Septimus Warren Smith
Septimus Warren Smith is my favorite character from the novel Mrs.Dalloway. I identified with him because my husband is a veteran of the Iraqi war and suffers from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. I think that Septimus also suffered from PTSD but at the time it was called shell shock. Septimus often sees hallucinations of his fallen friend Evans. Having flashbacks of fallen soldiers often plague many PTSD sufferer's minds.
Septimus wants to kill himself because he feels that he is responsible for all of the suffering in the world. Yet sometimes he has great moments of clarity and is able to see the connection of every living thing. My favorite passages of Mrs.Dalloway were from Septimus' point of view.
On page 22 we go into Septimus' mind;
"
leaves were alive; trees were alive. And the leaves being connected by millions of fibres with his own body, there on the seat, fanned it up and down, when the branch stretched he, too, made that statement. The sparrows fluttering, rising, and falling in jagged fountains were part of the pattern; the white and blue, barred with black branches. Sounds made harmonies with premeditation; the spaces between them were as significant as the sounds"
This, to me, brings up images of the flower of life. He is able to see the interconnectedness of every fibre of his being connecting with every living thing around him.
Septimus wants to kill himself because he feels that he is responsible for all of the suffering in the world. Yet sometimes he has great moments of clarity and is able to see the connection of every living thing. My favorite passages of Mrs.Dalloway were from Septimus' point of view.
On page 22 we go into Septimus' mind;
"
leaves were alive; trees were alive. And the leaves being connected by millions of fibres with his own body, there on the seat, fanned it up and down, when the branch stretched he, too, made that statement. The sparrows fluttering, rising, and falling in jagged fountains were part of the pattern; the white and blue, barred with black branches. Sounds made harmonies with premeditation; the spaces between them were as significant as the sounds"
This, to me, brings up images of the flower of life. He is able to see the interconnectedness of every fibre of his being connecting with every living thing around him.
On page 69, Septimus is spectating Regent's Park and has another revelation;
"Long streamers of sunlight fawned at his feet. The trees waved, brandished. We welcome, the world seemed to say; we accept; we create. Beauty, the world seemed to say. And as if to prove it (scientifically) wherever he looked at the houses, at the railings, at the antelopes stretching over the palings, beauty sprang instantly. To watch a leaf quivering in the rush of air was an exquisite joy. Up in the sky swallows swooping, swerving, flinging themselves in and out, round and round, yet always with perfect control as if elastics held them; and the flies rising and falling; and the sun spotting now this leaf, now that, in mockery, dazzling it with soft gold in pure good temper; and now and again some chime (it might be a motor horn) tinkling divinely on the grass stalks— all of this, calm and reasonable as it was, made out of ordinary things as it was, was the truth now; beauty, that was the truth now. Beauty was everywhere."
I love this! I love that Woolf wrote Septimus as being mentally ill, but the only character in the novel that had a true understand of nature and life. The personification of nature is beautifully written in both of the passages I like the most.
"Long streamers of sunlight fawned at his feet. The trees waved, brandished. We welcome, the world seemed to say; we accept; we create. Beauty, the world seemed to say. And as if to prove it (scientifically) wherever he looked at the houses, at the railings, at the antelopes stretching over the palings, beauty sprang instantly. To watch a leaf quivering in the rush of air was an exquisite joy. Up in the sky swallows swooping, swerving, flinging themselves in and out, round and round, yet always with perfect control as if elastics held them; and the flies rising and falling; and the sun spotting now this leaf, now that, in mockery, dazzling it with soft gold in pure good temper; and now and again some chime (it might be a motor horn) tinkling divinely on the grass stalks— all of this, calm and reasonable as it was, made out of ordinary things as it was, was the truth now; beauty, that was the truth now. Beauty was everywhere."
I love this! I love that Woolf wrote Septimus as being mentally ill, but the only character in the novel that had a true understand of nature and life. The personification of nature is beautifully written in both of the passages I like the most.
Page done by Aimee Sanborn