Ebook PDF Customer Service For Hospitality and Tourism 2nd Edition PDF
Ebook PDF Customer Service For Hospitality and Tourism 2nd Edition PDF
A Disney employee invites children to dance during the parade at Hongkong Disneyland
Park. Photo courtesy of Allison Zhang
What is Disney’s edge? It stems in part from Walt Disney’s precept that money is not
the most important factor in business. Instead he focused on identifying the customers’
needs and giving them what they wanted. His business philosophy stemmed from his
strong family values, morals, religious beliefs, creative goals and innate psychographic
awareness. As he said back in the 1960s: ‘Disneyland is a work of love. We didn’t go into
Disneyland just with the idea of making money’.
During an NBC interview in 1966 Walt stressed that excellence of products and service
are more crucial than profits at his theme parks: ‘… my young group of executives are
2 Customer Service for Hospitality and Tourism
convinced that Walt is right, that quality will win out, and so I think they will stay with
this policy because it’s proven it’s a good business policy. Give the public everything you
can give them, keep the place as clean as you can keep it, keep it friendly – I think they’re
convinced and I think they’ll hang on after – as you say, “after Disney”’.
He laid the framework for the future with his focus on animated films and the invention
and development of the quintessential theme park. Today’s Walt Disney Company has
diversified further to incorporate cruise lines, TV channels and film studios, and an inter-
national professional business training institute. So, how has the company managed to
maintain high standards since the pioneering founder’s demise?
Although he died back in 1966, the company still holds true to his basic beliefs. One of
Walt’s well-known maxims was that nothing is ever finished, there is always room to grow
and improve: ‘Just do your best work — then try to trump it.’ This is borne out in Disney’s
quest to expand, renovate and diversify as well as surprising customers by both meeting
and then exceeding their expectations in regard to product and service.
Having invented the modern day concept of the theme park back in 1955, the company
does not rest on its laurels; it is always going a step further. Disney doesn’t just cater for
kids, but also considers adults, bundling (and unbundling) services and attractions to
enable customized packages to suit all age groups both during the day and evening at
its parks and cruises. Films are made with an overt attraction for kids and an underlying
message to adults.
At its theme parks, attractions are not designed with purely the bottom line in mind.
Disney designers look at the audience, evaluating the time needed for a full experience,
including the ride, interaction with other customers, and immersion in the imaginary
environment. It is this painstaking focus on customer satisfaction that Disney execs
have dubbed ‘imagineering’ – a concept fully explored in The Imagineering Workout. In
this book there are tips for travel agents, for example, to stimulate their imaginations in
attracting more customers. These include sharing personal experiences with prospective
clients and using ‘what ifs’ to paint pictures - and as a positive alternative to saying ‘no’ -
to even seemingly impossible requests. Imagineering also counsels research to enhance
credibility and confidence and breaking routines to stimulate creative thinking.
Customer service naturally depends partly on staff/customer interaction. Walt Disney
introduced a novel way of training his employees by providing a new internal language
based on Hollywood terminology. Staff are cast members, customers are guests, shifts
are performances, a job description is a script, the HR department is casting, and being
on duty is being on stage. This analogy with show business helps immerse both staff and
guests in the imaginary world of Disney, putting everyone in the spotlight.
Disney also believed that the front-line is the bottom-line, with a company judged by its
face-to-face staff. Staff trainers (presumably ‘directors’) encourage the cast to discover
Introduction to Customer Service 3
the guests’ ‘wow’ moments and share the knowledge and celebrate it with other cast
members. One question which has often caused inappropriate responses is ‘What time is
the three o’clock parade?’ Despite the occasion for mirth or sarcasm, Disney trains staff to 1
answer with a confirmation of the time, place and other information about nearby facili-
ties. Disney is also meticulous in sustaining the mystique by keeping backstage activities
out of sight – for example, Snow White cannot be seen smoking in the park’s public areas!
Disney has even turned a ‘no’ into a ‘yes’ to some extent without compromising its strict
safety rules. Many of its rides have a height minimum but whenever a child is turned away
from a ride for not being tall enough, he is given a priority pass for him and his family to
return when he is tall enough.
Disney’s commitment to its customers is defined by their term ‘guestology’. Like ‘imagi-
neering’, it focuses on the guest experience rather than traditional business efficiencies.
The customer point of view – both child and adult – is considered critical, resulting in
such innovations as child-height peepholes in hotel room doors as well as the usual adult
ones and bins located at 27-foot intervals – designated after calculating the average time
people will go before dropping litter. One recent innovation that is improving customer
service for visitors is the MyMagic+ wristband system that collects information from
guests before and during their visit the resorts to help tailor services for each visitor.
Disney’s meticulous customer service training attracted other executives from a wide
variety of businesses around the world, resulting in the development in 1986 of the
Disney Institute, a Florida-based corporate customer training unit of the Walt Disney Co.
Trainers – with around ten years’ Disney service – teach principles created and tested
by decades of research, data collection and visitor surveys. Attention to details, remov-
ing barriers and keeping customers informed were just some of the principles which
attracted Miami International Airport to the Institute. Simple ideas such as clothing staff
in bright colors and providing easy-to-read name tags were adopted by the airport which
had previously had very low ranking for its service culture. Miami Airport - which handles
over 30 million travelers each year - paid around $28,000 per day for a series of full-day
training sessions which then empowered company leaders to train those who worked
under them in the polished precepts. Ideas such as ‘it’s not my fault, but it is my problem’
are general enough to be easily incorporated into any business.
Over a million professionals have come through the institute earning their Mickey Mouse
ears along with new standards for effective leadership, people management, customer
service and creative business practices. Every year, the institute hosts a Customer Experi-
ence Summit, and unlike other conferences where delegates only hear ideas about how
to improve customer service, the summit is a fully immersive learning opportunity where
participants live, feel and observe customer service in action. Field experiences take
part throughout the Disney theme parks, including seeing the operation through the
eyes of a Cast Member to enhance their perspective on service delivery. At the inaugural
4 Customer Service for Hospitality and Tourism
summit in 2016, 250 business professionals from 12 different countries around the world
attended at Walt Disney World Resort in Florida to gain insight on best practices in cus-
tomer experience.
Sources
Dickson et al. (2005); Solnet et al. (2010); Anon (2008); Associated Press (2011);
http://afterthemouse.com/node/2223; www.disneyinstitute.com;
http://disneyinstitute.com/topics/quality_service.aspx; www.disneydreamer.com
tory and can also lead to bad word-of-mouth and a loss of business. In addition,
customer service is more than the interaction between employees and internal or
external customers. It also relates to the physical infrastructure in a retail space or 1
hospitality servicescape. Disney for example, a truly customer-focused organiza-
tion (see Spotlight), has two peepholes in its hotel room doors – one at the usual
height, and another at a child’s level. The definition of customer service used in
this book therefore builds on that of Lucas and is as follows:
Customer service is the practice of delivering products and services to both internal
and external customers via the efforts of employees or through the provision of an appro-
priate servicescape.
But despite its importance, quality customer service is the exception rather
than the norm in many parts of the world (Bigger and Bigger, 2010). Another
American Express study found that 60% of Americans believe businesses had not
improved their customer service – up from 55% in 2010 (AMEX, 2011). Worse,
21% felt that companies took their business for granted. A number of reasons
have been proposed for this fall in standards. When economic conditions become
more demanding, many organizations focus on cost cutting and acquiring new
customers which invariably puts the relationships with their existing customers
at risk (Miller, 2011). Quite often training budgets are the first to get cut. In the
UK, where you are six times less likely to have a great customer experience than
in the US (KPMG, 2016), one excuse given is that the issue of service is a class
problem, with service viewed as subservient and a second-class occupation by
many (Waites, 2011). Others say that the slip in customer service dates back to
the booming economy of the late 1990s, when the unemployment rate slipped so
low, that many countries in the west were at full employment. Businesses were
Food and beverage operations and management 7
forced to hire workers who were often less committed to their jobs, and many of
those workers knew that treating customers poorly rarely resulted in being fired
(Brokamp, 2007).
The authors of this book believe there may be three further reasons for the fall 1
in standards of customer service. First, many companies wrongly believe they are
providing service excellence. In an often-cited study by Bain & Company, 80% of
362 companies surveyed believed they delivered superior service to their custom-
ers (see Figure 1.1). When the customers of those same firms were surveyed, only
8% agreed (Allen et al, 2005). Nine of 10 companies who confidently assert the
high level of their customers’ satisfaction are completely misinformed. According
to the Bain study, many companies get wrong-headed about their customer’s
satisfaction because they rely on indirect metrics to measure service, rather than
designing the right offers and experiences for the right customers.
100%
92%
90%
80%
80%
70%
60%
Superior service experience
50%
Less than superior service
40% experience
30%
20%
20%
8%
10%
0%
What companies think What customers think they
they are offering are receiving
Figure 1.1: The customer service perception gap (Source: Based on Allen et al, 2005).
Introduction to Customer Service 7
Characteristic Description
1) Intangibility Service products cannot be tasted, felt, seen, heard, or smelled. Prior to boarding
a plane, airline passengers have nothing but an airline ticket and a promise of safe
delivery to their destination. To reduce uncertainty caused by service intangibility,
buyers look for tangible evidence that will provide information and confidence
about the service.
2) Inseparability For many services, the product cannot be created or delivered without the
customer’s presence. The food in a restaurant may be outstanding, but if the server
has a poor attitude or provides inattentive service, customers will not enjoy the
overall restaurant experience. In the same way, other customers can affect the
experience in service settings.
3) Heterogeneity Service delivery quality depends on who provides the services. The same person can
deliver differing levels of service, displaying a marked difference in tolerance and
friendliness as the day wears on. Lack of consistency is a major factor in customer
dissatisfaction.
4) Perishability Services cannot be stored. Empty airline seats, hotel rooms, daily ski passes,
restaurant covers—all these services cannot be sold the next day. If services are to
maximize revenue, they must manage capacity and demand since they cannot carry
forward unsold inventory.
Figure 1.1. The customer service perception gap / The services marketing triangle (TITLE?FIGURE?)
quality, and each encounter contributes to the customer’s overall satisfaction and
willingness to do business with the organization again.
1
Company
Internal Marketing
External Marketing
Enabling Promises
Making Promises
Figure 1.2: The services marketing triangle (Source: Based on Zeithaml and Bitner, 2000).
Finally, internal marketing takes place through the enabling of promises.
Promises are easy to make, but unless providers are recruited, trained, provided
with tools and appropriate internal systems, and rewarded for good service, the
promises may not be kept. Internal marketing was first proposed in the 1970s
(Berry et al, 1976) as a way to deliver consistently high service quality, but despite
the rapidly growing literature on internal marketing, very few organizations
actually apply the concept in practice. One of the main problems is that a single
unified concept of what is meant by internal marketing does not exist. Lack of
investment in internal marketing may also be the result of corporate distraction.
Companies that are busy trying to boost revenues and cut costs may not see why
they should spend money on employees, thus missing the point that these are the
very people who ultimately deliver the brand promises the company makes.
However, there is growing awareness that an effective internal marketing
program will have a positive effect on service quality, customer satisfaction
and loyalty, and eventually profits. The main objective of internal marketing is
to enable employees to deliver satisfying products to guests. This takes place
through a four-step process: the establishment of a service culture, the develop-
ment of a marketing approach to human resource management, the dissemination
of marketing information to employees, and the implementation of a reward and
recognition system. This internal marketing process will be discussed in more
detail in Chapter 4.
10 Customer Service for Hospitality and Tourism
Cliff Roberts
The Masters in Augusta, Georgia, is a golf tournament conceived, nurtured and run for
nearly forty years by a man called Cliff Roberts. More than three decades after his death,
the Masters still operates as if he were at the controls. Customer service excellence was
the guiding principal behind Robert’s perfectionism and his conception of almost every
aspect of the club and the tournament. His practice of calling spectators ‘patrons’ was
a reflection of his belief that the purpose of the club during Masters week was to serve
the people whose support had made the tournament possible in the first place. He had
a similarly solicitous attitude towards the players who competed in the tournament and
the media who covered it. Asked what they are playing for, the competitors still name an
article of clothing (the ‘Green Jacket’) and not a sum of money.
The Masters is still viewed almost universally as the best-run golf tournament in the world,
if not the best-run sporting event, and it has maintained its standing without acquiring
the modern trappings of success. Spectators can still buy lunch for half the price of any
other tournament, because Roberts believed that anyone who had to travel two hundred
miles to watch a game of golf ought to be able to buy a decent meal at a decent price.
Teams of uniformed workers constantly clean up after spectators because Roberts felt
that litter detracted from the beauty of the course and the dignity of the event. In fact, the
cups and sandwich bags are green, making them nearly invisible to television cameras
– a major issue with Roberts. Members still wear their green coats all week, as they have
done since 1937, because Roberts felt that knowledgeable sources of information ought
to be easily identifiable to spectators in need of assistance.
Many key features of professional golf tournaments were introduced in Augusta. Early
tour events were not professionally run, whereas at Augusta, the needs of spectators
Introduction to Customer Service 11
were anticipated and satisfied from the moment they arrived. There were a number of
refreshment stands, excellent picnicking grounds, and plenty of lavatories. It was the first
tournament that spared spectators from having to carry a bulky program around all day; 1
instead daily pairing sheets with a diagram of the course on the reverse side were pro-
vided for free. The Masters was the first seventy-two-hole tournament to be played over
four days. It was the first played on terrain that was routinely reshaped to provide better
sight lines for spectators. It was the first to use bleachers or observation stands. It was the
first to systematically rope galleries and to allow only players, caddies, and officials inside
the ropes. It was the first tournament to be covered live on nationwide radio, and the
first to develop an on-course scoreboard network, in which scores were gathered over
dedicated telephone lines as they occurred.
After several early years of financial difficulties, Roberts later said that the hospitality for
which the Masters is legendary had been the produce of necessity. To sell enough tickets
to cover costs, the club had to pamper spectators. The prices had to be low, the food
good, the views unobstructed, the course perfect and the bathrooms clean. Focusing
on the needs of his customers was a priority for Roberts. In his quest for improvement,
Roberts accepted suggestions from every quarter, and many of the tournaments ameni-
ties were ideas from outsiders. All recommendations from patrons or others were taken
seriously. In 1961, an executive of a fire hydrant company in Alabama, suggested that the
television broadcast of the tournament be shown on closed-circuit TV sets situated on
the course itself, to make it easier for spectators to follow the action of the more popular
players – an idea that Roberts liked and implemented.
The Masters is still the competition by which other competitions are judged, and the
credit belongs largely to Roberts. Mark Lockridge, Clubhouse Manager says: ‘We use our
history to drive our culture and we use our culture to drive service excellence.’ Principles
for providing service excellence that were created by Roberts are still used as the guiding
philosophy. These include keeping it simple, making it measurable, providing training
and coaching, soliciting feedback and ideas from the team, and recognizing and reward-
ing performance. Approximately 3,500 staff are employed at the Masters every year, and
they are all trained to understand the critical importance of service. Don Pritchard, Head
of Concession Planning and Operations, says the purpose of training is to get everyone
moving in the same direction. ‘Genuine hospitality is not teachable’, he says, ‘so we look
for a special type of person to work here.’ All staff are trained to offer a sincere greet-
ing to spectators, make eye contact, offer assistance with a ‘My Pleasure’ response, thank
patrons for their business, and offer customers a sincere farewell with wishes for a great
day. ‘In the race for excellence, there is no finishing line’ says Lockridge.
Sources
Owen (1999); Presentations by Mark Lockridge and Don Pritchard, 14 February 2012;
personal visit to the Masters, 8 April 2012.
12 Customer Service for Hospitality and Tourism
Table 1.2: Expanded marketing mix for services (Source: Booms and Bitner, 1981).
Traditional 4 ‘P’s of Marketing
Product Place Promotion Price
1) Physical good features 1) Channel type 1) Promotion blend 1) Flexibility
2) Quality level 2) Exposure 2) Salespeople 2) Price level
3) Accessories 3) Intermediaries - Number 3) Terms
4) Packaging 4) Outlet locations - Selection 4) Differentiation
5) Warranties 5) Transportation - Training 5) Discounts
6) Product lines 6) Storage - Incentives 6) Allowances
7) Branding 7) Managing channels 3) Advertising
- Targets
- Media types
- Types of ads
- Copy thrust
4) Sales promotion
- Publicity
Additional 3 ‘P’s of Services Marketing
People Physical evidence Process
1) Employees 1) Facility design 1) Flow of activities
- Recruiting 2) Equipment - Standardized
- Training 3) Signage - Customized
- Motivation 4) Employee dress 2) Number of steps
- Rewards 5) Other tangibles - Simple
- Teamwork 6) Reports - Complex
2) Customers 7) Business cards 3) Customer involvement
- Education 8) Statements
- Training 9) Guarantees
Introduction to Customer Service 13
The people element includes all human actors who play a part in service deliv-
ery and thus influence the buyer’s perceptions—namely the firm’s personnel, the
customer, and other customers in the service environment. The physical evidence 1
is the environment in which the service is delivered and where the firm and cus-
tomer interact, and any tangible components that facilitate performance or com-
munication of the service. Table 1.2 gives some examples of tangible evidence or
cues used by service organizations. Finally, the process is the actual procedures,
mechanisms, and flow of activities by which the service is delivered. The three
new marketing mix elements are included in the marketing mix as separate ele-
ments because they are within the control of the firm and any or all of them may
influence the customer’s initial decision to purchase a service and the customer’s
level of satisfaction and repurchase decisions. The traditional elements as well as
the new marketing mix elements are explored in depth in later chapters.
rivals is nearly identical (Gagnon and Roh, 2008). Customer service is therefore
increasingly becoming a differentiator in this sector. Some organizations do excel
in the art of customer service. Solnet et al. (2010) analyzed hospitality firms that
were frequent subjects of positive customer storytelling, and they identified
seven exemplar firms (see Table 1.3 below). These firms were The Ritz-Carlton,
Harrah’s Entertainment, The Walt Disney Company, Four Seasons, Club Med,
Southwest Airlines, and Singapore Airlines. A single theme – related to customer
and employee obsession – was determined to be the common thread. Effective
leadership and direction from a single founder or entrepreneur was also evident
in all the organizations, an attribute that is similarly obvious from the three case
studies in this opening chapter.
Table 1.3: Customer service superstars (Source: From Solnet et al, 2010, p. 895).
However, as consumers have come to expect more and more, satisfaction rates
for some tourism and hospitality players are lagging behind other sectors. In the
US for example, satisfaction ratings for airlines are below those of other indus-
tries, while hotels and restaurants are comparable to other sectors. Customers
Introduction to Customer Service 15
Figure 1.3: ACSI scores as of February 2017 (Source: American Customer Satisfaction Index, 2017).
16 Customer Service for Hospitality and Tourism
Everything is topnotch at Lopesan’s Meloneras resort in Gran Canaria, a Spanish island off
the northwest coast of Africa. Owner, Eustasio Lopez had a vision to create an upmarket
enclave in the sandy south of the island, incorporating five-star hotels, beach, restau-
rants, shopping malls, golf course, conference center and entertainment facilities. Since
2000 he has built several huge, high-class hotels in the resort and also taken over existing
properties to revamp and reinvent.
It is a huge undertaking but Lopez is unfazed by scale. His signature hotel, the four-
star Costa Meloneras comprises 1250 rooms amidst opulent décor and lavish landscap-
ing featured prominently by Condé Nast magazine. It is the company’s cash cow, with
high occupancy almost year round. Gran Canaria hoteliers benefit from the mild winter
weather - which attracts millions of European visitors every year - as well as a dependable
summer season. The five-star, 570-room Villa del Condé is modeled after his home town
of Aguimes and includes all the buildings that a typical Canary village would incorporate
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woman could have worn the helmet and shot the arrow, could have
led troops to attack, ruled with indomitable justice barbarian hordes
and lain under a shield noseless in a church, or made a green grass
mound on some primeval hillside, that woman was Millicent Bruton.
Debarred by her sex and some truancy, too, of the logical faculty
(she found it impossible to write a letter to the Times), she had the
thought of Empire always at hand, and had acquired from her
association with that armoured goddess her ramrod bearing, her
robustness of demeanour, so that one could not figure her even in
death parted from the earth or roaming territories over which, in
some spiritual shape, the Union Jack had ceased to fly. To be not
English even among the dead—no, no! Impossible!
But was it Lady Bruton (whom she used to know)? Was it Peter
Walsh grown grey? Lady Rosseter asked herself (who had been
Sally Seton). It was old Miss Parry certainly—the old aunt who used
to be so cross when she stayed at Bourton. Never should she forget
running along the passage naked, and being sent for by Miss Parry!
And Clarissa! oh Clarissa! Sally caught her by the arm.
Clarissa stopped beside them.
“But I can’t stay,” she said. “I shall come later. Wait,” she said,
looking at Peter and Sally. They must wait, she meant, until all these
people had gone.
“I shall come back,” she said, looking at her old friends, Sally and
Peter, who were shaking hands, and Sally, remembering the past no
doubt, was laughing.
But her voice was wrung of its old ravishing richness; her eyes not
aglow as they used to be, when she smoked cigars, when she ran
down the passage to fetch her sponge bag, without a stitch of
clothing on her, and Ellen Atkins asked, What if the gentlemen had
met her? But everybody forgave her. She stole a chicken from the
larder because she was hungry in the night; she smoked cigars in
her bedroom; she left a priceless book in the punt. But everybody
adored her (except perhaps Papa). It was her warmth; her vitality—
she would paint, she would write. Old women in the village never to
this day forgot to ask after “your friend in the red cloak who seemed
so bright.” She accused Hugh Whitbread, of all people (and there he
was, her old friend Hugh, talking to the Portuguese Ambassador), of
kissing her in the smoking-room to punish her for saying that women
should have votes. Vulgar men did, she said. And Clarissa
remembered having to persuade her not to denounce him at family
prayers—which she was capable of doing with her daring, her
recklessness, her melodramatic love of being the centre of
everything and creating scenes, and it was bound, Clarissa used to
think, to end in some awful tragedy; her death; her martyrdom;
instead of which she had married, quite unexpectedly, a bald man
with a large buttonhole who owned, it was said, cotton mills at
Manchester. And she had five boys!
She and Peter had settled down together. They were talking: it
seemed so familiar—that they should be talking. They would discuss
the past. With the two of them (more even than with Richard) she
shared her past; the garden; the trees; old Joseph Breitkopf singing
Brahms without any voice; the drawing-room wall-paper; the smell of
the mats. A part of this Sally must always be; Peter must always be.
But she must leave them. There were the Bradshaws, whom she
disliked. She must go up to Lady Bradshaw (in grey and silver,
balancing like a sea-lion at the edge of its tank, barking for
invitations, Duchesses, the typical successful man’s wife), she must
go up to Lady Bradshaw and say....
But Lady Bradshaw anticipated her.
“We are shockingly late, dear Mrs. Dalloway, we hardly dared to
come in,” she said.
And Sir William, who looked very distinguished, with his grey hair
and blue eyes, said yes; they had not been able to resist the
temptation. He was talking to Richard about that Bill probably, which
they wanted to get through the Commons. Why did the sight of him,
talking to Richard, curl her up? He looked what he was, a great
doctor. A man absolutely at the head of his profession, very
powerful, rather worn. For think what cases came before him—
people in the uttermost depths of misery; people on the verge of
insanity; husbands and wives. He had to decide questions of
appalling difficulty. Yet—what she felt was, one wouldn’t like Sir
William to see one unhappy. No; not that man.
“How is your son at Eton?” she asked Lady Bradshaw.
He had just missed his eleven, said Lady Bradshaw, because of the
mumps. His father minded even more than he did, she thought
“being,” she said, “nothing but a great boy himself.”
Clarissa looked at Sir William, talking to Richard. He did not look like
a boy—not in the least like a boy. She had once gone with some one
to ask his advice. He had been perfectly right; extremely sensible.
But Heavens—what a relief to get out to the street again! There was
some poor wretch sobbing, she remembered, in the waiting-room.
But she did not know what it was—about Sir William; what exactly
she disliked. Only Richard agreed with her, “didn’t like his taste,
didn’t like his smell.” But he was extraordinarily able. They were
talking about this Bill. Some case, Sir William was mentioning,
lowering his voice. It had its bearing upon what he was saying about
the deferred effects of shell shock. There must be some provision in
the Bill.
Sinking her voice, drawing Mrs. Dalloway into the shelter of a
common femininity, a common pride in the illustrious qualities of
husbands and their sad tendency to overwork, Lady Bradshaw (poor
goose—one didn’t dislike her) murmured how, “just as we were
starting, my husband was called up on the telephone, a very sad
case. A young man (that is what Sir William is telling Mr. Dalloway)
had killed himself. He had been in the army.” Oh! thought Clarissa, in
the middle of my party, here’s death, she thought.
She went on, into the little room where the Prime Minister had gone
with Lady Bruton. Perhaps there was somebody there. But there was
nobody. The chairs still kept the impress of the Prime Minister and
Lady Bruton, she turned deferentially, he sitting four-square,
authoritatively. They had been talking about India. There was
nobody. The party’s splendour fell to the floor, so strange it was to
come in alone in her finery.
What business had the Bradshaws to talk of death at her party? A
young man had killed himself. And they talked of it at her party—the
Bradshaws talked of death. He had killed himself—but how? Always
her body went through it first, when she was told, suddenly, of an
accident; her dress flamed, her body burnt. He had thrown himself
from a window. Up had flashed the ground; through him, blundering,
bruising, went the rusty spikes. There he lay with a thud, thud, thud
in his brain, and then a suffocation of blackness. So she saw it. But
why had he done it? And the Bradshaws talked of it at her party!
She had once thrown a shilling into the Serpentine, never anything
more. But he had flung it away. They went on living (she would have
to go back; the rooms were still crowded; people kept on coming).
They (all day she had been thinking of Bourton, of Peter, of Sally),
they would grow old. A thing there was that mattered; a thing,
wreathed about with chatter, defaced, obscured in her own life, let
drop every day in corruption, lies, chatter. This he had preserved.
Death was defiance. Death was an attempt to communicate; people
feeling the impossibility of reaching the centre which, mystically,
evaded them; closeness drew apart; rapture faded, one was alone.
There was an embrace in death.
But this young man who had killed himself—had he plunged holding
his treasure? “If it were now to die, ’twere now to be most happy,”
she had said to herself once, coming down in white.
Or there were the poets and thinkers. Suppose he had had that
passion, and had gone to Sir William Bradshaw, a great doctor yet to
her obscurely evil, without sex or lust, extremely polite to women, but
capable of some indescribable outrage—forcing your soul, that was
it—if this young man had gone to him, and Sir William had
impressed him, like that, with his power, might he not then have said
(indeed she felt it now), Life is made intolerable; they make life
intolerable, men like that?
Then (she had felt it only this morning) there was the terror; the
overwhelming incapacity, one’s parents giving it into one’s hands,
this life, to be lived to the end, to be walked with serenely; there was
in the depths of her heart an awful fear. Even now, quite often if
Richard had not been there reading the Times, so that she could
crouch like a bird and gradually revive, send roaring up that
immeasurable delight, rubbing stick to stick, one thing with another,
she must have perished. But that young man had killed himself.
Somehow it was her disaster—her disgrace. It was her punishment
to see sink and disappear here a man, there a woman, in this
profound darkness, and she forced to stand here in her evening
dress. She had schemed; she had pilfered. She was never wholly
admirable. She had wanted success. Lady Bexborough and the rest
of it. And once she had walked on the terrace at Bourton.
It was due to Richard; she had never been so happy. Nothing could
be slow enough; nothing last too long. No pleasure could equal, she
thought, straightening the chairs, pushing in one book on the shelf,
this having done with the triumphs of youth, lost herself in the
process of living, to find it, with a shock of delight, as the sun rose,
as the day sank. Many a time had she gone, at Bourton when they
were all talking, to look at the sky; or seen it between people’s
shoulders at dinner; seen it in London when she could not sleep.
She walked to the window.
It held, foolish as the idea was, something of her own in it, this
country sky, this sky above Westminster. She parted the curtains;
she looked. Oh, but how surprising!—in the room opposite the old
lady stared straight at her! She was going to bed. And the sky. It will
be a solemn sky, she had thought, it will be a dusky sky, turning
away its cheek in beauty. But there it was—ashen pale, raced over
quickly by tapering vast clouds. It was new to her. The wind must
have risen. She was going to bed, in the room opposite. It was
fascinating to watch her, moving about, that old lady, crossing the
room, coming to the window. Could she see her? It was fascinating,
with people still laughing and shouting in the drawing-room, to watch
that old woman, quite quietly, going to bed. She pulled the blind now.
The clock began striking. The young man had killed himself; but she
did not pity him; with the clock striking the hour, one, two, three, she
did not pity him, with all this going on. There! the old lady had put out
her light! the whole house was dark now with this going on, she
repeated, and the words came to her, Fear no more the heat of the
sun. She must go back to them. But what an extraordinary night! She
felt somehow very like him—the young man who had killed himself.
She felt glad that he had done it; thrown it away. The clock was
striking. The leaden circles dissolved in the air. He made her feel the
beauty; made her feel the fun. But she must go back. She must
assemble. She must find Sally and Peter. And she came in from the
little room.
“But where is Clarissa?” said Peter. He was sitting on the sofa with
Sally. (After all these years he really could not call her “Lady
Rosseter.”) “Where’s the woman gone to?” he asked. “Where’s
Clarissa?”
Sally supposed, and so did Peter for the matter of that, that there
were people of importance, politicians, whom neither of them knew
unless by sight in the picture papers, whom Clarissa had to be nice
to, had to talk to. She was with them. Yet there was Richard
Dalloway not in the Cabinet. He hadn’t been a success, Sally
supposed? For herself, she scarcely ever read the papers. She
sometimes saw his name mentioned. But then—well, she lived a
very solitary life, in the wilds, Clarissa would say, among great
merchants, great manufacturers, men, after all, who did things. She
had done things too!
“I have five sons!” she told him.
Lord, Lord, what a change had come over her! the softness of
motherhood; its egotism too. Last time they met, Peter remembered,
had been among the cauliflowers in the moonlight, the leaves “like
rough bronze” she had said, with her literary turn; and she had
picked a rose. She had marched him up and down that awful night,
after the scene by the fountain; he was to catch the midnight train.
Heavens, he had wept!
That was his old trick, opening a pocket-knife, thought Sally, always
opening and shutting a knife when he got excited. They had been
very, very intimate, she and Peter Walsh, when he was in love with
Clarissa, and there was that dreadful, ridiculous scene over Richard
Dalloway at lunch. She had called Richard “Wickham.” Why not call
Richard “Wickham”? Clarissa had flared up! and indeed they had
never seen each other since, she and Clarissa, not more than half a
dozen times perhaps in the last ten years. And Peter Walsh had
gone off to India, and she had heard vaguely that he had made an
unhappy marriage, and she didn’t know whether he had any
children, and she couldn’t ask him, for he had changed. He was
rather shrivelled-looking, but kinder, she felt, and she had a real
affection for him, for he was connected with her youth, and she still
had a little Emily Brontë he had given her, and he was to write,
surely? In those days he was to write.
“Have you written?” she asked him, spreading her hand, her firm and
shapely hand, on her knee in a way he recalled.
“Not a word!” said Peter Walsh, and she laughed.
She was still attractive, still a personage, Sally Seton. But who was
this Rosseter? He wore two camellias on his wedding day—that was
all Peter knew of him. “They have myriads of servants, miles of
conservatories,” Clarissa wrote; something like that. Sally owned it
with a shout of laughter.
“Yes, I have ten thousand a year”—whether before the tax was paid
or after, she couldn’t remember, for her husband, “whom you must
meet,” she said, “whom you would like,” she said, did all that for her.
And Sally used to be in rags and tatters. She had pawned her
grandmother’s ring which Marie Antoinette had given her great-
grandfather to come to Bourton.
Oh yes, Sally remembered; she had it still, a ruby ring which Marie
Antoinette had given her great-grandfather. She never had a penny
to her name in those days, and going to Bourton always meant some
frightful pinch. But going to Bourton had meant so much to her—had
kept her sane, she believed, so unhappy had she been at home. But
that was all a thing of the past—all over now, she said. And Mr. Parry
was dead; and Miss Parry was still alive. Never had he had such a
shock in his life! said Peter. He had been quite certain she was dead.
And the marriage had been, Sally supposed, a success? And that
very handsome, very self-possessed young woman was Elizabeth,
over there, by the curtains, in red.
(She was like a poplar, she was like a river, she was like a hyacinth,
Willie Titcomb was thinking. Oh how much nicer to be in the country
and do what she liked! She could hear her poor dog howling,
Elizabeth was certain.) She was not a bit like Clarissa, Peter Walsh
said.
“Oh, Clarissa!” said Sally.
What Sally felt was simply this. She had owed Clarissa an enormous
amount. They had been friends, not acquaintances, friends, and she
still saw Clarissa all in white going about the house with her hands
full of flowers—to this day tobacco plants made her think of Bourton.
But—did Peter understand?—she lacked something. Lacked what
was it? She had charm; she had extraordinary charm. But to be frank
(and she felt that Peter was an old friend, a real friend—did absence
matter? did distance matter? She had often wanted to write to him,
but torn it up, yet felt he understood, for people understand without
things being said, as one realises growing old, and old she was, had
been that afternoon to see her sons at Eton, where they had the
mumps), to be quite frank then, how could Clarissa have done it?—
married Richard Dalloway? a sportsman, a man who cared only for
dogs. Literally, when he came into the room he smelt of the stables.
And then all this? She waved her hand.
Hugh Whitbread it was, strolling past in his white waistcoat, dim, fat,
blind, past everything he looked, except self-esteem and comfort.
“He’s not going to recognise us,” said Sally, and really she hadn’t the
courage—so that was Hugh! the admirable Hugh!
“And what does he do?” she asked Peter.
He blacked the King’s boots or counted bottles at Windsor, Peter told
her. Peter kept his sharp tongue still! But Sally must be frank, Peter
said. That kiss now, Hugh’s.
On the lips, she assured him, in the smoking-room one evening. She
went straight to Clarissa in a rage. Hugh didn’t do such things!
Clarissa said, the admirable Hugh! Hugh’s socks were without
exception the most beautiful she had ever seen—and now his
evening dress. Perfect! And had he children?
“Everybody in the room has six sons at Eton,” Peter told her, except
himself. He, thank God, had none. No sons, no daughters, no wife.
Well, he didn’t seem to mind, said Sally. He looked younger, she
thought, than any of them.
But it had been a silly thing to do, in many ways, Peter said, to marry
like that; “a perfect goose she was,” he said, but, he said, “we had a
splendid time of it,” but how could that be? Sally wondered; what did
he mean? and how odd it was to know him and yet not know a single
thing that had happened to him. And did he say it out of pride? Very
likely, for after all it must be galling for him (though he was an oddity,
a sort of sprite, not at all an ordinary man), it must be lonely at his
age to have no home, nowhere to go to. But he must stay with them
for weeks and weeks. Of course he would; he would love to stay with
them, and that was how it came out. All these years the Dalloways
had never been once. Time after time they had asked them. Clarissa
(for it was Clarissa of course) would not come. For, said Sally,
Clarissa was at heart a snob—one had to admit it, a snob. And it
was that that was between them, she was convinced. Clarissa
thought she had married beneath her, her husband being—she was
proud of it—a miner’s son. Every penny they had he had earned. As
a little boy (her voice trembled) he had carried great sacks.
(And so she would go on, Peter felt, hour after hour; the miner’s son;
people thought she had married beneath her; her five sons; and
what was the other thing—plants, hydrangeas, syringas, very, very
rare hibiscus lilies that never grow north of the Suez Canal, but she,
with one gardener in a suburb near Manchester, had beds of them,
positively beds! Now all that Clarissa had escaped, unmaternal as
she was.)
A snob was she? Yes, in many ways. Where was she, all this time? It
was getting late.
“Yet,” said Sally, “when I heard Clarissa was giving a party, I felt I
couldn’t not come—must see her again (and I’m staying in Victoria
Street, practically next door). So I just came without an invitation.
But,” she whispered, “tell me, do. Who is this?”
It was Mrs. Hilbery, looking for the door. For how late it was getting!
And, she murmured, as the night grew later, as people went, one
found old friends; quiet nooks and corners; and the loveliest views.
Did they know, she asked, that they were surrounded by an
enchanted garden? Lights and trees and wonderful gleaming lakes
and the sky. Just a few fairy lamps, Clarissa Dalloway had said, in
the back garden! But she was a magician! It was a park.... And she
didn’t know their names, but friends she knew they were, friends
without names, songs without words, always the best. But there
were so many doors, such unexpected places, she could not find her
way.
“Old Mrs. Hilbery,” said Peter; but who was that? that lady standing
by the curtain all the evening, without speaking? He knew her face;
connected her with Bourton. Surely she used to cut up underclothes
at the large table in the window? Davidson, was that her name?
“Oh, that is Ellie Henderson,” said Sally. Clarissa was really very
hard on her. She was a cousin, very poor. Clarissa was hard on
people.
She was rather, said Peter. Yet, said Sally, in her emotional way, with
a rush of that enthusiasm which Peter used to love her for, yet
dreaded a little now, so effusive she might become—how generous
to her friends Clarissa was! and what a rare quality one found it, and
how sometimes at night or on Christmas Day, when she counted up
her blessings, she put that friendship first. They were young; that
was it. Clarissa was pure-hearted; that was it. Peter would think her
sentimental. So she was. For she had come to feel that it was the
only thing worth saying—what one felt. Cleverness was silly. One
must say simply what one felt.
“But I do not know,” said Peter Walsh, “what I feel.”
Poor Peter, thought Sally. Why did not Clarissa come and talk to
them? That was what he was longing for. She knew it. All the time he
was thinking only of Clarissa, and was fidgeting with his knife.
He had not found life simple, Peter said. His relations with Clarissa
had not been simple. It had spoilt his life, he said. (They had been so
intimate—he and Sally Seton, it was absurd not to say it.) One could
not be in love twice, he said. And what could she say? Still, it is
better to have loved (but he would think her sentimental—he used to
be so sharp). He must come and stay with them in Manchester. That
is all very true, he said. All very true. He would love to come and stay
with them, directly he had done what he had to do in London.
And Clarissa had cared for him more than she had ever cared for
Richard. Sally was positive of that.
“No, no, no!” said Peter (Sally should not have said that—she went
too far). That good fellow—there he was at the end of the room,
holding forth, the same as ever, dear old Richard. Who was he
talking to? Sally asked, that very distinguished-looking man? Living
in the wilds as she did, she had an insatiable curiosity to know who
people were. But Peter did not know. He did not like his looks, he
said, probably a Cabinet Minister. Of them all, Richard seemed to
him the best, he said—the most disinterested.
“But what has he done?” Sally asked. Public work, she supposed.
And were they happy together? Sally asked (she herself was
extremely happy); for, she admitted, she knew nothing about them,
only jumped to conclusions, as one does, for what can one know
even of the people one lives with every day? she asked. Are we not
all prisoners? She had read a wonderful play about a man who
scratched on the wall of his cell, and she had felt that was true of life
—one scratched on the wall. Despairing of human relationships
(people were so difficult), she often went into her garden and got
from her flowers a peace which men and women never gave her. But
no; he did not like cabbages; he preferred human beings, Peter said.
Indeed, the young are beautiful, Sally said, watching Elizabeth cross
the room. How unlike Clarissa at her age! Could he make anything of
her? She would not open her lips. Not much, not yet, Peter admitted.
She was like a lily, Sally said, a lily by the side of a pool. But Peter
did not agree that we know nothing. We know everything, he said; at
least he did.
But these two, Sally whispered, these two coming now (and really
she must go, if Clarissa did not come soon), this distinguished-
looking man and his rather common-looking wife who had been
talking to Richard—what could one know about people like that?
“That they’re damnable humbugs,” said Peter, looking at them
casually. He made Sally laugh.
But Sir William Bradshaw stopped at the door to look at a picture. He
looked in the corner for the engraver’s name. His wife looked too. Sir
William Bradshaw was so interested in art.
When one was young, said Peter, one was too much excited to know
people. Now that one was old, fifty-two to be precise (Sally was fifty-
five, in body, she said, but her heart was like a girl’s of twenty); now
that one was mature then, said Peter, one could watch, one could
understand, and one did not lose the power of feeling, he said. No,
that is true, said Sally. She felt more deeply, more passionately,
every year. It increased, he said, alas, perhaps, but one should be
glad of it—it went on increasing in his experience. There was some
one in India. He would like to tell Sally about her. He would like Sally
to know her. She was married, he said. She had two small children.
They must all come to Manchester, said Sally—he must promise
before they left.
There’s Elizabeth, he said, she feels not half what we feel, not yet.
But, said Sally, watching Elizabeth go to her father, one can see they
are devoted to each other. She could feel it by the way Elizabeth
went to her father.
For her father had been looking at her, as he stood talking to the
Bradshaws, and he had thought to himself, Who is that lovely girl?
And suddenly he realised that it was his Elizabeth, and he had not
recognised her, she looked so lovely in her pink frock! Elizabeth had
felt him looking at her as she talked to Willie Titcomb. So she went to
him and they stood together, now that the party was almost over,
looking at the people going, and the rooms getting emptier and
emptier, with things scattered on the floor. Even Ellie Henderson was
going, nearly last of all, though no one had spoken to her, but she
had wanted to see everything, to tell Edith. And Richard and
Elizabeth were rather glad it was over, but Richard was proud of his
daughter. And he had not meant to tell her, but he could not help
telling her. He had looked at her, he said, and he had wondered,
Who is that lovely girl? and it was his daughter! That did make her
happy. But her poor dog was howling.
“Richard has improved. You are right,” said Sally. “I shall go and talk
to him. I shall say good-night. What does the brain matter,” said Lady
Rosseter, getting up, “compared with the heart?”
“I will come,” said Peter, but he sat on for a moment. What is this
terror? what is this ecstasy? he thought to himself. What is it that fills
me with extraordinary excitement?
It is Clarissa, he said.
For there she was.
THE END
Transcriber’s note
Minor punctuation errors have been changed
without notice. Inconsistencies in hyphenation have
been standardized. The following printer errors have
been changed.
CHANGED FROM TO
“word poetry of “word of poetry
Page 159:
herself” herself”
“lent a little “leant a little
Page 248:
forward” forward”
All other inconsistencies are as in the original.
*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MRS.
DALLOWAY ***
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