In Virginia Woolf’s Mrs. Dalloway, Sir William Bradshaw is a psychotherapist who sees Septimus Warren Smith, an apparent lunatic. Sir William is highly respected among the high class in London because of his ability to read and deal with persons with psychological problems. When he sees Septimus, he says that the only treatment is seclusion and rest. Sir William claims that Septimus has just lost his sense of proportion. While Sir William’s diagnosis may be true, he handles it in a way that not only is not best for Septimus, but also indicative of the feudal idealists efforts to keep the world in ‘order.’
Septimus has lost all sense of the collectively accepted norms and customs known as convention. He can only acknowledge letters as a fantastic collection of sounds and images rather than understand the system that gives them their meaning: in a toffee advertisement written in the sky by a passing plane he recognizes a thrilling beauty rather than an orderly attempt to communicate (p. 21-22). While Lucrezia wastes away with worry for her husband, Septimus lives content and unimpeded in his own world, unencumbered by worries for others (p. 22-23). Sir William would diagnosis this as lacking a sense of proportion. In other words Septimus has lost a sense for the way that things are related. Letters and words do not have the same meaning to him that that they have for others. He does not have a good sense of his relationships either. He does not know that Lucrezia depends on him, that she is not happy without him. He doesn’t recognize emotional dependence or the need to reciprocate feelings. He is not concerned with things outside of himself. This is why Sir William says that Septimus has lost his sense of proportion.
Sir William is praised, loved, and well respected for his methods in dealing with mentally unstable patients because he makes these types of diagnoses. “Worshipping proportion, Sir William not only prospered himself but made England prosper, secluded her lunatics, forbade childbirth, penalised despair, made it impossible for the unfit to propagate their views until they, too, shared his sense of proportion...” (p. 97) According to him, this condition could only be overcome by lots of rest, and in order for this rest to be achieved, the patient must be institutionalized. This removal from society however, is not meant to benefit the individual, but rather to remove an aberration that threatens to disrupt the flow of normalcy. He was not a healer, he was a pruner, nipping these blemishes in the bud. His goddess Proportion was actually sister to a darker deity: Conversion.
This act of conversion is important to realize in chronological context because in the world of feudalism, you either were or you were not. There was no class mobility and thus no need to convert because the social conventions for a specific class were almost always followed on principle. With the emergence of capitalism and the ability to change class, conventions had less authority. This crumbling of old standards dismayed many like Sir William, Clarissa, and who favored the order and proportion of feudalism. As an esteemed Psychologist, Sir William was able to contain the diluting of the old ideals, and tuck away what didn’t fit into his tidy world. This conversion was a conquest. Woolf describes Sir William’s act of conversion as, “That Goddess whose lust is to override opposition, to stamp indelibly in the sanctuaries of others the image of herself. Naked, defenceless, the exhausted, the friendless received the impress of Sir William's will. He swooped; he devoured. He shut people up.” (p. 98)
This “goddess” of conversion became a force during this time period because the feudal past was struggling with the capitalist present. People like Septimus lacked a sense of proportion and broke convention, so those guardians of propriety--Sir William Bradshaw and the like--sought to “help” them when in reality, they were just pruning the garden.
Septimus has lost all sense of the collectively accepted norms and customs known as convention. He can only acknowledge letters as a fantastic collection of sounds and images rather than understand the system that gives them their meaning: in a toffee advertisement written in the sky by a passing plane he recognizes a thrilling beauty rather than an orderly attempt to communicate (p. 21-22). While Lucrezia wastes away with worry for her husband, Septimus lives content and unimpeded in his own world, unencumbered by worries for others (p. 22-23). Sir William would diagnosis this as lacking a sense of proportion. In other words Septimus has lost a sense for the way that things are related. Letters and words do not have the same meaning to him that that they have for others. He does not have a good sense of his relationships either. He does not know that Lucrezia depends on him, that she is not happy without him. He doesn’t recognize emotional dependence or the need to reciprocate feelings. He is not concerned with things outside of himself. This is why Sir William says that Septimus has lost his sense of proportion.
Sir William is praised, loved, and well respected for his methods in dealing with mentally unstable patients because he makes these types of diagnoses. “Worshipping proportion, Sir William not only prospered himself but made England prosper, secluded her lunatics, forbade childbirth, penalised despair, made it impossible for the unfit to propagate their views until they, too, shared his sense of proportion...” (p. 97) According to him, this condition could only be overcome by lots of rest, and in order for this rest to be achieved, the patient must be institutionalized. This removal from society however, is not meant to benefit the individual, but rather to remove an aberration that threatens to disrupt the flow of normalcy. He was not a healer, he was a pruner, nipping these blemishes in the bud. His goddess Proportion was actually sister to a darker deity: Conversion.
This act of conversion is important to realize in chronological context because in the world of feudalism, you either were or you were not. There was no class mobility and thus no need to convert because the social conventions for a specific class were almost always followed on principle. With the emergence of capitalism and the ability to change class, conventions had less authority. This crumbling of old standards dismayed many like Sir William, Clarissa, and who favored the order and proportion of feudalism. As an esteemed Psychologist, Sir William was able to contain the diluting of the old ideals, and tuck away what didn’t fit into his tidy world. This conversion was a conquest. Woolf describes Sir William’s act of conversion as, “That Goddess whose lust is to override opposition, to stamp indelibly in the sanctuaries of others the image of herself. Naked, defenceless, the exhausted, the friendless received the impress of Sir William's will. He swooped; he devoured. He shut people up.” (p. 98)
This “goddess” of conversion became a force during this time period because the feudal past was struggling with the capitalist present. People like Septimus lacked a sense of proportion and broke convention, so those guardians of propriety--Sir William Bradshaw and the like--sought to “help” them when in reality, they were just pruning the garden.
Woolf, Virginia, and Bonnie Kime Scott. Mrs. Dalloway. Orlando, FL: Harcourt, 2005. Print.
You present a very interesting opinion of Sir William Bradshaw's techniques. I had not thought of it that way, but it makes sense. The way he treated, and tried to "cure" his patients really fit with the age of the novel.
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