben strikes so many times during the day, yet at 2:30 this occurs in conjunction with another insignificant event, the movement of Clarissa's neighbor away from the window, so that Clarissa ties the two events together and finds meaning in them that she would not have stumbled upon otherwise:
How extraordinary it was...to see the old lady...move away from
that window, as if she were attached to that sound, that string.
Gigantic as it was, it had something to do with her. Down, down,
into the midst of ordinary things the finger fell making the moment
solemn. She was forced, so Clarissa imagined, by that sound, to move,
to gobut where? (127)
8
Clarissa herself recognizes the extraordinary nature of the two events' simultaneous occurrence. She thinks of this as something divine, brought about by the finger (of a higher being, one assumes) pushing the two events together to reveal something. In other words, Clarissa assumes that this coincidence has meaning: the woman is no longer simply moving away from the window, and Big Ben's strike is no longer simply a sound.
Clarissa's pulling of meaning from two small, ordinary occurrences happens as she is thinking about her inherent isolation from others. Observing the woman, she thinks that the supreme mystery...was simply this: here was one room; there was another (127). This is a statement of a feeling of separation which Clarissa feels so strongly as to imagine it to be the unsolvable problem of life. Her attribution of meaning to the woman's movement betrays an urge to connect to her, to believe that she, like Clarissa herself, is tied to a higher rhythm. This need for connection is manifested in investing a common moment with an inordinate amount of significance. This is necessary because life is divided into these moments; the striking of her own clock a few minutes later sweeps Clarissa away from her consideration of the supreme mystery back to a preoccupation with the all sorts of little things she must do (128). An extended consideration of fundamental questions is impossible for Clarissa because of other interruptions, so it must be fit into smaller amounts of time. This consideration now demands relatively common events to trigger it, because it would almost never happen if it had to be inspired by important events. Very few things in Clarissa's life are sustained, and thus she must find meaning in the details which she has time to notice.
8
Peter has a different take on the issues of isolation and the resulting importance of details. He seems to praise a certain detachment from other people and the feelings which they can arouse in one. He feels that he has matured enough to, while still feeling things as strongly as before, have the power of taking hold of experience, of turning it round, slowly, in the light (79). He can now step back from what he is feeling to look at it objectively and understand it. He goes on further to think,
A terrible confession it was...but now, at the age of fifty-three
one scarcely needed people anymore. Life itself, every moment
of it, every drop of it, here, this instant, now, in the sun, in
Regent's Park, was enough. Too much indeed. A whole lifetime
was too short to bring out, now that one had acquired the power,
the full flavor (of life) (79).
If one were to stop reading at this point, it would seem that Peter had come to feel that the meaning of life could be condensed into a moment, that it was possible (and desirable) to suspend the actual feeling of one's passions so as to observe what they meant. He becomes overwhelmed by how much there is to draw from an instant, and it seems as if fulfillment could come by simply paying attention to what happens. However, Peter goes on to think: It was impossible that he should ever suffer again as Clarissa had made him suffer (79). This statement suggests that Peter is not as detached from feeling as he thinks himself to be, because just seeing Clarissa recalls for him a past pain, inducing astonishing accesses of emotion (80). Unlike Clarissa, Peter reacts to his isolation from other people (specifically, her) by pretending that this isolation is positive, that it allows him to truly experience life. In fact, Clarissa reminds Peter that even feelings which one assumes have been banished can resurface with the same potency they used to have. The gulf between the two of them affects Peter so strongly that he wishes he could reduce the living of life to solitary moments so he could think himself through them, rather than feel.
8
Septimus Smith is considered mad because of his inability to compartmentalize his life into bearable parts. Sir William Bradshaw, one of Septimus's doctors, says that he never spoke of 'madness'; he called it not having a sense of proportion (96). This euphemism suggests that Septimus feels too strongly, that he does not know how to appropriately control how he reacts to the world. Unlike Clarissa or Peter, Septimus does not allow himself to forget despair, which each one of them feels intensely at one time or another throughout the book. Dr. Holmes, his other doctor, tells Septimus's wife to make him notice real things, go to a music hall, play cricket (25). This advice shows that the doctor wants to direct Septimus's attention away from his feelings and toward observation of impersonal, innocuous events. Of course, Septimus already notices real things, that is, things happening outside of his head, but he is almost always embellishing them with intense meaning. For example, when he observes a pair of sparrows singing, he believes that they are speaking to him, telling him through their song that there is no crime and there is no death (24). He sees small details as reflecting a larger pattern of absolutes.
8
Septimus also has an acute sense of being removed from other people. He believes that he is the only person who knows the truth about what life is. This stems from his traumatic experiences in World War I, which have dramatically reshaped the way he approaches life. He can no longer concern himself with the mundane aspects of living, because they no longer make sense in what he knows is a world that encompasses extreme terror. His wife says, Septimus (lets) himself think about horrible things (66). Unlike others, he does not try to reduce his pain into bearable doses. The resulting intensity with which he experiences each moment makes him believe that he understands something that no one else does. He formalizes this sense into a notion that he has been specially chosen to do so; he is the lord of men...called forth...to hear the truth, to learn the meaning (67). This chosen status, while it allows him to know things that others don't, also brings with it the burden of that eternal suffering, that eternal loneliness which profoundly isolates him (25).
8
Septimus ultimately commits suicide because of other people, not out of an actual dislike for living. He phrases his problem with life as a question: Only human beingswhat did they want (149)? This last thought emphasizes Septimus's feeling that he is different from everyone else; he does not understand what drives humans (they rather than we), and consequently feels himself unable to live with people who do not live life by the truths only he knows. His last words, directed toward Dr. Holmes, are an indictment of what people really want. He is trying to express with his suicide the alienation he feels from a world which does not function as it should. Clarissa, reflecting on his death later, recognizes it as an attempt to communicate...closeness drew apart; rapture faded, one was alone (184). These last words sum up the pain of feeling oneself to be connected to others, only to realize that it never lasts. Peter, too, is indirectly touched by Septimus's death. Hearing the ambulance drive by minutes later, he thinks, That was civilisation...the efficiency, the organisation, the communal spirit of London. Every cart or carriage of its own accord drew aside to let the ambulance pass (151). Before he reproaches himself for sentimentality, Peter finds this courtesy touching, another moment in which people do seem to be connected. This is highly ironic, of course; Septimus was revolting against this civilisation which kept people apart, and the connection Peter observes only comes after his death, when it is of no use. Nevertheless, these connections between people do exist, and ultimately it seems that Septimus has been unfair in his assessment of other humans.
Early in the novel, an airplane flies over London and unites a crowd of people: All down the Mall people were standing and looking up into the sky. As they looked the whole world became perfectly silent (20). This seems to suggest that connections on a large scale between people are possible, but again that they happen only in moments, unsustained. This shared experience quickly becomes individual once again, as everyone who watches the airplane goes off on a different train of thought. Septimus experiences the sight of the airplane as exquisite beauty, but he believes it to be bestowed upon him and doesn't recognize it as a shared experience (21). Indeed, no one remarks upon the plane as such; it is only Woolf who assigns meaning to the moment by giving it such an extended treatment. Like her characters, Woolf believes in the symbolic nature of small details. The airplane scene demonstrates that momentary connections among people show their prevailing isolation that much more strongly. The world in which Woolf's characters live is a lonely one, and recognitions of this are so affecting that they cannot happen frequently without having consequences similar to those Septimus experiences. Like the details which trigger them, these recognitions are fleeting. They are possible to stand only because they happen on a small scale and at random times. Only by confining deep consideration of life to small amounts of time do Woolf's characters have any hope of not succumbing to despair, as Septimus ultimately does.
8