VIRIGINIA WOOLF

Virginia Woolf was born in London on January 25, 1882 into one of England's most distinguished literary families. Her father was Sir Leslie Stephen; he was an editor, a critic, biographer, and philosopher, who  moved freely in London's literary circles.  Virginia's uncle was a jurist and Anglo-Indian administrator, and her cousin was the Principal of Newnham College. Her mother (Stephen's second wife, his first being the daughter of William Makepeace Thackery) was Julia Jackson, a legendary beauty.  Virginia had three siblings— Julian Thoby, Adrian, and Vanessa. She had three step-siblings as well—  George, Gerald, and Stella Duckworth, who were children of her mother's earlier marriage.

The Stephen house must have been an intellectually stimulating environment.  When Virginia was a child, literary figures, such as Henry James and James Russell Lowell, frequented her house as guests.  Virginia's education was in the hands of her able father who gave his daughters complete freedom of his library at a young age. As a result of this unfettered reading, Virgina was able to privately cultivate an interest in writing.  In addition, as a  member of the privileged upper class, she was able to also join the ranks of England's emerging intellectual aristocracy. She was introduced to a crowd of Cambridge-educated men by her brother, Toby.  Eventually, this group became what the well-known Bloomsbury group, which was a intellectual gathering of not only writers but other artists as well.

Virginia and Vanessa both married other members of the Bloomsbury group.  Vanessa married Clive Bell, and Virginia married Leonard Woolf, a writer and publisher, in 1912, and together they founded Hogarth Press.  Soon after her marriage, Virginia started publishing her own writings. The Voyage Out (1915) and Night and Day (1919) were her first two novels.  She then began to write in a stream-of-consciousness style, which resulted in Jacob's Room (1922), Mrs. Dalloway (1925), To the Lighthouse (1927), and The Waves (1931). Between the Acts (1941) was her last novel.

Despite her successes, Virginia suffered from that persistent depressive angst that seems to have led many great writers to their early demise.  On March 28, 1941 Virginia's hat and stick were found on the banks of a river near her home; her body was recovered a few weeks later.  She had weighted herself down with stones and waded in to her death.  She had previously noted that her death "would be one experience she would never describe" and left a note for her husband before going to her death:
 

Dearest,

I feel certain I am going mad again.  I feel we can't go through another of those terrible times. And I shan't recover this time.  I begin to hear voices, I can't concentrate.  So I am doing what seems the best thing to do.  You have given me the greatest possible happiness.  You have been in every way all that anyone could be.  I don't think two people could have been happier till this terrible disease came.   I can't fight any longer.  I know that I am spoiling your life, that without me you could work.  And you will I know.  You see I can't even write this properly. I can't read.  What I want to say is I owe all the happiness of my life to you.  You have been entirely patient with me and incredibly good.  I want to say that--everybody knows it.  If anybody could have saved me it would have been you.  Everything has gone from me but the certainty of your goodness.  I can't go on spoiling your life any longer.  I don't think two people could have been happier than we have.    V.

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