The Misunderstood Artists: How Septimus and Clarissa Overlap in Virginia Woolf’s Mrs. Dalloway
In Mrs. Dalloway, Septimus and Lucrezia appear in a secondary storyline woven throughout the greater narrative centered by Clarissa. For much of the novel, the two arcs are concurrent, unrelated plotlines; however, they overlap in its finale when, at her party, Clarissa overhears Sir William Bradshaw mention a local suicide to Richard. As a result, Clarissa removes herself from the crowd, contemplating Septimus’ death privately, feeling an unusual connection to him.
“Somehow it was her disaster—her disgrace. It was her punishment to see sink and disappear here a man, there a woman, in this profound darkness, and she forced to stand here in her evening dress.”
She imagines his death with near perfect accuracy, adding that “she felt somehow very like him” and “she felt glad that he had done it; thrown it away." She feels “glad” because she sympathizes with how he rejected control (from Bradshaw and Holmes, most notably) and secondly, because his death made her feel an appreciation for her life as she realizes she, like him, is an artist.
Woolf referred to Septimus as “the artist”, which speaks to multiple aspects of his character. On one hand, he was a literal artist (a poet). But, more abstractly, Septimus’ perspective, considering the emotional and mental damage caused by his battlefield experience, is unique, and the world around him struggles to understand it. Holmes and Bradshaw misunderstand, dismiss, and mistreat Septimus’ illness, which ultimately drives him to take his life. He’s an artist because he has an extraordinary view of the world around him and a unique sensitivity.
In parallel, Clarissa is an artist. She recognizes—contemplating Septimus’ suicide and watching her guests from afar—that she is an artist of illumination. At her party, guests are illuminated to new perspectives on each other, deconstructing preconceived notions and shifting relationships. Earlier in the novel, imagining how Peter would criticize her for her hostess role, she contemplates the purpose of her parties:
“All she could say was (and nobody was expected to understand): They’re an offering; which was horribly vague.”
Much like the world misunderstands Septimus’ mental state, characters like Peter misunderstand Clarissa’s parties, which aren’t pretentious performances of her hostess role, but are instead “offering[s]” to her guests, who interact, and provide new context that changes their views of each other. In earlier conceptions of Mrs. Dalloway, Woolf intended for Clarissa to take her own life during the party. However, the final version showed that, in this moment of isolation, she realizes what life means to her—bringing people together. In this sense, like Septimus, Clarissa is a misunderstood artist.
Hello! The link between Clarissa and Septimus, especially towards the end, is so interesting to me. Clarissa saying they are very alike and that she does not pity him while also going out and living a nearly opposite life is such a strange dichotomy, but I agree that these two characters are linked through this idea of an 'artist'. The difference in perspective between Septimus' disjointed thoughts and Clarissa's thoughts (which jump around, but aren't as sporadic) is little, but makes a large difference. Great post!
ReplyDeleteI like the idea that both Clarissa and Septimus are artist figures, but that neither is an "artist" in the conventionally recognized sense. Clarissa is a kind of "party artist," a term that doesn't sound at all right for her "kindle and illuminate" idea, and you're right that she is all too aware that her efforts to explain the meaning of her parties always seem to fail, "horribly vague." And yet I do think that we, as readers, maybe DO come to understand her, maybe better than Richard or Peter do? Thanks to her internal monologue, I have a pretty good sense of and respect for how Clarissa understands her parties, and how they do constitute a creative act that makes things happen in the world.
ReplyDeleteIn some ways, Septimus might be considered an "outsider artist" today: he has pages and pages of writing, diagrams, illustrations, much of which seems like gibberish but some of which even Lucrezia can see are beautiful, profound, artistic, and meaningful. And again, we get a sense of this art first-hand through Septimus's monologue: it's hard to know *exactly* what he means by things like "trees are alive" and "there is no death" or "universal love." But when he's pursuing these ideas in his mind, they often sound pretty good, pretty poetic, even profound. In a world where the concept of a "world war" is a thing, what's wrong with a damaged man affirming universal love? It sounds like a good alternative to universal mass murder!
In both cases we get a kind of tragic artist dynamic--trying to be understood, even getting through to the reader on some level, but never knowing that we're even there, or that we understand. Both of these characters are *especially* lonely in their "artist" selves, if that makes sense.
Hi Finn! I loved the way you compared Septimus and Clarissa using the artist concept. Septimus is quite literally a tortured poet and Clarissa and estranged housewife, two individuals you would never think would have so much in common. I loved the way you used the artist trope as a way to connect their storylines. Amazing post!
ReplyDeleteFinn, I think your idea/comparison of Clarissa as an artist too, not just Septimus, was really interesting! Could it be that this is why Clarissa loves throwing parties so much-- they are her art and she is the artist of the party? I think this idea aligns with your idea that Clarissa is an artist of illumination. It really shines a new light (hah) to her defense of why she throws parties. Great post!
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