Letting other people see

It's coming to be that time when I show my chapters to other people so they can proofread them, and it's a strange sensation. Like all writers, I'm protective of my baby, but I'm also curious what impression it will make on friends who have heard me talk about it for so long. I feel a bit like James Spedding did when he had written a biography of Cromwell; he wrote to Tennyson remarking on what he wanted from critics:

"Is it likely that a man, who has written a serious book about anything in the world, should not know more about that thing than one who merely reads his book for the purpose of reviewing it? [...] What I want to know is whether men and women and children who care nothing about me, but take an intelligent interest in the subject, find the book readable. What its other merits are nobody knows so well as I."

Of course, my friends are hardly likely to be painfully critical. But Martin is a proper historian, so letting him see my historically-oriented first chapter makes me nervous that he won't find it rigorous enough. And Ian is a proper ASNC scholar, so he'll detect the places where I've fudged my Anglo-Saxon literary generalizations. Phil writes absolutely gorgeous prose, so when I send him what I think is my best chapter, I'm still aware of all the awkward phrases and stilted transitions that I just can't seem to make better.

Yet for all that, I know I've packed in a lot of original material. One of my favorite things in my PhD is a single footnote. No one else would have been in a position to write it, and it brought a wonderful punch to the point I was trying to make. Naturally, it's about Kemble.

If you recall, two years ago I met up with fellow Kemble enthusiast Simon Keynes over at Trinity. He showed me a pamphlet Kemble had given to his friend Arthur Hallam. Now, in one of my chapters I make the point that Kemble's friends couldn't avoid hearing him ramble on about his latest projects. Apparently, there was a typo in this pamphlet, because there's a funny letter from Hallam to Kemble assuring his friend that he will "cheerfully […] make with pencil or pen that important alteration of swylce for swylke on which the destinies of mankind may be reasonably supposed to depend." So... did Hallam actually make the correction in his copy? I emailed the eminent Dr Keynes, he sent me a photo, and yes! He did! (Or Kemble did before he sent it.) See, look:

(If you're paying close attention, you'll notice that Hallam was slightly confused. Kemble was correcting an earlier scholar's transcription from swyke to swylce, but the printers goofed and swapped the y and the l. That's what needed correcting.)

None of this has any real impact on my argument, but it's just so darn cool.