The paragraphs Virginia Woolf devotes to Septimus shimmer. The broken pieces of his intellect and imagination turn like a mobile of wind chimes, changing colors, turning, reflecting whatever brushes them. He and Rezia are as different as a wildly abstract painting and a primitive domestic scene. Rezia is at a loss to know why her English husband is so complex; all she wants is a happy home and babies. Thus she calls in the doctors. As a simple person, she believes that there must be a simple solution to Septimus' problems.
The doctors in this scene are monstrous. Virginia Woolf is bitter in her portrayal. One, Holmes, is a professional ignoramous and a lecher; he is a smiling villain. He thinks Septimus cannot really be ill because there is no germ. But he continues to treat him because he enjoys ogling Rezia. If Holmes is ineffectual, however, Sir William Bradshaw is even worse. He recognizes that Septimus is on the verge of a nervous collapse but he is eager to experiment with Septimus. Ironically, he is an unfeeling doctor, the very worst type to help Septimus. He does not really care about Septimus, and yet Septimus' concern about his own inability to care has driven him insane. Bradshaw, like the soldiers Peter saw drilling, is an example of what rigid discipline can produce. He meticulously trained himself, crossed social class barriers, and emerged inhuman — full of platitudes, stock optimism, sterile knowledge, and an aggravating sense of inferiority. Bradshaw wants power; he demands that his patients be absolutely submissive. Ironically, Rezia brought Septimus to the doctors so that Septimus' alienation could be cured; she is even more alienated from her husband when the scene ends and soon the doctors will demand that Septimus be physically separated from her.
