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<title>Nicholas Jenkins</title>
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<modified>2008-06-19T23:52:58Z</modified>
<tagline>Department of English, Stanford University</tagline>
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<modified>2008-06-19T23:52:58Z</modified>
<issued>2008-02-09T02:26:52Z</issued>
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<summary type="text/plain"> Contents Detail&quot;The Intellectual Aristocracy&quot;Audens: RootedenessBicknells/Birches: &quot;Influence&quot;Births and DeathsReligion: AnglicansReligion: QuakersPoetsSlaves and PoetryAnd Next? Detail &quot;Family Ghosts&quot; aims, by providing a completely new level of detail about W. H. Auden&apos;s immediate family background, to supplant the vague generalities offered in...</summary>
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<name>njenkins</name>

<email>njenkins@stanford.edu</email>
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<dc:subject>07commentary: &quot;w. h. auden - family ghosts&quot; website</dc:subject>
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<![CDATA[<p><a href="http://www.stanford.edu/~njenkins/cgi-bin/auden/"><img alt="fg.jpg" src="http://www.stanford.edu/~njenkins/archives/images/fg.jpg" width="576" height="311" /></a> </p>

<p><br />
<strong><em>Contents</em></strong><br />
<ul><li><a href="#detail"><strong>Detail</strong></a></li><li><a href="#aristo"><strong>"The Intellectual Aristocracy"</strong></a></li><li><a href="#audens"><strong>Audens: Rootedeness</strong></a></li><li><a href="#bicknells"><strong>Bicknells/Birches: "Influence"</strong></a></li><li><a href="#births"><strong>Births and Deaths</strong></a></li><li><a href="#anglicans"><strong>Religion: Anglicans</strong></a></li><li><a href="#quakers"><strong>Religion: Quakers</strong></a></li><li><a href="#poets"><strong>Poets</strong></a></li><li><a href="#slaves"><strong>Slaves and Poetry</strong></a></li><li><a href="#next"><strong>And Next?</strong></a></li></ul></p>

<p><br />
<p id="detail"><strong>Detail</strong></p>

<p>"<a href="http://www.stanford.edu/~njenkins/cgi-bin/auden/">Family Ghosts</a>" aims, by providing a completely new level of detail about <a href="http://www.stanford.edu/~njenkins/cgi-bin/auden/individual.php?pid=i5&ged=auden-bicknell.ged">W. H. Auden</a>'s immediate family background, to supplant the vague generalities offered in the existing biographies. So, for the first time, all 30 of his immediate ancestors (parents, grandparents, great-grandparents and great-great grandparents) are named. In addition most of their dates of birth, marriage and death as well as the places where those events occurred are listed. This is also the case for all 14 of Auden's uncles and aunts. </p>

<p>"<a href="http://www.stanford.edu/~njenkins/cgi-bin/auden/">Family Ghosts</a>" also provides copious new details about such important but previously enigmatic figures within the Auden biography as <a href="http://www.stanford.edu/~njenkins/cgi-bin/auden/individual.php?pid=I105&ged=auden-bicknell.ged">Margaret Marshall</a>, the psychiatrist who seems to have conducted some kind of analysis on Auden in Spa, Belgium in 1928 and who shortly afterwards was briefly and very unhappily married to his brother <a href="http://www.stanford.edu/~njenkins/cgi-bin/auden/individual.php?pid=i4&ged=auden-bicknell.ged">John Auden</a>.</p>

<p>But, in a more general sense, "<a href="http://www.stanford.edu/~njenkins/cgi-bin/auden/">Family Ghosts</a>" is part of an attempt to re-embed <a href="http://www.stanford.edu/~njenkins/cgi-bin/auden/individual.php?pid=i5&ged=auden-bicknell.ged">W. H. Auden</a> in English, American and German history, in this case by showing the extent (in terms of social space) and the nature (in terms of cultural positioning) of his ancestry and familial relationships. Up to now, as any reader of the main Auden biographies can rapidly discern, very little indeed has been known about Auden's family history. "<a href="http://www.stanford.edu/~njenkins/cgi-bin/auden/">Family Ghosts</a>" changes that. The database currently contains over 1,200 names and is therefore a site as much about class, religion, culture and social patterns in those societies mentioned, and especially in English society during the 19th and early 20th centuries, as it is about a single individual or one isolated family. This sprawling web of data thus links the Tudor poet <a href="http://www.stanford.edu/~njenkins/cgi-bin/auden/individual.php?pid=I595&ged=auden-bicknell.ged">Henry Howard</a>; the 20th century physicist <a href="http://www.stanford.edu/~njenkins/cgi-bin/auden/individual.php?pid=I662&ged=auden-bicknell.ged">Werner Heisenberg</a>; <a href="http://www.stanford.edu/~njenkins/cgi-bin/auden/individual.php?pid=I1284&ged=auden-bicknell.ged">William the Conqueror</a>; <a href="http://www.stanford.edu/~njenkins/cgi-bin/auden/individual.php?pid=I81&ged=auden-bicknell.ged">John William Birch</a>, a Governor of the Bank of England in Victorian England; <a href="http://www.stanford.edu/~njenkins/cgi-bin/auden/individual.php?pid=I1004&ged=auden-bicknell.ged">Maria Riddell</a>, the poet and close friend of Robert Burns; the painter <a href="http://www.stanford.edu/~njenkins/cgi-bin/auden/individual.php?pid=i75&ged=auden-bicknell.ged">John Constable</a> (a relative of both the Bicknells and, more distantly the Birches); <a href="http://www.stanford.edu/~njenkins/cgi-bin/auden/individual.php?pid=I741&ged=auden-bicknell.ged">E. F. Schumacher</a>, the "Small is Beautiful" prophet; and Sir <a href="http://www.stanford.edu/~njenkins/cgi-bin/auden/individual.php?pid=I905&ged=auden-bicknell.ged">Henry Firebrace</a>, who in 1649 accompanied Charles I to the scaffold where the king was beheaded. </p>

<p>To find out how any individual listed on the website was (or is) related to Auden, from the "Charts" button" towards the top left of the homepage, select "Relationship Chart" on the dropdown menu. Auden's ID is "I5". On the page which clicking "Relationship Chart" brings up, put "I5" into the box for Person 1 or Person 2. Click on the other box's figure icon and use it to find the unique identifying number for the other person in the relationship you want to have described. For example, "I2" is the ID of <a href="http://www.stanford.edu/~njenkins/cgi-bin/auden/individual.php?pid=I2&ged=auden-bicknell.ged">Constance Rosalie Bicknell</a>, Auden's mother. Make sure that the second ID number is present in this empty box. Then click "View" and the database will return an answer, elaborate or simple depending on the case, to your question.</p>

<p>The comments below assume in the reader a basic interest in, and some familiarity with, the website "<a href="http://www.stanford.edu/~njenkins/cgi-bin/auden/">W. H. Auden — Family Ghosts</a>". If you have not already done so, it would make sense to make a brief visit to the site before returning, if you choose to, and reading what I have to say here. </p>

<p><br />
<p id="aristo"><strong>"The Intellectual Aristocracy"</strong></p>

<p>"<a href="http://www.stanford.edu/~njenkins/cgi-bin/auden/">Family Ghosts</a>" is a critical and historical undertaking. Above all, it is <em>not</em> about the irrational or mythic associations of "blood" or "line". Over time, the vast social network of a family, extending as it does both laterally through social space and horizontally through historical time, creates a very specific culture within which its members shape themselves. For this reason, the "<a href="http://www.stanford.edu/~njenkins/cgi-bin/auden/">Family Ghosts</a>" website <em>is</em> about culture, class, social patterns, focussed through the lens of the Auden family.</p>

<p>In an interview which he gave early in 1963, Auden remarked that he had realized during the writing of <em>The Ascent of F6</em> in early 1936 that he would have to leave England: "F-6 was the end. I knew I must leave when I wrote it. And, and this is off the record, I knew it because I knew then that if I stayed, I would inevitably become a member of the British Establishment. It is impossible not to there." Auden's fear of becoming a member of the "British Establishment" is familiar to readers in a vague, general way. But how deeply, and in what ways, was Auden already embedded in the class structure of English life when he struggled with the pull of cultural co-option in 1936? Because of a lack of detailed knowledge about Auden's family background, precise answers to that question have remained almost, or completely, nonexistent. "<a href="http://www.stanford.edu/~njenkins/cgi-bin/auden/">Family Ghosts</a>" lays bare answers to those questions.</p>

<p>It is now easier to appreciate the force of comments such as this one reported by Cyril Connolly in 1947: "[Auden] reverts always to the same argument, that a writer needs complete anonymity, he must break away from the European literary 'happy family' with its family love and jokes and jealousies and he must reconsider all the family values" or this one, made in the mid-1960s: "I left England because there the cultural family is so small. While I love my cultural cousins and aunts very much, while I adore the cooking and the climate, it is rather small for living in all the time." For Auden, the "happy family" and the national culture did overlap significantly.</p>

<p>One broad conclusion which the data assembled in "<a href="http://www.stanford.edu/~njenkins/cgi-bin/auden/">Family Ghosts</a>" suggests is that on both his paternal and maternal sides Auden's family was profoundly entrenched in particular sectors of the "Intellectual Aristocracy" which Noel Annan identified as a fundamental presence in late 19th century and early 20th century British cultural life. (See N. G. Annan, "The Intellectual Aristocracy" in J. H. Plumb, ed., <em>Studies in Social History: A Tribute to G. M. Trevelyan</em> (London: Longmans, Green, 1955), 243-87.) Annan pointed to the densely developed family networks which linked Whig intellectuals with such prestigious names as Trevelyan, Macaulay and Stephen. Extending Annan's point, it is possible to see how even amongst less well-known families of the intellectual and financial elites existing connections helped to structure individual lives.<br />
	<br />
Auden's father's name was <a href="http://www.stanford.edu/~njenkins/cgi-bin/auden/individual.php?pid=I1&ged=auden-bicknell.ged">George Augustus Auden</a>, his mother's was, as noted above, <a href="http://www.stanford.edu/~njenkins/cgi-bin/auden/individual.php?pid=I2&ged=auden-bicknell.ged">Constance Rosalie Bicknell</a>. Here, then, is the Annanesque story of an interconnected "intellectual and financial aristocracy" seen in terms of the Auden-Bicknell marriage. George Augustus Auden (b. 1872) was training in London as a doctor in the mid-1890s. Constance Bicknell (b. 1869) was training as a nurse in London in the mid-1890s. How might they have met? A chance encounter in London medical circles? That is the conventional story (as related, for example, by Auden in "Letter to Lord Byron"). But it is more than likely that there were social and business connections between the Birch/Bicknell family circles and the Auden family circles <em>before</em> George Auden and Constance Bicknell met and courted (and eventually married in 1899). As so often happened with families and marriages at this period when people tended to marry <em>within</em> pre-existing networks of relations, this couple did too. </p>

<p>Constance Bicknell was a first cousin of Francis Mildred Birch (b. 1862). Birch was a partner in the stock broking firm of Francis Birch and Christian, in London. In 1896 Charles Henry Pasteur (b. 1869) was made a partner in that same firm of stockbrokers. Now, Pasteur was the younger brother of Isabel Twigg née Pasteur (b. 1858), who had married John Hanbury Twigg (b. 1856 in Repton) in London in 1894. Margaret Auden, née Twigg (b. 1858), John Twigg's sister, was married in 1886 to Rev. John Auden (b. 1860), the oldest brother of George Augustus Auden. In other words, George Auden's sister-in-law was the sister of a man who was a partner in Constance Bicknell's cousin's business. There were thus quite close links between the Birch/Bicknell and Auden families before the courtship of Auden's parents. </p>

<p>Given that in a city of the hugeness of London, these two families (out of all the possible permutations of family alliances) should have had such links, consolidated in the mid-1890s, and that another link between them, in the form of a marriage between George Auden and Constance Bicknell, should have been added at the end of the 1890s is an important and hitherto unknown facet of the Auden family's history. The links between Auden and Bicknells/Birches were not, of course, the reason why the pair fell in love — why, as Auden put it in "Letter to Lord Byron",  "A nurse, a rising medico, at Bart's | Both felt the pangs of Cupid's naughty darts" —  but it must have been a contextual influence in the romance.</p>

<p>Here, then, is the basic matrix of social and economic interconnection, first codified by Annan, in which intellectually-inclined, professional English families of the middle and upper-middle class tended to intermarry on multiple occasions with other families from the same class. In W. H. Auden's case, though, the branches of the intellectual aristocratic tree to which the Audens and Bicknells joined were very different ones than that Whiggish branch on which Annan concentrated. In Auden's case, the Auden and Bicknell branches both stemmed from "boughs" which were more radical and more clearly Tory. As this example shows, "<a href="http://www.stanford.edu/~njenkins/cgi-bin/auden/">Family Ghosts</a>" not only provides a great deal of new information about Auden's social background. It also amplifies the scope of portrait which Annan painted. </p>

<p>"<a href="http://www.stanford.edu/~njenkins/cgi-bin/auden/">Family Ghosts</a>" shows as well that, to a far greater degree than Auden and his early biographers acknowledged, or than Auden himself probably knew or guessed consciously, the Auden/Bicknell families had deep links with some of the formative figures and families of English cultural life of the last three centuries. For instance, the database demonstrates that although it was Christopher Isherwood who monopolized the "I am a camera" slogan in his writing, it was actually Auden who was distantly related to the great early photographer (considered by many the as inventor of photography), Henry Fox Talbot. </p>

<p>It was the very force of those sorts of connection with the "British Establishment" which, by counter-reaction, eventually propelled Auden away from the British cultural mainstream. But we cannot understand his subsequent alienation from England and its culture without first understanding his initial embeddedness in it. This is what "<a href="http://www.stanford.edu/~njenkins/cgi-bin/auden/">Family Ghosts</a>" allows one to do.</p>

<p><br />
<p id="audens"><strong>The Audens: Rootedness</strong></p>

<p>Dr. Auden enthusiastically imbued his son with a "Nordic" myth of his family origins and it was a belief sustained by his son throughout his own career. He commented near the end of his life: "My father brought me up on [the Icelandic sagas]. His family originated in an area which once served as headquarters for the Viking army." Doubts have occasionally been cast on the validity of this genealogical narrative. "<a href="http://www.stanford.edu/~njenkins/cgi-bin/auden/">Family Ghosts</a>", based as far as possible only on reliable documentary evidence, neither confirms nor refutes Dr. Auden's claims about Viking ancestry. However, the earliest Auden we have been able to trace is William Auden (1726-1794) who was born and who died in the Midlands village of Rowley Regis (the "Regis" indicates that the area was originally owned by the King) not far from Birmingham. Ancestors with different surnames living in the same town or general area can be traced much further back.</p>

<p>In "Letter to Lord Byron" Auden alludes to this base in middle England: "My father's forbears were all Midland yeomen | Till royalties from coal mines did them good." The most striking demographic characteristic of Auden's ancestors on the paternal side is their profound rootedness in one particular, not very large area of the English provincial world, even their immobility there in the "Black Country". </p>

<p>There had been Audens, or families who were or would become relatives of the Audens, in the Midlands since the 16th century. The first such traceable ancestor is Margaret Woodhouse (1540-1615) who died in Rowley Regis, Staffordshire, a town in which Audens and their relatives would later live for centuries. The hard rock of Rowley had been known as far back as the Roman period, and there were many quarries in the vicinity. Here is Anthony Andrews: "In the 18th century, Oldbury and Rowley Regis began to expand, the main reason for this being the construction of canals and the exploitation of local deposits of coal and iron. Industries sprang up, such as Phosphorous Works, Chemicals, Tar Distillers, etc. All landowners retained their Mineral Rights. Among other items produced were boilers, bricks and [eventually] even first World War tanks. By 1880, there were over fifty collieries and four blast furnaces in Rowley Regis." These remarks are in perfect alignment with what one tourist website mentions, commenting that: "The town's first industries were nail making and coal mining, which started in the 13th century, by the 19th century chain making… was also a major employer." (The town is mentioned in Auden's 1932 poem beginning "O Love, the interest itself in thoughtless Heaven": "upon wind-loved Rowley no hammer shakes | The cluster of mounds like a midget golf course.") A love of geology, which had such a profound impact on the imaginations of both W. H. Auden and his brother John B. Auden, who was one of the greatest geologists of his generation, contained a long-held familial aspect. The Audens had been involved with exploitation of rock and fossils for at least two centuries; and the family's identity was tied up with mining.</p>

<p>Margaret Woodhouse was the great-great-great-great-grandmother of the poet James Woodhouse (1735-1820). (The latter was Auden's first cousin four times removed: James Woodhouse's cousin Phoebe Woodhouse (1758-1828) married John Auden (1758-1834) in Rowley Regis in March 1782 and this couple were Auden's great-great-grandparents.) James Woodhouse was born on a farm which had been in his parents' family since the 1530s. Even after attaining a measure of renown in metropolitan literary circles, Woodhouse remained a distinctly provincial figure to his more sophisticated, or effete, contemporaries. According to his grandson, the Rev. R. I. Woodhouse, when Woodhouse had begun to move in London circles, his "clear sonorous voice, and his primitive haths and doths and his hast thous and wilt thous" were still notable. </p>

<p>Both in being involved with cultural pursuits and in moving to London as an adult, James Woodhouse was an anomaly in Auden's family background. As far back to the Nicklins, Audens and the Woodhouses of Auden's great-great grandparents' generation — the one born in the last half of the 18th century — the vast majority of Auden's ancestors on his father's side came from, and lived in, Staffordshire or Derbyshire.</p>

<p>The first person with the surname "Auden" who is known to have been born in Rowley Regis was William Auden (1726-1794), who in 1753 married Esther Sorrell (1734-1804) from nearby Halesowen. This pair formed one set of Auden's great-great-great grandparents on the paternal side. It is almost certain that William Auden made the money which allowed him to buy his family a coat of arms from the mining industry in Rowley Regis. Another set of great-great-great grandparents, Samuel Nicklin (1795-1866) and Phoebe Auden (1797-1856), both died in Rowley Regis. Throughout the 18th and 19th centuries, Auden's relations on his father's side remained extraordinarily rooted in the Midlands, principally in the area just to the west of Birmingham (Rowley Regis) and then from the mid-19th century to the south-west of Derby (the Rolleston/Burton-upon-Trent/Church Broughton/Repton area). </p>

<p>It was at the latter period that two Auden brothers, the Rev. John Auden (W. H. Auden's grandfather) and the Rev. William Auden, moved across the Midlands to marry two sisters of the wealthy Hopkins family of Dunstall Hall, Staffordshire. The Rev. John Auden married Sarah Eliza Hopkins in 1859 and the Rev. William Auden married Mary Jane Hopkins in 1861. William and Anne Hopkins, the parents of the Hopkins sisters, were landowners in the Dunstall area, and they were rich enough to provide local Church of England livings for both of their sons-in-law, for John in Horninglow and for William in Church Broughton. It seems likely that it was Sarah Eliza Auden who, after her husband's death, purchased "Danesgate", a house in Repton, probably sometime in the early 1880s, which has remained in the Auden family until the present time. It is also probable that the combination of mining royalties from the Rowley Regis area from the Rev. John Auden's family and of money from houses and land from Sarah Eliza Auden's family sufficed to provide modest private incomes for the seven children of John and Sarah Auden who survived into adulthood. George Augustus Auden, W. H. Auden's father, may have used his to supplement the probably somewhat meagre municipal salary he received as the Chief Medical Officer of Birmingham. W. H. Auden's parents were unconventional in many ways, but their independence of mind was buttressed, at least in part, by the profits canny businessmen and administrators had accrued in the not far-distant family past.<br />
 <br />
<iframe width="425" height="350" frameborder="0" scrolling="no" marginheight="0" marginwidth="0" src="http://maps.google.com/maps/ms?ie=UTF8&amp;hl=en&amp;t=p&amp;s=AARTsJopaXcf_5tuK3qYnmMu-N-hGCvoMQ&amp;msa=0&amp;msid=109254424792174297813.000446157f7d7111a24e0&amp;ll=51.99841,-1.362305&amp;spn=2.367542,4.669189&amp;z=7&amp;output=embed"></iframe><br /><small><a href="http://maps.google.com/maps/ms?ie=UTF8&amp;hl=en&amp;t=p&amp;msa=0&amp;msid=109254424792174297813.000446157f7d7111a24e0&amp;ll=51.99841,-1.362305&amp;spn=2.367542,4.669189&amp;z=7&amp;source=embed" style="color:#0000FF;text-align:left">View Larger Map</a></small></p>

<p><em><small>Auden's ancestors -- "Auden side"</small></em></p>

<p>Auden's grandparents were Rev. John Auden (1831-1876), born in Rowley Regis, and Sarah Eliza Hopkins (1838-1925), born in Rolleston. The Rev. Auden became the Vicar of nearby Horninglow, Staffordshire, where Auden's father was born. Indeed, Dr. Auden was one of eight siblings, seven of whom were born in Staffordshire (and five of whom, including Dr. Auden, were born at Horninglow). Mrs. Auden died in Birmingham, and at least five out of Dr Auden's generation of eight (including Dr. Auden) died in either the Rowley or Rolleston areas, which are, in any case, less than 30 miles apart. Thus, when Auden's father took a job in Birmingham in 1908 he was in essence returning, like a prodigal son, to his family roots. Solihull, where Dr. and Mrs. Auden settled in 1908 is about 12 miles from Rowley Regis.</p>

<p>This earlier deep rootedness is all the more striking then when one sees how profoundly (and typically) the 20th century changed demographic patterns for the family. All of Dr. and Mrs. Auden's three children spent significant amounts of their adult lives abroad (Bernard Auden in Canada; John Auden in India, and Wystan Auden in the United States) and none died or was buried in the Midlands.</p>

<p>Though provincial, rooted, and having a few working-class relatives, such as the young James Woodhouse, the Audens were by and large not poor. Indeed, William Auden (1726-1794) owned or leased mines in the Rowley Regis area and purchased a coat of arms for the family, entitling them to a listing, which has reappeared in subsequent editions up to the present day, in <em>Burke's Landed Gentry</em>. Like all of his brothers and sisters, Dr. George Auden had a modest private income. And one of Dr. Auden's older brothers, T. E. Auden, a solicitor, enjoyed a kind of "Huntin', Shootin' and Fishin'" existence, blasting away at stag each year on Mull in the Hebrides. </p>

<p>This contrasts strongly with Auden's own need to make money, and also makes his propertylessness for most of his life, until 1957 when he bought his cottage in Kirchstetten, more striking. (In this, he was strangely similar to T. S. Eliot, who though a promulgator of settled life in a rural world, was a city-dweller who, as far as I know, never owned any real estate.) But, then in the early 20th century Auden was a freak within the Auden family in many ways. The poet James Woodhouse aside, until Dr. Auden's own generation, when, for example, he and his brother, Dr. Harold Auden, both joined the "Viking Club", an organization devoted to the study of Viking civilization in Britain, the Audens' connections with a wider intellectual and cultural life appear to have been limited or virtually non-existent. The side of the family with multiple artistic, mercantile or social connections, the side which had left a mark on national cultural and political life, was Mrs. Auden's.</p>

<p><br />
<p id="bicknells"><strong>Bicknells/Birches: "Influence"</strong></p>

<p>In the same "late" interview in which Auden explained his father's family's Viking origins, he also extended his "nordic myth" to his mother's family: "My mother['s family] came from Normandy — which means that she was half Nordic, as the Normans were...." I note below that the Birches had the most elevated links with the Normans. But what Auden also seems to refer to here, in relation to the Bicknells, is an idea, codified in the family historian Algernon Sidney Bicknell's <em>Five Pedigrees: Bicknell of Taunton, Bicknell of Bridgwater, Bicknell of Farnham, Browne-Le Brun-of France and Spitalfields, Wilde of High Wycombe</em> (1912), a book which Auden may have known at either first- or second-hand. (<em>OED</em>: Norman: "a member of the mixed Scandinavian and Frankish people who settled in Normandy from the early 10th cent.) Bicknell traced the family surname back to the de Pavilly and de l'Estre families who came to England with William the Conqueror in the 11th century and who settled in Somerset, where, around 1240, Robert de Pavilly changed him name to Robert de Bykenhulle after Beacon Hill near Taunton, the land of a manor which he owned. </p>

<p>Auden's mother belonged to the "Farnham Bicknells", a different family line which Algernon Bicknell located in Surrey. But he tendentiously asserted that the fact that this was "a branch of the original families in Somerset is unquestionable", thus implying that Mrs. Auden's roots were ultimately Norman too. In addition, when Auden mentioned that his mother's family was Norman, he may also have had somewhere in his mind the fact that (as Algernon Bicknell also recorded) Selina Acton Birch, Auden's grandmother claimed descent from John of Gaunt. Gaunt (1340-1399), born in Ghent, was the son of Edward III of England and Philippa of Hainault. As we will see below, Selina Birch was essentially correct: the Birches were descended from the Duke of Gloucester, Gaunt's younger brother. So through both the Birch and Bicknell sides Auden's fable of origins obliquely made even his mother's family of ultimately Scandinavian origins. (The name "Norfolk", where Mrs. Auden was born, has its etymological in the Old English word for "northern people".)</p>

<p>Such assertions, though based in fact, belong as much to myth as to history. In more empirically verifiable terms, it is true to say that the differences between the two families are more evident than their similarities. If the paternal side of Auden's ancestry clung grimly to the West Midlands, the maternal side of the family was more far-flung, mostly less settled, and predominantly originated further south and in London and the eastern part of England, closer to the centres of financial and political power. The majority of Auden's great-great grandparents on his mother lived in London, Kent or Essex, but the marriage of John Brereton Birch (1766-1829) and his Louisa Judith Rous (1770-1804/1805) who lived in India, where he was Deputy-Governor of Chandernagore, is a symbolic reminder of the deep involvement of the Bicknells and Birches with colonial India and, more generally, with the administration of the British Empire.</p>

<p><iframe width="425" height="350" frameborder="0" scrolling="no" marginheight="0" marginwidth="0" src="http://maps.google.com/maps/ms?ie=UTF8&amp;hl=en&amp;t=p&amp;s=AARTsJpdkAZzFDyYfXG3B4V0WpjEqPe_hg&amp;msa=0&amp;msid=109254424792174297813.00044618799fbbc21bae5&amp;ll=37.677976,43.227595&amp;spn=91.263115,149.414063&amp;z=2&amp;output=embed"></iframe><br /><small><a href="http://maps.google.com/maps/ms?ie=UTF8&amp;hl=en&amp;t=p&amp;msa=0&amp;msid=109254424792174297813.00044618799fbbc21bae5&amp;ll=37.677976,43.227595&amp;spn=91.263115,149.414063&amp;z=2&amp;source=embed" style="color:#0000FF;text-align:left">View Larger Map</a></small></p>

<p><em><small>Auden's ancestors -- "Bicknell side"</small></em></p>

<p>The family had a grandiose sense of its importance. Auden related that "At the time my mother married [Dr. Auden], medicine was not considered one of the respectable professions. One of her aunts told her shortly before the wedding, 'Well, marry him if you must, but no one will call on you!'" Even though some in the Bicknell family considered that Mrs. Auden had married beneath her station, Mrs. Auden maintained a strong sense of her family's social distinction from the masses. She once asked her granddaughter Jane Auden (later Hanly): "'Are you not glad that you have a name like Auden and not Smith?'" Mrs. Auden might have may have inherited this snobbery from either the Bicknell or Birch sides of her family. As mentioned above, her mother, Selina Acton Birch (1829-1880) claimed that she was descended from John of Gaunt (1340-1399) and hence from royalty. This proves to be a verifiable assertion. (Auden's most distant traceable blood relation comes from his father's side of the family: William Cocus (b. 1160) of Womborne in Staffordshire, his 22nd great-grandfather.) "<a href="http://www.stanford.edu/~njenkins/cgi-bin/auden/">Family Ghosts</a>" shows that by marriage Auden was directly if distantly related to Sir Henry Firebrace (1619-1691). He was "Honest Harry", an ardent Royalist, one of Charles I's closest friends, and one of the small coterie of supporters who in January 1649 accompanied the King to the scaffold, where the doomed man presented Sir Henry with a diamond ring. The relationship was, predictably, through his mother's side, the grander one.</p>

<p>Indeed, it was his through mother's family that Auden had familial connections with many important intellectual and artistic figures: for instance, the art-historian John Pope-Hennessy (1913-1994) and his brother, the writer James Pope-Hennessy (1916-1974), were his second cousins. In addition, Auden's ancestors, or relations through marriage, on the Bicknell side included the artist John Constable (1776-1837), whose wife, Maria (1788-1828), was a Bicknell); the inventor of photography Henry Fox Talbot (1800-1877); the 18th century Tory jurist and politician Sir John Comyns (1667-1740), Auden's great-great-great-great-grandfather; the poet Maria Riddell (1772-1808); John Zephaniah Holwell a survivor of the "Black Hole of Calcutta" who wrote a famous and flagrantly controversial account of the episode; John Holwell (1649-ca.1686), the 17th century astrologer and mathematician; and Francis Lyall Birch (1889-1956), the Second World War cryptographer. </p>

<p>"On the whole, the members of my father's family were phlegmatic, earnest, rather slow, inclined to be miserly, and endowed with excellent health; my mother's were quick, short-tempered, generous, and liable to physical ill-health, hysteria, and neuroticism. Except in the matter of physical health, I take after them." Auden suggested in his 1964 essay "As It Seemed to Us" that the Bicknell/Birches showed all the characteristics of the "artistic" temperament ("quick… generous… liable to physical ill-health, hysteria, and neuroticism"), and this is true. But he could also have added that they were also abnormally rich and influential, as "aristocratic" as they were "intellectual". For example, among the aunts and uncles, great aunts and great uncles on his mother's side were: Henry M. Birch (1820-1884), who was a tutor to the Prince of Wales; Lydia Birch (ca. 1823-ca.1900) who married the Lord of the Manor of Hunston; John Birch (1825-1897), Governor of the Bank of England in the mid-19th century; Ernest Birch (1829-1909) was a Judge of the High Court of Calcutta; and Sir Arthur Nonus Birch (1837-1914) was a Lieutenant-Governor of Penang and later of Ceylon. Auden's second great granduncle, Charles Bicknell (1751-1828), had been the solicitor to the Admiralty; and John Henry Stopford Birch (1883-1949) was His Majesty's Envoy Extraordinary in Central America in the 1930s. </p>

<p>However, by far the most striking connection which Auden acquired through the Birch family is with English royalty, exactly as Selina Acton Birch claimed. W. H. Auden was a direct descendant of <a href="http://www.stanford.edu/~njenkins/cgi-bin/auden/individual.php?pid=I1284&ged=auden-bicknell.ged">William the Conqueror</a> (the King's great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-<br />
great-great-great-great-great-great-[25th great]grandson). He was also directly descended from every Plantagenet king of England from <a href="http://www.stanford.edu/~njenkins/cgi-bin/auden/individual.php?pid=I1280&ged=auden-bicknell.ged">Henry II</a> to <a href="http://www.stanford.edu/~njenkins/cgi-bin/auden/individual.php?pid=I1268&ged=auden-bicknell.ged">Edward III</a>. If Mrs. Auden imbued any of this family history into her son's mind, it is easy to see how profound a symbolic significance might have attached psychologically to Auden's decision to "break away" from England in 1939 and to live "without roots".</p>

<p>Discounting Auden himself and his brother John as well as the Audens' royal ancestors, many other members of Auden's extended family receive entries in the <em>Dictionary of National Biography</em> (none of whom, incidentally, is listed as a relation of Auden's) including: Francis Lyall Birch, Sir Richard James Howell Birch, Sir John Comyns, John Constable, John Holwell, John Zephaniah Holwell, James Pope-Hennessy, John Pope-Hennessy, Maria Riddell, Henry Fox Talbot and James Woodhouse. Of these figures, only the latter comes from Auden's father's side of the family. So, when Auden rejected his already secured place in English cultural life around 1936 and began to travel incessantly and to live abroad for most of the time, he was rejecting a world associated far more with his mother than with his father.</p>

<p>In considering the socially exalted nature of the Birches and Bicknells, one might object that genealogy and family history is an overwhelmingly middle-class affair and that it distorts history by isolating for memorialization those in society about whom careful records were kept, that is to say, those of the middle and upper classes. This is fair. But in the case of the Audens, and, especially, of the Bicknells, the truth seems to be that, with a few exceptions (for example, the Woodhouses) amongst the more than 1,200 names listed here, there were hardly any labouring or working people in the many branches of Auden's family tree. The Audens, and to an even greater extent, the Bicknells/Birches, were from generation to generation overwhelmingly upper-middle class — a confirmation of the enduring stability of that educationally, financially and culturally stratified world from which Auden and his brothers sprang and which critics and biographers ignore at their own cost.</p>

<p>What complicates the picture in the case of Auden's mother's family is that, as Auden himself noted, the Bicknells and Birches, his mother's side of the family, were "liable to physical ill-health, hysteria, and neuroticism." In fact, to be blunter, they tended to die relatively young. There were frequent deaths in the world in which Auden's mother grew up compared with the comparatively "safe" world of his father's childhood. A threatening but suggestive nexus of culture, political or social influence and death, then, are what one might look for in Auden's poetry.</p>

<p><br />
<p id="births"><strong>Births and Deaths</strong></p>

<p><em>Births</em>: Both Auden's parents came from large Victorian families: "Father and Mother each was one of seven, | Though one died young and one was not all there." In fact, although Auden got the number of children in both his mother's and his father's generation wrong: Dr. Auden was one of the seventh of eight children; Mrs. Auden was the final child of eight. (Mrs. Auden's mother came from a family of nine.) You could explain the minor slip by saying that Auden used "seven" because he needed a rhyme for "Heaven".</p>

<p>[<em>Family dramas</em>: Every family has them. Here, John Auden (1758-1834) and Phoebe Woodhouse (1758-1828) were married on 14 March 1782, and their son, John Auden (1782-1836), was born 7 months and 28 days later on 11 Nov. 1782.]</p>

<p><em><a href="http://www.stanford.edu/~njenkins/archives/2007/12/separate_sphere.html">Deaths</a></em>: But instead of thinking that Auden had needed a rhyme for "Heaven", when he wrote of his father's family being one of "seven" children (not eight), one could wonder whether an apotropaic lapse was involved at the point when he mentioned that "one" child "died young" in his father's family. Dr. Auden's father, Rev. John Auden, died in 1876 when Dr. Auden was four. Then, two years later, Dr. Auden's older brother, William Hopkins Auden (or, curiously enough, W. H. Auden), died at Horninglow at the age of 15 in 1878. At the time Dr. Auden was a six year-old living in the same house in which his brother died suddenly of scarlet fever. (The "one" who was not all there on his father's side was Frederick Lewis Auden (1871-1948) and on his mother's side Margaret Bicknell (b. 1866).)</p>

<p>Mrs. Auden also suffered the loss of a brother while she was still young. Arthur Bicknell was killed in a railway accident at the age of 20 when his sister Constance was 12. But, as "<a href="http://www.stanford.edu/~njenkins/cgi-bin/auden/">Family Ghosts</a>", confirms two different cultures embodied in the early experiences of Auden's parents: one culture essentially of life and one of death. The two Auden family deaths I have mentioned, those of the Rev. John Auden in 1876 and of William Auden in 1878, were the only ones which George Auden had to confront before a new family generation came into being with the birth of his own first child, George Bernard Auden (always known in the family as "Bernard"), in 1900.</p>

<p>Born on 27 August 1872, George A. Auden was, as I mentioned, one of eight siblings (seven brothers and one sister), he had three uncles and four aunts. Before the arrival of Bernard Auden in York on 5 July 1900, within his immediate family circle "only" Dr. Auden's father and one brother had died — that is, there were two deaths amongst his relatives out of a possible 14 (an 86% survival rate). By stark contrast, Constance Rosalie Bicknell, born on 13 February 1869, was one of five sisters and three brothers; she and her siblings had nine uncles and five aunts. Only a few months after baptizing his own youngest daughter at Southwold Church, Suffolk, Rev. Richard Bicknell died at Christmas in 1869. In the subsequent years, the toll of Bicknells and Birches amongst Constance Bicknell's closest relatives is a sombre and long-lasting one. On 30 January 1880: her mother, S. A. Birch, dies; on 26 February 1881: her brother, A. H. Bicknell is killed; ca. 1884: her aunt, E. E. Birch, dies; on 29 June 1884: her uncle, H. M. Birch, dies; on 28 March 1892: her favourite aunt, G. Bicknell, dies; on 5 July 1893: her favourite uncle, Charles Bicknell, dies; ca. 1896: her aunt, L. R. Birch, dies; in 1897: her uncle, J. W. Birch, dies; on 27 July 1898: her uncle, A. F. Birch, dies; ca. 1900: her aunt, L. Birch, dies. </p>

<p>Thus, her father and mother as well as one brother, four uncles and four aunts had died before 5 July 1900 when her and Dr. Auden's first child was born — 11 deaths out of a two-generation family circle of 21 (a survival rate for her Bicknell and Birch relatives of only 48%). By the time Constance Auden became a mother, she had experienced very much more close-at-hand death and suffering, very much more "abandonment", than her husband had.</p>

<p>Against the tragic reality of numerous infant deaths recorded in "<a href="http://www.stanford.edu/~njenkins/cgi-bin/auden/">Family Ghosts</a>", there is the lone counter-point of just a single figure who survived past 100 years. The person with the greatest longevity in the database is the Rev. William Henry Roberts Longhurst (a distant relation of Auden's grandmother Selina Acton Birch), who was born in September 1838 and who died in September 1943 just short of his 105th birthday.</p>

<p><br />
<p id="anglicans"><strong>Religion: Anglicans</strong></p>

<p>It is a commonplace (deriving from Auden's own remarks) to associate his ancestral history with the Church of England. "<a href="http://www.stanford.edu/~njenkins/cgi-bin/auden/">Family Ghosts</a>" shows that this is a time-limited truth. It is correct to say that the 19th century shows a true swarm of clergymen in Auden's family: in the immediate context he had two clerical uncles: the Rev. John E. Auden (1860-1946) and the Rev. Alfred Auden (1865-1944); both grandfathers, the Rev. John Auden (1831-1876) and the Rev. Richard Bicknell (1823-1869); a great grandfather, the Rev. Henry W. Birch (1794-1854); and four granduncles: the Rev. Henry M. Birch (1820-1884), the Rev. Augustus Birch (1827-1898), the Rev. William Auden (1834-1904), and the Rev. Thomas Auden (1836-1920).</p>

<p>But this ecclesiastical moment was relatively short-lived. The Audens, Bicknells and Birches had not been especially strongly associated with the Church of England before the 19th century. And in the 20th century Auden's relations virtually gave up the church as a profession. Only two first cousins once removed, the Rev. Eustace Auden (1872-1958), and the Rev. Walter Auden (1874-1956) continued the 19th century tradition into the 20th century. Instead the males amongst the Audens, Bicknell and Birches moved into, or consolidated themselves in, the great (secular) institutions of the 20th century: medicine, science, law, the military, commerce. They became worshippers rather than celebrants, looking back, in some instances (such as that of Mrs. Auden) nostalgically, to the religious world into which they had once been more personally integrated. John Auden wrote, "The Bicknell aunts and uncle had apartments in Brooke Street in London, and the Anglo-Catholic ritual of nearby St Alban's, Holborn, was the High Church standard against which the Auden brothers measured other churches."</p>

<p><br />
<p id="quakers"><strong>Religion: Quakers</strong></p>

<p>If Auden's ancestral connection with the Church of England has been overstated, it is fair to say that his family's connection with another branch of Christianity has so far received far too little attention, and that is because it has until now been largely occluded. As noted earlier, for the first time "<a href="http://www.stanford.edu/~njenkins/cgi-bin/auden/">Family Ghosts</a>" supplies a complete list of Auden's direct relations back to his 16 great-great grandparents. The list newly reveals some very important cultural co-ordinates, showing that in the generation of his great-great grandparents there were Quakers on both his father's and his mother's side of the family. John and Elizabeth Harman, Auden's great great great grandparents on his mother's side married at the Society of Friends' Meeting House in Bristol. John Harman was a wealthy banker, and their daughter Elizabeth Harman (1765-1838) married another rich banker Daniel Mildred (1757-ca.1830), who was also probably a Quaker. </p>

<p>On a more modest scale, Auden's father's family also seems to have had Quakers in its history, though the evidence here is less clear. There was a small Quaker community in Lichfield, a town strongly associated with the sect, where Samuel Nicklin and Hannah Gosling married in 1786. (Boswell, who visited Johnson at Lichfield in 1776, wrote in his <em>Life of Samuel Johnson</em> that "I have always loved the simplicity of manners of Quakers; and I observed that many a man was a Quaker without knowing it.") Other Auden ancestors in the West Midlands may also have been Quakers. Thomas Higgott and Anne Stretton were married in 1802 in Church Broughton, and John Hopkins and Martha Higgott married in Rolleston in 1803, both towns very near Burton upon Trent where there was another Quaker community. </p>

<p>Such information about Auden's family roots will eventually play a part in re-evaluating Auden's sustained interest in Quakerism and his contacts with Quakers in the 1930s and 1940s (including his stint teaching in 1932-1935 and in 1937 at the Downs School, a Quaker foundation).</p>

<p>Reconsidered within the frame of Auden's ancestral connections with the Quakers, Auden seems to have been much more deeply affected by Quakerism than scholars have hitherto recognized. For example, he calls the Society of Friends "the one Protestant body which deserved to succeed" in "The Prolific and the Devourer" (1939) and he describes the technique of a Quaker meeting as "probably indispensable to the running of any kind of democratic organisation", though he also offers some mild criticism there of the Quaker overestimation of "the power of the group to cure the unintegrated individual" (<em>Prose2</em> 450).  He also praises the "quaker's quiet concern | For the uncoercive law" in his "Epithalamion" (1939; <em>English Auden</em> 455); and in his important lecture "Vocation and Society", given at Swarthmore in 1943, Auden commented that "the social group which has, so far, both in its religious and its social life, [been] the most obviously democratic is precisely the one which has consciously based itself upon a belief in the Inner Light, the Society of Friends" (<em>Auden Studies 3</em> 22). The background of Quaker belief amongst Auden's own direct ancestors laid bare by "<a href="http://www.stanford.edu/~njenkins/cgi-bin/auden/">Family Ghosts</a>" is obviously relevant to a reinterpretation of these consistently positive comments about Quakerism.</p>

<p><br />
<p id="poets"><strong>Poets</strong></p>

<p>Auden told an interviewer at Swarthmore in 1943 that "He had an uncle who wrote a large book on sulfuric acid [Dr. Harold Allden Auden], and a cousin, living in Toronto, who writes Latin grammars [Prof. Henry William Auden, technically a cousin once removed], but outside of them no literary talent exists or existed in his family." Quite apart from aggressively ignoring his own father's extremely copious writings, this statement omits mention of the poets (albeit little-known figures) to whom Auden was in fact related. It is impossible to tell whether Auden simply did not know about these links or whether he wanted to project himself the sole poet to have emerged from his family. </p>

<p>However, it actually seems that Auden had familial links to at least four minor poets: <em>Thomas Vaux</em> (1509-1556), <em>James Woodhouse</em> (1735-1820), <em>John Laurens Bicknell</em> (1746-1787) and <em>Maria Riddell</em> (1772-1808). More distantly, he was also a lineal descendant of <a href="http://www.stanford.edu/~njenkins/cgi-bin/auden/individual.php?pid=I1256&ged=auden-bicknell.ged">Sir John Bourchier</a>, the second Baron Berners, who translated Froissart's <em>Chronicles</em> in 1523-25 at Henry VIII's behest, and through marriage a relation of the French poet Alphonse de Lamartine. (In 1820 Lamartine married <a href="http://www.stanford.edu/~njenkins/cgi-bin/auden/individual.php?pid=I1310&ged=auden-bicknell.ged">Marianne Eliza Birch</a> (1795-1863), the cousin of Auden's great grandfather, the Rev. Henry Birch.) </p>

<p>•	<em>Thomas Vaux</em>: On 30 April 1958, Dorothy Charlton (b. 1919) married W. H. Auden's first cousin once removed, Digby Auden (b. 1927). Ms Charlton's ancestry is impressive. The Tudor courtier and poet Thomas Vaux (1509-56), the Second Baron of Harrowden, was Ms Charlton's twelfth great grandfather. Thus by links through a cousin's marriage in the late 1950s, W. H. Auden became extremely distantly connected to the minor Tudor poet Thomas Vaux. Examples of Vaux's work, amongst them the poem which opens with the line "I loathe that I did love", were included in the book now usually known as <em>Tottel's Miscellany</em> (1557). In <em>Hamlet</em> the Grave-digger misquotes Vaux's poem. Thus, speaking in a very elastic spirit, it is (technically) true to claim that one of Auden's distant relations (but not ancestors) is cited by Shakespeare. Moreover, Ms Charlton's ninth great granduncle, Edward Vaux (1588-1661), the Fourth Baron of Harrowden, is widely supposed to have had two illegitimate sons (Nicholas and Henry Knollys) with Elizabeth Howard (1586-1658), the Countess of Banbury. Elizabeth Howard was the great-granddaughter of Henry Howard (1517-1547), Earl of Surrey, and one of the greatest poets of the Tudor court. Thus — again speaking in an unmoralistic and adventurously genealogical spirit — one can say that W. H. Auden had a family connection, albeit an even more tenuous one than is the case with the Vaux link, with Henry Howard.</p>

<p>•	<em>James Woodhouse</em>: Auden was the first cousin four times removed of another poet (also mentioned above), James Woodhouse (1735-1820) of Rowley Regis. Woodhouse's parents lived on a small farm outside the village; his education finished at the age of seven and he became apprenticed as a cordwainer. He married Hannah Fletcher ("Daphne" in his poetry) in Rowley Regis in 1760. Woodhouse can be located within the 17th and 18th century's vogue for what Southey condescendingly labelled "Uneducated Poets". Thus, just as there was John Taylor, the "Water Poet", Ann Yearsley, the "Milkwoman of Clifton", and Stephen Duck, the "Thresher Poet", so Auden's relation Woodhouse was known as the "Shoemaker Poet". </p>

<p>Southey was dismissive of the Shoemaker Poet's talent. He wrote that Woodhouse was "a village shoemaker, and though he had been taken from school at seven years old, had so far improved the little which he could possibly have learnt there, as to eke out his scanty means by teaching to read and write." </p>

<p>Early in life Woodhouse was patronized (in every sense) by William Shenstone, who lived on an estate, "The Leasowes", nearby Rowley Regis. He also enjoyed important but compromising support from various other society figures including Lord Lytton and Edward Montagu. Robert Dodsley, the poet, bookseller and publisher (of Pope, Johnson and Gray), issued Woodhouse's first collection by subscription, <em>Poems on Sundry Occasions</em> (1764). </p>

<p>In the Epigraph to his <em>Crispianus Scriblerus</em> work Woodhouse described himself as: "Peter's the People's bard… Unpension'd Poet-Laureat, of the Poor." And he remarked that "Dr. Johnson's curiosity was excited by what was said of me in the literary world as a kind of wild beast from the country, and expressed a wish to Mr. Murphy, who was his intimate friend, to see me." It was thus that "Woodhouse became then a figure in the London literary world; he dined with Samuel Johnson at Mrs. Thrale's table, and incurred the doctor's famous advice to 'give nights and days, sir, to the study of Addison'" (<em>Johnsonian Miscellanies</em>, 1.233: this comes from an account in <em>Blackwood's Magazine</em>, Nov. 1829, of an interview between Johnson and Woodhouse). But behind Woodhouse's back, Dr. Johnson, remarked of him: "he may make an excellent shoemaker, but he can never make a good poet". </p>

<p>In the <em>British Critic</em> of August 1803, the passage in James Woodhouse's verse praised as best is this Crabbe-like passage from "Norbury Park, A Poem: Inscribed to W. LOCK, Esq.":<br />
<blockquote><br />
<small>Among the various tints of tenderest green,<br />
The clustering clumps, and tufted banks, between,<br />
Thro' intersected fields, and flowery meads,<br />
The white-wav'd Mole its mazey current leads,<br />
And throws, thro' lucid breaks, the solar beam,<br />
In dazzling glimpses from the glittering stream.<br />
By this enchanted spot the burrowing wave<br />
Probes thro' the spongey soil a temporal grave;<br />
But soon emerges from the shades of night,<br />
Cleans'd of its filth, reflecting clearer light:<br />
So, when Man's Spirit quits its coil of clay,<br />
His Body leaves, a time, the realms of day,<br />
But soon from dust and darkness will return,<br />
And, purg'd from dross, with brighter glories burn —<br />
Unless that Body, clogg'd with impious crimes,<br />
Sinks down to darker, and to drearier, climes,<br />
With Spirit deeper plung'd from Earth and Skies,<br />
To scenes of Light, and Love — no more to rise! (lines 414-31)<br />
</small></blockquote></p>

<p>In later life Woodhouse was an increasingly evangelical Methodist and found himself, in his own words, "'growing grey in servitude, and poorer under patronage" (cited in <em>Life and Poetical Works</em>, 2.139). Having quarrelled for the final time in 1788 with the aristocratic Montagu family, he opened a bookshop in Grosvenor Square, London, with the support of James Dodsley. "A new <em>Poems on Several Occasions</em> appeared that year, and Woodhouse wrote both <em>Norbury Park</em> and <em>Love Letters to my Wife in Verse</em> in 1789, though neither was published until 1803 and 1804 respectively. Throughout the 1790s Woodhouse was at work on his autobiographical 'novel in verse', <em>The Life and Lucubrations of Crispinus Scriblerus</em>." He persevered with his writing and "According to his grandson Woodhouse gave up the bookselling business 'some time before his death', which 'was hastened by being knocked down by the pole of a carriage whilst crossing Orchard and Oxford Streets'.… He died of the injuries he sustained from the accident, in February 1820 at his home in Euston Square." </p>

<p>Southey, the Poet Laureate, wrote an epitaphic dismissal of Auden's ancestor, asserting that Woodhouse's patrons had "the satisfaction of knowing" that "if the talents which they brought into notice were not of a kind in either case [Woodhouse's or Stephen Duck's] to produce, under cultivation, extra-ordinary fruits, in both a deserving man was raised from poverty, and placed in circumstances favourable to his moral and intellectual nature." </p>

<p>•	Auden's second great granduncle on his mother's side of the family, <em>John Laurens Bicknell</em> (1746-87), was a somewhat dissolute though ultimately successful barrister, who also had a significant achievement in poetry. John Bicknell was a friend of Thomas Day (1748-1789), the author, poet and political campaigner. Bicknell was described by Andrew Kippis in 1793 as Day's "closest and most intimate friend."  Day and Bicknell may well have been at Charterhouse at the same time, and then later they roomed together as young lawyers in London. </p>

<p>Bicknell, like Day, was a member of the "Lunar Society of Birmingham" (active from around 1756 to 1800), headed by Erasmus Darwin. One commentator describes this Society as a famous "free-thinking group of manufacturers and natural philosophers, situated in England's Midlands, who were the most important scientific and entrepreneurial force outside London. Founded on a fierce interest in experimentation and invention and composed primarily of Fellows of the Royal Society, the group embraced core members and visiting associates alike. Core members included Soho Works founder Matthew Boulton (1728-1809), Scottish inventor James Watt (1736-1819), Unitarian minister and chemist Joseph Priestley (1733-1804), physician and philosophical tour de force Erasmus Darwin (1731-1802), Scottish physician and naturalist William Small (1734-75), engineer and educator Richard Lovell Edgeworth (1744-1817), poet and children's author Thomas Day (1748-89), Scottish chemist James Keir (1735-1820), clockmaker and founder of modern geology John Whitehurst (1713-88), physician Jonathan Stokes (1755-1831), minister Robert Augustus Johnson (1745-99), Quaker arms manufacturer Samuel Galton (1753-1832), and physician and botanist William Withering (1741-99). These regulars often entertained guests such as master ceramics designer and manufacturer Josiah Wedgwood (1730-95), botanist Sir Joseph Banks (1743-1830), and many others." (Sandra J. Burr, "Inspiring Lunatics: Biographical Portraits of the Lunar Society's Erasmus Darwin, Thomas Day, and Joseph Priestley", <em>Eighteenth-Century Life</em> (2000).) Bicknell's membership in the Lunar Society is a perfect example of the way in which ancestors of Mrs. Auden so regularly mixed in advanced intellectual and artistic circles.</p>

<p>Day and Bicknell were rationalists and free-thinkers. And also egotists. In 1769 they visited the Foundling Hospital for Girls in Shrewsbury and picked out a 12 year-old orphan whom Day determined to make into the "perfect" wife for himself. He called her "Sabrina Sidney", after "Sabrina", the poetical name for the river Severn, whose story is told in <em>Comus</em>, and "Sidney" from the name of his hero, Algernon Sidney. (Algernon Sidney (1623-83), was a political theorist, libertarian, republican and enemy of Charles II. The King had him executed in 1683 but he was exonerated after the Glorious Revolution of 1688.) Later in the year Day also procured a partner for Sabrina, whom he named Lucretia, from the Foundling Hospital in London. Lucretia was soon deemed to be the less intelligent of the pair and was apprenticed off with a dowry to a milliner in Ludgate Hill. (Details of this episode in Bicknell's life are taken here mainly from George Warren Gignilliat, Jr., <em>The Author of</em> Sandford <em>and</em> Merton<em>: A Life of Thomas Day, Esq.</em> (1932) and from Peter Rowland, <em>The Life and Times of Thomas Day, 1748-1789: English Philanthropist and Author: Virtue Almost Personified</em> (1996).)  </p>

<p>Settling Sabrina in Lichfield (which in 1770 "could almost lay claim to being the true cultural centre of England"), Day conducted a number of experiments purportedly designed to continue the future Mrs. Day's education and to gauge her equanimity in the face of hazard and pain. Weirdly, he fired a pistol containing blanks at her petticoat and dripped sealing wax onto her bare forearm. Her fear of horses deeply disturbed him, though, and they parted company (with an annuity) in 1774. <br />
	<br />
Meanwhile, his friend Bicknell had "frittered his life away to some extent, dabbling in various short-lived literary enterprises, enjoying the delights of wine, women and song and allowing his legal practice into decline and disrepute." Another commentator writes that Bicknell "read and wrote poetry, but neglected to prepare briefs" and was "rather a literary dilettante, but he was also a thoroughgoing Rousseauist and humanitarian". James Boswell met Bicknell in 1786, introduced by the poet Anna Seward, the "Swan of Lichfield".</p>

<p>His health already compromised, John Laurens Bicknell proposed to Sabrina after her relationship with Thomas Day collapsed. They eventually married in 1784 and he managed to pull his legal career together briefly before dying in 1787. Sabrina Bicknell afterwards became a housekeeper in Dr Charles Burney Jnr.'s house.</p>

<p>Under the pseudonym of "Joel Collier", John Laurens Bicknell had written the once-famous parody, <em>Musical Travels through England by Joel Collier, Licenciate in Music</em>, based on Charles Burney's peregrinations through Europe. However, though he died young, one more significant achievement remained to Bicknell's name. At about the time when Day's relationship with Sabrina Sidney was collapsing, Day and Bicknell had created together a very successful anti-slavery poem, <em>The Dying Negro</em> (1773), dedicated (from the enlarged, third edition. of 1774 onwards) to Jean-Jacques Rousseau. The lengthy title and subtitle of the first edition ran: <em>The Dying Negro: A Poetical Epistle: Supposed to be Written by a Black, (Who Lately Shot Himself On Board a Vessel in the River Thames), to His Intended Wife</em>, and the book was "one of the best-sellers of 1773" (the same year that Phyllis Wheatley published her <em>Poems on Various Subjects, Religious and Moral</em>).  </p>

<p>Bicknell, who composed most of the first version of the poem, provided 161 lines of the 307 of the original version, while Day penned only 146. (The definitive text of 1775 has 437 lines, 177 from Bicknell and 260 from Day, writes Peter Rowland, a Day scholar.) One scholar notes that, poignantly, "the lines which most strongly attack pride or most feelingly express disappointed love, were written, not by the Rousseauistic Day, but by Bicknell." </p>

<p><img alt="dying negro title page.jpg" src="http://www.stanford.edu/~njenkins/archives/images/dying%20negro%20title%20page.jpg" width="274" height="384" /></p>

<p>Title page of the 3rd edition of Thomas Day and John Bicknell, <em>The Dying Negro</em></p>

<p><em>The Dying Negro</em> is a poem composed in response to the Mansfield decision of 1772, in which the Chief Justice Lord Mansfield declared that "no slave could be forcibly removed from Britain and sold into slavery." The literary historian Brycchan Carey calls Bicknell and Day's 1773 poem "arguably [the work which] opened the poetic campaign against slavery." It is the "earliest unambiguously abolitionist poem" and deploys "unmistakably, if problematically, the rhetoric of sensibility" to make its point. The poem was based on actual events which had been reported in some London papers about a runaway slave, who while held, not on the "soil of England" but in a ship on the Thames, shot himself in the head rather than be separated from his beloved. (See, for example, <em>The Morning Chronicle and London Advertiser</em>, 28 May 1773; cited in Carey's <em>British Abolitionism and the Rhetoric of Sensibility: Writing, Sentiment, and Slavery, 1760–1807</em> (2005).) The poem is a "suicide note in verse in which the slave gives vent to his feelings at being torn from the country in which he now wishes to stay." </p>

<p>Maria Edgeworth, who knew Bicknell and Day, wrote in 1819 that the poem would "last as long as manly and benevolent hearts exist in England."<br />
	<br />
•	<em>Maria Riddell</em>: The daughter of William Woodley, MP, the twice Governor of the Leeward Islands in the West Indies, Maria Woodley (as she then was), was writing poetry as early as the age of 15. She made trips to the Caribbean with her father, from one of which came her book <em>Voyages to the Madeira and Leeward Caribbean Isles: with Sketches of the Natural History of these Islands</em> (1792), and she wrote poems extolling the serenity of the Caribbean such as "Inscription written on an Hermitage in one of the Islands of the West Indies".<br />
 <br />
During a spell in the West Indies, in 1790 she married a plantation owner, Walter Riddell, and they subsequently moved to Scotland, where she established a kind of salon at her new home Woodley Park in Dumfriesshire. Through her Edinburgh publisher she was introduced to Robert Burns, with whom she had an extremely close though sometimes vexed friendship. Burns wrote several poems about her, including:</p>

<blockquote><small>"Complimentary Epigram on Maria Riddell"

<p>"Praise Woman still," his lordship roars,<br />
"Deserv'd or not, no matter?"<br />
But thee, whom all my soul adores,<br />
Ev'n Flattery cannot flatter:</p>

<p>Maria, all my thought and dream,<br />
Inspires my vocal shell;<br />
The more I praise my lovely theme,<br />
The more the truth I tell.</small></blockquote></p>

<p>Riddell was widowed in 1796 but she was still a figure of substances in the social-cum-literary worlds of Edinburgh and London. According to the <em>Dictionary of National Biography</em>, her only other "published work was <em>The Metrical Miscellany</em> (1802; 2nd edition, 1803), an anthology of fugitive verse by contemporary celebrities, in which she also published twenty of her own poems (among them the prefatory verses of 1802 by 'The Editor')."</p>

<p>The titles of some of these poems printed in <em>The Metrical Miscellany</em>, next to poems by figures such as Lord Palmerston and R. B. Sheridan, give a flavour of their simple lyrical style: "Elegy on the Death of Captain J. Woodley", "On a Red-Breast" and "Lines to a Friend who had Recommended the Precepts of the Stoic School to the Author's Adoption". And, as the latter shows, Riddell was part of the sentimentalist movement rejected the "frigid art" of neo-classical poise in favour of a warmer, more expressive and exquisite registration of the "joys and woes" of life:<br />
<blockquote><small><br />
Hence with the Stoic lore! whose frigid art<br />
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Would chill the gen'rous feelings of the soul,<br />
Forbid kind Sympathy's responsive smart,<br />
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Or check the tear of rapture ere it roll.</p>

<p>Still with its joys and woes, a changeful train!<br />
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Fair Sensibility be ever mine,<br />
Th' alternate throb of pleasure and of pain,<br />
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;And all that love and friendship can combine.<br />
</small></blockquote></p>

<p></p>

<p><br />
<p id="slaves"><strong>Slaves and Poetry</strong></p>

<p>It is a provoking irony that John Laurens Bicknell should have been the co-author of one of the first major abolitionist poems, and that another of Audens ancestors on his mother's side should have been William Woodley, the father of Maria Riddell, since it means that there were slave-owners as well as abolitionists in the Auden family background. </p>

<p>William Woodley (1722-1793) was twice the governor general of the Leeward Islands in the mid and late 18th century. He was a slave-owner, being the owner of the vast "Profit" Plantation of St Christopher. He was also responsible for suppressing and slave rebellion on Montserrat in 1768, having seven ringleaders executed and imprisoning others. (Maria Riddell's uncle, Sir Ralph Payne, was another plantation owner and sole possessor of over 500 slaves.) Woodley's granddaughter, Isabella Corrance, was married to Rev. Augustus Frederick Birch, Auden's great uncle. Although it cannot be proved, the fact that other members of the family in Isabella Corrance's generation descending from William Woodley owned slaves suggests the likelihood that until slavery was abolished in the British Empire in 1833, Isabella Corrance, the future wife of Auden's great uncle, may either have owned slaves or have received substantial money which was derived from slave ownership. Other members of the Woodley family owned slaves as well. Maria Riddell's brother, William Woodley [the second such named, who died in 1809] settled 172 slaves on St Kitts on his daughter Mary Woodley, for which she was awarded £2,925 4s 2d when slavery was abolished.</p>

<p>If Maria Riddell's father, brother, uncle and niece all owned slaves, as we know they did, it thus seems much more than likely that this poet of "sensibility" also owned slaves, settled on her by her parents or inherited from her husband. In addition, Riddell was married to Walter Riddell, a plantation owner on Antigua, who died in 1796, some 37 years before slavery was abolished in the British Empire. The salon of Woodley Park in Dumfriesshire, her glamorous friendships with the rich and famous, her patronage of Burns, her tender literary sentimentalism — all were underwritten, directly or indirectly, by the brutal regime of the slave-trade.<br />
<blockquote><small> <br />
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;After such knowledge, what forgiveness? Think now<br />
History has many cunning passages, contrived corridors<br />
And issues, deceives with whispering ambitions,<br />
Guides us by vanities.<br />
</small></blockquote></p>

<p>The contemporary poet Derek Walcott was introduced to W. H. Auden's work by the poet and educator James Rodway on St. Lucia in the late 1940s. Rodway owned a collection of Faber books of poetry. "I remember, during that period, reading Auden with a tremendous amount of elation, a lot of excitement, and discovery," Walcott has recollected "I think Auden actually dared a lot more than either Pound or Eliot. I think his intellect was far more adventurous, far braver, far stronger, and far more reckless than either of them — plus, of course, there was also that tremendous intelligence behind the poetry." Echoes of Auden's work are everywhere in Walcott's early poetry. And when Walcott compiled and published his first book of poetry, <em>25 Poems</em> in 1949, he indicated the iconic nature of these metropolitan publications and his own sense of relation to them. He "used a Faber volume of Auden as the typographical model.... He wanted a typeface that looked like one of the Faber volumes." </p>

<p>Whether or not Auden knew anything about the slaveowners in his distant background, revealed for the first time in "<a href="http://www.stanford.edu/~njenkins/cgi-bin/auden/">Family Ghosts</a>", is impossible to say. Most likely, it was a subject which, if it was actually known about, was politely passed over in silence. But Auden recognized his own inevitable complicity as a white person with racial and imperial exploitation in "Whitsunday at Kirchstetten" (1962) when he wrote:<br />
<blockquote><br />
<small>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;to most people<br />
I'm the wrong color: it could be the looter's turn<br />
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;for latrine-duty and the flogging-block,<br />
my kin who trousered Africa, carried our smell<br />
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;to germless poles. <br />
                     (<em>CP91</em> 745)</small><br />
</blockquote></p>

<p>Walcott too seems intuitively to have understood this deep moral ambiguity in Auden's past, an ambiguity for which Auden was not of course personally responsible but which he is wide-visioned enough to contemplate as part of his historical inheritance. Walcott echoes Auden's thought in "Whitsunday at Kirchstetten" when in the elegy which he wrote for Auden, he addressed him as "Master". Walcott plays on the dual nature of Auden's identity, both as a "Master" poet and as a member of the nation of colonial "Masters":<br />
<blockquote><br />
<small>Once, past a wooden vestry,<br />
down still colonial streets,<br />
the hoisted chords of Wesley<br />
were strong as miners' throats;</p>

<p>in treachery and in union,<br />
despite your Empire's wrong,<br />
I made my first communion<br />
there, with the English tongue.</p>

<p>It was such dispossession<br />
that made possession joy,<br />
when, strict as Psalm or Lesson,<br />
I learned your poetry.</p>

<p>               ("Eulogy to W. H. Auden")</small><br />
</blockquote></p>

<p><br />
<p id="next"><strong>And Next?</strong></p>

<p>As it now stands, "<a href="http://www.stanford.edu/~njenkins/cgi-bin/auden/">Family Ghosts</a>" is only a beginning. It helps us in some instances to separate out Auden's personal mythology of his origins from the facts as we can know them. In other cases it helps us to provide detail supporting his statements about his background. But so much still remains to be done. In particular, new ways need to be found to illuminate the many other social and human linkages which provide the thick texture of culture as it is absorbed in childhood and adulthood alike. The website needs to find ways to shine a new kind of light onto professional and educational milieux, onto circles of association, onto friendships, onto all those vital bonds with other humans which cannot be subsumed within the web of family. For now, though, a beginning must be enough, enough simply to have raised this more than thousand-strong "family of ghosts".</p>

<p><br />
&copy 2008 Nicholas Jenkins</p>]]>

</content>
</entry>
<entry>
<title>aesthetics</title>
<link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://www.stanford.edu/~njenkins/archives/2008/02/aesthetics.html" />
<modified>2008-02-09T01:17:42Z</modified>
<issued>2008-02-09T00:42:28Z</issued>
<id>tag:www.stanford.edu,2008:/~njenkins/3.152</id>
<created>2008-02-09T00:42:28Z</created>
<summary type="text/plain"> [photo: &quot;Athletes&quot;] Aesthetics begins in the body. Is that why running is so ugly? Is that why running makes beautiful people temporarily ugly? It is ugly, but not necessarily pointless; it makes people ugly but admirable. Running may be...</summary>
<author>
<name>njenkins</name>

<email>njenkins@stanford.edu</email>
</author>
<dc:subject>65day by day: a blog</dc:subject>
<content type="text/html" mode="escaped" xml:lang="en" xml:base="http://www.stanford.edu/~njenkins/">
<![CDATA[<p><a href="http://www.stanford.edu/~njenkins/archives/images/runner.jpg"><img alt="runner.jpg" src="http://www.stanford.edu/~njenkins/archives/images/runner-thumb.jpg" width="132" height="101" /></a> <small>[photo: "<a href="http://ccat.sas.upenn.edu/~wbower/athletes.html">Athletes</a>"]</small> Aesthetics begins in the body. Is that why running is so ugly? Is that why running makes beautiful people temporarily ugly? </p>

<p>It is ugly, but not necessarily pointless; it makes people ugly but admirable. Running may be necessary, healthy or fulfilling to the runner, and it may be exciting to watch, but it is not a beautiful action nor does running ever make anyone look beautiful. Evolution did not design us to run efficiently. That must be one reason why beauty dissolves in the heat of the race. Stillness, by contrast, seems almost intrinsically enhancing to a person and their face. </p>

<p>The association of stillness with beauty and authenticity has always been an established truth for advocates of neo-classical ideals. The idea dates back at least to Winckelmann, who in his writings on Greek sculpture, praised the "noble simplicity and sedate grandeur" ("eine edle Einfalt, und eine stille Grösse") of ancient art. The "more tranquillity reigns in a body", Winckelmann argued, "the fitter it is to draw the true character of the soul; which, in every excessive gesture, seems to rush from her proper centre, and being hurried away [by] extremes becomes unnatural." </p>

<p>Perhaps this is the secret of dance? It is the gravity-dominated baseness of all running sublimated into an illusion of weightless stasis as the dancer seems to hang impossibly and forever in mid-air, drawing the true character of what we once called the soul.</p>]]>

</content>
</entry>
<entry>
<title>primrose</title>
<link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://www.stanford.edu/~njenkins/archives/2008/02/primrose.html" />
<modified>2008-02-06T17:36:38Z</modified>
<issued>2008-02-05T21:59:48Z</issued>
<id>tag:www.stanford.edu,2008:/~njenkins/3.151</id>
<created>2008-02-05T21:59:48Z</created>
<summary type="text/plain"> This morning, &quot;Super Tuesday&quot;, there were drops of water, melted frost, clinging to the puckered skins of the oranges on our neighborhood&apos;s fruit trees. I noticed this as I walked to my polling station, my selection of music on...</summary>
<author>
<name>njenkins</name>

<email>njenkins@stanford.edu</email>
</author>
<dc:subject>65day by day: a blog</dc:subject>
<content type="text/html" mode="escaped" xml:lang="en" xml:base="http://www.stanford.edu/~njenkins/">
<![CDATA[<p><a href="http://www.stanford.edu/~njenkins/archives/images/primrose.jpg"><img alt="primrose.jpg" src="http://www.stanford.edu/~njenkins/archives/images/primrose-thumb.jpg" width="172" height="113" /></a> This morning, "Super Tuesday", there were drops of water, melted frost, clinging to the puckered skins of the oranges on our neighborhood's fruit trees. I noticed this as I walked to my polling station, my selection of music on the iPod blasting in my ears, Berlioz's <em>Harold in Italy</em> -- the version recorded by Koussevitzky and the Boston Symphony in late November 1944. (This was just as the Wehrmacht prepared to launch its "Herbstnebel" counteroffensive. The Battle of the Bulge was about to erupt.) The recording's soloist on viola is the storied William Primrose who enraptured the cold air for me a lifetime later as he sawed delicately and passionately away with his bow on the expensive piece of wood to which he was so attached.</p>]]>

</content>
</entry>
<entry>
<title>a super tuesday not a good friday</title>
<link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://www.stanford.edu/~njenkins/archives/2008/02/a_super_tuesday.html" />
<modified>2008-02-04T15:46:17Z</modified>
<issued>2008-02-04T15:15:10Z</issued>
<id>tag:www.stanford.edu,2008:/~njenkins/3.149</id>
<created>2008-02-04T15:15:10Z</created>
<summary type="text/plain">Tomorrow, in the Democratic Presidential primary in California, I shall eligible to vote for the first time in the United States. (Indeed, if memory serves, I shall, shamefully, be voting for the first time in my life.) In spite of...</summary>
<author>
<name>njenkins</name>

<email>njenkins@stanford.edu</email>
</author>
<dc:subject>65day by day: a blog</dc:subject>
<content type="text/html" mode="escaped" xml:lang="en" xml:base="http://www.stanford.edu/~njenkins/">
<![CDATA[<p>Tomorrow, in the Democratic Presidential primary in California, I shall eligible to vote for the first time in the United States. (Indeed, if memory serves, I shall, shamefully, be voting for the first time in my life.)</p>

<p>In spite of all the horrors, tragedies and disasters which occur day by day in this country, I think it is impossible, at least for a European, not to feel that this place is still a work-in-progress in a way in which Europe is fundamentally not. And for that reason, and even while acknowledging that the course of history is not simply about individuals or the sum of election results, it just isn't possible for me to feel cynical about tomorrow's events. It has something to do with having a family; it has something to do with wanting to <em>hope</em>.</p>

<p>For a clue about how I shall be casting my first vote in the Presidential primary, check out this video:</p>

<p><object width="425" height="355"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/jjXyqcx-mYY&rel=1"></param><param name="wmode" value="transparent"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/jjXyqcx-mYY&rel=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" width="425" height="355"></embed></object></p>

<p>As of this writing, this youtube.com version alone (one of many) has been viewed well over half a million times. For the full screen original, with credits and production details, visit <a href="http://www.dipdive.com">DipDive</a>.</p>

<p>Whatever happens, make sure you have a great day.</p>]]>

</content>
</entry>
<entry>
<title>squeezing</title>
<link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://www.stanford.edu/~njenkins/archives/2008/02/squeezing.html" />
<modified>2008-02-04T20:32:26Z</modified>
<issued>2008-02-01T20:15:44Z</issued>
<id>tag:www.stanford.edu,2008:/~njenkins/3.150</id>
<created>2008-02-01T20:15:44Z</created>
<summary type="text/plain"> [lemon image courtesy of WP Clipart] At 7.30 am this morning, in a moody kind of fugue state, I was in the kitchen gazing blankly at the type on the side of a carton of lemonade. Then, as a...</summary>
<author>
<name>njenkins</name>

<email>njenkins@stanford.edu</email>
</author>
<dc:subject>65day by day: a blog</dc:subject>
<content type="text/html" mode="escaped" xml:lang="en" xml:base="http://www.stanford.edu/~njenkins/">
<![CDATA[<p><a href="http://www.stanford.edu/~njenkins/archives/images/cut_lemon.jpg"><img alt="cut_lemon.jpg" src="http://www.stanford.edu/~njenkins/archives/images/cut_lemon-thumb.jpg" width="120" height="98" /></a>  <small>[lemon image courtesy of <a href="http://www.wpclipart.com">WP Clipart</a>]</small> At 7.30 am this morning, in a moody kind of fugue state, I was in the kitchen gazing blankly at the type on the side of a carton of lemonade. Then, as a complete phrase, the words "Epitaph for a Lemon", like the title of a poem, welled up into my consciousness. I focussed on what the words on the box said. -- "This juice has been squeezed and packed in a state-of-the-art processing facility." Then, because one thing leads to another in the mind, I remember (I haven't looked it up; I could be wrong) what Balanchine said after he had visited a very sick Stravinsky: "God has not finished squeezing this lemon yet." And I shivered.</p>]]>

</content>
</entry>
<entry>
<title>separate spheres</title>
<link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://www.stanford.edu/~njenkins/archives/2007/12/separate_sphere.html" />
<modified>2007-12-17T05:07:50Z</modified>
<issued>2007-12-17T01:30:06Z</issued>
<id>tag:www.stanford.edu,2007:/~njenkins/3.148</id>
<created>2007-12-17T01:30:06Z</created>
<summary type="text/plain"> [Tomb of Marian Adams, by Augustus Saint-Gaudens, Rock Creek Cemetery, Washington, DC; photo credit: http://www.quidplura.com] I blogged the other day (&quot;family secrets&quot;) about some of the surprises and new perspectives which our genealogical database of Auden&apos;s might precipitate in...</summary>
<author>
<name>njenkins</name>

<email>njenkins@stanford.edu</email>
</author>
<dc:subject>65day by day: a blog</dc:subject>
<content type="text/html" mode="escaped" xml:lang="en" xml:base="http://www.stanford.edu/~njenkins/">
<![CDATA[<p><a href="http://www.stanford.edu/~njenkins/archives/images/gaudens-statue-1.jpg"><img alt="gaudens-statue-1.jpg" src="http://www.stanford.edu/~njenkins/archives/images/gaudens-statue-1-thumb.jpg" width="120" height="90" /></a>   <small>[Tomb of Marian Adams, by Augustus Saint-Gaudens, Rock Creek Cemetery, Washington, DC; photo credit: <a href="http://www.quidplura.com/?m=200709">http://www.quidplura.com</a></small>] I blogged the other day ("<a href="http://www.stanford.edu/~njenkins/archives/2007/12/family_secrets.html">family secrets</a>") about some of the surprises and new perspectives which our genealogical database of Auden's might precipitate in his readers. Sometimes, though, just the opposite will be the case. Sometimes, we will get striking new, empirical support for his airier or more unsubstantiated assertions. </p>

<p>Take this famous paragraph from the essay "As It Seemed to Us", written in 1964: "On the whole, the members of my father's family were phlegmatic, earnest, rather slow, inclined to be miserly, and endowed with excellent health; my mother's were quick, short-tempered, generous, and liable to physical ill-health, hysteria, and neuroticism. Except in the matter of physical health, I take after them" (see <em>Forewords and Afterwords</em>, pp. 498-99). </p>

<p>This dichotomy notwithstanding, there <em>were</em> some limited, but striking, similarities between the early lives of Constance Rosalie Bicknell and George Augustus Auden. Both were young children amongst large broods of siblings (she the youngest of eight; he the seventh out of eight), both suffered the very early loss of their fathers (she never knew hers at all) and both had to cope with the early death of a sibling (William Auden died at the age of 15 in when George Auden was six; Arthur Bicknell was killed in a railway crash at the age of 20 when his sister Constance was 12). No wonder that as adults both Constance Bicknell and her future husband chose the medical profession. </p>

<p>But, beyond those similarities, the Auden database, provisionally titled "Family Ghosts", confirms two cultures embodied in the early experiences of Auden's parents: one culture of life and one of death. The two Auden family deaths I have mentioned, those of the Rev. John Auden in 1876 and of William Auden in 1878, were the only ones which George Auden had to confront before a new family generation came into being with the birth of his own first child in 1900.</p>

<p>Born on 27 August 1872, Gorge Auden was, as I said, one of eight siblings (seven brothers and one sister), he had three uncles and four aunts. Before the arrival of Bernard Auden in York on 5 July 1900, within his immediate family circle "only" Dr. Auden's father and one brother had died — that is, there were two deaths amongst his relatives out of a possible 14 (an 86% survival rate).</p>

<p>By stark contrast, Constance Rosalie Bicknell, born on 13 February 1869, was one of five sisters and three brothers; she and her siblings had nine uncles and five aunts. Only a few months after baptizing his own youngest daughter at Southwold Church, Suffolk, Rev. Richard Bicknell died at Christmas in 1869. In the subsequent years, the toll of Bicknells and Birches amongst Constance Bicknell's closest relatives is a sombre one. 30 Jan 1880: her mother, S. A. Birch, dies; 26 Feb 1881: brother, A. H. Bicknell is killed; ca 1884: her aunt, E. E. Birch, dies; 29 June 1884: her uncle, H. M. Birch, dies; 28 March 1892: her favourite aunt, G. Bicknell, dies; 5 July 1893: her favourite uncle, C Bicknell, dies; ca. 1896: her aunt, L. R. Birch, dies; 1897: her uncle, J. W. Birch, dies; 27 July 1898: her uncle, A. F. Birch, dies; ca. 1900: her aunt, L. Birch, dies. </p>

<p>Thus, her father and mother as well as one brother, four uncles and four aunts had died before 5 July 1900 when her first child was born — 11 deaths out of a two-generation family circle of 21 (a survival rate for her Bicknell and Birch relatives of only 48%). By the time Constance Auden became a mother, she had experienced very much more close-at-hand death and suffering, very much more "abandonment", than her husband had.</p>

<p><img alt="circle.jpg" src="http://www.stanford.edu/~njenkins/archives/images/circle.jpg" width="504" height="273" /> <br />
<very small>[image &copy;2007 Nicholas Jenkins]</very small></p>

<p>These mortality figures, hitherto unknown, illustrate the vastly greater casualty rate amongst members of Mrs. Auden's family than amongst those of Dr. Auden's. Dr. and Mrs. Auden's youngest son's mind, both poetic and schematizing, makes crucial, dark, ambiguously mythic equations on the base of this elemental differentiation. </p>

<p>For W. H. Auden, one parent, and perhaps one gender, is associated with a culture of life and one with a culture of death. But, and this is the vital point, the culture of art is associated with the world of death. Within the universe of Auden's work, the gravitational pull of the culture of life, personified as Eros perhaps, holds in place such terms as masculinity, "cure", prose, sexual health, personal weakness and timidity, humour, science, modern techniques and knowledge, while around the latter (call her Thanatos, Thetis, Gaia) constellate qualities and associations such as femaleness, morbidity, suffering and sexual repression, as well as the for Auden self-immolating arts of poetry and music, along with mysticism, emotional strength, and the spiritual authenticity experienced in loss. </p>

<p>Auden's poetry sprang from the dynamic between those two powerful forcefields or systems. Neither system, until the very end, overwhelmed the other: the poetry is the record of the interference patterns between the systems. So, when in the mid-1960s Auden started obsessively repeating stories about how unfitted his parents were for each other, he was articulating, in barely displaced terms, "Thoughts of his own death" as a writer and a man. These premonitions suddenly preoccupied him “like the distant roll | of thunder at a picnic.” </p>

<p>Except "in the matter of physical health", this poet had seemed all his life to be an Auden and not a Bicknell. But in fact, Auden died horribly prematurely. Born the youngest of three sons, he was the first of the triumvirate to die. His mother was 72 when she expired in her sleep one August night during 1941. In 1973 in Vienna, when W. H. Auden's body stopped working and finally moved beyond all ideas of dawns, waking and response, at 66 he was even younger, and proved even more Bicknellesque, than Mrs. Auden had been. <br />
</p>]]>

</content>
</entry>
<entry>
<title>on a roll with the beats</title>
<link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://www.stanford.edu/~njenkins/archives/2007/12/on_a_roll_with.html" />
<modified>2007-12-13T17:15:10Z</modified>
<issued>2007-12-13T03:44:08Z</issued>
<id>tag:www.stanford.edu,2007:/~njenkins/3.147</id>
<created>2007-12-13T03:44:08Z</created>
<summary type="text/plain"> Scholars matter, right? I remember Thomas Pynchon commenting in, I think, the Preface to Slow Learner, his ruefully-titled collection of short stories, that one of the key books for the underground in the 1950s had been Helen Waddell&apos;s study...</summary>
<author>
<name>njenkins</name>

<email>njenkins@stanford.edu</email>
</author>
<dc:subject>65day by day: a blog</dc:subject>
<content type="text/html" mode="escaped" xml:lang="en" xml:base="http://www.stanford.edu/~njenkins/">
<![CDATA[<p><a href="http://www.stanford.edu/~njenkins/archives/images/on%20the%20road.jpg"><img alt="on the road.jpg" src="http://www.stanford.edu/~njenkins/archives/images/on%20the%20road-thumb.jpg" width="115" height="111" /></a> Scholars matter, right? I remember Thomas Pynchon commenting in, I think, the Preface to <em>Slow Learner</em>, his ruefully-titled collection of short stories, that one of the key books for the underground in the 1950s had been Helen Waddell's study <em>The Wandering Scholars</em>. </p>

<p>Originally published in 1927, Waddell's book offered a vision of 12th and 13th century Goliardic poets as scruffy but learned, itinerant figures who lived attractively outside the walls of the 3Cs: cities, conventions and culture, much as many writers of the 20th century aspired to do. In a sniffy review of the book in <em>Modern Philology</em> in 1928, the literary historian Howard Mumford Jones remarked tartly that "Miss Waddell.... is so insistent that we shall see medieval scholars as men, she forgets that they were both scholars and medieval. [So a "scholar" is not a "man"?] Not only does she incessantly dramatize her facts, but she is perpetually pointing a modern instance." Mumford Jones wanted to pin The Wandering Scholars down; Waddell wanted to emancipate them, to buy their poetry a ticket.</p>

<p>At the moment, literary critics might be called a generation of "pinners". That is why there is a special interest in an emancipatory exhibition which <a href="http://www.hrc.utexas.edu/news/newsletters/2006/summer/11.html">Molly Schwartzburg</a>, the literary scholar and the Curator of British and American Literature at the Ransom Center at the University of Texas at Austin, is curating next year. Called "<a href="http://www.hrc.utexas.edu/news/press/2007/beats.html">On the Road with the Beats</a>", it will feature, amongst much else, the partially unrolled manuscript of Kerouac's <em>On the Road</em>, cut-up Burroughs typescripts, artworks, and a plethora of recordings (poetry, jazz, interviews).  </p>

<p>In her exhibition guide, Dr. Schwartzburg writes that: "The Beats were a generation in motion. Pilgrims in search of a destination, they crisscrossed the globe, from New York to San Francisco, Los Angeles to Mexico City, Tangier to Paris, Calcutta to London. While many literary circles are synonymous with a particular city, the Beats are unique in their association with locales around the world." In the re-thinking of the map of mid-century culture which is ongoing as this timely exhibition occurs, the Beats' anti-parochialism and anti-nationalism, deeply occluded in so many of the triumphal, formalist metanarratives of American culture throwing off the shackles of European conformity but highlighted here, will need re-inclusion and re-assessment.</p>

<p>"On the Road with the Beats" will run at the Ransom Center Galleries from 5 Feb. to 3 Aug. 2008. It promises to be a landmark, freewheeling, <em>emancipatory</em> show.</p>]]>

</content>
</entry>
<entry>
<title>family secrets</title>
<link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://www.stanford.edu/~njenkins/archives/2007/12/family_secrets.html" />
<modified>2007-12-13T02:40:16Z</modified>
<issued>2007-12-12T03:13:31Z</issued>
<id>tag:www.stanford.edu,2007:/~njenkins/3.146</id>
<created>2007-12-12T03:13:31Z</created>
<summary type="text/plain"> The centenary year of Auden&apos;s birth is winding to an interesting and fruitful end. On the whole, I think it&apos;s been good. As it concludes, I&apos;m becoming increasingly convinced that one of the &quot;new directions&quot; which Auden scholarship can...</summary>
<author>
<name>njenkins</name>

<email>njenkins@stanford.edu</email>
</author>
<dc:subject>65day by day: a blog</dc:subject>
<content type="text/html" mode="escaped" xml:lang="en" xml:base="http://www.stanford.edu/~njenkins/">
<![CDATA[<p><a href="http://www.stanford.edu/~njenkins/archives/images/landed%20gentry.jpg"><img alt="landed gentry.jpg" src="http://www.stanford.edu/~njenkins/archives/images/landed%20gentry-thumb.jpg" width="111" height="195" /></a> The centenary year of Auden's birth is winding to an interesting and fruitful end. On the whole, I think it's been good. As it concludes, I'm becoming increasingly convinced that one of the "new directions" which Auden scholarship can now most profitably take lies along the path of defamiliarization. </p>

<p>Auden says somewhere (<em>yes</em> — we also desperately need a concordance to Edward Mendelson's magnificent multi-volume edition of Auden's <em>Prose</em>!) that a person's best-kept secrets are those which he or she keeps from themself. Obviously, Auden meant this provoking apothegm to apply to himself as well as to others. Like Auden, I'm not claiming that the keeper of such secrets is a liar, or even a fibber. What I am saying is that Auden scholarship may now be in a good position to go beyond Auden's own self-definitions and to understand better his inevitable historical cultural, and perhaps even sexual, blindnesses. But, in order to do so, it needs to knock over some crumbling walls so that we learn what was really "myth" and what "history", what "red herring" and what "figure-in-the carpet", in the copious comments which Auden made on himself and on his writing. The scholarship also needs to confront aggressively some of the poorly-sourced stories which a few commentators, for want of further or alternative evidence, have let sediment round Auden's work. </p>

<p>Part of my own contribution to this defamiliarizing effort has been to labour, with the indispensable and ingenious help of Anthony Andrews, Matthew Jockers and Edward Mendelson, on what would once have been called a "family tree" of the Bicknell and Auden families. (<em>I know, I know — "a genealogy!?" "a family tree!?" What can I say in response except that all writers, even scholars, have to follow their intuitions, even when these lead them in the most anachronistic-looking or unpropitious-seeming directions…</em>) </p>

<p>The genealogical database is intended for the unlimited use of all interested researchers. I hope to have a preliminary version of  it online during the first half of 2008. Some will dismiss, or disagree with, both the general concept and/or the particular uses to which the database is put. I don't care much about that. I think the tree offers, in latent form, many tantalizing opportunities to rethink or recontextualize Auden's poetry. For here, for now, I'll give just two very small instances of what I mean by that claim, one from each end of Auden's life. </p>

<p>Auden's first published poem in anything other than a school magazine is "Woods in Rain", printed in <em>Public School Verse: An Anthology</em> in 1924, where his name is given as "W. H. Arden". It's always been assumed that this was a simple misprint, a compositor's error. Perhaps it was. Or perhaps it was actually a pseudonym? Auden was obsessed with names, especially his own family's names. <em>The Dog Beneath the Skin</em> is enough to show that. But does he ever mention the "misprint" of his very own name anywhere at the time?</p>

<p>Why "Arden"? Well, "Birch" was one family name which Auden was, in a double sense, <em>familiar</em> with. In 1920, the year in which Auden entered Gresham's School, Norfolk, as a 13 year-old, Wyndham Lyndsay Birch (1874-1950), a first cousin once removed of the young W. H. Auden, was the Prime Warden of the Fishmongers' Company. That is, Auden's relative was the head of the ancient institution which administered Gresham's, in effect W. L. Birch was the head of the Gresham's board of governors. </p>

<p>Another such name besides "Birch" which was known to Auden was "Arden". Auden's great-uncle (and Wyndham Birch's uncle), Henry William Birch (1825-1897), a former Governor of the Bank of England, had been married to a woman named Julia Arden (1830-1917). They had a son named John Arden Birch (1853-1896).</p>

<p>"Arden", then, like "Birch", was a "family name" for Auden — metonymically related to his own surname. However, at the same time, by the switch of a single letter of the alphabet, the name hides his identity from all those who did not know about this family link. Perhaps "Arden" in Public School Verse <em>was</em> a misprint. But I don't think that anyone will be able to claim for much longer that it <em>certainly</em> was a typesetter's mistake. Although very plausible, the new genealogical data renders that claim plausible but unproven. </p>

<p>In addition to being truthful, the literary historian also has to be interesting. The newer, alternative explanation (Auden appearing in print under a pseudonym) may get us closer to some fresh ideas about the need for some degree of clandestinity on the part of Michael Davidson. He was the East Anglian journalist (a member of the Walter Greatorex circle) whose friendship with Auden had around this time been forbidden by the school authorities and by Mrs. Auden and probably the person who submitted Auden's poem(s) to the editors of <em>Public School Verse</em>. Davidson singled out Auden's poem for praise when he reviewed <em>Public School Verse</em> in the <em>Eastern Daily Press</em> of 26 Sept. 1924. But of course he could confidently have expected Auden's Birmingham-based parents not to see anything, compromising or not, published in that Norwich newspaper.</p>

<p>The pseudonym hypothesis (I call it no more than that, and point out only that it could not exist if we knew nothing about the existence of the name "Arden" within Auden's mother's side of the family) might also indicate something about Auden's, and Auden's family's, ambivalence or unease about the diminished social position of poetry amongst the provincial gentry. Many will disagree, perhaps vehemently, with both notions. That's fine: argument is good. What I'm saying is that without the new ideas which the "tree" generates there can often be no argument at all.</p>

<p>Take another suggestion which the genealogical database throws up, this one from the 1960s. In that decade, Auden wrote a great many, still extraordinarily underappreciated, poems about modern science, such as "Moon Landing" and "A New Year Greeting". What is more (where <em>is</em> that concordance when I need it?), he remarked several times that the only magazine he subscribed to in the 1960s was <em>Scientific American</em>. </p>

<p>All this is significant enough in itself. But, for me anyway, a certain new tincture or coloration is projected onto these "scientific poems" and onto poems like them once one knows about a wedding which took place in 1966. That year Fridolin Mann — Thomas Mann's grandson, Auden's nephew — married Christine Heisenberg, one of Werner Heisenberg's daughters. From 1966 W. H. Auden was therefore a relation by marriage of one of the world's greatest theoretical physicists.</p>

<p>Irrelevant? I'll certainly be prepared to say so in public with an endearing smile on my face so just as soon as you have sent me the names of three other 20th century poets of substantial reputation working in any language who a) wrote repeatedly about science and b) were related to any one of the century's most prominent scientists.</p>

<p>In the meantime, as they used to say in the days before streaming media took over, "stay tuned."<br />
</p>]]>

</content>
</entry>
<entry>
<title>words in a cloud</title>
<link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://www.stanford.edu/~njenkins/archives/2007/12/cloud_of_words.html" />
<modified>2007-12-03T03:42:07Z</modified>
<issued>2007-12-03T02:52:56Z</issued>
<id>tag:www.stanford.edu,2007:/~njenkins/3.145</id>
<created>2007-12-03T02:52:56Z</created>
<summary type="text/plain">Look, Stranger! (1936) was Auden&apos;s &quot;wonder volume&quot; his second book of lyrics, the collection which won him the King&apos;s Gold Medal for Poetry in 1937. I took the entire text (minus title page, colophon etc) of the book and I...</summary>
<author>
<name>njenkins</name>

<email>njenkins@stanford.edu</email>
</author>
<dc:subject>65day by day: a blog</dc:subject>
<content type="text/html" mode="escaped" xml:lang="en" xml:base="http://www.stanford.edu/~njenkins/">
<![CDATA[<p><em>Look, Stranger!</em> (1936) was Auden's "wonder volume"  his second book of lyrics, the collection which won him the King's Gold Medal for Poetry in 1937. I took the entire text (minus title page, colophon etc) of the book and I uploaded it to Daniel Steinbock's "<a href="http://www.tagcrowd.com">TagCrowd</a>" site. </p>

<p><a href="daniel@steinbock.org">Steinbock</a>, a Stanford doctoral student in Design and Education, explains that, when a user performs these homely actions, by analyzing word frequencies his site will crystallize a word cloud out of the grainy vapours of language: an "informative, beautiful image that communicates much in a single glance. We see a whole new approach to text" including such uses as "visual summmaries for speeches and written works" and new sorts of "visual poetry". </p>

<p>I agree completely. Who does does not see something better for seeing it estranged, defamiliarized? After digital processing, here is the "reading" (poetry made out of rearranging poetry) which Steinbock's algorithm generated from Auden's words in <em>Look, Stranger!</em>. And, "stranger, look" which two terms migrated to the centre of this iconic representation of a volume from a decade of crisis —— <em>love</em> and, slightly smaller, <em>night</em>:<br><br><br />
<!--<br />
begin tag cloud : generated by TagCrowd.com<br />
Feel free to modify as long as you keep this notice.</p>

<p>This code and its rendered image are released under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial 2.5 License.<br />
http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/2.5/</p>

<p>For commercial licensing, contact Daniel Steinbock, daniel@steinbock.org<br />
--></p>

<p><style type="text/css"> <!-- #htmltagcloud{ font-family:'lucida grande',trebuchet,'trebuchet ms',verdana,arial,helvetica,sans-serif; line-height:2.4em; word-spacing:normal; letter-spacing:normal; text-decoration:none; text-transform:none; text-align:justify; text-indent:0ex; background-color:#303030; margin:1em 1em 0em 1em; border:2px dotted #ddd; padding:2em}#htmltagcloud a:link{text-decoration:none}#htmltagcloud a:visited{text-decoration:none}#htmltagcloud a:hover{text-decoration:none;color:white;background-color:#05f}#htmltagcloud a:active{text-decoration:none;color:white;background-color:#03d}span.tagcloud0{font-size:1.0em;padding:0em;color:#ACC1F3;z-index:10;position:relative}span.tagcloud0 a{text-decoration:none; color:#ACC1F3}span.tagcloud1{font-size:1.4em;padding:0em;color:#ACC1F3;z-index:9;position:relative}span.tagcloud1 a{text-decoration:none;color:#ACC1F3}span.tagcloud2{font-size:1.8em;padding:0em;color:#86A0DC;z-index:8;position:relative}span.tagcloud2 a{text-decoration:none;color:#86A0DC}span.tagcloud3{font-size:2.2em;padding:0em;color:#86A0DC;z-index:7;position:relative}span.tagcloud3 a{text-decoration:none;color:#86A0DC}span.tagcloud4{font-size:2.6em;padding:0em;color:#607EC5;z-index:6;position:relative}span.tagcloud4 a{text-decoration:none;color:#607EC5}span.tagcloud5{font-size:3.0em;padding:0em;color:#607EC5;z-index:5;position:relative}span.tagcloud5 a{text-decoration:none;color:#607EC5}span.tagcloud6{font-size:3.3em;padding:0em;color:#4C6DB9;z-index:4;position:relative}span.tagcloud6 a{text-decoration:none;color:#4C6DB9}span.tagcloud7{font-size:3.6em;padding:0em;color:#395CAE;z-index:3;position:relative}span.tagcloud7 a{text-decoration:none;color:#395CAE}span.tagcloud8{font-size:3.9em;padding:0em;color:#264CA2;z-index:2;position:relative}span.tagcloud8 a{text-decoration:none;color:#264CA2}span.tagcloud9{font-size:4.2em;padding:0em;color:#133B97;z-index:1;position:relative}span.tagcloud9 a{text-decoration:none;color:#133B97}span.tagcloud10{font-size:4.5em;padding:0em;color:#002A8B;z-index:0;position:relative}span.tagcloud10 a{text-decoration:none;color:#002A8B}span.freq{font-size:10pt !important;color:#bbb}#credit{text-align:center; font-size:0.7em; color:#333; margin-bottom:0.6em; font-family:'lucida grande',trebuchet,'trebuchet ms',verdana,arial,helvetica,sans-serif;}#credit a:link{color:#777; text-decoration:none;}#credit a:visited{color:#777; text-decoration:none;}#credit a:hover{text-decoration:none; color:white; background-color:#05f;}#credit a:active{text-decoration:underline;}// --> </style>  <div id="htmltagcloud"> <span id="0" class="tagcloud0"><a href="#tagcloud">air</a></span> <span id="1" class="tagcloud1"><a href="#tagcloud">alone</a></span> <span id="2" class="tagcloud0"><a href="#tagcloud">arms</a></span> <span id="3" class="tagcloud2"><a href="#tagcloud">away</a></span> <span id="4" class="tagcloud0"><a href="#tagcloud">beauty</a></span> <span id="5" class="tagcloud0"><a href="#tagcloud">bed</a></span> <span id="6" class="tagcloud0"><a href="#tagcloud">behind</a></span> <span id="7" class="tagcloud1"><a href="#tagcloud">cried</a></span> <span id="8" class="tagcloud2"><a href="#tagcloud">cripples</a></span> <span id="9" class="tagcloud1"><a href="#tagcloud">dear</a></span> <span id="10" class="tagcloud2"><a href="#tagcloud">death</a></span> <span id="11" class="tagcloud3"><a href="#tagcloud">eyes</a></span> <span id="12" class="tagcloud1"><a href="#tagcloud">face</a></span> <span id="13" class="tagcloud0"><a href="#tagcloud">fear</a></span> <span id="14" class="tagcloud1"><a href="#tagcloud">gone</a></span> <span id="15" class="tagcloud1"><a href="#tagcloud">hands</a></span> <span id="16" class="tagcloud1"><a href="#tagcloud">head</a></span> <span id="17" class="tagcloud2"><a href="#tagcloud">heart</a></span> <span id="18" class="tagcloud0"><a href="#tagcloud">horses</a></span> <span id="19" class="tagcloud1"><a href="#tagcloud">islands</a></span> <span id="20" class="tagcloud3"><a href="#tagcloud">life</a></span> <span id="21" class="tagcloud0"><a href="#tagcloud">light</a></span> <span id="22" class="tagcloud2"><a href="#tagcloud">lives</a></span> <span id="23" class="tagcloud0"><a href="#tagcloud">lost</a></span> <span id="24" class="tagcloud10"><a href="#tagcloud">love</a></span> <span id="25" class="tagcloud0"><a href="#tagcloud">morning</a></span> <span id="26" class="tagcloud0"><a href="#tagcloud">mountains</a></span> <span id="27" class="tagcloud4"><a href="#tagcloud">night</a></span> <span id="28" class="tagcloud0"><a href="#tagcloud">nothing</a></span> <span id="29" class="tagcloud1"><a href="#tagcloud">pass</a></span> <span id="30" class="tagcloud2"><a href="#tagcloud">power</a></span> <span id="31" class="tagcloud0"><a href="#tagcloud">river</a></span> <span id="32" class="tagcloud0"><a href="#tagcloud">road</a></span> <span id="33" class="tagcloud2"><a href="#tagcloud">sea</a></span> <span id="34" class="tagcloud2"><a href="#tagcloud">shadow</a></span> <span id="35" class="tagcloud3"><a href="#tagcloud">shall</a></span> <span id="36" class="tagcloud1"><a href="#tagcloud">silent</a></span> <span id="37" class="tagcloud2"><a href="#tagcloud">six</a></span> <span id="38" class="tagcloud1"><a href="#tagcloud">stand</a></span> <span id="39" class="tagcloud1"><a href="#tagcloud">summer</a></span> <span id="40" class="tagcloud1"><a href="#tagcloud">sun</a></span> <span id="41" class="tagcloud0"><a href="#tagcloud">think</a></span> <span id="42" class="tagcloud0"><a href="#tagcloud">till</a></span> <span id="43" class="tagcloud2"><a href="#tagcloud">upon</a></span> <span id="44" class="tagcloud0"><a href="#tagcloud">valleys</a></span> <span id="45" class="tagcloud2"><a href="#tagcloud">whom</a></span> <span id="46" class="tagcloud1"><a href="#tagcloud">whose</a></span> <span id="47" class="tagcloud2"><a href="#tagcloud">wish</a></span> <span id="48" class="tagcloud2"><a href="#tagcloud">world</a></span> <span id="49" class="tagcloud3"><a href="#tagcloud">years</a></span> </div><div id="credit">created at <a href="http://tagcrowd.com">TagCrowd.com</a></div></p>

<p><!-- end tag cloud : generated by TagCrowd.com : please keep this notice --></p>]]>

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</entry>
<entry>
<title>auden -- the coat of arms</title>
<link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://www.stanford.edu/~njenkins/archives/2007/10/auden_--_the_co.html" />
<modified>2007-10-19T00:52:46Z</modified>
<issued>2007-10-19T00:05:29Z</issued>
<id>tag:www.stanford.edu,2007:/~njenkins/3.144</id>
<created>2007-10-19T00:05:29Z</created>
<summary type="text/plain"> Ever seen the coat of arms for the noble family of &quot;Auden of Rowley Regis, co. Stafford&quot;? No? Well, here it is. This coat of arms was purchased by W. H. Auden&apos;s great-great grandparents, John Auden (1758-1834) and his...</summary>
<author>
<name>njenkins</name>

<email>njenkins@stanford.edu</email>
</author>
<dc:subject>65day by day: a blog</dc:subject>
<content type="text/html" mode="escaped" xml:lang="en" xml:base="http://www.stanford.edu/~njenkins/">
<![CDATA[<p><a href="http://www.stanford.edu/~njenkins/archives/images/auden%20fam%20crest.jpg"><img alt="auden fam crest.jpg" src="http://www.stanford.edu/~njenkins/archives/images/auden%20fam%20crest-thumb.jpg" width="114" height="181" /></a> Ever seen the coat of arms for the noble family of "Auden of Rowley Regis, co. Stafford"? No? Well, here it is. This coat of arms was purchased by W. H. Auden's great-great grandparents, John Auden (1758-1834) and his wife Phoebe Woodhouse (ca. 1758-1828) of Rowley Regis in Staffordshire.</p>

<p>In the mesmerizing language of heraldry, the arms are described in the records at the College of Arms as being: "Argent on a cross gules, a lion passant or, between four increscents of the field." The crest over the arms is: "A caduceus in bend sinister surmounted by a scimitar in bend dexter all proper pomelled and hilted or." </p>

<p>The house of Auden's motto is "Cresco et spero", or "I grow and hope."   It seems as good a tag as any to live by, doesn't it?</p>]]>

</content>
</entry>
<entry>
<title>the island</title>
<link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://www.stanford.edu/~njenkins/archives/2007/09/the_island_--_t.html" />
<modified>2007-10-01T08:10:15Z</modified>
<issued>2007-09-30T01:17:19Z</issued>
<id>tag:www.stanford.edu,2007:/~njenkins/3.143</id>
<created>2007-09-30T01:17:19Z</created>
<summary type="text/plain">The Island: coming in 2008. Watch the trailer....</summary>
<author>
<name>njenkins</name>

<email>njenkins@stanford.edu</email>
</author>
<dc:subject>extras</dc:subject>
<content type="text/html" mode="escaped" xml:lang="en" xml:base="http://www.stanford.edu/~njenkins/">
<![CDATA[<p><em>The Island</em>: coming in 2008. Watch the trailer.</p>

<p><object id="W4700965f3e79c443" width="432" height="250" quality="high" data="http://widgets.clearspring.com/o/46928cc51133af17/4700965f3e79c443" pluginspage="http://www.macromedia.com/go/getflashplayer" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="opaque"><param name="wmode" value="opaque" /><param name="movie" value="http://widgets.clearspring.com/o/46928cc51133af17/4700965f3e79c443" /><param name="scaleMode" value="showAll" /><param name="allowNetworking" value="all" /><param name="allowScriptAccess" value="always" /><param name="flashvars" value="" /></object><br />
<br><br />
</p>]]>

</content>
</entry>
<entry>
<title>at the corner</title>
<link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://www.stanford.edu/~njenkins/archives/2007/08/at_the_corner.html" />
<modified>2007-09-07T04:05:15Z</modified>
<issued>2007-08-24T04:04:13Z</issued>
<id>tag:www.stanford.edu,2007:/~njenkins/3.123</id>
<created>2007-08-24T04:04:13Z</created>
<summary type="text/plain"><![CDATA[This post continues my discussion of Daguerre's photograph "Boulevard du Temple" (1838). Earlier installments are: "morse's vision" and "traces". In "traces" I commented on what seems to have been the relative indifference of early photographers &mdash; and in this case,...]]></summary>
<author>
<name>njenkins</name>

<email>njenkins@stanford.edu</email>
</author>
<dc:subject>65day by day: a blog</dc:subject>
<content type="text/html" mode="escaped" xml:lang="en" xml:base="http://www.stanford.edu/~njenkins/">
<![CDATA[<p>This post continues my discussion of Daguerre's photograph "Boulevard du Temple" (1838). Earlier installments are: "<a href="http://www.stanford.edu/~njenkins/archives/2007/08/christopher_rov.html">morse's vision</a>" and "<a href="http://www.stanford.edu/~njenkins/archives/2007/08/traces.html">traces</a>".</p>

<p>In "<a href="http://www.stanford.edu/~njenkins/archives/2007/08/traces.html">traces</a>" I commented on what seems to have been the relative indifference of early photographers &mdash; and in this case, specifically Daguerre &mdash; on the question of whether or not their images reproduced superficial "realities" accurately. Or, as the historian of photography Geoffrey Batchen puts it when he discusses Daguerre's own appraisal of the significance of his invention, "Detail he claimed for photography, but reality he left to others." </p>

<p>This non-positivistic attitude was mirrored in the reactions of Parisians who saw the earliest photographs. There are plentiful, wondering references from early commentators on the magical depth and breadth of detail which a specially-coated photographic plate was able to capture. But they showed little articulated interest in whether or not the image as a whole was "truthful" or "realistic". </p>

<p>This becomes especially clear in light of the fact that, as direct positives, all daguerreotypes showed laterally-reversed (or, in modern publishing jargon, "flopped") images. Everything in a daguerreotype was, literally, the wrong way round: left was right and right was left. Pioneers of the new process rapidly invented a way around this problem by placing a reversing prism in front of the lens, but the drawback of this was an even greater and technically riskier exposure time. Daguerre himself used no reversing prism. </p>

<p>The "unrealistic", reversed nature of the early images seems to have drawn little comment, and it was no bar to enthusiasm and curiosity over the pictures which Daguerre produced, as, for example, extremely dark or cloudy images would have been. This lack of concern may stem in part from the shiny, mirror-like surface of the daguerreotype plate. Viewers were used to compensating for the analogous reversal when looking in a mirror and they simply, and probably subliminally, performed the same cognitive adjustment when looking at a daguerreotype. </p>

<p>Moreover, the subject of the early daguerreotypes were primarily of two types. Since the long exposure times make it so difficult to make portraits of humans, the first type was a picture of an immobile and generic object, such as a vase, a statue, or a fountain, in which it was not necessary for the viewer to know in advance the particular object caught in the image in order to recognize that the object was a vase, statue or fountain. These were images in which the fact that the photograph was of a <em>specific</em> object was less important than that it belonged to a particular class of objects, such as the "statue class". </p>

<p>As such, recognition of the object as belonging to the generalized category of "classical statues" was enough to trigger the desired set of cultural associations for, say, classical statuary &mdash; "noble", "pagan", "static", "hard", "culturally prestigious", and so on.</p>

<p>For obvious reasons, the other subject favoured by early photographers was that of buildings. In this case, the issue was different. No pictured buildings needed to belong to a generalized "building" category. The building in the image might easily be irrelevant in both a specific and a general sense because the subject of the photograph was above all the visual "effects" of luminosity and shade which Daguerre had become so expert at manipulating from his years of work painting scenery for the theatre and from producing subtle "effects" of light and darkness in his own, semi-theatrical Diorama in rue Sanson. The point in this kind of photograph was the light and not the brick off which the light happened to be glinting. or mean </p>

<p>Or, conversely, in another kind of picture, a specific building was of primary importance and was indeed the main subject of the photograph. In this case, Daguerre and the other early photographers could rely on their viewers, who were well-educated, bourgeois and <em>mondain</em>, to recognize the particular street or the building which they were looking at without needing to be told anything about it. Presumably, in such cases the mind of the contemporary Parisian spectator was unbothered by the strict non-verisimilitude produced by the daguerreotype's lateral reversal of reality because the contemporary mind, long socialized into familiarity with the main Parisian streets and buildings, rapidly and flexibly reinterpreted this reversed image to correspond to the brain's already existing cognitive map of, for example, the Place de la Concorde, Notre Dame or the Pont Neuf (to mention only three familiar Parisian landmarks of which he took photographs). </p>

<p>Such people (the early commentators in the French photographic world were overwhelmingly male) were liberated to admire the aesthetics of the photograph, its appeal to the viewer's capacity for the apprehension of sensuous beauty, because the informational value of the picture was nugatory. Thus, in the case of the photograph I am discussing, they already <em>knew</em> boulevard du Temple well, they <em>knew</em> the corner of the street in question. They had perhaps even had their own boots polished by the same boot-black whose crabbed body appears in a blur in the Daguerre photograph. The photographer could thus expect to draw on a fund of knowledge about this particular <em>coin</em> and he knew what kinds of ideas it would evoke in his viewer.</p>

<p>We, though, have no such knowledge. For that reason, we have to work ourselves back painfully slowly into a knowledge of some of the cultural and geographical assumptions about the metropolis which would have seemed like second nature to a Parisian in 1838. Today, therefore, I have two very simple aims in view. I need to reverse laterally, as it were, the contemporary Parisian indifference to geographical specificity. By doing so I want, first, simply to explain where on the boulevard du Temple the place we observe represented in the photograph actually was. And second I will use that information to  prove that the photograph <em>was</em> actually taken early in the morning as contemporary observers agreed.</p>

<p>These might seem, indeed they <em>are</em>, three very humble and superficial tasks, but they are nonetheless essential staging posts we must pass before we can move any further in understanding the deeper meanings of Daguerre's image. </p>

<p>Daguerre took his picture from the Diorama building, on rue Sanson, at the edge of the place du Ch&acirc;teau-d'Eau. Below is a lithograph of the square (or "placette" as it is sometimes called in French). The picture shows in the right foreground the fountain, guarded by 8 sculpted lions, which gave the square its name and into which Daguerre's Diorama building projected. The fountain, conceived on Napoleon's personal instruction by Pierre-Simon Girard, the director of Paris's water supply (hence its name the "fontaine de Girard"), was completed in 1811 and removed during the Haussmannization of the area in 1867. This picture represents the view facing roughly east from the end of rue du Bondy, showing the place du Ch&acirc;teau-d'Eau and the south-western side of the Diorama building. </p>

<p>Daguerre seems to have taken his photograph from a window (here obscured) on the south-eastern side of the same edifice, or from a south-east facing window in his house adjoining on the rue des Marais. Seen from this perspective, the boulevard du Temple begins to run south-east from across the square, roughly in the space between the right side of the fountain's pedestal and the termination of the white-coloured apartment buildings on the extreme right of the picture.</p>

<p><a href="http://www.stanford.edu/~njenkins/archives/images/chateau%20deau%20litho.jpg"><img alt="chateau deau litho.jpg" src="http://www.stanford.edu/~njenkins/archives/images/chateau%20deau%20litho-thumb.jpg" width="123" height="86" /></a></p>

<p>(Other images of the Diorama and of the Ch&acirc;teau d'Eau include an engraving reproduced in Helmut and Alison Gernsheim's <em>L. J. M. Daguerre: The History of the Diorama and the Daguerreotype</em>, plate 16, which shows a view of the Diorama from the rue Sanson, looking north through the fountain towards Daguerre's building, and some very early photographs taken by the remarkable Joseph-Philibert Girault de Prangey of the fountain and its lions, frozen solid and shrouded in a thick mantle of ice, during the winter of 1841-42.) </p>

<p>To obtain an accurate documentary record of the site Daguerre was documenting from the Diorama building with his camera, we must reverse the daguerreotype itself. On the left below is the original orientation of the image. Next to it, on the right, is the flopped image, which gives us a more accurate account of the view Daguerre himself would have had from his window in the Diorama building.</p>

<p><a href="http://www.stanford.edu/~njenkins/archives/images/to%20use%20boulevard%20eight.jpg"><img alt="to use boulevard eight.jpg" src="http://www.stanford.edu/~njenkins/archives/images/to%20use%20boulevard%20eight-thumb.jpg" width="150" height="108" /></a> <a href="http://www.stanford.edu/~njenkins/archives/images/to%20use%20boulevard%20eight%20flipped.jpg"><img alt="to use boulevard eight flipped.jpg" src="http://www.stanford.edu/~njenkins/archives/images/to%20use%20boulevard%20eight%20flipped-thumb.jpg" width="150" height="108" /></a></p>

<p>If we now concentrate on the right-hand image, the one with the literally "correct" orientation, and consult any one of numerous maps from the period, it becomes clear that Daguerre's image shows what was then the very top of the boulevard du Temple. This part of the boulevard is now buried underneath the place de la R&eacute;publique; Haussmann's modifications shortened the boulevard du Temple by about 122 metres, or roughly one fifth of its original length. In the flopped daguerreotype, the boulevard leads away, as it did in actuality, south-east. (The small street just visible to the left of the large white building in the foreground is rue des Fosses des Temples, which meandered along roughly parallel to the boulevard itself.) </p>

<p>Below I reproduce a map of the area drawn in 1834 &mdash; that is, only four years before Daguerre took his photograph. On it I have marked, the Diorama, the approximate location of the humans present in Daguerre's image, as well as the institutions which had established and fixed the boulevards reputation: the famous cluster of "petits th&eacute;&acirc;tres", which were allowed to stage popular entertainments which did not threaten the monopoly of institutions such as The Com&eacute;die Fran&ccedil;aise on French classical theatre. I have also noted some of the famous caf&eacute;s on the southern side of the street. It should be noted that the whole area was filled with taverns, inns and more or less salubrious caf&eacute;s   . Almost every theatre had its own caf&eacute; attached. </p>

<p>I will return in a later post to discuss the theatres on the side of the boulevard on which the boot-black and the pedestrian are situated. For now, though, a few notes on the theatres hidden by the slight convex curvature of the building line on the northern side of the street will be enough to give a flavour of the area. </p>

<p>The "<em>G</em>" referred to in the map's notes is an abbreviation for the guide-book, <em>Galignani's New Paris Guide...</em>, [no trans.] (Paris: A. and W. Galignani, 1838), from which I have taken a few illustrative comments. Buildings or establishments noted within square brackets and without pointers to a particular spot on the boulevard indicate where certain non-theatrical edifices on the boulevard stood in relation to the theatres. Finally, I should note that the full image, accessible by clicking on the thumbnail is, for the sake of legibility, quite large, and may require you to scroll around in your browser window to view all details.</p>

<p><a href="http://www.stanford.edu/~njenkins/archives/images/boulevard%20map.jpg"><img alt="boulevard map.jpg" src="http://www.stanford.edu/~njenkins/archives/images/boulevard%20map-thumb.jpg" width="101" height="90" /></a></p>

<p>The spot on which the boot-black and the other figures (see "<a href="http://www.stanford.edu/~njenkins/archives/2007/08/traces.html">traces</a>")  are standing in the daguerreotype can be seen from another angle in the image reproduced below, an engraving made a little later in the century. The area once occupied for a few minutes in 1838 by Daguerre's figures is marked in red.</p>

<p><a href="http://www.stanford.edu/~njenkins/archives/images/b%20du%20t%20engraving%20marked.jpg"><img alt="b du t engraving marked.jpg" src="http://www.stanford.edu/~njenkins/archives/images/b%20du%20t%20engraving%20marked-thumb.jpg" width="108" height="74" /></a></p>

<p>In conclusion, I return to those long shadows cast by the trees, buildings and people in Daguerre's photograph. The roughly north-westerly to south-easterly direction of the boulevard, which Daguerre is photographing from the north-western end, means that the sun's light, source of life, time and photography alike, must be washing across Paris from the east, making shadows that point in the general direction of the west, and hence that the photograph was indeed taken early in the morning as the boulevard was coming to life.  </p>

<p>A man stops to have his shoes shined at the corner of rue du Temple and boulevard du Temple before he heads to his business. A boot-black stoops to the man's shoes and begins polishing and buffing. Unseen by them, a figure at a high window to the north of them carefully uncovers the lens on his invention and allows light to penetrate the darkness of the device.... What do these details of place and time tell us about Daguerre's image? "<em>We'll be right back.</em>"<br />
<br></p>]]>

</content>
</entry>
<entry>
<title>names</title>
<link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://www.stanford.edu/~njenkins/archives/2007/08/names_1.html" />
<modified>2007-08-29T03:35:17Z</modified>
<issued>2007-08-23T02:38:37Z</issued>
<id>tag:www.stanford.edu,2007:/~njenkins/3.118</id>
<created>2007-08-23T02:38:37Z</created>
<summary type="text/plain"><![CDATA[ We are driving home from Truckee. Goodbye to the chipmunk blinking at me yesterday morning on the Best Western&trade;’s monogrammed stub bin; goodbye to the tiny, rigid, blue and yellow lizard (a sagebrush lizard?) in the hallway, which my...]]></summary>
<author>
<name>njenkins</name>

<email>njenkins@stanford.edu</email>
</author>
<dc:subject>65day by day: a blog</dc:subject>
<content type="text/html" mode="escaped" xml:lang="en" xml:base="http://www.stanford.edu/~njenkins/">
<![CDATA[<p><a href="http://www.stanford.edu/~njenkins/archives/images/weimar.jpg"><img alt="weimar.jpg" src="http://www.stanford.edu/~njenkins/archives/images/weimar-thumb.jpg" width="151" height="78" /></a> We are driving home from Truckee.</p>

<p><em>Goodbye</em> to the chipmunk blinking at me yesterday morning on the Best Western&trade;’s monogrammed stub bin; <br />
<em>goodbye</em> to the tiny, rigid, blue and yellow lizard (a sagebrush lizard?) in the hallway, which my wife and sons captured two nights ago in a foam cup and carried to the freedom of the Great Outdoors; <br />
<em>goodbye