Virginia Woolf - Mrs. Dalloway

Mrs. Dalloway

A V. Woolf

1925

(Granada 1976)

Mrs. Dalloway said she would buy the flowers herself ..

For Lucy had her work cut out for her . The doors would be taken off their hinges ; Rumpelmayers men were coming . And then , thought Clarissa Dalloway , what a morningfresh as if issued to children on a beach ..

What a lark ! What a plunge ! For so it had always seemed to her , when , with a little squeak of the hinges , which she could hear now , she had burst open the French windows and plunged at Bourton into the open air . How fresh , how calm , stiller than this of course , the air was in the early morning ; like the flap of a wave ; the kiss of a wave ; chill and sharp and yet ( for a girl of eighteen as she then was ) solemn , feeling as she did , standing there at the open window , that something awful was about to happen ; looking at the flowers , at the trees with the smoke winding off them and the rooks rising , falling ; standing and looking until Peter Walsh said , Musing among the vegetables ? was that it ? -- I prefer men to cauliflowers was that it ? He must have said it at breakfast one morning when she had gone out on to the terracePeter Walsh . He would be back from India one of these days , June or July , she forgot which , for his letters were awfully dull ; it was his sayings one remembered ; his eyes , his pocket-knife , his smile , his grumpiness and , when millions of things had utterly vanishedhow strange it was ! -- a few sayings like this about cabbages ..

She stiffened a little on the kerb , waiting for Durtnalls van to pass . A charming woman , Scrope Purvis thought her ( knowing her as one does know people who live next door to one in Westminster ) ; a touch of the bird about her , of the jay , blue-green , light , vivacious , though she was over fifty , and grown very white since her illness . There she perched , never seeing him , waiting to cross , very upright ..

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For having lived in Westminsterhow many years now ? over twenty , -- one feels even in the midst of the traffic , or waking at night , Clarissa was positive , a particular hush , or solemnity ; an indescribable pause ; a suspense ( but that might be her heart , affected , they said , by influenza ) before Big Ben strikes . There ! Out it boomed .

First a warning , musical ; then the hour , irrevocable . The leaden circles dissolved in the air . Such fools we are , she thought , crossing

For it was the middle of June . The War was

over , except for some one like Mrs. Foxcroft at the

Embassy last night eating her heart out because that

nice boy was killed and now the old Manor House

must go to a cousin ; or Lady Bexborough who

opened a bazaar , they said , with the telegram in

her hand , John , her favourite , killed ; but it was

over ; thank Heavenover . It was June . The

King and Queen were at the Palace . And everywhere ,

though it was still so early , there was a beating ,

a stirring of galloping ponies , tapping of cricket

bats ; Lords , Ascot , Ranelagh and all the rest of it ;

wrapped in the soft mesh of the grey-blue morning

air , which , as the day wore on , would unwind them ,

and set down on their lawns and pitches the bouncing

ponies , whose forefeet just struck the ground

and up they sprung , the whirling young men , and

laughing girls in their transparent muslins who , even

now , after dancing all night , were taking their absurd

woolly dogs for a run ; and even now , at this

hour , discreet old dowagers were shooting out in

their motor cars on errands of mystery ; and the

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shopkeepers were fidgeting in their windows with their paste and diamonds , their lovely old sea-green brooches in eighteenth-century settings to tempt Americans ( but one must economise , not buy things rashly for Elizabeth ) , and she , too , loving it as she did with an absurd and faithful passion , being part of it , since her people were courtiers once in the time of the Georges , she , too , was going that very night to kindle and illuminate ; to give her party . But how strange , on entering the Park , the silence ; the mist ; the hum ; the slow-swimming happy ducks ; the pouched birds waddling ; and who should be coming along with his back against the Government buildings , most appropriately , carrying a despatch box stamped with the Royal Arms , who but Hugh Whitbread ; her old friend Hughthe admirable Hugh !!

Good-morning to you , Clarissa ! said Hugh , rather extravagantly , for they had known each other as children . Where are you off to ??

I love walking in London , said Mrs. Dalloway .

Really its better than walking in the country ..

They had just come upunfortunatelyto see

doctors . Other people came to see pictures ; go to

the opera ; take their daughters out ; the Whitbreads

came to see doctors . Times without number

Clarissa had visited Evelyn Whitbread in a nursing

home . Was Evelyn ill again ? Evelyn was a good

deal out of sorts , said Hugh , intimating by a kind

of pout or swell of his very well-covered , manly , extremely

handsome , perfectly upholstered body ( he

was almost too well dressed always , but presumably

had to be , with his little job at Court ) that his wife

had some internal ailment , nothing serious , which ,

as an old friend , Clarissa Dalloway would quite

understand without requiring him to specify . Ah

yes , she did of course ; what a nuisance ; and felt

very sisterly and oddly conscious at the same time

of her hat . Not the right hat for the early morning ,

was that it ? For Hugh always made her feel ,

as he bustled on , raising his hat rather extravagantly

and assuring her that she might be a girl of

eighteen , and of course he was coming to her party

to-night , Evelyn absolutely insisted, only a little late

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he might be after the party at the Palace to which he had to take one of Jims boys , -- she always felt a little skimpy beside Hugh ; schoolgirlish ; but attached to him , partly from having known him always , but she did think him a good sort in his own way , though Richard was nearly driven mad by him , and as for Peter Walsh , he had never to this day forgiven her for liking him ..

She could remember scene after scene at Bourton -+ Peter furious ; Hugh not , of course , his match in any way , but still not a positive imbecile as Peter made out ; not a mere barbers block . When his old mother wanted him to give up shooting or to take her to Bath he did it , without a word ; he was really unselfish , and as for saying , as Peter did , that he had no heart , no brain , nothing but the manners and breeding of an English gentleman , that was only her dear Peter at his worst ; and he could be intolerable ; he could be impossible ; but adorable to walk with on a morning like this ..

( June had drawn out every leaf on the trees . The mothers of Pimlico gave suck to their young . Messages were passing from the Fleet to the Admiralty . Arlington Street and Piccadilly seemed to chafe the very air in the Park and lift its leaves hotly , brilliantly , on waves of that divine vitality which Clarissa loved . To dance , to ride , she had adored all that .. )