The central symbol of “A Little Cloud” is contained in the story’s title, as the cloud represents the story’s protagonist, Little Chandler. The parallelism of the initials—Little Cloud/Little Chandler—suggests that Chandler is like a cloud himself. Specifically, the symbol of a little cloud represents Little Chandler’s feelings of insignificance, his overreliance on imagination, and the fleeting nature of his empowerment. Like a small cloud in a vast sky, Little Chandler is a small man in the large city of Dublin, Ireland. He holds a low-status job and has achieved little so far in life. Clouds can certainly be quite large and ominous, often portending violent rain and storms. Indeed, dark, foreboding clouds are often present in Romantic writing (of which Little Chandler is a fan) as symbols for intense passion. However, Little Chandler is more like a little cloud, suggesting that his feelings are weak and his passions are petty.
Little Chandler dreams of a more significant, meaningful life as a successful poet. However, like a cloud, Little Chandler’s dreams prove to be insubstantial and hollow—much like a cloud drifts and dissolves, Chandler’s dreams evaporate just as quickly as they appear. In this sense, the image of a cloud floating through the sky captures Chandler’s character arc. He begins the story resigned and “melancholy,” then feels more empowered and hopeful before meeting with his old friend Gallaher (a successful journalist) because he thinks Gallaher’s connections could be the key to his own success as a writer. However, Little Chandler sinks back into an even deeper, more resigned sadness at the story’s conclusion when he returns home and realizes he’s trapped in his life. Little Chandler’s feeling of hopeful empowerment is like a little cloud drifting through the sky—fleeting and inconsequential.
Little Cloud Quotes in A Little Cloud
—I’ll tell you my opinion, said Ignatius Gallaher, emerging after some time from the clouds of smoke in which he had taken refuge, it’s a rum world. Talk of immorality! I’ve heard of cases—what am I saying?—I’ve known them: cases of…immorality....
Ignatius Gallaher puffed thoughtfully at his cigar and then, in a calm historian’s tone, he proceeded to sketch for his friend some pictures of the corruption which was rife abroad. He summarised the vices of many capitals and seemed inclined to award the palm to Berlin. Some things he could not vouch for (his friends had told him), but of others he had had personal experience. He spared neither rank nor caste. He revealed many of the secrets of religious houses on the Continent and described some of the practices which were fashionable in high society and ended by telling, with details, a story about an English duchess—a story which he knew to be true. Little Chandler was astonished.