Woolfian Boundaries - Clemson University
Woolfian Boundaries - Clemson University
Woolfian Boundaries - Clemson University
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Buggery and Montage<br />
his friends to his appointment: “‘But my dear,’ they said. ‘You will not be able to live in<br />
Birmingham!’ Birmingham was darkest Africa” (Strings 128). He describes the university<br />
itself as “a mass, a mess of grimy neo-Gothic” that “could have passed for a typical block of<br />
insurance offi ces” (130). Th e students came in for a similarly unfavourable reaction: “they<br />
were all so unresponsive, so undernourished, I just could not be bothered” (131).<br />
It was after his marriage broke up that MacNeice began to appreciate Birmingham<br />
and to make friends with students like Walter Allen. He wrote that he surprised himself<br />
with the discovery that “the students were human” and found that they were refreshingly<br />
free from the obsession with politics prevalent amongst students at Oxbridge (154). He<br />
and Allen became friends in 1934 and Allen documents the friendship in his autobiography.<br />
He describes dinners in Louis’s fl at after the end of his marriage, always accompanied<br />
by Betsy, the handsome Borzoi bitch who Allen cites as “one of the hazards of visiting<br />
Louis”: “she had the habit of poking her long snout into the private parts of his guests,<br />
behaviour which seemed to amuse him rather than not. I had the feeling that he saw one’s<br />
reaction to Betsy as a test one passed or did not pass” (46). Th eir friendship continued after<br />
MacNeice and Allen had both made the transition from Birmingham to Bloomsbury,<br />
and perhaps reached its peak the day after Chamberlain came back from Munich, waving<br />
his ineff ectual piece of paper:<br />
MacNeice telephoned me to say that, since there’d be war by Monday and petrol,<br />
even if obtainable at all, would be rationed, he’d just sold his car for £14. Would<br />
I join him for lunch at the Café Royal? I think both of us assumed it was the last<br />
good meal we’d have and we did ourselves proud. Th en, fl oating on brandy and<br />
cigar-perfumes, we took a taxi to the Tottenham Court Road, where a cinema<br />
was showing one of our favourite Westerns. (114)<br />
With MacNeice, of course, came Auden, and both Hampson and Allen got to know<br />
Auden fairly well, with Allen acting in the fi rst staged reading of Th e Ascent of F6 at Birmingham<br />
<strong>University</strong>. Auden himself was from Birmingham, and Allen included him in<br />
a BBC Midland Region series he wrote on Midlands authors, the others being Henry<br />
Green, C. Day Lewis, and Hampson. Allen met Auden whilst writing the programme and<br />
saw him sporadically over the next few years. Although Auden claimed that: “Clearer than<br />
Scafell Pike, my heart has stamped on / Th e view from Birmingham to Wolverhampton”<br />
(88), Allen said that he did not think Auden actually regarded himself as a true Birmingham<br />
man. Hampson’s own friendship with Auden was cemented by his bizarre wedding.<br />
Auden himself by this point had married Th omas Mann’s daughter, Erika, in order to<br />
save her from Nazi Germany. He prevailed on Hampson to marry Erika’s friend, Th erese.<br />
Hampson asked Allen what he thought of the suggestion and Allen writes:<br />
I said all the conventional things; I advised caution; later, he might discover he<br />
wasn’t a homosexual, fall in love with a woman and want to marry in the real<br />
sense…. He listened to me and said: “Wystan says, what are buggers for?” I knew<br />
I was defeated. Put in that form, Auden’s appeal, I realised, was irresistible. (56)<br />
Th e ceremony itself is described by Allen, who vied for years with MacNeice over the<br />
53