
A Room of One's Own
- Year:
- 1991
- 53 min
- 206 Views
1
I'm back from speaking of Girton in
floods of rain starve but valiant young
women that's my impression intelligent
eager poor and destined to become school
mistresses in shoals I blandly told them
to drink wine and had a room of their
own
I felt elderly and mature and nobody
respected me they were very eager
egotistical or rather not much impressed
by age group you did a little reverence
or that sort of thing about in 1928.
Virginia Woolf was invited to Cambridge
to talk to a small group of young women
at Girton College the title of her
lecture was a Room of One's Own but you
may say we asked you to speak about
women and fiction what does that got to
do with a room of one's own
I will try to explain when you asked me
to speak to you about women and fiction
I sat down on the banks of the river
here in Cambridge and began to wonder
what the words meant they might mean a
few remarks about Fanny Burney a few
more by Jane Austen a tribute to the
bronty's with a sketch of how earth
passed near jaundice know some
witticisms if possible about miss.
Medford a respectful allusion to George.
Eliot a reference to mrs. Gaskill one
would have done but but second side the
word seemed not so simple the title
women and fiction might mean and you
might have meant it to mean women and
what they are like or women and the
fiction they write or women and the
fiction that is written about them or it
might mean that somehow all three are
inextricably linked and when I came to
consider that this was the most
interesting possibility I soon saw that
it had one fatal drawback
I should never be able to come to a
conclusion I should never be able to
fulfill what I understand is the first
duty of a lecturer to hand you
after an hour's discourse a nugget of
pure truth for you to wrap up between
the pages of your notebooks and keep on
the mantelpiece
all I can do is offer an opinion upon
one minor point
a woman must have money and a room of
her own if she is to write fiction.
I was sitting on the banks of the river
for week or two ago and fine October
weather lost in thought the river
reflected whatever it shows of sky and
bridge and burning tree and an
undergraduate was poling his boat
through the reflections women and
fiction and the need to come to some
conclusion bowed my head to the ground
there I might have sat the top rung lost
in thought when you know the little tug
the sudden conglomeration of an idea at
the end of one's line it became all at
once very exciting and important and set
up such a tumult of ideas that it was
impossible to sit still that I found
myself walking with extreme rapidity
across a grass plot
instantly a man's figure rose to
intercept me nor did I first understand
but the gesticulations of a curious
looking object in a cutaway coat an
evening shirt were fingered me his face
expressing horror and indignation he was
a Beadle I was a woman
this was the turf
there was the path only a fellows and
scholars are allowed here the gravel was
the place for me such thoughts were the
work of a moment as I regained the path
the arms of the Beatles sang his face
regained its usual repose and although
turf is better walking than gravel no
very great harm was done the spirit of
peace descended like a cloud for if the
spirit of peace dwells anywhere it is in
the courts and quadrangles of Cambridge
on a fine October day
as chance would have it some stray
memory of some old essay about
revisiting Cambridge in the long
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"A Room of One's Own" Scripts.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2021. Web. 21 Jan. 2021. <https://www.scripts.com/script/a_room_of_one's_own_2009>.