Proportion, divine proportion, Sir
William's goddess, was acquired by Sir William walking hospitals, catching
salmon, begetting one son in Harley Street by Lady Bradshaw, who caught salmon
herself and took photographs scarcely to be distinguished from the work of professionals. 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--his, if they were men, Lady
Bradshaw's if they were women (she embroidered, knitted, spent four nights out
of seven at home with her son), so that not only did his colleagues respect him,
his subordinates fear him, but the friends and relations of his patients felt
for him the keenest gratitude for insisting that these prophetic Christs and
Christesses, who prophesied the end of the world, or the advent of God, should
drink milk in bed, as Sir William ordered; Sir William with his thirty years'
experience of these kinds of cases, and his infallible instinct, this is
madness, this sense; in fact, his sense of proportion.
Mrs. Dalloway (97)
Written March 15, 1924
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