all luxuriance and plenty to the verge of decency； and in
the night； bereft of life； bare places and ancient blemishes
were unpleasantly visible。 Katharine Hilbery； he
thought； would condemn it offhand。
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Virginia Woolf
CHAPTER III
Denham had accused Katharine Hilbery of belonging to
one of the most distinguished families in England； and if
any one will take the trouble to consult Mr。 Galton’s “Hereditary
Genius；” he will find that this assertion is not far
from the truth。 The Alardyces； the Hilberys； the
Millingtons； and the Otways seem to prove that intellect
is a possession which can be tossed from one member of
a certain group to another almost indefinitely； and with
apparent certainty that the brilliant gift will be safely
caught and held by nine out of ten of the privileged race。
They had been conspicuous judges and admirals； lawyers
and servants of the State for some years before the richness
of the soil culminated in the rarest flower that any
family can boast； a great writer； a poet eminent among
the poets of England； a Richard Alardyce； and having produced
him； they proved once more the amazing virtues of
their race by proceeding unconcernedly again with their
usual task of breeding distinguished men。 They had sailed
with Sir John Franklin to the North Pole； and ridden with
Havelock to the Relief of Lucknow； and when they were
not lighthouses firmly based on rock for the guidance of
their generation； they were steady； serviceable candles；
illuminating the ordinary chambers of daily life。 Whatever
profession you looked at； there was a Warburton or
an Alardyce； a Millington or a Hilbery somewhere in authority
and prominence。
It may be said； indeed； that English society being what
it is； no very great merit is required； once you bear a
wellknown name； to put you into a position where it is
easier on the whole to be eminent than obscure。 And if
this is true of the sons； even the daughters； even in the
nieenth century； are apt to bee people of importance—
philanthropists and educationalists if they are
spinsters； and the wives of distinguished men if they marry。
It is true that there were several lamentable exceptions
to this rule in the Alardyce group； which seems to indicate
that the cadets of such houses go more rapidly to
the bad than the children of ordinary fathers and mothers；
as if it were somehow a relief to them。 But； on the
whole； in these first years of the twentieth century； the
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Night and Day
Alardyces and their relations were keeping their heads well
above water。 One finds them at the tops of professions；
with letters after their names； they sit in luxurious public
offices； with private secretaries attached to them； they
write solid books in dark covers； issued by the presses of
the two great universities； and when one of them dies the
chances are that another of them writes his biography。
Now the source of this nobility was； of course； the poet；
and his immediate descendants； therefore； were invested
with greater luster than the collateral branches。 Mrs。
Hilbery； in virtue of her position as the only child of the
poet； was spiritually the head of the family； and Katharine；
her daughter； had some superior rank among all the cousins
and connections； the more so because she was an only
child。 The Alardyces had married and intermarried； and
their offspring were generally profuse； and had a way of
meeting regularly in each other’s houses for meals and
family celebrations which had acquired a semisacred
character； and were as regularly observed as days of feasting
and fasting in the Church。
In times gone by； Mrs。 Hilbery had known all the poets；
all the novelists； all the beautiful women and distinguished
men of her time。 These being now either dead or secluded
in their infirm glory； she made her house a meet
ingplace for her own relations； to whom she would lament
the passing of the great days of the nieenth
century； when every department of letters and art was
represented in England by two or three illustrious names。
Where are their successors？ she would ask； and the absence
of any poet or painter or novelist of the true caliber
at the present day was a text upon which she liked to
ruminate； in a sunset mood of benignant reminiscence；
which it would have been hard to disturb had there been
need。 But she was far from visiting their inferiority upon
the younger generation。 She weled them very heartily
to her house； told them her stories； gave them sovereigns
and ices and good advice； and weaved round them
romances which had generally no likeness to the truth。
The quality of her birth oozed into Katharine’s consciousness
from a dozen different sources as soon as she
was able to perceive anything。 Above her nursery fireplace
hung a photograph of her grandfather’s tomb in
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Virginia Woolf
Poets’ Corner； and she was told in one of those moments
of grownup confidence which are so tremendously impressive
to the child’s mind； that he was buried there
because he was a “good and great man。” Later； on an
anniversary； she was taken by her mother through the
fog in a hansom cab； and given a large bunch of bright；
sweetscented flowers to lay upon his tomb。 The candles
in the church； the singing and the booming of the organ；
were all； she thought； in his honor。 Again and again she
was brought down into the drawingroom to receive the
blessing of some awful distinguished old man； who sat；
even to her childish eye； somewhat apart； all gathered
together and clutching a stick； unlike an ordinary visitor
in her father’s own armchair； and her father himself was
there； unlike himself； too； a little excited and very polite。
These formidable old creatures used to take her in
their arms； look very keenly in her eyes； and then to
bless her； and tell her that she must mind and be a good
girl； or detect a look in her face something like Richard’s
as a small boy。 That drew down upon her her mother’s
fervent embrace； and she was sent back to the nursery
very proud； and with a mysterious sense of an important
and unexplained state of things； which time； by degrees；
unveiled to her。
There were always visitors—uncles and aunts and cousins
“from India；” to be reverenced for their relationship
alone； and others of the solitary and formidable class；
whom she was enjoined by her parents to “remember all
your life。” By these means； and from hearing constant
talk of great men and their works； her earliest conceptions
of the world included an august circle of beings to
whom she gave the names of Shakespeare； Milton；
Wordsworth； Shelley； and so on； who were； for some reason；
much more nearly akin to the Hilberys than to other
people。 They made a kind of boundary to her vision of
life； and played a considerable part in determining her
scale of good and bad in her own small affairs。 Her descent
from one of these gods was no surprise to her； but
matter for satisfaction； until； as the years wore on； the
privileges of her lot were taken for granted； and certain
drawbacks made themselves very manifest。 Perhaps it is
a little depressing to inherit not lands but an example of
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Night and Day
intellectual and spiritual virtue； perhaps the conclusiveness
of a great ancestor is a little discouraging to those
who run the risk of parison with him。 It seems as if；
having flowered so splendidly； nothing now remained
possible but a steady growth of good； green stalk and
leaf。 For these reasons； and for others； Katharine had her
moments of despondency。 The glorious past； in which men
and women grew to unexampled size； intruded too much
upon the present； and dwarfed it too consistently； to be
altogether encouraging to one forced to make her experiment
in living when the great age was dead。
She was drawn to dwell upon these matters more than
was natural； in the first place owing to her mother’s absorption
in them； and in the second because a great part
of her time was spent in imagination with the dead； since
she was helping her mother to produce a life of the great
poet。 When Katharine was seventeen or eighteen—that
is to say； some ten years ago—her mother had enthusiastically
announced that now； with a daughter to help
her； the biography would soon be published。 Notices to
this effect found their way into the literary papers； and
for some time Katharine worked with a sense of great
pride and achievement。
Lately； however； it had seemed to her that they were
making no way at all； and this was the more tantalizing
because no one with the ghost of a literary temperament
could doubt but that they had materials for one of the
greatest biographies that has ever been written。 Shelves
and boxes bulged with the precious stuff。 The most private
lives of the most interesting people lay furled in
yellow bundles of closewritten manuscript。 In addition
to this Mrs。 Hilbery had in her own head as bright a vision
of that time as now remained to the living； and
could give