April 30, 2012

My book tells me this was ‘adapted from Malcolm Muggeridge’s BBC Television conversations with Leonard Woolf at Monks House, Rodmell, in March 1967.’

I suppose there must be a video of it? I hope it surfaces or gets broadcast at some point - maybe we just really need to raid the BBC archives.

Anyway, it’s quite long, but very interesting. He’s absolutely brilliant.

*

Leonard and Virginia Woolf lived together for many years here at Rodmell, on the edge of the South Downs. It was a countryside they grew to love. Their marriage was a close and intimate parternship of two intellectuals. Founder members of what came to be called the Bloomsbury Set. She was the daughter of a distinguished man of letters, Sir Leslie Stephen. Brought up in a highly literary atmosphere. Leonard Woolf’s background was different. He was born in 1880 into a comfortable middle-class Jewish family.

We were really very well off until I was twelve when my father died. He was Q.C. and made vast sums of money. But he spent it all in on living in a too large house, with too many children and too many servants. Then he died quite suddenly and my mother was left with nine children and no money coming in. We were immediately much poorer. We transferred ourselves to a smaller house and had three servants instead of about eight and had to be very careful with money. But we didn’t worry very much about it.

You were a really clever boy at school, weren’t you? You found your books easy.

Yes, I think I did from the start. I never had any difficulty with learning things. I liked working and I liked being what used to be called a ‘swot’, and you were always despised if you were a swot. I have always been an unredeemed intellectual and really I think that in England one is under grave suspicion if you are an intellectual.

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April 4, 2012
thebloomsburygroup:

Clive Bell (L) and Lytton Strachey (R), Charleston, c. 1928. *** To come close to life! To look at it, not though the eyes of Poets and Novelists, with their beautifying arrangements or their selected realisms, but simply as one actually does look at it, when it happens, with its minuteness and its multiplicity and its intensity, vivid and complete! To do that! To do that even with a tiny bit of it - with no more than a single day - to realize absolutely the events of a single and not extraordinary day - surely that might be no less marvelous than a novel or even a poem, and still more illuminating, perhaps! If one could do that! But one can’t, of course. One has neither the power nor the mere physical possibility for enchaining that almost infinite succession; one’s memory is baffled; and then - the things one remembers most one cannot, one dares not - no! one can only come close to them in a very peculiar secrecy; and yet…there remains a good deal that one can and may even perhaps positively ought to give a fixity to, after all! - from the diary of Lytton Strachey, Monday, June 26th, 1916.

thebloomsburygroup:

Clive Bell (L) and Lytton Strachey (R), Charleston, c. 1928.

***

To come close to life! To look at it, not though the eyes of Poets and Novelists, with their beautifying arrangements or their selected realisms, but simply as one actually does look at it, when it happens, with its minuteness and its multiplicity and its intensity, vivid and complete! To do that! To do that even with a tiny bit of it - with no more than a single day - to realize absolutely the events of a single and not extraordinary day - surely that might be no less marvelous than a novel or even a poem, and still more illuminating, perhaps! If one could do that! But one can’t, of course. One has neither the power nor the mere physical possibility for enchaining that almost infinite succession; one’s memory is baffled; and then - the things one remembers most one cannot, one dares not - no! one can only come close to them in a very peculiar secrecy; and yet…there remains a good deal that one can and may even perhaps positively ought to give a fixity to, after all!

- from the diary of Lytton Strachey, Monday, June 26th, 1916.

(via victorianlost)

March 25, 2012

Thoby went to open the door; in came Sydney-Turner; in came Bell; in came Strachey.

They came in hesitatingly, self-effacingly, and folded themselves up quietly in the corners of sofas. For a long time they said nothing. None of our old conversational openings seemed to do. Vanessa and Thoby and Clive, if Clive were there - for Clive was always ready to sacrifice himself  in the cause of talk - would start different subjects. But they were almost always answered in the negative. “No”, was the most frequent reply. “No, I haven’t seen it”; “No, I haven’t been there.” Or simply, “I don’t know.” […] Then at last Vanessa, having said perhaps that she had been to some picture show, incautiously used the word “beauty”. At that, one of the young men would lift his head slowly and say, “It depends what you mean by beauty.” At once all our ears were pricked.

[…] From such discussions Vanessa and I got probably much the same pleasure that undergraduates get when they meet friends of their own for the first time. In the world of the Booths and the Maxses we were not asked to use our brains much. Here we used nothing else. And part of the charm of those Thursday evenings was that they were astonishingly abstract. […] The young men I have named had no ‘manners’ in the Hyde Park Gate sense. They criticised our arguments as severely as their own. They never seemed to notice how we were dressed or if we were nice looking or not. All that tremendous encumbrance of appearance and behaviour which George had piled upon our first years vanished completely. One had no longer to endure that terrible inquisition after a party - and be told, “You looked lovely.” Or, “You did look plain.” Or, “You must really learn to do your hair.” Or, “Do try not to look so bored when you dance.” Or, “You did make a conquest”, or, “You were a failure.” All this seemed to have no meaning or existence in the world of Bell, Strachey, Hawtrey and Sydney-Turner. In that world the only comment as we stretched ourselves after our guests had gone, was, “I must say you made your point rather well”; “I think you were talking rather through your hat.” It was an immense simplification.

V. Woolf / Old Bloomsbury.

February 13, 2012
Again, from Frances Partridge’s Friends in Focus, Lytton Strachey & Ralph Partridge in France.

Again, from Frances Partridge’s Friends in Focus, Lytton Strachey & Ralph Partridge in France.

January 29, 2012
Marjorie & Lytton Strachey.

Marjorie & Lytton Strachey.

January 25, 2012

megsg19:

“And so we discussed Strachey - or ‘the Strache’, as Thoby called him. Strachey at once became as singular, as fascinating as Bell. But it was in quite a different way. ‘The Strache’ was the essence of culture. In fact I think his culture a little alarmed Thoby. He had French pictures in his rooms. He had a passion for Pope. He was exotic, extreme in every way - Thoby described him - so long, so thin that his thigh was no thicker than Thoby’s arm. Once he burst into Thoby’s rooms, cried out, “Do you hear the music of the spheres?” and fell in a faint. Once in the midst of a dead silence, he piped up - and Thoby could imitate his voice perfectly - “Let’s all write Sonnets to Robertson.” He was a prodigy of wit. Even the tutors and the dons would come and listen to him. “Whatever they give you, Strachey,” Dr Jackson had said when Strachey was in for some examination, “it won’t be good enough.”
- Virginia Woolf on Lytton Strachey, ’Old Bloomsbury’ in Moments of Being

(Source: virginred)

January 20, 2012

From Carrington’s letters:

1922

[Clive Bell had criticized Bernard Shaw in the New Republic in a way that Carrington thought unjustified. She therefore got Ralph to type the following letter which she signed.]

To Clive Bell

10 Adelphi Terrace, London

Dear Clive Bell, Thank you for the numerous compliments you have paid me in this weeks’ New Republic. I am sorry I cannot return the compliment that I think you, or your prose, ‘Perfectly respectable.’

In my young days a ‘taxicab’ was a name given only to aged whores, ugly as Shaftesbury Avenue.

You do not, it would appear, lead a very enviable aesthetic life; to me it seems dull.

Yours, Bernard Shaw

[Clive was completely taken in although a moment’s reflection would have shown him that taxicabs were unknown in Bernard Shaw’s young days. He therefore wrote a letter to Shaw getting in reply a postcard saying he had never written to him.]

To Lytton Strachey

February 15th, 1922

The Mill House, Tidmarsh

Dearest Lytton, Thank you so much for your letter. We shrieked with laughter under our canopy of blue very often as we read it… Especially about Clive and Shaw’s letters. Really he was a greenhorn. Did it never occur to him Bernard Shaw wasn’t likely to type the address on his note paper? Perhaps he does. Perhaps God inspired me, and the first letter was the image of the second! Poor Shaw I wonder what he thought of Clive’s apologies! ‘Clive Bell completely ga-ga. Never wrote him a letter in my life.’ I see a new aspect: a new avenue in life now! Forgery between lovers, enemies, dukes and duchesses.

Yr devoted Carrington

January 7, 2012
[Flash 9 is required to listen to audio.]

Marjorie Strachey talks about the Stephen family and Bloomsbury.

*

Priceless. Best voice/accent.

January 4, 2012

You guys, the Mill House at Tidmarsh is up for sale.

Just in case anyone here has £1,995,000 to spare.

January 2, 2012

An Excellent arrangement is now made. Maynard and Sheppard are to live in Clive’s house and we take 3 Gower Street for nine months. Katherine and Murry will live in the Bottom floor, Brett on the second, and I in the attics. But my rent will only be nine pounds a year!!! So what affluence I shall have for Hotel life!!! I shall like living with Katherine  I am sure - Murry has a job at the War Office.

Dora Carrington in a letter to Lytton Strachey, 6 Sept 1916

*

I had no idea these guys shared a house, how exciting!

November 30, 2011
[Flash 9 is required to listen to audio.]

Duncan Grant remembers Bloomsbury and the Dreadnought Hoax

This will put a smile on your face.