The first quarter of the twentieth century in England might very well be called the “Bloomsbury Era.” It is easy to perceive them as a tightly knit group of friends, isolated from other cultural movements and disinterested in what was happening around them. This was hardly the case. Writers and intellectuals of the period frequently crossed paths, some as tangential members of the Bloomsbury Group and others who interacted with the group for only a brief moment in time. Lady Ottoline Morrell, Dora Carrington, Vita Sackville-West, and Katherine Mansfield all had an important impact on some aspect of Bloomsbury. To gain a greater sense of how Bloomsbury interacted with, influenced, and was influenced by culture, it is important to look at the lives of these women and their individual accomplishments.

DORA CARRINGTON (1893-1932)

Dora Carrington was an artist who attended the Slade School of Art, but has been neglected as a serious painter of her time. She is most famous for her unconventional relationship with the homosexual Lytton Strachey, with whom she lived and for whom she cared from 1917 until his death in 1932. Carrington, who dropped the use of her first name when she was an art student, first met Virginia Woolf in 1916 when she, David Garnett, and Barbara Bagenal broke into Asheham House, Virginia's country house, and spent the night there. Carrington was summoned by Virginia to explain. It was at Asheham that she first met Lytton when Vanessa Bell had borrowed the house for a few days. Later she would meet other Bloomsbury members at Lady Ottoline Morrell's house in Garsington. In 1919 she began an affair with Ralph Partridge (who worked for the Woolfs' Hogarth Press), and they married in 1921, setting up house with Lytton at Tidmarsh. In 1922 she had an affair with Gerald Brennan, Ralph's friend, and this caused great stress to all involved. Carrington was always most deeply devoted to Lytton who on his deathbed is reported to have said he should have married her. Upon Lytton's death, Carrington took her own life.

Carrington was the daughter of an ex-colonial father, Samuel Carrington, who was sixty years old when she was born. Samuel was unconventional in dress and attitude, charitable, and uninterested in gossip. Her mother Charlotte Houghton was a governess to Samuel's niece and was quite a bit younger. Charlotte was more conventional, always concerned with what others would think, and saw it as her duty to oversee what the children and servants were doing. Carrington rebelled quite early against her mother's middle-class values but revered her father and his conviction and religion as a man of peace. Some critics believe that her relationship with her father gave her the “father complex” she had with Lytton, who was quite a bit older than her and mentored her intellectual development.

At a young age Carrington showed talent in drawing and natural history, and so at age sixteen she went to Slade, then a recognized school for the teaching of art. At Slade she came became friends with some of the most talented young artists of the time, including Barbara Bagenal, Dorothy Brett, and Mark Gertler, with whom she had her first intense, but platonic, intimate relationship. She and Mark maintained a relationship throughout her life, but his demands and dissatisfaction were a constant bother to her. During this time Carrington also cut her hair into the short bob for which she became famous, adding to the androgynous look that attracted Lytton. This was a radical step during the time, equivalent to women's bra burning in the 1960s. As time went on, Carrington found it more difficult to return home, where she could not conform to the Victorian prudishness and church-going of her parents.

Carrington was known by her friends to be warm-hearted and affectionate, and there was an eternal playfulness and childish quality about her. The story of how she fell in love with Lytton is notable. When they first met at Asheham, Lytton was attracted to her boyish qualities. On an afternoon walk through the downs he impulsively kissed her. That night she sneaked into his room with a pair of scissors intent on cutting off his long red beard while he slept. She wrote that as she sat there with the scissors across his beard he opened his eyes and looked at her. She stared at him and realized she was in love. She withdrew the scissors and walked out of the room. “What shall we do about the physical,” Lytton was reported to say a few days later. She said it did not matter. Carrington, as well as Lytton, always thought she had been born the wrong sex—she always wished to be a man. Though she retained her virginity until she was twenty-six (one reason Mark Gertler was so frustrated with her), she would develop to be bisexual in nature, and like many of the Bloomsbury members, would make a habit of having multiple partners.

It was at Tidmarsh that Ralph Partridge moved in, Carrington's attraction to him cooling while Lytton became infatuated with Ralph, a devout heterosexual. Ralph was never interested in Lytton's attention, but merely wanted to be with Carrington. When Carrington married Ralph she immediately began an affair with his friend Gerald Brennan. Ralph could not tolerate it, but then he met Frances Marshall, a young Cambridge graduate, and his animosity lessened. Both Lytton and Carrington begged Ralph not to set up house with Frances, Lytton threatening to leave Carrington and saying that Frances would not be welcome in their new house, Ham Spray, on the Berkshire Downs. Carrington convinced Frances to spend only the week in London with Ralph, and the weekends in Ham Spray. Things were resolved. Ralph married Frances after Carrington's death.

In 1918 Lytton was living at his parents' home, and Carrington took it upon herself to find a place where she could take care of him while he worked. It was then that she found the Mill at Tidmarsh in Berkshire, where they could set up house together. Initially Lytton could not afford it, but his friends chipped in to pay his rent. With the publication of Eminent Victorians he was able to pay his rent and repay his friends. Later Carrington and Lytton moved to Ham Spray in the Berkshire Downs, where she threw her creative energy into interior decorating (fireplace, woodwork, walls, and smaller detail)—much like the Omega Workshops—and the gardens. In Lytton's bedroom she painted a huge mural of the Garden of Eden, which he loved.

Carrington put her own artwork aside to take care of Lytton. To make money she painted signs for inns and other minor forms of work. While at Tidmarsh, Carrington did manage to paint some of her few important paintings. She painted the famous portrait of Lytton, reclining with a book in his elongated fingers. She also painted Mill at Tidmarsh, with its red-tiled roofs reflected in the still water of the mill, into which she introduced an imaginary pair of black swans. There is also a striking portrait of Lady Strachey in which she looks like an empress. Unlike Vanessa Bell, Carrington refused to sell or exhibit her work. The first exhibition of her work did not occur until after her death. It is as if once she had found her place in bohemian Bloomsbury, she no longer needed her artistic pursuit in order to break from her conventional background. Some blame Lytton for Carrington's failure to pursue her painting, but in fact he did encourage her, buying her a studio in which to do her work.

Carrington left a small body of work, which Maryann Caws places in four genres: decorative work, woodcuts, portraits, and still lives.¹ Most of Carrington's decorative work was done at Ham Spray as described above. She also decorated gramophones, wood panels, lampshades, bookplates; painted china and trunks; and painted glass. Her best know woodcuts were used to illustrate Virginia Woolf's stories. In addition to her portraits of Lytton and his mother, there is a picture of the farmer's wife, Mrs. Box, whose earthy quality starkly contrasts with Lady Strachey. Carrington painted another landscape painting, Hills in Snow at Hursbourne Tarrant, and a still-life of flowers, Begonias, both of which are reminiscent of the paintings by American artist Georgia O'Keefe. These paintings illustrate Carrington's craftsmanship and skill with color and form, and they place her among the best painters of her time.

Along with Vanessa Bell, Carrington's art has been underestimated, though feminist scholars are now beginning to discuss her art with all of the seriousness of her male counterparts. Carrington made her life itself her art, and her relationship with Lytton represents Bloomsbury's idealization of friendship. Without Carrington's dedication Lytton's reputation would have been very different. Her integrity and devotion, her creative expression through domesticity, and her attempt to transcend the boundaries of her gender make Carrington an integral part of the Bloomsbury Group.

VITA SACKVILLE-WEST (1892-1962)

Vita (Victoria) Sackville-West was a true aristocrat, descended from an ancient and noble family that dated its lineage to ninth-century Normandy. She was a poet, novelist, biographer, travel writer, and gardener. Vita and Virginia Woolf had a long and serious love affair, which began in 1923 and ended by 1935. Both seemed to inspire each other, Virginia writing her mock biography Orlando in honor of her friend. Vita was a more popular writer than Virginia, winning a number of awards during her lifetime.

Vita was born at Knole, the estate that had been in her family for generations. From childhood she had two absorbing passions: a fierce love of Knole and a deep regret at not being a boy. If she had been a boy she could have inherited Knole, but as a woman could not, since British law prohibited women from participating in the line of inheritance. As a boy she would have been freed from the shackles of Edwardian society, and would have had the opportunity to attend schools and a university, where she could have studied Greek and Latin literature. When her grandfather died, the whole question of the succession of Knole arose and lawsuits followed. Knole was shut up until her father won the case and the inheritance, and the family made a triumphant return, though Vita was now acutely aware of how British law worked against her gender.

As a child Vita was independent, strong willed, and strong minded, almost masculine in character. She was not interested in being accepted socially and had a strong passion for literature. In 1910, when she was eighteen, she met Harold Nicolson. Their relationship developed from friendship to love and in 1913 they married. They moved to Constantinople where Harold was employed with the British Embassy. The next few years were very idyllic for Vita; she was deeply in love with Harold (and remained so for the rest of her life) and was completely fulfilled being his wife. The outbreak of World War I represented a turning point in her life. She decided to live her own life. She and her husband returned to England and spent their time in the country, where she began to write.

Vita's first genuine work, Poems of West and East, was published in 1918. In 1919 she published her first novel, Heritage, which drew the attention of influential critics. Her long poem The Land (1926) won her the coveted Hawthornden Prize. The Woolfs' Hogarth Press published thirteen of her works: three collections of poetry, King's Daughter (1929), Collected Poems: Volume 1 (1933), and Solitude: A Poem (1938); the novels Seducers in Ecuador (1924), The Edwardians (1930), All Passion Spent (1931), Family History (1932), and The Dark Island (1934); two books about her travels to Persia, Passenger to Teheran (1926) and Twelve Days: An Account of a Journey across the Bakhtiari Mountains in Southwestern Persia (1928); the biographies St. Joan of Arc (1936) and Pepita (1937); and Country Notes in Wartime (1940), a collection of her pieces from the New Statesman and Nation.

Vita became notorious for her passionate and explicit affair with Violet Trefusis between 1918 and 1920. She and Violet had known each other since they were children. As adults they took holidays to Paris—Vita cross-dressing as a man as they prowled the city streets together. The relationship reached such intensity that they each considered leaving their spouses. Harold Nicolson and Denys Trefusis pursued their wives, flying after them in a private plane to Paris, and eventually Vita agreed to return to England with her husband. Her son, Nigel Nicolson, retells this story in his controversial biography of his parents, Portrait of a Marriage (1973), which provides a valuable context for Virginia Woolf's Orlando.

Virginia first met Vita in 1922 at a dinner party given by Clive Bell. A few days later Vita invited Virginia to dine at her house with Clive Bell and Desmond MacCarthy, and Virginia asked Vita to send her a copy of Vita's new book, Knole and the Sackvilles (1922). Virginia was warned that Vita was a well known “Sapphist” but she did not care; she was attracted to her aristocratic sensibility and her looks. Their friendship grew into love and then passion. The affair was its most intense between 1925 and 1928, but already in 1927 Vita was having an affair with Mary Campbell, wife of South African poet Roy Campbell. In 1928 Virginia and Vita spent a week in France together, but the intense period was over. Virginia knew she could not meet Vita's physical needs. Their friendship continued until Virginia's death. Vita was the first person Leonard Woolf contacted upon Virginia's suicide; she had left one of her manuscripts to Vita. In the 1950s Vita was eager to publish the letters that Virginia had written to her, but Leonard refused to allow it.

Virginia dedicated her novel Orlando to Vita. It was written when the passion of their relationship began to wane. Nigel Nicolson called the novel “the longest and most charming love letter in literature.”² The book is a mock biography of Vita as the young nobleman and poet Orlando, who changes into a woman halfway through a four-hundred-year life. Virginia took her material from the long history of the Sackville family. She used their history as a way to metaphorically give back Knole to Vita—who as a woman was never able to inherit it—and to write a narrative about the changing roles of men and women from the Renaissance to the early twentieth century. It investigates marriage, travel, love, and most importantly, the artist in society. It is a playful look at all the issues that preoccupied Virginia through her other works.

It is Virginia's relationship with Vita that has allowed critics to talk of Virginia's lesbian sexuality since it was the most intense relationship she had with a woman. However, their relationship transcended this, bringing deep friendship to both. They gave each other the material, passion, and inspiration that allowed them to break from tradition and to define themselves as artists and writers.

LADY OTTOLINE MORRELL (1873-1938)

Lady Ottoline Morrell made her reputation in history as a literary hostess, patron, and lover of a number of artists and intellectuals during the first half the twentieth century. Married to Phillip Morrell, the Liberal member of parliament, she was known for her eccentric dress and speech as well as her generosity in sharing her wealth with needy artists. The general opinion of Morrell is that she was a bizarre and overbearing aristocrat who tried to get into intellectual circles. Some critics have written that she was driven by an excessive need to loved, but that is probably an exaggeration. Knowing she had no great genius in the arts and letters herself, she dedicated herself to helping those who did.

The Bloomsbury Group can claim a great deal of responsibility for Morrell's negative reputation. It is the letters and journals of Bloomsbury that have controlled the image of her since her death in 1938. Only since the early 1990s did scholars begin to have access to her journals and letters. It was among the Bloomsbury Group that she found some of her closest friends as well as her bitterest enemies. Morrell had friendships with Lytton Strachey, Roger Fry, Duncan Grant, and Desmond and Molly MacCarthy, and even had moments of real affection with Virginia Woolf. Morrell's biographer Miranda Seymour traces the Bloomsbury Group's distaste for Morrell to the Apostles and the influence of G. E. Moore. Morrell had devout religious faith and this was all that the group needed to tear at her character. When they found out that she had numerous lovers but refused to discuss them, they saw this as a serious lack of integrity and believed she was fair game for their attacks.

It was the writer Logan Pearsall Smith who initially suggested to Morrell that she open up her home to the creative people she admired. In spring 1907 she began issuing invitations to her famous “Thursdays.” Her parties offered a contrast to those offered by the Stephen sisters. Bloomsbury modeled itself on a society of irony, games, love, candor, and witty conversation. Morrell's parties recreated a fantasy of intellectual frivolity. There she would try to encourage her art-loving brother Henry to buy someone's art or to coax Virginia to tell of her recent meeting with Henry James. Among those who attended were Augustus John, Henry Lamb, Mark Gertler, Katherine Mansfield, T. S. Eliot, and W. B. Yeats. The artists accepted her kindness, though Bloomsbury members could not help but analyze, discuss, and judge Morrell and her parties.

Virginia was attracted to the aristocratic world from which Morrell came, and she and Vanessa would visit with Morrell in order to get stories about her and her world. Morrell generously told them everything—how she did not love her husband, that she had a number of affairs, and that she preferred the company of women. Virginia, aware that she enchanted Morrell, appeared sincere and Morrell began to treasure their friendship. It took Morrell several years to understand that her affection for Virginia would never prevent her from spreading scandalous rumors and that Virginia's mental instability would prevent her from being helpful in times of crises. Morrell may be the model for Lady Bruton in Virginia Woolf's Mrs. Dalloway.

It was the painters with whom Morrell felt most comfortable. Walter Sickert began to grace her dinner parties, and she was charmed by his readiness to tell jokes and sing music-hall duets. Duncan Grant was also a frequent visitor to her home. This beautiful young man was also always ready to participate in a charade, dance, tell a story or a joke, and, unlike the rest of Bloomsbury, he lacked ill will. Though many fell in love with him, Morrell was only full of love for him. She bought his pictures and swamped him with gifts. He in turn supplied her with silks for her embroidery, visited her regularly until the end of her life, and defended her from mockery.

Morrell had a number of affairs with exceptional and intense men, including Walter Lamb and Bertrand Russell. An example of the nature of these relationships is illustrated in her very intense love affair with painter Augustus John. Augustus was a flamboyant character, much like Morrell herself, who had returned from Paris to London in 1907 after the death of his first wife. He had two children with Dorelia McNeill, but she remained in Paris during the time that Morrell began to know Augustus. She met him briefly once at a friend's studio and then met him again in 1907 at a dinner party. By 1908 she was sitting for him as his favorite model. She began to pour out all her own worries and secrets to him and eventually she confessed she was in love with him. He was attracted to her as a woman and a model, but he knew he would never give up Dorelia, who was still in Paris, and warned Morrell that their relationship should not continue. She took her warning and the relationship went on. As with all her friends, she lavished him with gifts, which embarrassed him. He did allow her to do something that delighted her—he told her about the artists Henry Lamb and Jacob Epstein, from whom she bought artwork. By the end of 1908 Augustus was looking for a way to have a less passionate relationship with her. Dorelia was moving to London and as the love of his life, he looked forward to setting up house with her. Morrell's relationship with him eventually came to an end.

Morrell's most important connection to Bloomsbury is found in her relationship with Roger Fry. In 1907 Roger was back from America. He was full of gratitude for Morrell because of her willingness to loan him money and her kindness to his wife, whom he was trying to keep out of the asylum. In 1909 Roger persuaded Dugald MacColl, the keeper of the Tate Gallery, and Charles Holmes, the director of the National Portrait Gallery, to help him start a fund that would purchase the works of contemporary artists, exhibit them, and loan them to galleries. Roger approached Morrell and asked her to join them; nothing could have pleased her more. It was settled that her home on Bedford Square should be their headquarters. A year later the Contemporary Art Society came into being, with Morrell's brother Henry acting as chairman from 1910 until his death. Morrell held parties to raise funds and allowed her drawing room to be turned into a gallery on several occasions.

Through other friendships, Morrell became acquainted with the paintings of Cézanne and other French postimpressionists. She spent time in Paris and was taken to many of the galleries and salons. She also went to Provence in 1910 to see the rocks and villages Cézanne had portrayed in his paintings. Roger Fry's letters, according to Seymour, reveal that Morrell was closely involved in arranging the first postimpressionist exhibition at the Grafton Galleries. The summer she went to Provence, Roger urged her to return to London via Paris so they could review the Cézannes and Van Goghs he was planning to bring to England. She obliged him. Though the exhibition was a commercial success, the public and critics were outraged. Morrell gave Roger great support and he wrote to her thanking her for her help and advice. He asked her to participate on all his Grafton Galleries committees, a request that she treasured.

KATHERINE MANSFIELD (1888-1923)

Katherine Beauchamp Mansfield was a short-story writer who died prematurely from tuberculosis, but who many recognize as having the potential to have challenged Virginia Woolf's position as the greatest twentieth-century female writer. She was part of the circle around Lady Ottoline Morrell through her friendship with D. H. Lawrence. Born in Wellington, New Zealand, Katherine moved to London in 1903, and married critic and editor John Middleton Murry in 1918. Katherine developed a respectful and competitive relationship with Virginia, and her long short story Prelude (1918) was the second Hogarth Press publication. In 1927 Virginia reviewed The Journal of Katherine Mansfield for the New York Herald Tribune, acknowledging that Katherine was a born writer.

Katherine is one of the pioneers of the avant-garde in the creation of the short story. Her language is clear and precise, her use of image and symbol sharp and suggestive, and her themes various. Many of her stories reflect her years growing up in New Zealand. Her parents Annie Burnell Dyer and Harold Beauchamp were only one generation removed from the English immigrants who still referred to Great Britain as home. Katherine was the third daughter born, and she was followed by a fourth daughter, and finally the youngest, a boy. Lost in the middle, she was very close to her grandmother, who lived with the family along with two of Katherine's unmarried aunts. They lived in a large and luxurious house depicted in Katherine's story “The Garden Party.”

In 1903 the whole family visited England, and the parents left their three oldest girls, including Katherine, at Queen's College, a small women's school that specialized in the arts and languages. This was the beginning of Katherine's intellectual freedom, and she began to be interested in Oscar Wilde and the English “decadents.” In 1906 Katherine's parents returned to London to collect the girls, brought them back to New Zealand, and expected them to participate in the social life that would bring them husbands. Katherine had outgrown that life and came to resent her parents for their upper-class values.

In New Zealand she tried to be part of whatever creative community she could find, but she yearned to return to London. In 1908 her parents agreed to give her permission and a monetary allowance to return to London to live. Her next three or four years were a Bohemian life and a tumultuous existence. She became pregnant through an affair with the son of her music teacher, but his parents, not knowing she was pregnant, thought their son and Katherine too young to marry. Katherine suddenly married a man named George Bowden, but ran off on her wedding night to return to her unborn child's father. She later had a miscarriage. This incident was only the beginning of her long history of erratic sexual behavior with both men and women, and was not the last of her pregnancies and losses. Sometime between 1909 and 1911 she became ill from gonorrhea and had an operation connected with the illness. This illness may have helped contribute to her early death.

Amidst her physical and emotion turmoil, Katherine wrote constantly. In 1910 the editor of New Age—then one of the most noteworthy avant-garde journals of literature, politics, and art—accepted some of her work, and she began to contribute to the journal regularly. Most of her early work takes the form of the sketch, in which neither plot nor theme is sufficiently developed. Her first volume, In a German Pension (1911), consists mainly of sketches that mercilessly satirize Germans, depicting them as crude, gross, pompous, and self-satisfied. Bisexual themes and the complexity of human emotion also characterize her early stories, and there are stories that reflect her life and background in New Zealand.

Katherine first met John Middleton Murry in 1911. She always felt like an outsider, and her loneliness was personal, social, cultural, and national. She was a colonial in England trying to be part of Bohemian London. John's presence was initially a comfort to her and stabilized her life to some extent. John had started a little magazine titled Rhythm, to which Katherine sent some of her work. When she met him she persuaded him to leave Oxford and move in with her. She and John reorganized Rhythm as the Blue Review, but it only lasted three issues. D. H. Lawrence submitted work to it and he and his wife Frieda became close friends with Katherine and John. They were a volatile foursome but the relationships continued throughout their lives. John and Katherine continued to live together on-and-off through 1914. They could not marry because Katherine was still married to her first husband, but they finally did marry in 1918. Their relationship was never very passionate and Katherine was seriously ill throughout their time together.

Katherine initially seemed to ignore the First World War, but when her friend the sculptor Henri Gaudier-Brzeska died, it was on her conscience. Her brother Leslie, for whom she had ambivalent feelings, came to England to join the armed forces. Katherine and her brother had long conversations about their youth in New Zealand, and Katherine began to view him with new respect. Leslie was killed two weeks after landing in France. This was a traumatic experience for Katherine who was desolate. The war, as it was for so many of her contemporaries, represented a very dark moment in her history.

Katherine and John then moved to Bandol in the south of France. John returned to London to work on his magazine and Katherine remained to work intensely on The Aloe, which was begun as a first attempt at a full-length novel. It would eventually evolve into her long short story Prelude. In 1916 she left Bandol to join her husband and the Lawrences in renting adjoining cottages in Cornwall. There was constant intellectual interchange, in particular concerning their interest in Russian literature. Katherine was interested in Russian literature throughout her life and even translated work by Maxim Gorki. She was a frequent guest at Garsington, Lady Ottoline Morrell's sanctuary for writers and intellectuals, where she became part of those entangling alliances and separations. Katherine, for example, had a short and unsatisfactory affair with Bertrand Russell.

In 1917 a doctor discovered Katherine had active tuberculosis and prescribed winters in the Mediterranean climate. This was also the period that the mutual influence between Katherine and Virginia was at its strongest. They had met in 1916 at Garsington. At first both had little respect for each other, probably due to their differences in social class. Their responses to each others' work was complicated. They had many visits and talks during 1917, and the more they talked the closer they became. Critics have written that Virginia's “Kew Gardens” reflects Katherine's symbolic and descriptive prose in Prelude, while Katherine developed from Virginia the ability to describe moments of intense perception. Because of Katherine's illness she moved back to France and her interactions with Virginia became less frequent. When Katherine died, Virginia felt there was “no point in writing. Katherine won't read it.”³ She thought that “probably we had something in common which I shall never find in anyone else” (D2 227).

Katherine's most skillful piece is Prelude, which reflects her years growing up in New Zealand. It allowed her to explore the consciousness of her characters and her family members, to reveal antagonisms, alliances, and jealousies. It is about the Beauchamps' move to Karori, the large house in the countryside in 1893. The story is told through the perspective of Kezia, the younger daughter, who feels more loved by her grandmother than her mother. The father loves nature, while the mother, always tired and trying to escape the emotional demands placed on her, both loves and hates her husband. The spinster aunt, like the aunts who lived with Katherine, feels isolated in the country. The daughters are full of sibling rivalry and are described through the flowers and bushes depicted in naturalistic detail, something Katherine had learned from D. H. Lawrence.

In 1918 two London tuberculosis specialists agreed that Katherine should enter a sanatorium, and they warned her that if she did not she would not live longer than four years. She refused and worked as much as she could. Her friend Ida Baker lived with her during 1920 and 1921, during which time John would occasionally visit. Katherine tried some treatments that were farfetched; she died of a massive tubercular hemorrhage in 1923. Her reputation as a short-fiction writer was well established by the time of her death. John became her editor and brought out The Journal of Katherine Mansfield (1927); a selection of her letters (1928); the fullest possible collection of her stories in 1937; and later editions of her scrapbooks.

Notes

1. Mary Ann Caws, Women of Bloomsbury (New York: Routledge, 1990), pp. 141-55.

2. Nigel Nicolson, Portrait of a Marriage (New York: Atheneum, 1973), p. 208.

3. Virginia Woolf, The Diary of Virginia Woolf, edited by Anne Olivier Bell, 5 vols. (New York: Harcourt Brace Jovanovich, 1977-1984), p. 226.