meant to make me feel in awe and small whenever I heard the word "England":awe at its existence,small because I was not from it.I did not know very much of anything then- certainly not what a blessing it was that I was unable to draw a map of England correctly. 5 After that there were many times of seeing England for the first time.I saw England in history.I knew the names of all the kings of England.I knew the names of their children, their wives,their disappointments,their triumphs,the names of people who betrayed them,I knew the dates on which they were born and the dates they died.I knew their conquests and was made to feel glad if I figured in them;I knew their defeats.I knew the details of the year 1066(the Battle of Hastings3,the end of the reign of the Anglo-Saxon kings)before I knew the details of the year 1832 (the year slavery was abolished).It wasn't as bad as I make it sound now,it was worse.I did like so much hearing again and again how Alfred the Great, traveling in disguise,had been left to watch cakes,and because he wasn't used to this the cakes got burned,and Alfred burned his hands pulling them out of the fire,and the woman who had left him to watch the cakes screamed at him.I loved King Alfred.My grandfather was named after him;his son,my uncle,was named after King Alfred;my brother is named after King Alfred.And so there are three people in my family named after a man they have never met,a man who died over ten centuries ago.The first view I got of England then was not unlike the first view received by the person who named my grandfather. 6 This view,though-the naming of the kings,their deeds,their disappointments-was the vivid view,the forceful view.There were other views,subtler ones,softer,almost not there-but these were the ones that made the most lasting impression on me,these were the ones that made me really feel like nothing."When morning touched the sky"was one phrase, for no morning touched the sky where I lived.The mornings where I lived came on abruptly, with a shock of heat and loud noises."Evening approaches"was another,but the evenings where I lived did not approach;in fact,I had no evening-I had night and I had day and they came and went in a mechanical way:on,off;on,off.And then there were gentle mountains and low blue skies and moors over which people took walks for nothing but pleasure,when where I lived a walk was an act of labor,a burden,something only death or the automobile could relieve.And there were things that a small turn of a head could convey-entire worlds, whole lives would depend on this thing,a certain turn of a head.Everyday life could be quite tiring,more tiring than anything I was told not to do.I was told not to gossip,but they did that all the time.And they ate so much food,violating another of those rules they taught me: do not indulge in gluttony.And the foods they ate actually:if only sometime I could eat cold cuts after theater,cold cuts of lamb and mint sauce,and Yorkshire pudding and scones,and clotted cream,and sausages that came from upcountry (imagine,"up-country").And having troubling thoughts at twilight,a good time to have troubling thoughts,apparently;and servants who stole and left in the middle of a crisis,who were born with a limp or some other kind of deformity,not nourished properly in their mother's womb(that last part I figured out for myself;the point was,oh to have an untrustworthy servant);and wonderful cobbled streets onto which solid front doors opened;and people whose eyes were blue and who hadmeant to make me feel in awe and small whenever I heard the word “England”: awe at its existence, small because I was not from it. I did not know very much of anything then— certainly not what a blessing it was that I was unable to draw a map of England correctly. 5 After that there were many times of seeing England for the first time. I saw England in history. I knew the names of all the kings of England. I knew the names of their children, their wives, their disappointments, their triumphs, the names of people who betrayed them, I knew the dates on which they were born and the dates they died. I knew their conquests and was made to feel glad if I figured in them; I knew their defeats. I knew the details of the year 1066 (the Battle of Hastings3 , the end of the reign of the Anglo-Saxon kings) before I knew the details of the year 1832 (the year slavery was abolished). It wasn’t as bad as I make it sound now; it was worse. I did like so much hearing again and again how Alfred the Great4 , traveling in disguise, had been left to watch cakes, and because he wasn’t used to this the cakes got burned, and Alfred burned his hands pulling them out of the fire, and the woman who had left him to watch the cakes screamed at him. I loved King Alfred. My grandfather was named after him; his son, my uncle, was named after King Alfred; my brother is named after King Alfred. And so there are three people in my family named after a man they have never met, a man who died over ten centuries ago. The first view I got of England then was not unlike the first view received by the person who named my grandfather. 6 This view, though—the naming of the kings, their deeds, their disappointments—was the vivid view, the forceful view. There were other views, subtler ones, softer, almost not there—but these were the ones that made the most lasting impression on me, these were the ones that made me really feel like nothing. “When morning touched the sky” was one phrase, for no morning touched the sky where I lived. The mornings where I lived came on abruptly, with a shock of heat and loud noises. “Evening approaches” was another, but the evenings where I lived did not approach; in fact, I had no evening—I had night and I had day and they came and went in a mechanical way: on, off; on, off. And then there were gentle mountains and low blue skies and moors over which people took walks for nothing but pleasure, when where I lived a walk was an act of labor, a burden, something only death or the automobile could relieve. And there were things that a small turn of a head could convey—entire worlds, whole lives would depend on this thing, a certain turn of a head. Everyday life could be quite tiring, more tiring than anything I was told not to do. I was told not to gossip, but they did that all the time. And they ate so much food, violating another of those rules they taught me: do not indulge in gluttony. And the foods they ate actually: if only sometime I could eat cold cuts after theater, cold cuts of lamb and mint sauce, and Yorkshire pudding and scones, and clotted cream, and sausages that came from upcountry (imagine, “up-country”). And having troubling thoughts at twilight, a good time to have troubling thoughts, apparently; and servants who stole and left in the middle of a crisis, who were born with a limp or some other kind of deformity, not nourished properly in their mother’s womb (that last part I figured out for myself; the point was, oh to have an untrustworthy servant); and wonderful cobbled streets onto which solid front doors opened; and people whose eyes were blue and who had