Notes

Journal 5
Septimus volunteered at the very start of the war. He got very close to his senior officer, Evans.
But when Evans was killed right before the Armistice, Septimus felt nothing. The war taught him to be a man, to be brave and stoic, to be reasonable about violence and death.
Then he met Rezia (Lucrezia) and got engaged to her one night, and it occurred to him that he couldn’t feel anything (emotionally). Located in Milan, he had watched Rezia and her sisters making hats. Rezia loved the fabrics and ribbons; she admired hats and loved ice cream. Random, but we agree.
But Septimus was numb.
He read Dante’s Inferno and started to believe in the possibility that the world has no meaning.
After the war, he returned to work for Mr Brewer. He continued to read but now felt like Shakespeare both loathed humanity (4.95) and thought that "[l]ove between a man and a woman was repulsive" (4.78).
He and Lucrezia could not bring children into this world, thought Septimus. To do so would be to create more misery. He felt that humans were like animals. He drew pictures of the horror he imagined, of the ugliness of people. He thought he might go mad.
Back in the present day, Lucrezia bears the pain of her suffering, shell-shocked husband. But he feels no sympathy for her. He feels nothing, just like the day they got engaged.
Dr Holmes says there’s nothing wrong with Septimus; everything can be explained.
But Septimus believes he’s been condemned to death for the sin of having no feeling. He has been accused of crimes, such as marrying Rezia without being in love with her. People on the street shuddered at his sins.
Dr Holmes recommends that Septimus gain some weight and suggests that his health is all in his control. He refers to Septimus' suffering as a "funk," and says that what Septimus really needs is a hobby. He has to stop making his wife anxious – that’s selfish. Pretty harsh, Doc.
Dr Holmes has visited Septimus every day. To Septimus, Dr Holmes represents the brutality of human nature punishing him for his inability to feel.
The world wants Septimus to kill himself. But how should he do it? Evans speaks to him from a screen.
Septimus' distraught mumbling scares Rezia. She sends for Dr Holmes. He tells them that if they have no confidence in him, they should see Sir William Bradshaw instead.
A quick peek back into Mrs Dalloway's whereabouts. Clarissa lays out her green dress as Big Ben strikes twelve o’clock.
And...back to Septimus and Lucrezia. The Smiths arrive at Harley Street to visit Sir William Bradshaw. His stately car is parked outside.
He’s a dedicated physician and a good husband. He has actually been knighted and is respected by patients and the public alike.
Upon first glance at Septimus, Bradshaw can tell that he’s a mess, that he is having a complete nervous breakdown. (Thank goodness for a second opinion, right?)
Bradshaw asks questions and writes answers on little pink cards. Had Septimus served with distinction in the war? Septimus thinks of the war as "that little shindy of schoolboys with gunpowder" (4.113)
Rezia insists that he served with distinction, but that Septimus believes he has been "condemned to death by human nature." Septimus tells the doctor he has "committed a crime" (4.116-17).
He has threatened to kill himself, Rezia tells Bradshaw. Bradshaw tells her that Septimus needs rest, in the country, away from her.
Septimus thinks about his crime. Should he tell them? Should he communicate his message?
Bradshaw is above all a scientist. There is no such thing as madness, just a lack of Proportion (whatever that means!). Septimus simply needs rest, no friends or books, and he has to gain some weight.
This doctor is respected, has a wife devoted to the right causes (and who allows him complete power over her, by the way), and a son.
He lives life around the philosophy of Proportion and Conversion. This man puts lunatics in their proper place: where no one can see them. His patients must conform, or be put away.
People he calls crazy definitely can’t have children. They must stop thinking about themselves and instead think of "love, duty, self sacrifice" (4.151). They have to be courageous, dedicated to career, and in control.
To Bradshaw, questions of God’s existence don’t matter. He is the one in power. His patients must succumb to his will. Those in his care are not so much patients as they are victims. Rezia doesn’t like the guy. (Neither do we, to be frank.)
We are now with Hugh Whitbread, who’s examining socks in the window of a shop on Oxford Street. He is on his way to lunch at Lady Bruton’s house.
No one knows exactly what he does as a profession, and some gossip suggests that he’s pretty low on the totem pole, but he is associated with some work as a guard at Buckingham Palace.
He goes through the motions of doing all the right things that someone of his social standing does: he concerns himself with morality and writes editorial letters in to the London Times.
Hugh brings carnations to the lunch, as he always does. He greets Lady Bruton’s secretary, Miss Brush, believing incorrectly that her brother lives in South Africa. He’s oblivious to everyone’s strong dislike of him; he is simply too pompous to notice.
Lady Bruton is a social force at sixty-two years old. She much prefers Richard to Hugh, but Hugh is good for some things. A parade of servants brings in their meal.
The hostess descends from great military generals and in fact, she herself almost looks like one. She has an impressive pedigree and some important stuff lying around her house: a vine under which some famous poets once sat and a framed telegram of an important military order.
Though she asks about Clarissa, Lady Bruton has never been interested in women. She especially doesn’t like it when women get in their husband’s way professionally, or when they become ill and demanding. Yikes.
Hugh announces that he saw Clarissa that morning, then the conversation turns to Peter Walsh.
Lady Bruton, Hugh, and Richard all think of how in love Peter had been with Clarissa, how he had gone to India and gotten into a mess, and how he’s essentially a flawed man. These people really aren't very nice to each other, geez.