Quentin Bell - Virginia Woolf

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Quentin Bell 1972, 1982, 1990, 1996

Originally published in two volumes, Volume One in June 1972

and Volume Two in October 1972 by The Hogarth Press

First published in one volume by The Hogarth Press 1982

First published in one volume, with revisions, by The Hogarth Press 1990

Pimlico edition, with further revisions, 1996

Quentin Bell has asserted his right to be identified as the author of this Work in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988

First published in 1972

This edition published by Vintage in 2017

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A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library

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For

OLIVIER

Virginia Woolf was my mothers sister. In 1964, some twenty years after Virginias death, my uncle Leonard Woolf wrote to me saying that a number of people had it in mind to write her biography. He said he had to give them lunch and then to persuade them not to, and this was becoming a great bore He ended by suggesting that I should do it.

I replied that I did not think that the biography should be written by a member of the family and that I personally knew too little about English literature, or at least literary criticism, to undertake such a task. In the end I agreed to write my aunts life because I didnt like the idea that the authorised biography should be written by anyone but me. Nevertheless the objections that I had raised were valid and had to be met.

Being closely related to ones subject was in some ways an advantage; the great mass of evidence with which I had to deal was more easily understood because I knew most of the people and many of the situations referred to. But at the same time I was very much attached to my aunt and had continually to beware of an affection which could easily result in a loss of objectivity. A biography which is also a filial or indeed a nepotal offering tends to become the most tiresome kind of hagiography. This was a real danger because Virginia Woolfs character has frequently been attacked, and at that time many people thought of her as a wealthy, precious, difficult and malicious snob. As a biographer it was my task to determine as honestly as possible how much truth and how much falsehood there was in that description and to do so conscious that to a large part of the public it would appear that I was defending a family jealous of its reputation and careless of the truth. In such a position the biographer is subject to two opposing temptations: either he may paint a portrait which is more beautiful than reality, or, in his anxiety to show how free he is of nepotism, emphasise blemishes. In either case he errs; the truth and nothing but the truth must be his object.

If the portrayal of Virginia as a person was difficult it was at least a moral exercise and this, though hard, is clearly comprehensible; one knows what one ought to do. The portrayal of Virginia Woolf as an artist is much more difficult because very often one does not. There is, in the corpus of her writings, much that is plain as day, but there are difficult passages in the novels and at times her intention is not obvious. Such obscurities offer a tempting field for the speculative writer. Thus it has been suggested that The Waves, which seems to analyse the thought and feelings of a group of people, is in fact the study of one individual; it has even been suggested that To the Lighthouse is a Christian allegory. I do not attempt exegesis of this kind, neither do I try to assess or to compare the aesthetic value of the different novels. All such speculations are left to the reader.

Thus the purpose of this volume was purely historical; and although I hoped that it might assist those who attempt to explain the writings of Virginia Woolf, it could do so only by presenting facts which hitherto had not been generally known and by providing what was, I hope, a clear and truthful account of the character and personal development of my subject. In no other way could I contribute to the literary criticism of Virginia Woolf.

There is in the history of English literature a cautionary tale which I for one bear always in mind. Dr Johnson, surely the greatest English critic of the eighteenth century, sitting in judgment on Lycidas one of our finest poems condemned it utterly. If the best of critics can go so sadly astray what hope is there for the rest of us? Speaking for myself I cannot claim to be reliable. I once thought Orlando was the finest of Virginias novels; I do not think so now. And when it was published I thought The Years a masterpiece and told Virginia as much; I could not say the same today. Critically I feel that I serve not as a compass but as a weathercock nor do I think that I am alone in this.

Thus it is that you will find no critical valuations of Virginia Woolfs novels in this volume, nor do I attempt the kind of theorising which finds in all her written work those religious, political, or philosophical meanings which seem so evident to those who are determined to find them. I do not even think that Virginias concern with the liberation of her sex, important and deeply felt as it certainly was, actually informed every single work that she ever wrote.

What I have tried to do is to give as clearly as possible the ascertainable facts of Virginia Woolfs life, a life so remarkable as to need no adornment and no decoration with literary criticism. Her character was not in all respects admirable, but it offers us much that is worthy of admiration. Her books were of course the grand events in her life, her children as one may say, and I have tried to describe their origins, the work involved in bringing them to birth, and the deep emotions that resulted from their reception by the critics.

This biography could not have been written without the help of a great many institutions and of persons, many of whom are now dead. I hope some memory may survive of their fine generosity and my gratitude.