Sexuality in Mrs. Dalloway
Virginia Woolf’s well-known novel, Mrs. Dalloway, is a Modernist approach to questions about the human psychology pertaining to sexuality. Being that Woolf comes from a higher class, much like Clarissa Dalloway, she toys with areas of psychology in a way that can be confusing for many readers the first time they try to digest the novel. The story of Mrs. Dalloway is told from the viewpoint of the omnipotent narrator—but one who doesn’t give any directions to the reader; jumping from the thoughts of one person, to the thoughts of another, in a way that can cause a reader not paying close attention to get lost quickly. However, once we get a grip on the consciousness-to-consciousness flow of the novel, we can see the psychological effects of containing one’s sexuality due to the pressure of social constraints—a topic that is still relevant today.
The first scene that addresses sexuality the most directly, happens when Clarissa is fondly reminiscing on her time with her companion Sally Seton. It starts off with Clarissa contemplating the subject of love—after learning that her husband, Richard, has gone out to lunch with Lady Bruton—when she thinks to herself; “this falling in love with women. Take Sally Seton; her relation in the old days with Sally Seton. Had that not, after all, been love?” (Woolf 2173). This sentence, by itself, doesn’t indicate homosexual undertones—most people have friends that they love more than the other people that they know. However, if we keep this sentence in mind as we continue reading, we can see the intensely passionate light Clarissa remembers Sally in, saying things such as; “all that evening she could not take her eyes off of Sally” and “But she could remember going cold with excitement, and doing her hair in a kind of ecstasy” (Woolf 2173 – 74). These are statements one would stereotypically say about a heterosexual relationship they have going on, but here we can see that Clarissa was harboring a different kind of feeling towards Sally than what was accepted in the 1920s: Nowadays, it seems that less people look askance at couples—friends or otherwise—for having a more intimate relationship with those they are not sexually involved with (doesn’t mean that there are no longer instances of sexual oppression); which is why when the novel was written, plays such an important role in giving Mrs. Dalloway it’s lasting importance. Many of these homosexual indicators may be more of an undertone through much of the novel, but for Virginia Woolf to touch on the matter in such an intimate way as placing the reader inside the character’s thoughts, while still maintaining a feeling of distance, makes for an interesting statement about sexuality in the 1940s: Although the matter at that point in time is beginning to be able to be talked about more openly, she still has to discuss it objectively so as not to make her peers wary.
Even though Clarissa has all her memories of Sally—kissing on the lips, talking for hours, feelings of jealousy towards other people in Sally’s life—the entire time we are learning about it, she still attempts to defend herself in her own thoughts. Assuming we are reading Clarissa’s thoughts as they happen, she wouldn’t be putting on a show for anybody while her mind wanders, but Clarissa still has thoughts in the middle of her memory such as; “It was not like one’s feeling for a man. It was completely disinterested, and besides, it had a quality which could only exist between women, between women just grown up” (Woolf 2174). Despite not actually saying this in a conversation, this stray thought still comes up because homosexuality is very oppressed, so even just the thought of loving her female companion as more than an extremely close friend can’t be allowed to stand alone, to herself, without explanation—even though, before even delving into this memory, she acknowledges her lesbian tendencies to herself; “she could not resist sometimes yielding to the charm of a woman . . . she did undoubtedly feel what men felt” (Woolf 2173). By including thoughts such as these, Woolf has created intimacy in the way her character feels towards woman, then distance between Clarissa and her repressed feelings, and potentially, between herself and Clarissa.
There is a distinct difference between Clarissa’s relationship with Sally and her relationship with Peter Walsh. Were this a different era, Clarissa would choose to spend her life with Sally, however, since it isn’t, Peter Walsh is the next best option because the relationship with him has similar chemistry to the one with Sally (they were all best friends growing up)—but he had an inkling that Clarissa was in love with Sally; “It seemed useless . . . going on making it up” (Woolf 2189). When Clarissa is with Sally, she seems to feel the most vulnerable, most intimate companionship she’s ever experienced, and even though she is very obviously, deeply effected by Peter in an emotional way, she still puts on the acceptable façade that’s “suppose” to be put on around a man that one is emotionally interested in (plus she’s married now)—and Peter does the same for her; “Shall I tell her, he thought, or not? . . . she is too cold, he thought; sewing, with her scissors” (Woolf 2179). Peter fiddles with a knife to occupy his hands (a notably manly habit), while Clarissa hides herself behind her sewing (a notably womanly task) putting the socially acceptable amount of distance between the two of them. Even when a heterosexual relationship is being discussed, there’s still sexual oppression; they aren’t to hug, or talk of intimate things, or expose themselves to one another in any way—emotional or otherwise. Woolf has gone beyond just portraying homosexual oppression—intimacy, in a broad sense, is also shown as being held back by society.
When digesting any form of literary work, one has to consider what the author experienced up to the point that they wrote the piece. Being that Woolf grew up experiencing the impacts of the World Wars, her personal experience can be seen expressed through her writing, as literary critics have pointed out:
According to her diaries, her experience was dominated by a sense of remoteness and disinformation . . . which only compounded her sense of distance from the war’s reality. (Wert 72)
The wars have been seen as some of the most surreal series of events to effect the modern world, combining that experience with going through one’s life sexually and emotionally repressed, it can cause someone, such as Clarissa Dalloway, to feel extremely distant from reality—and this feeling can be seen in the way Clarissa feels toward marriage with her husband as well as in the sentiment held towards her daughter’s relationship with her tutor, Miss Kilman.
We can observe the same distance that Woolf has placed between Clarissa and her repressed sexual feelings, in Clarissa’s attitude towards her daughter showing similar obsessive feelings towards a woman. Rather than acknowledging to herself that she and Elizabeth may be cut from the same fabric, we again see Clarissa defending the idea that a woman can’t (shouldn’t) feel anything beyond close friendship towards another woman by agreeing with Richard that it’s just a phase; “Desire between women is thus framed as a conventional stage in the narrative of female development . . . it does not affect the woman that this “girl” will ultimately become” (Haffey 139). Clarissa has therefore created the same distance between herself and her daughter, as she has made between herself and her sexuality. Being that Elizabeth’s obsession is more about her religion—and the holier-than-thou demeanor that Clarissa describes her as having around other people proves this—Clarissa may be aware that she’s creating something out of fear, spawned from her own lesbian feelings and creates the distance in order to level her paranoid mind. This distance we see between herself, her sexual orientation—and consequently, her daughter—is how Clarissa is able to deal with having a sexuality that she doesn’t understand.
Even though she frequently describes her interactions with other women with an intimate, if not sexual, tone, she insists on referring to her closeness with Sally Seton as just a childhood phase that took place while she was still developing; implying that a similar situation could never happen again because she’s matured beyond it. If this were true, then Clarissa wouldn’t still be thinking things such as; “the most exquisite moment of her life” when recalling Sally’s kiss, or; “for that moment, she had seen an illumination” when contemplating the way she has felt when interacting with another woman in any capacity (Woolf 2175, 2173). Feeling this way when her face gets blushed due to a woman, openly tells us that her feelings towards Sally are not an isolated incident—definitely the strongest Clarissa has ever felt, but not isolated by any means.
Returning to how Peter Walsh feels towards Clarissa; it is apparent that he sees right through the show she puts on about her feelings for Sally—and the world. When remembering how upset Clarissa became over a bold statement Sally had made about people having babies, he is aware that the fuss she made over the dog was merely a way of defending herself; that much of her over-the-top emotions were just a way of hiding her true feelings. Clarissa was actually upset because Sally, the woman she’s in love with, had cut off her conversation and essentially said it didn’t matter—and Peter knows this. Peter describes to us the way in which him and Clarissa could communicate without saying a single word, which would imply an intimacy that could potentially blossom: However, it is for this very reason that the two of them never work out. Although Peter never outright states that he has a hunch about Clarissa’s sexuality, there are multiple instances when he refers to her as having a “queer power” (Woolf 2189).
Peter states several times throughout the novel that he is passionately in love with Clarissa, but knows that it wouldn’t work out with them; he’s aware of too much about her, to the point it causes pointless quarrels between them—pointless because the quarrels never seem to advance nor tear down their understanding of one another. Even in their youth, when their feelings are at their most intense, he can’t talk to her about his feelings for her and the hunch that goes with them; “[He] couldn’t explain to her; couldn’t have it out. There were always people about” (Woolf 2189). The backlash that Clarissa would receive should her secret get out inhibits her and Peter’s ability to have a heart-to-heart conversation about love—and here we again see how societal constraints has managed to create distance between two characters. Unable to overcome this distance with a man who will likely know Clarissa better than anyone else over time, she settles and marries a man who provides what she needs without being overly intimate—granting her the ability to continue hiding behind her emotional walls and never have to worry about being found out. Although, choosing to marry Richard instead of Peter appears to be a subconscious move on her part; “why did I make up my mind—not to marry him? she wondered” (Woolf 2178). This thought suggests that Clarissa has hidden from the truth (her sexual desire) so thoroughly, that she genuinely isn’t sure why the relationship with Peter never came to fruition.
Despite Clarissa’s interest in feminine things (gloves, fashion, gossip and the like), herself and others describe her in a rather paradoxical fashion. Even though she has been shown to have an in general womanly and gentle behavior about her, she is also described as being cold or stiff by herself and Peter—the latter having it’s own phallic undertone. If Clarissa fit all the way into the persona of the married, motherly, woman, then she should be described as warm, gentle, or soft—but when one is hiding from the intensity of their unaccepted, misunderstood, or “wrong” sexaual sentiments, it would be difficult to come off as any of those: The distance between herself and the truth doesn’t allow it because she’s constantly battling herself.
The renowned attic scene when she’s gazing into the mirror after pulling away from her memory about Sally, describing herself as she realizes how long ago that actually happened, she uses words that would generally be used on a man; “pointed; dartlike; definite” (Woolf 2176). These thoughts aren’t permitted to be dwelled on long; after a short paragraph Clarissa suddenly changes the topic of her train of thought back to the dress she intends to mend—something she’s undoubtedly done her whole life to avoid confronting how she actually feels. Even when she looks at her reflection, she calls it delicate but then makes a face to give it more of a point, as though she doesn’t even like looking womanly because that doesn’t fit the sexual desire she hides inside.
This entire conversation about sexuality and gender has continually been expanding in recent history. Gender is no longer “male” and “female”—as those terms historically mean nothing more than what genitalia a person is born with, and consequently, the gender they’re attracted to—but says nothing about their sexual preference or what they consider themselves to be: Gender is a multifaceted concept that encompasses body, identity, and expression. Body refers to the way we are physically gendered, but also to the way in which our biology, culture, and personal experience affect how we feel about ourselves. Gender identity is what we decide to label ourselves as based upon what we feel and experience, for example; cisgender (agreeing with the male/female label you were given at birth), or transgender (disagreeing with the birth given label). This label is also considered to be a spectrum; “not limited to two possibilities . . . they could identify as both, or neither, or as another gender entirely” or as agender, meaning not at all (Understanding Gender). Expression applies to how we decide to show the world around us what we’ve determined ourselves to identify with.
Clarissa Dalloway might agree with the fact that she is female, however, it’s very apparent that she doesn’t identify with what that label is stereotypically believed to be; she is more attracted to other female personas instead of male—as society expects her to be. Aside from all of these, there is also sexual orientation. Clarissa generally fits into desiring stereotypically female things (i.e. gloves, parties, and fashion), but this doesn’t mean she would’ve remained this way had society been more accepting of all the aforementioned concepts—as she’s noted to have an interest and be knowledgeable in politics throughout the novel.
Despite being sexually oppressed and in a marriage she no longer cares for, Clarissa still makes a point to go about her life as outwardly joyful as possible. The opening sentence; “Mrs. Dalloway said she would buy the flowers herself,” gives us a sense that she’s jumping into her day with an adventurous spirit, preparing for her party and getting everything together with a go-get-em attitude (Woolf 2156). We only get to see the struggle she deals with because Woolf gives us the privilege of getting inside Clarissa’s head, allowing us to obtain a more in depth picture of how broken this character has become after 52 years of battling herself in order to fit the frame that society demands of her.
This “inside the mind” approach has been debated whether it represents the author’s own mindset, or is just an expression of early twentieth century intimacy in all of its struggles. Arguably, the latter appears to be more accurate because it is impossible to ascertain that Clarissa Dalloway is intended to function as a way for Virginia Woolf to come out to the world; we have to separate a writer from their work (unless they openly state otherwise) because if we didn’t, then writers such as Charles Baudelaire, Edgar Allan Poe, and James Joyce would have to be viewed as insane. In reality, they’re all just interacting with the mindsets of their time period and playing around with literary concepts; “No matter how much we learn about the writer herself and her multiple environments . . . we can only go so far in our cause-and-effect analysis” (Zunshine 37). To say that a writer is their work—outside of diaries—limits the creative power that literature, or any art form, ha and we be the same as calling J. K. Rowling a secret wizard or Steven Moffat a 1,000 year old time travelling alien.
It’s quite possible that much of Clarissa’s desires fall under the umbrella of a singular need; to feel as though she belongs amongst the people that surround her—Peter even comments on the fact that she now hides her own intelligence in order to let Richard sustain the illusion that he is superior to her, simply because they are married (Woolf 2198). Peter, on the other hand, falls perfectly into what society expects of him; he is a man who does manly things and likes them—for all intents and purposes, he is the straight white male that the British middle class thrives off of. Unlike Clarissa he has no desire towards those of the same sex, in fact they often annoy him with—what he would likely consider—their outdated mindsets.
Despite knowing that his romantic relationship with Clarissa would never work out, Peter remains more forward thinking and accepting than much of the men of his class because he can recognize intelligence even if it is in a woman—he may have been one to fight for Women’s Rights. It is this recognition of Clarissa’s quick, witty mind that causes Peter to fall helplessly in love with her, crave her approval, and why he can’t stop comparing other women to her; “Was she . . . Witty, with a lizard’s flickering tongue . . . a cool waiting wit, a darting wit” (Woolf 2185). He even admits that his Daisy back in India couldn’t compare to Clarissa. Peter’s way of accepting and loving Clarissa exactly as she is, despite what he’s come to understand about her, perfectly fits into the Modernist movement as it signals a change in society—a move towards acceptance of all types of people.
The time period this novel was written in makes it more impactful than if it were written today—had the novel been published in, say, 2010, Clarissa and Sally would’ve been together and all the feelings we come across wouldn’t be this extremely muffled. Besides psychology and stream of consciousness being explored in literature with authors such as James Joyce in the early 1900s, the Modernist movement held hope for those who had been publicly oppressed for centuries. After all the death and fear from the World Wars, it seems the first world became more aware of their mortality in the early 1900s and sought happiness to its fullest extent; women and people of color fought for equality, which encouraged those with different sexual preferences to do the same. Humanity wanted new, stronger, more intimate relationships to match all the new things the wars brought; “These tumultuous social developments held such promise that the crisis was also an opportunity” (Wolfe 38). We can see the beginning of society grasping the concept of playing with the boundaries of sexual relationships and friendships, as divorce rates continue to increase and people search for more intense intimacy to combat the nihilistic sentiments that followed World War II: These events led to the peak of openly non-committal relationships in the 1970s, which in turn leads to where we are today—where people around the world have the confidence and power to still fight for their right to be seen as equals. Woolf recognizes how impactful all the changes during her life from the wars were going to be, so it makes perfect sense that she would address it someway in her writing.
Works Cited
Haffey, Kate. “Exquisite Moments and the Temporality in ‘Mrs. Dalloway’ and ‘The Hours.’” Narrative, vol. 18, no. 2, 2010, pp. 137 – 62. JSTOR, www.jstor.org/stable/40856405.
Helal, Kathleen M. “Anger, Anxiety, Abstraction: Virginia Woolf’s ‘Submerged Truth.’” South Central Review vol. 22, no. 2, 2005, pp. 78 – 94. Project MUSE, http://muse.jhu.edu/article/185064.
“Understanding Gender.” Gender Spectrum, Gender Spectrum, www.genderspectrum.org/quick-links/understanding-gender/.
Wert, Kathryn Van. “The Early Life of Septimus Smith.” Journal of Modern Literature vol. 36, 89. 1, 2012, pp. 71 – 89. Project MUSE, http://muse.jhu.edu/article/494252.
Wolfe, Jesse. “The Sane Woman in the Attic: Sexuality and Self-Authorship in Mrs. Dalloway.” Modern Fiction Studies vol. 51, no. 1, 2005, pp. 34 – 59. Project MUSE, http://muse.jhu.edu/article/180809.
Woolf, Virginia. “Mrs. Dalloway.” The Norton Anthology of English Literature, general editor, Stephen Greenblatt, 9th ed., vol. F, W.W. Norton, 2012, pp. 2156 – 264.
Zunshine, Lisa. Why We Read Fiction, Ohio State UP, 2006.
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