“But often now this body she wore (she stopped to look at a Dutch picture), this body, with all its capacities, seemed nothing — nothing at all. She had the oddest sense of being herself invisible; unseen; unknown; there being no more marrying, no more having of children now, but only this astonishing and rather solemn progress with the rest of them, up Bond Street, this being Mrs. Dalloway; not even Clarissa any more; this being Mrs. Richard Dalloway.”
Virginia Woolf, Mrs. Dalloway (New York: Harcourt, Inc., 2005), 10
Clarissa completely loses her identity through marriage. She feels utterly insignificant and identifies herself solely as Richard’s wife. Clarissa has lost all ambition and sense of self.
It was impossible he shouldn’t take to himself that she was really interested, though it all kept coming as a perfect surprise. He had thought of himself so long as abominably alone, and lo he wasn’t alone a bit. He hadn’t been, it appeared, for an hour—since those moments on the Sorrento boat. It was she who had been, he seemed to see as he looked at her—she who had been made so by the graceless fact of his lapse of fidelity. To tell her what he had told her—what had it been but to ask something of her? something that she had given, in her charity, without his having, by a remembrance, by a return of the spirit, failing another encounter, so much as thanked her. What he had asked of her had been simply at first not to laugh at him. She had beautifully not done so for ten years, and she was not doing so now. So he had endless gratitude to make up. Only for that he must see just how he had figured to her. “What, exactly, was the account I gave—?”
James, Henry. The Beast in the Jungle. London: Martin Secker, 1915. Print.
She has an enduring presence. Despite his inability to detect her, she has influenced his status as someone who wrongly believes they are “alone.” In fact, he feels almost retroactively grateful for her secret keeping.