Mrs Dalloway: Section 7 Summary & Analysis

Rezia is an outsider to the patriarchal English society, so she must take her comforts where she can and she engages with the woman’s song. Rezia has been painfully aware of others’ eyes since Septimus got sick, and the old woman’s confident words comfort her. The words also resonate with Clarissa’s (future) ideas on the privacy of the soul, and the old woman in the window.

This is the most conventional section of the novel stylistically, where Woolf reveals Septimus’s backstory with no free indirect discourse or stream of consciousness. We see another parallel between Septimus and Clarissa in the importance of Shakespeare and poetry to their lives.

Septimus’s youthful idealism and hope was a reflection of pre-War Europe, which had never experienced such a concentration of enormous numbers of casualties before World War I. Mr. Brewer is another kind of “English gentleman” like Hugh Whitbread, and both are irrelevant to the modern age.

We learn very little about Septimus’s war experience or his relationship with Evans, but the former was clearly traumatizing and the latter clearly emotionally important.

The feeling of numbness is a common symptom of PTSD, but no one understood this ailment at the time and could explain it to Septimus. His war decorations then seem supremely hollow considering how the war ruined his life.

There is a tragic disconnect between Septimus’s inner life and Rezia’s, and we see the great gulf that Clarissa will describe as existing even between husband and wife. As his mental illness increases, Septimus comes to think of human nature as a repulsive, evil thing.

We now see just how harmful a “gentleman” like Mr. Brewer can be. He takes no interest in the poor, the countries oppressed by the British Empire, or the soldiers suffering to preserve his comfortable lifestyle.

Dr. Holmes is the epitome of the useless, harmful doctor, a man like Hugh or Brewster who is totally incapable of dealing with anything outside the sphere of English convention. Holmes has absolutely no understanding of depression or trauma, and gives no credit to it.

Holmes actually contributes to Septimus’s mental illness, reinforcing his ideas about the repulsiveness and idiocy of human nature. Instead of being treated for his emotional numbness, Septimus is allowed to continue thinking of it as an unpardonable crime.

The lack of communication between Septimus and Dr. Holmes is both infuriating and tragic. The worst part of Septimus’s situation is that he cannot communicate his inner turmoil to anyone, even Rezia. We see more foreshadowings of suicide, but there is further tragedy in the fact that Septimus doesn’t actually want to die.

Woolf gives a swift link between Clarissa and Septimus by juxtaposing their actions at noon. Clarissa finishes mending her green dress and is now ready to face society, while Septimus is naked and exposed to society’s condemnation as he enters Sir William’s residence. Woolf’s treatment of Sir William is full of searing sarcasm.

Sir William is at least right to recognize that Septimus does have a problem, which is much better than Dr. Holmes did. The young Septimus had idealized reasons for fighting in the war, but now he cannot even remember why he suffered so much. Septimus has lost faith in England, and so cannot feel the pride that Rezia feels in his “distinction.”

Septimus is once again unable to communicate his true feelings, and the well-meaning Rezia talks over him. She is still acutely aware of society’s judgment, and wants to minimize the “embarrassment” of Septimus’s mental illness. We now start to see Sir William’s “obscurely evil” nature – he is not interested in hearing Septimus’s words, but only in sending him away.

Sir William’s condemnation of Septimus has notes of jealousy in it, as Septimus has a natural intelligence, is well-read, and dares to question Sir William’s authority. Septimus has seen the worst side of human nature in the war, and now he comes to associate doctors with that same nature – torturing and killing for no good reason.

Once again Septimus is unable to express his thoughts, and Sir William isn’t even interested in hearing them. The doctor has a “one size fits all” approach for psychology, and if anyone doesn’t conform to his ideas he automatically sends them away to be isolated and weakened. Rezia has a natural distrust of Sir William because of her love for Septimus and his individuality.

Woolf saves her most searing criticisms of the novel for Sir William, and it is clear that she has a personal grudge against doctors like this, who force their patients into their conceptions of conformity rather than truly engaging with them as individuals. Woolf herself suffered from mental illness and was also a very individual, non-conforming soul, so she often had to put up a front to avoid being condemned by people like Sir William.

Woolf spends a lot of time condemning conversion (whether to religion or conformity), as this is the greatest threat to the privacy of the soul that she holds so dear. In this way Sir William will connect to Doris Kilman later, and both are microcosms of the machine of the British Empire, destroying the individuality and “privacy” of its colonized nations.

Sir William’s sense of proportion has become like a fundamentalist religion to him, and he is in a position of power to instill it into his helpless, mentally ill patients. If a patient asks something too philosophical – about God, their own individuality, or their power over their own life – he reinforces his dogma and insists they “convert” to his worldview.

Time and the ticking of clocks mean many different things to characters in the novel, and to Rezia the uniform motion of clocks now seems to reinforce Sir William’s demand to conform. After her initial (ironic) praise of Sir William’s tact and philanthropy, Woolf now fully shows Sir William for what he is – a psychological bully.

Woolf draws a significant connection between Sir William and Hugh now, as Hugh is the epitome of the conformity and “proportion” that Sir William worships. We get hardly anything from Hugh’s inner dialogue, as Woolf seems to say that he has nothing underneath his outer appearance of gentility.

The upper class characters generally defend each other’s flaws as they try to preserve tradition and their role as the elite. This is most tellingly shown in Lady Bruton defense of Hugh. Lady Bruton recognizes the differences between Clarissa and most others of her class—she recognizes Clarissa’s ability to judge people, and refuses to engage in such behavior.

The greatest evil of a luncheon like this is the “invisibility” of all the servants and cooks. Part of the privilege of the upper class is that they don’t have to look at the poor and engage with them. Peter can give a coin to the old woman and move on.

As with Peter and Clarissa’s meeting, this luncheon involves little communication, but Woolf’s free indirect discourse adds layers of meaning to the small talk. Lady Bruton is the most “feminist” character of the book, as she shrugs off the limitations of her gender, but she is also portrayed negatively because of her adherence to English tradition and conformity.

Richard is a simple, traditional soul, but he is at least a kind man and does love Clarissa. The past at Bourton often seems more real than the present, and is overwhelming even at this luncheon where neither Clarissa, Peter, nor Sally are present.

Everyone recognizes that Peter prefers fantasy and melodrama to genuine engagement and communication, so they realize that he will proudly reject any offer of help. Hugh still goes through the motions, though, as he has no sense of the deeper parts of someone’s soul.

Just as the source of the extravagant luncheon is invisible, so Lady Bruton tries to solve England’s problems by exporting them to Canada. There is also a xenophobic aspect to this cause, as she is perhaps trying to “civilize” Canada with the English upper classes. Lady Bruton has “lost her sense of proportion” just like Septimus, but she is protected by her wealth and class.

Lady Bruton, like most other characters, has a difficulty in communicating when trying to write her letter. Hugh seems like a smooth, effective communicator but his words carry no real weight. “Prime Minister” was an insult for Peter (when he suggested who Clarissa would marry), but it is a compliment for Lady Bruton and Hugh, again highlighting their connection to tradition and inability to see beyond that tradition.

Though Lady Bruton is a powerful, independent woman, Woolf shows how irrelevant she is to modern life here. Instead of affecting the future, she and her family are fitting subjects for history books. Richard is a member of the Conservative Party, which is about to be replaced by the more liberal Labour Party.

Woolf now shows Lady Bruton’s naïveté by having her consider Richard and Hugh such fine examples of men – particularly Hugh, as Richard is actually able and goodhearted. With the image of the thread Woolf adds to the idea of an extensive network of overlapping characters, individual souls who sometimes brush against each other.

Even the conventional, unimaginative Richard dislikes Hugh, as Richard is a man of honesty and principles, and Hugh is all about surfaces and excess. We finally get Richard’s point of view and find him more sympathetic.

Richard recognizes that he lacks the passion and drama of Peter, and so he avoids making romantic gestures to Clarissa even though he loves her in his own way. Hugh never has to face repercussions for his sins because of his wealth and status.

Richard shows his lack of poetry in the way he handles flowers, “bearing them like a weapon” in the next section. Clarissa, by contrast, feels comforted and rejuvenated among flowers. Richard doesn’t have to deal with the war in the way Septimus does, but he does appreciate how lucky he is.

Richard is a kind man who works to help the poor, but he still avoids actually engaging and communicating with people outside his social class. The vagrant woman is powerless in English society, but she still has power in her freedom and individuality, like Sally as a youth.

Richard loves Clarissa, but he still thinks of her in female stereotypes, as a woman who needs his support. He is right that Peter would have been an emotional drain, though. Richard also recognizes the absurdity and meaningless of the English hierarchy, but he still chooses to believe in it because it gives him comfort.

Clarissa is at her snobbiest here, especially when we learn that Ellie Henderson is poorer than everyone else invited to the party. Richard fails at true communication and is unable to even confess his love verbally. That he feels Clarissa understands is not a guarantee that she does understand, and so much human interaction is full of just that sort of uncertainty.

Richard’s meeting is about the Armenian Genocide, and we see how Richard, though dull and unimaginative, is actually trying to do some good in the world, while Clarissa’s life is still painfully insular. Clarissa’s thoughts on the loneliness of the soul condense one the novel’s main themes.

Clarissa’s regimented post-influenza existence is similar to Woolf’s own. Because of her nervous breakdowns and headaches, Woolf’s husband Leonard kept her on a strict schedule. This is sort of the thesis statement for Clarissa’s current existence – her instinctual love of life, and her desire to bring people together and spread this joy. Just as in Peter’s dream, where he wondered who he could reply to, Clarissa doesn’t know to whom she is offering her parties. There is no God or savior for these modern characters – they must find answers alone.

Death is paradoxical in its existence in the novel – it is always at hand, just on the other side of joy and optimism, but at the same time it seems impossible that all the infinite threads of life should suddenly be cut off.

We finally delve into the point of view of Elizabeth and Miss Kilman. Miss Kilman is the opposite of Clarissa – poor, unattractive, charmless, and bitter against life. But even Miss Kilman is (at least at first) a sympathetic character because of her situation, as she has had none of the privileges Clarissa had in her life.

We first learn of all the reasons Miss Kilman has to justify her bitterness. Germany was portrayed as evil during the war, and having any kind of view that contradicted that opened one up to discrimination.

Miss Kilman is justified in her unhappiness, but she crosses the line when she uses her bitterness as fuel for her desire for conversion and domination. She is like Sir William, trying to violate the privacy of the soul with conversion, though Miss Kilman is a poor woman and so lacks Sir William’s power and effectiveness.

Clarissa’s sister was killed by a falling tree, and Miss Kilman now wants to “fell” Clarissa. Elsewhere in the novel trees (with their complex systems of branches and roots) have been associated with souls, and so this implies that Doris Kilman wants to “fell” souls just like Sir William. Clarissa, who is sensitive to the individuality of the soul (just like Septimus), is horrified by this.

Clarissa’s hatred for Miss Kilman was described as a kind of monster, and now Miss Kilman is a monster herself. Love and religion are usually portrayed as positive ideals for humanity, but to Clarissa (and perhaps to Woolf as well) their tendency to try and convert and dominate others makes them harmful.

Woolf’s most famous essay is called “A Room of One’s Own,” and throughout her work separate rooms act as representations of individual souls. This scene condenses the heart of the novel, and the paradox between aloneness and communication. The lack of communication between Clarissa and the old woman is tragic in a way, but at the same time it comforts Clarissa about the privacy of the soul. Clarissa watching the old woman also resonates with the singing woman’s words: “If some one should see, what matter they?”

The paradox of privacy and communication for Clarissa, Septimus, and Woolf is that human souls are inherently alone, as true communication is difficult or impossible – we all exist in separate rooms – but there can also be a comfort in this privacy. The windows and doors of these rooms then become means of connection and communication. Clarissa takes the door off its hinges to throw her party, which is in itself an attempt to reach out to other people.

Doris Kilman has been badly treated by fate and society, but she uses this unfairness as a justification for hatred and domination. Kilman’s personal tragedy is that she fails even in this, as Clarissa can overcome her simply with laughter.

All of Miss Kilman’s pleasures come from the jealous possession of something, even her self-pity, as she enjoys thinking that no one suffers as she does. It is this possessiveness that is so horrifying to sensitive individuals like Clarissa.

Elizabeth is a rather passive character, but she is interested in the ideas Miss Kilman proposes. She seems unaware or uncaring of Miss Kilman’s possessive love, however, and Clarissa’s fear that Elizabeth is “falling in love” with Miss Kilman seems unfounded.

Flowers again act as a symbol of beauty and the joy in life, as Miss Kilman squashes them in her domineering hand. Elizabeth seems remarkably disinterested and wise for her age, though she takes little action of her own.

There is another undercurrent of homosexual attraction in Miss Kilman’s possessive love for Elizabeth, but again it is repressed and so leads to unhealthy consequences. As a force of domination and conversion (like Sir William) Doris Kilman’s love is not romantic or intimate, but possessive and crushing of the individual being loved.

Unlike Sir William, Doris Kilman is ineffective in her attempts to “colonize” other people’s souls. She is poor and female, and so has no power in this society – she is truly a tragic character, unhappy and bitter and trying to spread her unhappiness to others, but totally ineffective.

Elizabeth’s thoughts reflect Peter’s musings on Richard (as a man who should live in the country with dogs), and show how Elizabeth is closer to her father than to her mother. Woolf shows the more clichéd side of the flower symbol, as it becomes boring when used to describe female beauty. There is also a hint of the way that beauty becomes a kind of trap for the beautiful, forcing them into convention through the attention of others.

Elizabeth considers the career options becoming more open to women now – the things Doris Kilman listed while pitying herself for having no such options. Elizabeth at least seems to take a greater interest in the poor than most members of her class.

Elizabeth has a good heart and considers her future, but she takes little real action and merely drifts about on the omnibus. It seems unlikely that she will take any radical action in her life to help others or change her own status.

Septimus starts to grow ecstatic at the beauty in everyday life, just as Clarissa does, and he shares her meditations on the quote from Cymbeline.

Rezia feels that gulf between husband and wife that Clarissa was describing to herself. Rezia feels that Septimus is a wholly different person since his illness, and a stranger to her now.

Septimus starts to experience a time of sanity and happiness just before he is reminded of cruel human nature. He can see the world clearly now, and is comforted by the mundane life around him, the kind of bustle and gossip that Clarissa delights in.

The image of threads as connecting souls is appropriate for this scene, as Rezia and Septimus finally have a moment of intimacy and communication while dong something prosaic: sewing together a hat. This reprieve of happiness makes the following scene all the more tragic.

The girl is Mrs. Filmer’s granddaughter, and Rezia is made even more joyful by her appearance, as Rezia had always wanted children. The knock on the door is a reminder of the outside world, though, and the men trying to dominate Septimus’s fragile soul.

Septimus seems to suddenly feel the “emptiness at the heart of life” that Clarissa did when she returned from her morning stroll. There was a comfort in Septimus’s beautiful fantasies, and now they are gone and he is left to dread the approach of Sir William’s condemnation.

Septimus and Rezia both feel the approach of the overbearing doctors now, and they try to preserve the happy moment they have created. Rezia is overjoyed to finally feel less alone.

Now that he is lucid, Septimus sees how he has been dominated by the doctors and forced to conform to Sir William’s conventions. He tries to preserve the poetry of his soul by burning his papers and saving them from Holmes and Bradshaw.

An individual is again compared to a tree, and flowers are again associated with women and beauty. Septimus sees Rezia’s individuality and love as a haven against human nature.

When Dr. Holmes arrives Septimus sees his choice as killing himself or giving up his soul to the doctors. He is trying to escape the embodiment of repulsive human nature, but also to defy it by controlling his own fate.

If rooms act as sealed, incommunicable souls, then windows are a kind of bridge between them, and so Septimus’s means of suicide becomes a kind of desperate act of communication. The old man across the way reflects Clarissa’s old woman in the window, but the old man is leaving the privacy of his room. Septimus also leaves his privacy even as he sacrifices himself to preserve his agency and individuality. The quote from Cymbeline appears again. Septimus’s last words show that he is making an “offering” of his death – no one is taking it from him – just as Clarissa’s parties are an offering.

Septimus had obviously threatened suicide many times, so Dr. Holmes is being purposefully ignorant to absolve himself of blame. He immediately drugs Rezia, keeping her from perceiving Holmes’s guilt too clearly (though it is unclear if Holme’s is himself also blind to his own guilt).

Septimus’s death is tragic, but even Rezia immediately thinks happy thoughts about her husband and seems to “understand” his act. Woolf creates the suicide so that it is almost a positive action, a desperate but viable way of dealing with the loneliness and cruelty of the world. It’s worth noting that Woolf herself also eventually committed suicide.