Woolfian Boundaries - Clemson University
Woolfian Boundaries - Clemson University Woolfian Boundaries - Clemson University
“BUT THE BARRIER IS IMPASSABLE”: VIRGINIA WOOLF AND CLASS by Ben Clarke In June 1913, Virginia Woolf attended a Women’s Co-operative Guild conference in Newcastle, and in 1931, when the Hogarth Press issued a collection of autobiographical essays by members of the Guild entitled Life as We Have Known It, she contributed a substantial introductory letter. As Anna Davin observes, her “connection with the Guild is surprising enough to need comment” given that she “had little interest (or faith) in organized politics.” It originated not only in her political commitments but in her personal relationships, and specifi cally “her marriage to Leonard Woolf, an active Fabian, and her friendship with Margaret Llewelyn Davies” (Davin viii). Davies was secretary to the Guild from 1889 to 1921 and a dedicated advocate of a movement she believed represented the “beginning of a great revolution” (Davies xi) that would “see the Community in control, instead of the Capitalists” (xii). She was a forceful fi gure and reaction to her varied. As Hermione Lee notes, although Leonard Woolf described her in his autobiography as “an exhilarating Joan of Arc fi gure,” Quentin Bell characterised her “as a battle-axe and a bore.” For Woolf herself, Lee argues, Davies was one of “those vigorous political women who made her feel insignifi cant, sceptical and lightweight” (Lee 328). Davies represented direct activism, and, in particular, a working-class activism rooted in the organized politics of the labour movement. Woolf’s introductory letter to Life as We Have Known It is addressed to Davies and engages with working-class women, their writing, and their concerns from the explicit perspective of one “shut up in the confi nes of the middle classes” (xxx). It is, as Rachel Bowlby states, “partly a retrospective analysis of the embarrassment for a ‘lady’ in attending a working women’s conference and fi nding herself unable to feel at one with the demands for material improvements which were the main preoccupation of the participants.” Th is discomfort forms the basis of an analysis of class that emphasises material and social divisions and in so doing “troubles any wish to imagine Woolf having a straightforwardly immediate feeling of sisterhood, whether political or literary, with other women, whatever their backgrounds” (Bowlby xxvii). Woolf’s letter moreover provides a position from which to question and indeed undermine what Alison Light describes as the widespread “tendency to universalise women’s experience,” something frequently enabled, she argues, by a “blindness to the categories of class” (xi-xii). Its contradictions expose class divisions between early twentieth-century feminists, divisions to which there was, as Woolf recognised, no simple solution, despite her hope that in the future women would meet “casually and congenially as fellow-beings with the same wishes and ends in view” (“Introductory Letter” xxix). Like all texts, Life as We Have Known It can be read within a variety of historical, political, and literary contexts. It bears, for example, an obvious relation to books such as Maud Pember Reeves’s Round About a Pound a Week (1913) and Margery Spring Rice’s Working-Class Wives (1939), which reported on the condition of working-class women in the fi rst half of the twentieth century. However, it diff ers from such texts, and, as Davin argues “has exceptional value,” insofar as it provides “accounts by ‘us’ rather than ‘them’” and deals “not just with the generalities of working class life, but with the specifi c experi-
BUT THE BARRIER IS IMPASSABLE ence of women, as they chose to tell them” (vii). Th e emphasis upon women’s representation of their own lives is, of course, appropriate to a political organisation that encouraged its members to participate in “public life” (Davies xiv). It means the text is also a distinctive contribution to a broader extension of authorship in the 1930s, a decade which saw the publication of an increasing number of working-class autobiographies, many, as George Woodcock observed, “bound in the limp orange covers of the Left Book Club” (125). Th is development, was, of course, enabled by a political and intellectual environment shaped by events such as the First World War, the Russian Revolution, the Wall Street Crash, the Depression, and the rise of Fascism. In “Th e Leaning Tower,” a paper delivered to the Workers’ Education Association in May 1940, Woolf argued that in “1930 it was impossible—if you were young, sensitive, imaginative—not to be interested in politics,” and one product of a literary culture in which many young writers and publishers “read Marx” and “became communists” and “anti-fascists” (CE2 172) was an increasing interest in working-class life. Th is led to an increase in texts both about and by the working class, though inevitably the former predominated. In his preface to Seven Shifts, Jack Common noted: My friends include members of the literary bourgeoisie and lads from the unprinted proletariat. Both parties talk well, and you’d probably enjoy a crack with them as much as I do. But here’s the pity. Th e bourgeois ones get published right and left—especially left; the others are mute as far as print goes, though exceedingly vocal in public-houses. Now I’ve often felt it would be good to swop them round for a change. (vii-viii) Life as We Have Known It is an example of precisely such a shift, of the publication of the previously “unprinted,” those who “do not belong to the writing classes” (vii). As a collection of essays by women, the text is all the more remarkable, as many of the working-class writers published by editors who “read Marx” and “became communists” were men drawn from “traditional” industries such as mining, shipbuilding, and steel production, men who conformed to the dominant image of the proletariat. In this context, descriptions of, for example, domestic labour, domestic service and midwifery, of women who “had gone into factories when they were fourteen” (Woolf, “Introductory Letter” xxxiii) extended and developed images of working-class life, exposing both tensions and solidarity. Woolf insisted that she was “keenly roused” (xxxii) by the prospect of reading the papers Davies had collected. Nonetheless, she argued that it cannot be denied that the chapters here put together do not make a book—that as literature they have many limitations. Th e writing, a literary critic might say, lacks detachment and imaginative breadth, even as the women themselves lacked variety and play of feature. Here are no refl ections, he might object, no view of life as a whole, and no attempt to enter into the lives of other people. Poetry and fi ction seem far beyond their horizon. Indeed, we are reminded of those obscure writers before the birth of Shakespeare who never travelled beyond the borders of their own parishes, who read no language but their own, and wrote with diffi culty, fi nding few words and those awkwardly. (xxxix) Th is is not to say the essays did not possess “some qualities even as literature that the liter- 37
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“BUT THE BARRIER IS IMPASSABLE”: VIRGINIA WOOLF AND CLASS<br />
by Ben Clarke<br />
In June 1913, Virginia Woolf attended a Women’s Co-operative Guild conference in Newcastle,<br />
and in 1931, when the Hogarth Press issued a collection of autobiographical essays<br />
by members of the Guild entitled Life as We Have Known It, she contributed a substantial<br />
introductory letter. As Anna Davin observes, her “connection with the Guild is surprising<br />
enough to need comment” given that she “had little interest (or faith) in organized politics.”<br />
It originated not only in her political commitments but in her personal relationships, and specifi<br />
cally “her marriage to Leonard Woolf, an active Fabian, and her friendship with Margaret<br />
Llewelyn Davies” (Davin viii). Davies was secretary to the Guild from 1889 to 1921 and a<br />
dedicated advocate of a movement she believed represented the “beginning of a great revolution”<br />
(Davies xi) that would “see the Community in control, instead of the Capitalists” (xii).<br />
She was a forceful fi gure and reaction to her varied. As Hermione Lee notes, although Leonard<br />
Woolf described her in his autobiography as “an exhilarating Joan of Arc fi gure,” Quentin Bell<br />
characterised her “as a battle-axe and a bore.” For Woolf herself, Lee argues, Davies was one<br />
of “those vigorous political women who made her feel insignifi cant, sceptical and lightweight”<br />
(Lee 328). Davies represented direct activism, and, in particular, a working-class activism rooted<br />
in the organized politics of the labour movement.<br />
Woolf’s introductory letter to Life as We Have Known It is addressed to Davies and<br />
engages with working-class women, their writing, and their concerns from the explicit perspective<br />
of one “shut up in the confi nes of the middle classes” (xxx). It is, as Rachel Bowlby<br />
states, “partly a retrospective analysis of the embarrassment for a ‘lady’ in attending a working<br />
women’s conference and fi nding herself unable to feel at one with the demands for material<br />
improvements which were the main preoccupation of the participants.” Th is discomfort<br />
forms the basis of an analysis of class that emphasises material and social divisions and in<br />
so doing “troubles any wish to imagine Woolf having a straightforwardly immediate feeling<br />
of sisterhood, whether political or literary, with other women, whatever their backgrounds”<br />
(Bowlby xxvii). Woolf’s letter moreover provides a position from which to question and<br />
indeed undermine what Alison Light describes as the widespread “tendency to universalise<br />
women’s experience,” something frequently enabled, she argues, by a “blindness to the categories<br />
of class” (xi-xii). Its contradictions expose class divisions between early twentieth-century<br />
feminists, divisions to which there was, as Woolf recognised, no simple solution, despite<br />
her hope that in the future women would meet “casually and congenially as fellow-beings<br />
with the same wishes and ends in view” (“Introductory Letter” xxix).<br />
Like all texts, Life as We Have Known It can be read within a variety of historical,<br />
political, and literary contexts. It bears, for example, an obvious relation to books such as<br />
Maud Pember Reeves’s Round About a Pound a Week (1913) and Margery Spring Rice’s<br />
Working-Class Wives (1939), which reported on the condition of working-class women in<br />
the fi rst half of the twentieth century. However, it diff ers from such texts, and, as Davin<br />
argues “has exceptional value,” insofar as it provides “accounts by ‘us’ rather than ‘them’”<br />
and deals “not just with the generalities of working class life, but with the specifi c experi-