Bibliographie
Anon. ‘Quelques peintres français modernes’. Le Français: Journal de la Société des Professeurs de Français en Angleterre 218 (January 1919): 108–14.
Artaud, Antonin. ‘Sorcellerie et Cinéma’. Œuvres complètes 3. Paris: Gallimard, 1961. 82–85.
Barry, Iris. Let’s Go to the Movies. New York: Payson and Clarke, 1926.
Bazin, André. Qu’est-ce que le cinéma? Paris: Editions du Cerf, 1975.
Bell, Clive. ‘Art and the Cinema: A Prophecy that the Motion Pictures, in Exploiting Imitation Art, will Leave Real Art to the Artists’. Vanity Fair November 1922: 39–40.
Bell, Clive. ‘The English Group’. Catalogue of the Second Post-Impressionist Exhibition. London: Ballantyne, 1912. 22.
Bell, Clive. Art. London: Chatto & Windus, 1914.
Bell, Clive. Civilization: An Essay. 1928. London: Penguin Books, 1947.
Benjamin, Walter. ‘The Work of Art in the Age of Mechanical Reproduction’. 1936. Trans. Harry Zohn. Illuminations. Ed. Hannah Arendt. New York: Schocken Books, 1969. 217–251.
Cendrars, Blaise. L’ABC du Cinéma. Paris, Les Ecrivains réunis, 1926.
Clerc, Jeanne-Marie. Littérature et cinéma. Paris: Nathan, 1993.
Cocteau, Jean. ‘Carte Blanche’. Paris-Midi 21 April 1919. Lausanne: Mermod, 1953.
Cohen, Keith. Film and Fiction: The Dynamics of Exchange. New Haven and London: Yale UP, 1979.
Duhamel, Georges. Scènes de la vie future. Paris: Mercure de France, 1930.
Eisenstein, Sergei. ‘The New Language of Cinematography’. Close Up 4.5 (1929): 11.
Fry, Roger. ‘Post-Impressionism’. The Fortnightly Review 95 (May 1911). Post-Impressionists in England: The Critical Reception. Ed. J. B. Bullen. London: Routledge, 1988. 168.
Fry, Roger. Vision and Design. 1920. London: Penguin Books, 1961.
Gaudreault, André. Du Littéraire au filmique: Système du récit. Paris: Armand Colin, 1999.
Hankins, Leslie Kathleen. ‘“Across the Screen of my Brain”: Virginia Woolf’s “The Cinema” and Film Forums of the Twenties’. The Multiple Muses of Virginia Woolf. Ed. Diane F. Gillespie. Columbia OH: U of Missouri P, 1993.
Humm, Maggie. Modernist Women and Visual Cultures: Virginia Woolf, Vanessa Bell, Photography and Cinema. Edinburgh: Edinburgh UP, 2002.
L’Herbier, Marcel. Intelligence du Cinématographe. Paris: Corrêa, 1946.
Low, Rachael. The History of the British Film. Vols. 2 & 3. London: Allen and Unwin, 1949–1950.
Marler, Regina. Bloomsbury Pie: The Making of the Bloomsbury Group. New York: Henry Holt, 1997.
Minow-Pinkney, Makiko. ‘Virginia Woolf and the Age of Motor Cars’. Virginia Woolf in the Age of Mechanical Reproduction. Ed. Pamela L. Caughie. New York & London: Garland Publishing, 2000. 177
Moussinac, Léon. L’Âge ingrat du cinéma. 1946. Paris: Editeurs français réunis, 1967.
Perry, George. The Great British Picture Show. London: Pavilion Books, 1985.
Rancière, Jacques. La Fable cinématographique. Paris: Editions du Seuil, 2001.
Reid Broughton, Panthea. ‘The Blasphemy of Art: Fry’s Aesthetics and Woolf’s “Non-Literary” Stories’. The Multiple Muses of Virginia Woolf. Ed. Diane Gillespie. Columbia OH: University of Missouri Press, 1993. 37–57.
Reviron, Floriane. ‘Virginia Woolf et l’esthétique cinématographique’. Études Britanniques Contemporaines 26 (June 2004) : 139‒52.
Roe, Sue. ‘The Impact of Post-Impressionism’. The Cambridge Companion to Virginia Woolf. Ed. Sue Roe and Susan Sellers. Cambridge: CUP, 2000. 164–190.
Seldes, Gilbert. ‘The Abstract Movie’. The New Republic (New York) 48.615 (15 September 1926): 95.
Tiessen, Paul. ‘The Shadow in Caligari: Virginia Woolf and the “Materialists”’ Responses to Film’. Film Criticism 11 (Fall, Winter 1986–87): 75–83.
Watney, Simon. English Post-Impressionism. London: Studio Vista, 1980.
Woolf, Virginia. ‘A Sketch of the Past’. Moments of Being: Unpublished Autobiographical Writings of Virginia Woolf. Ed. Jeanne Schulkind. Sussex: The University Press, 1976. 72.
Woolf, Virginia. The Collected Essays of Virginia Woolf, vol. I. Ed. Leonard Woof. London: The Hogarth Press, 1966.
Woolf, Virginia. The Collected Essays of Virginia Woolf. Vol. II. Ed. Leonard Woolf. London: Chatto & Windus, 1966.
Woolf, Virginia. The Collected Essays of Virginia Woolf. vol. 4. Ed. Leonard Woolf. London: The Hogarth Press, 1967.
Woolf, Virginia. The Diary of Virginia Woolf. Vol. 1, 1915‒19. Ed. Anne Olivier Bell. London: The Hogarth Press, 1977.
Woolf, Virginia. The Diary of Virginia Woolf. Vol. II, 1920‒24. Ed. Anne Olivier Bell. London: The Hogarth Press, 1978.
Woolf, Virginia. A Reflection of the Other Person: The Letters of Virginia Woolf. Vol. 4, 1929–31. Ed. N. Nicholson and J. Trautmann Banks. London: The Hogarth Press, 1978.
Woolf, Virginia. Roger Fry, A Biography. 1940. London: The Hogarth Press, 1991.
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Notes
We have notably reduced ‘Bloomsbury’ to such members as Roger Fry, Clive and Vanessa Bell and Virginia Woolf because they may be seen as artists or art critics particularly devoted to visual arts and also because other Bloomsbury members did not really take part in the debate surrounding the advent of the cinema.
Virginia Woolf, ‘Mr Bennett and Mrs Brown,’ The Collected Essays of Virginia Woolf, vol. I, ed. Leonard Woof (London: The Hogarth Press, 1966) 320.
See Virginia Woolf, Roger Fry, A Biography (1940; London: The Hogarth Press, 1991) 239–40 and 172.
Virginia Woolf, The Diary of Virginia Woolf, vol. 1, 1915–19, ed. Anne Olivier Bell (London: The Hogarth Press, 1977) 28.
Virginia Woolf, A Reflection of the Other Person: The Letters of Virginia Woolf, vol. 4, 1929–31, eds. N. Nicholson and J. Trautmann Banks, (London: The Hogarth Press, 1978) 332.
See Maggie Humm, Modernist Women and Visual Cultures: Virginia Woolf, Vanessa Bell, Photography and Cinema (Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press, 2002) 75–76.
Clive Bell, ‘Art and the Cinema: A Prophecy that the Motion Pictures, in Exploiting Imitation Art, will Leave Real Art to the Artists,’ Vanity Fair, November 1922: 39–40.
‘The Cinema’ was published by Arts in New York in June 1926, reprinted as ‘Cinema’ in the Nation and Athenaeum on 3 July 1926, and, without Woolf’s permission, as ‘The Movies and Reality’ in the New Republic (New York) on 4 August 1926. For the main differences between the manuscript version and the three published versions, see Humm, 187–88.
Leslie Kathleen Hankins, ‘“Across the Screen of my Brain”: Virginia Woolf’s “The Cinema” and Film Forums of the Twenties,’ The Multiple Muses of Virginia Woolf, ed. Diane F. Gillespie (Columbia OH: University of Missouri Press, 1993) 156.
For a detailed analysis of British film culture in the twenties, see Hankins, 148–79.
For the development of the cinema in the 1910s and 1920s see George Perry, The Great British Picture Show (London: Pavilion Books, 1985) 1–68, and Rachael Low, The History of the British Film, vols. 2 & 3 (London: Allen and Unwin, 1949–1950).
Not only was the general trade not interested in masterpieces emerging from other countries but the British Board of Film Censors adopted an extreme and authoritarian attitude to them. For instance, The Cabinet of Dr Caligari made in Germany in 1919 by Robert Wiene was banned because of its frightening content, but more sinisterly the masterpieces of Eisenstein and Pudovkin from the new Communist state of Soviet Russia, including The Battleship Potemkin, Mother and October, were rejected as subversive propaganda. These films would not have been seen at all without the London Film Society—founded in 1925 at the instigation of Ivor Montagu and Iris Barry. Because it was as an alternative to American hegemony and an attempt to promote cinema as an art in its own right, it attracted a large membership from the intelligentsia of the day. Roger Fry and Maynard Keynes were among the founding fathers, Clive Bell was a member; its programmes—an innovative mixture of avant-garde and popular film—were announced and reviewed in The Nation and Athenaeum while Leonard Woolf was the literary editor.
Virginia Woolf, ‘The Cinema’ (1926), The Collected Essays of Virginia Woolf, vol. II, ed. Leonard Woolf (London: Chatto & Windus, 1966) 268.
Georges Duhamel, Scènes de la vie future (Paris: Mercure de France, 1930) 39.
Anatole France, ‘Dernières conversations avec Anatole France,’ Cinéa ciné pour tous 15 juin 1929. Yet in France, Louis Moussinac’s famous assertion (‘Le cinéma sera populaire ou il ne sera pas’) was rather representative of the intellectuals’ faith in the cinema as an object of mass-civilization. Marcel L’Herbier, was an ardent promoter of the cinema—and so was Louis Delluc—because of its appeal to a popular audience: ‘J’avais la croyance absolue que le cinéma ne pouvait être un art neuf que si c’était un art populaire, de très large audience, un art tourné vers l’extérieur où le monde pouvait trouver distraction, spectacle et loisir.’ Marcel L’Herbier, Intelligence du Cinématographe (Paris: Corrêa, 1946).
Clive Bell, Civilization: an Essay (1928; London: Penguin Books, 1947) 67.
See also Roger Fry, quoted by Virginia Woolf: ‘I’m gradually getting hold of a new idea about the real meaning of civilization, or what it ought to mean. It’s apropos of the question of the existence of individuals. It seems to me that nearly the whole Anglo-Saxon race especially of course in America have lost the power to be individuals’ (Woolf 1940, 272).
See Virginia Woolf, The Diary of Virginia Woolf, vol. II, 1920-1924, ed. Anne Olivier Bell, (London: The Hogarth Press, 1978) 168. Saturday 18 February 1922: ‘There was something about fame I had it in mind to say yesterday—oh I think it was that I have made up my mind that I’m not going to be popular, & so genuinely that I look upon disregard or abuse as part of my bargain. I’m to write what I like; & they’re to say what they like. My only interest as a writer lies, I begin to see, in some queer individuality: [. . .] people with this gift go on sounding long after the melodious vigorous music is banal.’
In her biography of Roger Fry, Woolf explains that he was moved by his eagerness to educate people not collectively but individually. Here is Fry’s credo: ‘The herd is the adversary, swollen immensely in size and increased in brute power, the herd on the one side, the individual on the other—hatred of one, belief in the other—that is the rhythm, to use his favourite word, that vibrates beneath the surface’ (Woolf 1940, 232).
See Walter Benjamin, ‘The Work of Art in the Age of Mechanical Reproduction’ (1936), trans. Harry Zohn, Illuminations, ed. Hannah Arendt (New York: Schocken Books, 1969) 217–251.
Bell also used a comparison with literature to debunk the cinema’s inability to express ‘the possibility of spiritual adventures’: ‘Instead of taking the world where it found it about the year 1900, [the cinema] has actually gone back to the crudest Victorian melodrama; on the literary or dramatic side, it is below the meanest lending-library novel or the silliest west-end play’ (Bell, 1922, 39).
Iris Barry, Let’s Go to the Movies (New York: Payson and Clarke, 1926) 53.
Naturally, the cross-fertilization between the movies and literature had an impact on Woolf’s own fiction but it is not our purpose to define her novels in terms of cinematic techniques. We have hinted elsewhere at the confluence between her narrative techniques and cinematic expression. Floriane Reviron, ‘Virginia Woolf et l’esthétique cinématographique,’ Études Britanniques Contemporaines 26 (June 2004) 139-52. See also Paul Tiessen, ‘The Shadow in Caligari: Virginia Woolf and the “Materialists”’ Responses to Film,’ Film Criticism 11 (Fall, Winter 1986–87) 75–83. Keith Cohen in Film and Fiction: The Dynamics of Exchange (New Haven and London: Yale University Press, 1979) has notably established theoretical analogies between selected work by Proust, Joyce, Stein and Woolf and film in terms of spatial structure, point-of-view and continuity.
See ‘Phases of Fiction’ (Woolf, 1966, 101).
Virginia Woolf, ‘Roger Fry’, The Collected Essays of Virginia Woolf, ed. Leonard Woolf, vol. 4 (London: The Hogarth Press, 1967) 90.
In France for example, Colette wrote film reviews and film scripts from 1914 onwards, she also subtitled the German film Mädchen in Uniform and many of her novels were adapted for the screen. Other notable writers who experimented with film criticism include Hilda Doolittle, Bryher, Dorothy Richardson, Gertrude Stein. Man Ray’s painting Admiration of the Orchestrelle for Cinematograph anticipated his films Emak Bakia (1926) and L’Etoile de Mer (1928). In France, the list of writers, poets and playwrights who turned to film criticism would be long, let us just quote Canudo, Louis Delluc, Apollinaire, Cendrars, Cocteau, Max Jacobs.
What Roger Fry called ‘the visual language of the imagination’ was ‘the discovery of what arrangements of form and colour are calculated to stir the imagination most deeply through the stimulus given to the sense of sight.’ ‘Post-Impressionism,’ The Fortnightly Review 95 (May 1911), Post-Impressionists in England: The Critical Reception, ed. J. B. Bullen (London: Routledge, 1988) 168.
The reactions triggered by the two Post-Impressionist exhibitions among the general public and the Establishment are well-documented. See for instance Virginia Woolf’s account of the public’s reaction in her biography of Roger Fry (Woolf 1940, 153–78): ‘Once more the public exposed themselves to the shock of reality, and once more they were enraged.’ Ivor Montagu explained that some of the Film Society’s programmes brought ‘fights and quarrels a-plenty.’ He added: ‘I do not think it is conceit to claim that, in the midst certainly of plenty of dull drivel, we did introduce in England new technique, new workmen, and new films. ‘The Film Society, London,’ Traditions of Independence, ed. D. Macpherson (London: BFI, 107). Montagu also suggested the fervour surrounding the early days of experimental film and Clive Bell’s participation in that milieu (Hankins 153).
Clive Bell, Art (London: Chatto & Windus, 1914) 8.
See for instance Jean Cocteau who, in 1919, expressed the wish that the cinema should express life thanks to shape, volume or shadows: ‘des artistes désintéressés exploitent la perspective, le ralentissement, l’accélération, la marche à l’envers, monde inconnu sur lequel un hasard entr’ouvre souvent la porte. Le cinéma moyen neuf servirait un art neuf [. . .]. On y verrait grouiller l’architecture des formes, des volumes, des ombres, des plans, évoquant mieux la vie qu’une représentation nécessairement inexacte de la réalité,’ ‘Carte Blanche,’ Paris-Midi 21 April 1919 (Lausanne: Mermod, 1953).
Sergei Eisenstein, ‘The New Language of Cinematography,’ Close Up, 4.5 (1929) 11.
Jacques Rancière, La Fable cinématographique (Paris: Editions du Seuil, 2001) 32.
André Bazin pointed at this paradox in his essay entitled ‘Montage Interdit’: ‘Le montage dont on nous répète si souvent qu’il est l’essence du cinéma, est le procédé littéraire et anti-cinématographique par excellence. La spécificité cinématographique, saisie [. . .] à l’état pur, réside au contraire dans le simple respect photographique de l’unité de l’espace.’ Qu’est-ce que le cinéma? (Paris: Editions du Cerf, 1975) 55.
‘L’art ‘idéogrammatique’ du Kabuki est l’art du montage et de la contradiction qui oppose à l’intégrité du personnage le morcellement des attitudes du corps, et aux ‘nuances’ de la traduction mimétique des sentiments, le choc des expressions antagoniques. Et le montage cinématographique hérite du pouvoir de cette langue. Mais l’idéogramme est aussi l’élément d’une langue fusionnelle, d’une langue qui ne reconnaît pas la différence des substrats et des composantes sensibles. Et le cinéma est, à son image, l’art fusionnel, l’art qui réduit les éléments visuels et sonores à une même ‘unité théâtre’ [. . .]’ (Rancière, 33).
Maggie Humm comments on Eisenstein’s use of hieroglyphs and reminds us that Woolf herself depicted ‘images of the future as an indecipherable hieroglyph’ (Humm, 144).
Roger Fry, ‘An Essay in Aesthetics,’ Vision and Design (1920; London: Penguin Books, 1961) 35.
Quoted by Regina Marler, Bloomsbury Pie: The Making of the Bloomsbury Group (New York: Henry Holt and Company, 1997) 169.
Simon Watney, English Post-Impressionism (London: Studio Vista, 1980) 98. Duncan Grant’s painting is reproduced in Bloomsbury: The Artists, Authors and Designers by Themselves, ed. Gillian Naylor (London: The Octopus Group, 1990) 248.
Gilbert Seldes, ‘The Abstract Movie,’ The New Republic [New York] 48. 615 (15 September 1926) 95.
See Jeanne-Marie Clerc for further comments on this idea frequently expressed until the 1930s that the cinema had the ability to reveal not reality but its essence or the reality beyond appearances. Littérature et cinéma (Paris: Nathan, 1993) 20.
‘We can get a curious side glimpse of the nature of this imaginative life from the cinematograph. This resembles actual life in almost every respect, except that what the psychologists call the conative part of our reaction to sensations, that is to say, the appropriate resultant action is cut off. If in a cinematograph, we see a runaway horse and cart, we do not have to think either of getting out of the way or heroically interposing ourselves. The result is that in the first place we see the event much more clearly; see a number of quite interesting but irrelevant things, which in real life could not struggle into our consciousness bent as it would be entirely upon the problem of our appropriate action [. . .]’ (Fry 1920, 24–5).
In France, Antonin Artaud voiced the same idea: ‘Par le fait qu’il isole les objets, [le cinéma] leur donne une vie à part qui tend de plus en plus à devenir indépendante et à se détacher du sens ordinaire des objets. Un feuillage, une bouteille, une main etc., vivent d’une vie quasi animale et qui ne demande qu’à être utilisée.’ ‘Sorcellerie et Cinéma,’ Œuvres complètes 3 (Paris: Gallimard, 1961) 82–85.
The very first occurrence of the phrase ‘significant form’ in Bell’s contribution to the Catalogue of the Second Post-Impressionist Exhibition underlined this new equality: ‘How then, does the Post-Impressionist regard a coal-scuttle? He regards it as an end in itself, as a significant form related on terms of equality with other significant forms. Thus have all great artists regarded objects’, ‘The English Group,’ Catalogue of the Second Post-Impressionist Exhibition (London: Ballantyne, 1912) 22.
Blaise Cendrars, L’ABC du Cinéma (Paris, Les Ecrivains réunis, 1926).
See Woolf’s comment on the popular movies as it is expressed in ‘Life and the Novelist,’ an essay written in the wake of her contribution on the cinema. ‘We have been letting ourselves bask in appearances. All this representation of the movement of life has sapped our imaginative power. We have sat receptive and watched, with our eyes rather than with our minds, as we do at the cinema, what passes on the screen in front of us’ (Woolf 1966, 133–34).
See ‘Quelques peintres français modernes,’ Le Français: Journal de la Société des Professeurs de Français en Angleterre 218 (January 1919): 108–14.
As such, her definition of the movies was to be echoed by Walter Benjamin who was to consider that being the art form that ‘corresponds to profound changes in the apperceptive apparatus—changes that are experienced on an individual scale by the man in the street in big-city traffic, on a historical scale by every present-day citizen’, the film had established ‘perception in the form of shocks’ (Benjamin 1936, 175, 250).
Let us note in passing that the analogy between abstract movies and dreams is a almost a cliché in film criticism. Jeanne-Marie Clerc explains that the New Realism in cinema was based on the ambivalence between dream and reality: ‘Seule jusqu’alors, la vision onirique justifiait cet univers fluide où les objets et les êtres pouvaient échanger leurs qualités et devenir tout à tour individualités séparées ou éléments d’une totalité mouvante. Seule, elle avait permis d’exprimer cette ubiquité que les changements de plans, sinon encore la mobilité de la caméra, vulgarisaient tous les jours sur l’écran.’ She also quotes Léon-Pierre Quint who expressed the same idea: ‘La véritable signification du cinéma, c’est le rêve’ (Clerc, 19). In the 1920s several experiments were made to create films without sequential narrative. The Surrealists and Dadaists notably subverted temporal representation by mirroring dreams and the absurd.
André Gaudreault, Du Littéraire au filmique: Système du récit (Paris: Armand Colin, 1999) 33.
Interestingly, in the same essay she explained the change between Edwardian and Georgian writers in terms of ‘smashing’ and ‘crashing’ so in terms of shock (333–34). Woolf also defined her own ‘shock receiving capacity’ as her intrinsic quality as a writer. She added that scene making was the origin of her writing impulse and allowed her to see that ‘behind the cotton wool [of daily life] is hidden a pattern; that [. . .] the whole world is a work of art.’ ‘A Sketch of the Past,’ Moments of Being: Unpublished Autobiographical Writings of Virginia Woolf, ed. Jeanne Schulkind (Sussex: The University Press, 1976) 72.
As Makiko Minow-Pinkney points out, ‘The logic of the machine, being different from human logic, disrupts the association and coherence of the human mind, which is felt as shock. So the fast, constantly changing fragments one encounters in both the experiences of motoring and film viewing, produce the shock-effect.’ ‘Virginia Woolf and the Age of Motor Cars,’ Virginia Woolf in the Age of Mechanical Reproduction, ed. Pamela L. Caughie (New York & London: Garland Publishing, 2000) 177. Coincidentally, Roger Fry used the metaphor of the different gears of a motor car to define the four types of vision among which the aesthetic vision was the highest (Fry 1920, 51).
Léon Moussinac L’Âge ingrat du cinéma (1946; Paris: Editeurs français réunis, 1967) 143.
My translation of the adjective ‘pluriponctuel’ used by Eisenstein and quoted by Iouri Lotman, Esthétique et sémiotique du cinéma (Paris: Editions sociales, 1977) 83–84.
Virginia Woolf probably knew quite a lot on the subject as the Hogarth Press’s publication of Eric White’s Parnassus to Let: An Essay About Rhythm in Film (1928) seems to indicate.
The impact of Fry’s formalist aesthetics on To the Lighthouse, ‘Blue & Green’, ‘Kew Gardens’, or ‘The Mark on the Wall’ is conspicuous enough and has been discussed at length notably by Sue Roe, ‘The Impact of Post-Impressionism,’ The Cambridge Companion to Virginia Woolf, eds. Sue Roe and Susan Sellers (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2000) 164–190. See also, Panthea Reid Broughton, ‘The Blasphemy of Art: Fry’s Aesthetics and Woolf’s ‘Non-Literary’ Stories,’ The Multiple Muses of Virginia Woolf, ed. Diane Gillespie (Columbia OH: University of Missouri Press, 1993) 37–57.
Roger Fry’s definition of the ‘emotional elements of desire’ can be found in Vision and Design (Fry 1920, 36).
Bell noted that ‘among the visual novelties of the film was the attempt to create a background which shall be at once decorative and appropriate.’ (1922, 40). One naturally thinks back to the Omega workshops created in 1913 by Fry and Bell and which may be seen as an attempt to mix the formal with the expressive, the abstract with the descriptive.
‘The Russian Point of View’ (Woolf 1966, 242).
Woolf’s short stories such as ‘Solid Objects’, ‘Moments of Being: ‘Slater’s Pins Have No Points’’ or ‘Monday or Tuesday’ offer an interesting kaleidoscope of her literary exploration of deformity. They explore perception, representation, fiction making and aesthetic experience itself while being largely abstracted from their human context.
‘In a picture, [. . .] unity is due to the balancing of the attractions of the eye about the central line of the picture. [. . .] A line, which indicated the sudden bend of a head in a certain direction would have far more than its mere value as line in the composition because of the attraction which a marked gesture has for the eye’ (Fry 1920, 34).
Kandinsky’s Point and Line to Plane was published in 1925 and the translation of On the Spiritual in Art had been published in 1912.
Roger Fry, quoted by Virginia Woolf (Woolf 1940, 177).
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