Walking along Young Street in Kensington, London, it is easy to miss the modest house at number 16. Somewhat overshadowed by the neighbouring tower blocks, it may escape the notice of passers-by who are unaware that, in the middle of the nineteenth century, it was an important place on London’s literary map.
This house, formerly numbered 13, was the home of William Makepeace Thackeray from 1846 to 1854. He was one of the most important English novelists of the Victorian period, known for his satire and realistic portrayal of society.
It was here that he wrote his most famous work, the novel Vanity Fair, which brought him fame and secured his place in literary history. He also wrote The History of Pendennis and The History of Henry Esmond while living on Young Street.
The building itself is unusual and fascinating. This detached yellow-brick house dates from around 1815, when Kensington was still a semi-rural area on the edge of London. Thackeray paid £65 a year to rent it. Its distinctive semi-circular bay windows reminded him of a medieval feudal castle. He joked:
I’ll have a flagstaff put over the coping of the wall, and I’ll hoist a standard up when I’m at home.
This remark reflects the writer’s sense of humour and his affection for a place that, for several years, was not only a family home but also an important literary workplace.
Thackeray’s former home at 16 Young Street, Kensington, London
Charlotte Brontë Comes to London
On 12 June 1850, the house became the setting for a meeting that later entered the folklore of literary London. That evening, many of the leading intellectual figures of the day gathered at Thackeray’s home to meet the woman whose name was on everyone’s lips across England: Charlotte Brontë, the author of Jane Eyre, who had only recently revealed herself as the person behind the pen name Currer Bell. Her presence made the dinner at Thackeray’s house one of the most eagerly anticipated events of London’s literary season.
Charlotte Brontë was a great admirer of William Makepeace Thackeray. She dedicated the second edition of Jane Eyre to him, even though the two had never met in person.
The Literary Dinner of 1850
The evening, however, went down in history as one of the most awkward literary gatherings of the nineteenth century. London’s intellectual elite had expected a brilliant exchange of ideas, but the conversation struggled to gain momentum and was often interrupted by uncomfortable silences. Although Charlotte was already famous as the author of Jane Eyre, she was also an extremely shy person who was unaccustomed to fashionable social life. The drawing rooms of London were a world very different from the one she knew.
According to later recollections, the host himself, apparently overwhelmed by the situation, slipped away from his own party and went to his club, leaving the guests to entertain themselves.
Rumours and Misunderstandings
It is also worth noting that Brontë’s dedication of Jane Eyre, intended as a sincere tribute to Thackeray, gave rise to a wave of literary gossip. Charlotte was unaware of an important detail: like Edward Rochester, the novel’s protagonist, Thackeray had a wife who suffered from a severe mental illness and lived away from the family home. As a result, many readers and commentators interpreted the dedication as a reference to his private life. Some even speculated that Rochester had been based on Thackeray himself, despite the fact that Charlotte had never met him before writing the novel and knew nothing of his domestic circumstances.
The rumours spread quickly, causing considerable embarrassment to both Charlotte and Thackeray. This misunderstanding added an extra layer of awkwardness to their later meeting in London.
All photographs by the author
Legacy of an Awkward Evening
In later years, accounts of the evening often exaggerated its discomfort. In reality, it was not a disaster but simply an encounter between two very different personalities: a witty and sociable figure of London literary society and the introverted daughter of a Yorkshire clergyman. They admired one another’s work, and both went on to secure an unquestioned place in literary history.
Today, a commemorative plaque above the entrance reminds visitors that this was once the home of Thackeray.
If you enjoyed this story, you may also like my article about the house of another great Victorian novelist: the Charles Dickens Museum in London.
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London is enchanting. I step out upon a tawny coloured magic carpet, it seems, and get carried into beauty without raising a finger.
Virginia Woolf Diary, 26 May 1924
Virginia Woolf’s Bloomsbury: 46 Gordon Square and 29 Fitzroy Square
Walking through Bloomsbury today, it is easy to see calm squares, elegant terraces, and university buildings. At the beginning of the twentieth century, however, this part of London represented something far more radical. For Virginia Woolf, moving here meant leaving behind the strict world of her upbringing and beginning a new life shaped by work, independence, and conversation.
Gordon Square, Bloomsbury, London
Virginia grew up at Hyde Park Gate in Kensington, a respectable address that offered comfort but also imposed control. Family life there followed fixed rules, especially for women, and daily routines were shaped by duty and supervision. After the deaths of her parents, the house became emotionally heavy, filled with mourning and constant concern about Virginia’s health. Although she longed to return to books and writing, decisions about her life were often made by others. Over time, Hyde Park Gate came to represent a closed and restrictive world from which she needed to escape.
That escape began with Bloomsbury.
In the winter months preceding Leslie’s death, the decision had been taken for the Stephens to sell the gloomy house in Hyde Park Gate with all its associations and move to a Georgian terraced house in the less reputable but cheaper neighbourhood of Bloomsbury. Vanessa oversaw the move to 46 Gordon Square that October, while Virginia was staying with her Aunt Caroline Emelia Stephen at Cambridge, then with the Vaughan family at Giggleswick Hall, in Yorkshire. […] It was light and airy, clear from clutter, with a view across the trees in the square. […] There was an L-shaped sitting room on the first floor and Vanessa and Virginia had a study, with Thoby, who had just begun reading for the bar, settled on the ground floor. Virginia’s was equipped with a new sofa and desk, ready for her return. […] Dr Savage was concerned that Virginia should not return to London too soon, but the sisters overruled him and when Virginia arrived that November, she found the house ‘the most beautiful, the most exciting, the most romantic place in the world’. […] For the first time, paradoxically significant in preserving her freedom, Virginia had a lock on her bedroom door.
Amy Licence, Living in Squares, Loving in Triangles: The Lives and Loves of Virginia Woolf and the Bloomsbury Group
Gordon Square: light, freedom, and work begins (1905–1907)
Although the Stephen siblings moved into Gordon Square in October 1904, Virginia did not join them immediately. After her father’s death earlier that year, she suffered a serious mental breakdown and, on medical advice, was kept away from London. Only in early 1905 was she considered well enough to return and begin her life in Bloomsbury.
Gordon Square, Bloomsbury, London
Once settled at Gordon Square, Virginia lived with her sister Vanessa and her brothers Thoby and Adrian. For Virginia, the most important change was having a space of her own. For the first time in her life, she had rooms arranged entirely for reading and writing. From her upper-floor rooms, she looked out over the trees of the square, a view that became closely connected with her sense of freedom and creative possibility.
This new setting made sustained work possible. During her time at Gordon Square, Virginia began publishing regularly as a literary reviewer, especially for The Guardian. Writing reviews provided both income and discipline, helping her develop confidence and a professional identity. At the same time, she experimented with fiction, producing early short stories that explored the contrast between the respectable world she had left behind and the freer atmosphere of Bloomsbury.
Alongside journalism, Virginia also taught at Morley College for working men and women. She lectured on books, art, and history, gaining experience in explaining ideas clearly and addressing audiences beyond her own social circle. Although the work was demanding, it gave structure to her days and broadened her understanding of readers and listeners.
46 Gordon Square, Bloomsbury, London
Daily life at Gordon Square supported this working rhythm. The siblings deliberately abandoned many social conventions they had grown up with. Formal visiting rituals disappeared, and life was organised around reading, writing, and discussion rather than obligation. Virginia also began walking alone through London, exploring streets, bookshops, galleries, lectures, and concerts. These walks sharpened her attention to everyday urban life and later became an important element of her writing.
46 Gordon Square, Bloomsbury, London – where Virginia Woolf lived from 1905 to 1907
It was also at Gordon Square that the Bloomsbury Group began to take shape. Thoby Stephen, missing the intensity of Cambridge conversations, invited his friends to the house on Thursday evenings. These informal gatherings gradually became a regular meeting place for young writers and thinkers. Discussion focused on literature, philosophy, and ethical questions rather than social display. When artists later joined through Vanessa’s circle, Bloomsbury expanded beyond literature into visual art and design.
Bloomsbury Group plaque, Gordon Square, London – a place central to the formation of the Bloomsbury Group.
The Gordon Square years were short but intense. In the autumn of 1906, the siblings travelled to Greece. Shortly after returning to London, Thoby fell ill and died on 20 November 1906. Only two days later, Vanessa accepted Clive Bell’s marriage proposal. The household that had supported shared beginnings and collective work could no longer remain unchanged.
Fitzroy Square: independence, pressure, and the first novel (1907–1911)
In March 1907, Virginia and her younger brother Adrian moved to 29 Fitzroy Square, still within Bloomsbury but deliberately separate from Gordon Square. This move marked a new stage. Virginia was no longer part of a sibling household; she was now shaping her life more independently, both personally and professionally.
Fitzroy Square, Bloomsbury, London – the house where Virginia Woolf lived from 1907 to 1911
Fitzroy Square was louder and less fashionable than Gordon Square. The house required improvements, and money was often tight. Yet the move brought greater autonomy. Virginia ran her own household and had full control over her working space, occupying an entire floor filled with books, papers, and furniture chosen according to her own taste. The building itself had a literary past, having previously been home to George Bernard Shaw before his marriage.
George Bernard Shaw plaque, 29 Fitzroy Square, Bloomsbury, London
Work continued steadily. During her years at Fitzroy Square, Virginia wrote regularly for The Times Literary Supplement while continuing her reviewing work elsewhere. Journalism remained central to her professional life, providing income and sharpening her critical voice. At the same time, she began serious work on her first novel, initially titled Melymbrosia, later published as The Voyage Out. This period marked her transition from reviewer to novelist.
Life at Fitzroy Square was not easy. Noise, financial pressure, and emotional strain were constant, especially after the loss of her brother and changes in her relationship with Vanessa. Yet Virginia remained productive. Writing became both a discipline and a form of stability, giving shape to her days and direction to her thoughts.
Virginia lived at Fitzroy Square until October 1911, when the lease ended. By then, she had established herself as a working writer and was ready to move on again, both physically and creatively.
Bloomsbury as a place of work and ideas
Seen together, Gordon Square and Fitzroy Square show how closely Virginia Woolf’s life and work were tied to the places she lived. Gordon Square made writing possible by offering light, space, and intellectual companionship. Fitzroy Square tested her independence and pushed her towards larger ambitions, including her first novel. These London addresses were not simply backdrops to her life but active working environments that shaped her habits, her discipline, and her sense of what it meant to be a writer.
29 Fitzroy Square, Bloomsbury, London – Virginia Woolf’s home from 1907 to 1911
Walking through Bloomsbury
All photographs by the author.
This account draws on biographical and historical studies of Virginia Woolf and her circle, particularly those that explore the relationship between place, daily life, and creative work. The books listed below were consulted in shaping this narrative and offer further context for readers who wish to explore Woolf’s London in greater detail.
Lee, Hermione. Virginia Woolf. Chatto & Windus, 1996.
Macaskill, Hilary. Virginia Woolf at Home. Pimpernel Press, 2019.
Licence, Amy. Living in Squares, Loving in Triangles: The Lives and Loves of Virginia Woolf and the Bloomsbury Group. Amberley, 20215
Hill-Miller, Katherine C. From the Lighthouse to Monk’s House: A Guide to Virginia Woolf’s Literary Landscapes. Duckworth, 2001.
Woolf, Virginia. A Writer’s Diary. Delphi Classics, 2017.
The work of James Joyce is full of music. It is not used only as decoration, but also as a way to express hidden feelings and inner emotions. This is especially clear in the short story The Dead, where Joyce uses the song The Lass of Aughrim to give deeper meaning to the narrative.
James Joyce Tower, Sandycove, Dublin
Every year, at the beginning of January, I return to both the story and its film adaptation with a feeling of nostalgia. It is a deeply personal story about love, loss and identity, which T. S. Eliot called one of the greatest short stories ever written. When I listen to the old Irish ballad, I often reread the final, most beautiful paragraph of the story. It always fills me with wonder and deep emotion, and it moves me every time. This passage also has a musical quality, as its gentle rhythm and softly flowing melody create an atmosphere of silence, sadness and reflection, bringing the story to a close.
A few light taps upon the pane made him turn to the window. It had begun to snow again. He watched sleepily the flakes, silver and dark, falling obliquely against the lamplight. The time had come for him to set out on his journey westward. Yes, the newspapers were right: snow was general all over Ireland. It was falling on every part of the dark central plain, on the treeless hills, falling softly upon the Bog of Allen and, farther westward, softly falling into the dark mutinous Shannon waves. It was falling, too, upon every part of the lonely churchyard on the hill where Michael Furey lay buried. It lay thickly drifted on the crooked crosses and headstones, on the spears of the little gate, on the barren thorns. His soul swooned slowly as he heard the snow falling faintly through the universe and faintly falling, like the descent of their last end, upon all the living and the dead.
James Joyce, The Dead
Glendalough, Co. Wicklow, Ireland
Music is present throughout the entire story, from Italian opera to popular folk songs. Singing, dancing and playing music create the background of the Christmas party, while conversations at the table refer to famous singers and the musical life of Dublin. All of this slowly leads the reader towards the emotional centre of the story.
James Joyce Centre, Dublin
The Lass of Aughrim in the Story
The song The Lass of Aughrim, heard almost by chance after the party, is not just background music. It becomes a voice from the past that suddenly enters the present. For Gretta Conroy, the song brings back the memory of her first love, Michael Furey, a young man who once sang this song for her and who died tragically young. This memory reveals how strong and sincere that love was, and it clearly contrasts with the emotional distance in her marriage. The past feels more alive and more real than her quiet everyday life.
James Joyce Centre, Dublin
The song is also essential for her husband, Gabriel, as it leads him to a moment of deep understanding. He realises how empty his emotional life is and understands that the dead can have more power over the living than those who live without strong feelings. In this way, The Lass of Aughrim brings together the main themes of the story – memory, love and death – and leads to a sad, quiet ending that invites deep reflection on human life.
* * *
Let the music invite quiet reflection as we listen, accompanied by the restored guitar that once belonged to Joyce himself.
A few thoughts from the borderland of literature and music, marking today’s International Music Day
Clara Schumann – a genius in the shadow of famous men
When reading the novelised biography The Pianist: Clara Schumann and the Music of Love by Beate Rygiert, one cannot help but wonder: how many talents have been lost or forgotten simply because they belonged to women? Clara and her art are something of an exception, but even today, the name ‘Schumann’ is mainly associated with her husband, Robert. Clara herself, an outstanding pianist and gifted composer, is still too often remembered mostly as the wife of a famous composer, or as the unfulfilled love of Johannes Brahms.
Women artists hidden behind male names
Anyone who has studied even a little music history knows how few women’s names appear there. The reason is the same as why the Brontë sisters once published under the name ‘Bell’, or why Mary Ann Evans is remembered only under her male pseudonym George Eliot. George Sand, standing between literature and music, is another striking case: she became known for her bold themes and independent way of life, going beyond the customs of her time. But again – not without trousers, a cigar, and a man’s name.
Virginia Woolf and the silenced female genius
Virginia Woolf wrote powerfully about the situation of women and their place in art in her 1929 essay A Room of One’s Own. It is striking how many of the problems she described are still relevant today. Thinking about what English (and world) literature might have been like if Shakespeare had been born a woman, she concluded:
Yet something like genius must have existed in women […]. That genius was certainly not fully transferred to paper. When we read of the drowning of a witch, of a woman possessed by devils, of a wise witch selling herbs, or of a mother of some extraordinary man, then, I think, we are on the trail of a silenced novelist or poetess, some mute Jane Austen of whom no one ever heard, or some Emily Brontë who smashed in her skull somewhere on a moor or wandered dazed and wretched along roads, driven mad by the genius to which she was condemned.
Virginia Woolf, A Room of One’s Own
Mapping women composers – Sakira Ventura’s project
I believe these words apply just as well to music. The Spanish musicologist Sakira Ventura has tried to help fill this historical gap. She has pushed aside old prejudices, social rules, and taboos that, for centuries, kept women in the shadows, and she has created an interactive online map featuring hundreds of women composers, past and present. Each entry includes a short biography and links for further reading.
They don’t appear in musical history books, their works aren’t played at concerts and their music isn’t recorded, she told The Guardian. I had always talked about putting these composers on the map – so it occurred to me to do it literally.
Music is a woman!
Handwritten music notebook belonging to the Brontë sisters
All photographs by the author.
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