Edward Mendelson
The New York Review of Books - March 20, 2014
W.H. Auden had a secret life that his closest friends knew little or
nothing about. Everything about it was generous and honorable. He kept
it secret because he would have been ashamed to have been praised for
it.
I learned about it mostly by chance, so it may have been far more
extensive than I or anyone ever knew. Once at a party I met a woman who
belonged to the same Episcopal church that Auden attended in the 1950s,
St. Mark’s in-the-Bowery in New York. She told me that Auden heard that
an old woman in the congregation was suffering night terrors, so he took
a blanket and slept in the hallway outside her apartment until she felt
safe again.
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