Yours truly
G. P. R. JAMES
In a letter dated April 1, 1849, and addressed to Mr. Davison, he says:
“I understand you have got a potato. Can you spare half of it, for we
have not that. But to speak seriously, which is not my wont, Mrs.
James has heard from Mrs. H. that on your farm there are some capital
praties, and as we have been languishing for some of the jewels for
the last month without being able to get anything edible or
digestible, if this rumor of your _riches_ is correct, will you spare
a sack or two to a poor man in want, and what will be the cost of the
same, delivered in Farnham safe, sound and in good condition—wind and
weather permitting. The truth is I have no horse to send for them; and
neither cow nor calf have learned to draw yet. I have had no time to
teach them, or to buy a horse either. I wish any one else had half my
work and I half of theirs—I’d take it and give a premium.”
How busy he was after his arrival in America may be seen from a letter
dated October 27, 1850:
“I fear that it would be quite impossible for me to rewrite the first
four numbers of the tale you speak of. Applications for lectures have
come in so rapidly that I have not one single evening vacant and the
evening would be the only time which I could devote to such a purpose
as all my mornings must be given up to the fulfilment of my
engagements with England and to traveling from place to place. You may
easily imagine how much I am occupied when I tell you that during the
whole month I am about to stay in Boston, there is not one night which
has not its lecture fixed there or at some place in the neighborhood.
The delay in London however, of which I had not heard till I received
your letters is favorable, as it will enable me to get the proofs over
in good time. The four parts are in type, I understand, and I have
written over two thumping letters to the printers scolding them for
not sending the proof as they are bound by contract to do. One of
these letters was posted three weeks ago, so that we may expect the
proofs in a week or ten days. In regard to the name, it is certainly
curious that one name should have been taken three times but I do not
see how it is possible for me to alter it now when it is announced in
London. I was not at all aware that any work had before appeared under
a similar title, but you could head it _James’s_ story without a name
in the Magazine, but if any other title is given it must be by
yourselves and not by
“Yours faithfully,
“G. P. R. JAMES.”
Soon after his arrival in America he appears to have become involved in
some trouble with publishers. He writes from New York on October 24,
1850, to Ollier:
*** “Send no more sheets to Mr. Law till you hear from me again. My
eyes have been opened since my arrival here. Four times the sum now
paid can be obtained from Messrs. Harper, and negotiations are going
on with them in which they must not have the advantage of having the
sheets. You shall not lose by any new arrangement—of that you may
trust to the word of one who has I think never failed you.”
He adds, in a postscript: “Tell him [Mr. Newby] I have been shamefully
imposed upon by false statements of the sale here and if I had taken his
advice I should have been some hundreds of pounds richer.”
On October 5, 1851, he writes from Stockbridge to Ollier:
“I have not written to you earlier because I wanted to find the treaty
with Russia in regard to Copyright, and also to see the head of a
great German house here in America so as to put you in the way of
negotiating for the sale of my next book in Germany. But I have been
too lame to leave my own house for anything but a morning drive. I am
so far better that I can now walk out for a mile or two, but my right
hand and arm remain very painful. However, I think I shall be able to
go to New York in ten days and will write to you from that place.*** I
am anxious to dedicate the first book I write to my own satisfaction,
to Lord Charles Clinton. He is one of the noblest-minded men I ever
met with—all truth and honor and straightforwardness. If you see him
will you ask him for me whether he has any objection. The Fate is
highly popular here—considered the best book I ever wrote—by the
critics at least. The whole of the first chapter was read in the
Supreme Court the other day before Chief Justice SHAW to prove what
was the state of England in the reign of James II. So says the ‘N. Y.
Evening Post’ and I suppose it is true. I wish I had you here with me
to see the splendor of an American autumn in the most lovely scene.
The landscape is all on fire with the coloring of the foliage and yet
so harmoniously blended are the tints, from the brightest crimson to
the deep green of the pines that the effect is that of a continuous
sunset. Mountains, forests, lakes, streams are all in a glow round.”
A letter to Ollier, written at Stockbridge on March 22, 1852, deals with
some financial matters and then proceeds:
“I am glad to hear what you say of _Revenge_—though the title is not
one I would myself have chosen, there being a tale of that name in the
book of the Passions. I think it is a good book, better in conception
than in execution perhaps. Your comparison of Richardson and Johnson
with myself and you will not hold. You are scantily remunerated for
much trouble. Johnson had done nothing that I can remember for
Richardson. As to Richardson’s parsimony towards the great, good man,
you explain it all in one word. The former was rich. Do you remember
the fine poem of Gaffer Grey—Holcrofft’s I believe—
‘The poor man alone,
To the poor man’s moan,
Of his morsel a morsel will give Gaffer Grey.’
“But this rule is not without splendid exceptions, of which I will one
day give you an instance, which I think will touch you much. At
present I am writing in great haste in the grey of the morning with
snow all around me, the thermometer at 18, and my hand nearly frozen.
Verily, we have here to pay for the hot summer and gorgeous autumn in
the cold silver coinage of winter.”
Another letter of his written from Winchester, Virginia, November 6,
1853, to Ollier, has some interest. He writes thus:
“MY DEAR OLLIER: Long before the arrival of your kind letter, which
reached me only two days ago, I had directed Messrs. Harper to send me
a revise of the first page of _Ticonderoga_, in order to transmit it
to you for the correction of errors which had crept into the Ms.
through the stupidity of the drunken beast who wrote it under my
dictation. Harpers have never sent the revise, but I think it better
to write at once in order to have one correction and one alteration
made, which must be effected even at the cost of a cancel of the
page—which of course I will pay for. The very first sentence should
have inverted commas before it. These have been omitted in the copy
left here, as well as the words ‘so he wrote’ or something tantamount,
inserted at the end of the first clause of that sentence.***
I cannot feel that an appointment of any small value, to the dearest
and most unhealthy city in the United States (with the exception of
New Orleans) is altogether what I had a right to hope for or expect.
You must recollect that I never asked for the consulate of Virginia,
where there is neither society for my family, resources or
companionship for myself, nor education to be procured for my little
boy—where I am surrounded by swamps and marsh miasma, eaten up by
mosquitoes and black flies, and baked under an atmosphere of molten
brass, with the thermometer in the shade at 103—where every article of
first necessity, with the exception of meat, is sixty per cent. dearer
than in London—where the only literature is the ledger, and the arts
only illustrated in the slave market.
I hesitated for weeks ere I accepted; and only did so at length upon
the assurances given that this was to be a step to something better,
and upon the conviction that I was killing myself by excessive
literary labors. Forgive me for speaking somewhat bitterly; but I feel
I have not been well used. You have known me more than thirty years,
and during that time I do not think you ever before heard a complaint
issue from my lips. I am not a habitual grumbler; but ‘the galled jade
will wince.’
I am very grateful to Scott for his kind efforts, and perhaps they may
be successful; for Lord Clarendon, who is I believe a perfect
gentleman himself, when he comes to consider the society in which I
have been accustomed to move, my character, my habits of thought, and
the sort of place which Norfolk is—if he knows anything about it—must
see that I am not in my proper position there. He has no cause of
enmity or ill will towards me, and my worst enemy could not wish me a
more unpleasant position. If I thought that I was serving my country
there better than I could elsewhere, I would remain without asking for
a change; but the exact reverse is the case. The slave dealers have
got up a sort of outcry against me—I believe because under Lord
Clarendon’s own orders I have successfully prosecuted several cases of
kidnapping negroes from the West Indies—and the consequence is that
not a fortnight passes but an attempt is made to burn my house down.
The respectable inhabitants of Norfolk are indignant at this treatment
of a stranger, and the authorities have offered a reward of three
hundred dollars for the apprehension of the offenders; but nothing has
proved successful. This outcry is altogether unjust and unreasonable;
for I have been perfectly silent upon the question of slavery since I
have been here, judging that I had no business to meddle with the
institutions of a foreign country in any way. But I will not suffer
any men, when I can prevent or punish it, to reduce to slavery British
subjects without chastisement.
You will be sorry to hear that this last year in Norfolk has been very
injurious to my health; and I am just now recovering from a sharp
attack of the fever and ague peculiar to this climate. It seized me
just as I set out for the West—the great, the extraordinary West.
Quinine had no effect upon it, but I learned a remedy in Wisconsin
which has cured the disease entirely though I am still very weak.***
He seems to have been tormented by ill health during all his period of
residence at Norfolk. He writes to Ollier:
BRITISH CONSULATE, NORFOLK, VIRGINIA,
7th April, 1855.
MY DEAR OLLIER:—It has been impossible for me to write to you and it
is now only possible for me to write a few lines as I have already had
to do more than my tormented and feeble hands could well accomplish.
For 10 weeks I was nailed to my chair with rheumatic gout in knees,
feet, hips, hands, shoulder. For some time I could only sign my
dispatches with my left hand and to some letters put my mark. Happily
my feet, knees, &c., are well, but I cannot get the enemy out of my
hands and arms. My shoulder is Sebastapol and will not yield.
Another letter, also in my possession, I have caused to be printed
elsewhere. It is addressed to Ollier, and was written from Farnham,
Surrey, on July 26, 1848.
My dear Ollier: I do not suppose that I shall be in town for a few
days, and I think in the meantime it would be better to send me down
the sheets with any observations you may have to make. I shall be very
happy to cut, carve, alter and amend to the best of my ability. The
‘sum’ can only be described as ‘Heaven, Hell and Earth’, or if you
like it better, ‘upstairs, downstairs, in my lady’s chamber.’ But I
suppose neither of these descriptions would be very attractive and
therefore perhaps you had better put ‘The Sky, the hall of Eblis,
South Asia’. When it maketh its appearance you had better for your own
sake take care of the reviewing; for I cannot help thinking that with
the critics at least, my name attached to it is likely to do it more
harm than good, unless friendly hands undertake the reviewing. The
literary world always puts me in mind of the account which naturalists
give of the birds called Puffs and Rees which alight in great bodies
upon high downs and then each bird forms a little circle in which he
runs round and round. As long as each continues this healthful
exercise on the spot he has first chosen, all goes on quietly; but the
moment any one ventures out of his own circle, all the rest fall upon
him and very often a general battle ensues. I wish you could do
anything for my book _Gowrie or the King’s Plot_. I had a good deal of
money embarked in it.
Yours faithfully,
G. P. R. JAMES.
My letter of latest date indicates the time when he was transferred to
Richmond.
BRITISH CONSULATE, NORFOLK, VA.
3 May, 1856.
MY DEAR MR. KENNEDY: *** Lord Clarendon has ordered me to make every
preparation for moving the Consulate of Virginia up to Richmond but
not to do so until he has nominated a Vice Consul for Norfolk. He also
wishes me to send him a detailed report regarding the late epidemic
here and what between house hunting, office hunting, and trying to run
down those foxes called rumors into their holes and to draw truth up
from the bottom of her well in a place where people are as fanatical
upon contagion and non-contagion as if they were articles of faith, I
have had no peace of my life. My book I would have sent you but I
could not get a copy worth sending. It has found favor in the South
and is powerfully abused in the North, both which circumstances tend
to increase the sale so that it has been wonderfully well read.***
I am sorry I did not think of taking notes of all the winning
conversations at Berkeley. We might have made out together some few
from the Noctes Berkelianae.
Yours ever,
G. P. R. JAMES.
I was interested not long ago in a remark of the accomplished literary
reviewer of the _Providence Journal_ about reading for boys. He said:
“As a matter of fact, there is plenty of good, healthy reading for boys
if parents and teachers would do more to bring it to their attention. To
say nothing of Scott—whom some degenerate youngsters in these days
profess to find stupid—there are Ainsworth, G. P. R. James, Mayne Reid
and hosts of others who can tell stories of adventure that any healthy
minded boy will enjoy.” I know well the sound and refined judgments of
my Providence friend,—who castigated me once for my opinion that Cowper
was not much read in these times—but I do not understand how he can
imagine a boy of the twentieth century condescending to read Ainsworth
or James. First and foremost, the novels are too long. The conventional
three volumes demanded by the English public are revolting to the minds
of the modern boys who want their fiction condensed and flavored with
tabasco sauce. The Providence critic and I know—or think we know—what
they ought to read, what would be good for their intellectual digestion;
but we might as well offer them pre-digested tablets in lieu of
chocolate creams. The young person will not now subsist on a diet of
Ainsworth or of James. The long-spun dialogue would bore him. He calls
for something more piquant; revels in slang; wants “sensation” and
plenty of it, compressed in a small compass. As for the parents, they do
not know much better themselves. The man of Providence well says: “The
trouble is, as was pointed out in these columns recently in discussing
the reading of girls, that the home atmosphere is all against any
intelligent selection of books.” The prevalent antagonism to all that is
called “old-fashioned” is not limited to the young people, and the
novels of James are, in comparison with the novels of to-day as
old-fashioned as are the plays of Massinger in comparison with those of
Bernard Shaw.
James has been compared to Dumas, and there are many things in common
between the two authors—their voluminous publications, their bent
towards the historical, and their use of an amanuensis. A critic, not
very well disposed towards James, says in regard to this comparison,
“both had a certain gift of separating from the picturesque parts of
history what could without difficulty be worked up into picturesque
fiction, and both were possessed of a ready pen. Here, however, the
likeness ends. Of purely literary talent, James had little. His plots
are poor, his descriptions weak, his dialogue often below even a fair
average, and he was deplorably prone to repeat himself.”[68] This harsh
judgment appears to me to be far too severe. His descriptions are not
weak, and he surely had an advantage over Dumas in the matter of decency
and morality.
But the most ardent admirers of this hard-working and conscientious
toiler in the fields of literature must own that in all his
multitudinous pages he has not given to the world a single character
which has endured in the popular mind, and the Podsnap virtue of having
written no word which could bring a blush to the cheek of the young
person, cannot remedy this flaw in his title. Writers who rival him in
productiveness but who are in respects inferior to him, have
nevertheless secured a more permanent place in the hall of fame, because
they have been able to give to some of their personages a real and
distinctive life. Leather-Stocking and Long Tom Coffin shine forth from
the many wearisome chapters of Fenimore Cooper, Count Fosco and Captain
Wragge from the ephemeral volumes of Wilkie Collins, and Mrs. Proudie
from the placid chronicles of Anthony Trollope, but they have no kinsmen
in the works of James. Even in the historical stories no individual
stands forth like Louis XI. in _Quentin Durward_ or Rienzi in Bulwer’s
stirring tale. Nor has he left to posterity any brilliant _tour de
force_ like the “Dick Turpin’s Ride” of Harrison Ainsworth.
Whatever may be said of the diffuseness and sameness of the stories, of
their want of definite plan, their lack of strength in the development
of the characters who throng their pages, and the evidence they afford
of hasty composition, it must be admitted that they are clean and
dignified in tone and that they display a wonderful acquaintance with
history as well as a faithful and conscientious use of materials
gathered with infinite pains and laborious research. These qualities,
however, are not those which ensure literary immortality; and while it
is possible that the best of the books may find from time to time
readers incited to peruse them by a certain curiosity, and while the
lovers of good stories may enjoy them, it is not likely that they will
ever rank with the novels of Scott, of Thackeray, of Dickens, or even of
Marryat and Lever, although they may occupy a place on the shelves of
our libraries by the side of the old romances of the period of _Amadis
de Gaul_ or the forgotten tales of the younger Crébillon.
APPENDIX
A LIST OF THE WORKS OF G. P. R. JAMES
It is difficult to give an accurate list of James’s books with the dates
of their publication. The one given by Allibone is the most complete,
but it is not always correct. The catalogue of the British Museum
enumerates sixty-seven novels. The following does not include merely
edited works or those prepared in collaboration with others, with a few
exceptions. Those marked with an asterisk are reprinted in the collected
edition of 1844–1849. I was much helped not only in correcting the
Allibone list, but in the preparation of the sketch of James, by the
late G. H. Sass of Charleston, S. C., who was probably better informed
about the subject than any one else in this country.
Life of Edward the Black Prince: 2 vols.: 1822. [Some accounts give
1836: See _ante_, page 136.]
The Ruined City: a poem.
Richelieu: 3 vols.: 1829.
*Darnley: 3 vols.: 1830.
*Del’Orme: 3 vols.: 1830.
*Philip Augustus: 3 vols.: 1831.
Memoirs of Great Commanders: 3 vols.: 1832.
*Henry Masterton: 3 vols.: 1832.
History of Charlemagne. 1832.
*Mary of Burgundy: 3 vols.: 1833.
*Delaware: 3 vols.: 1833: (reprinted under title of “Thirty Years
Since,” 1848).
*John Marston Hall: 3 vols.: 1834: (reprinted under title of “The Little
Ball o’ Fire,” 1847).
*One in a Thousand: 3 vols.: 1835.
*The Gipsey: 3 vols.: 1835.
Educational Institutions of Germany: 1836.
Lives of the Most Eminent Foreign Statesman: 5 vols.: 4 by James, 1836,
[1832?] 1838.
Attila: 3 vols.: 1837.
Memoirs of Celebrated Women: 3 vols. (?) 1837.
*The Robber: 3 vols.: 1838.
Book of the Passions: 1838.
History of Louis XIV. 4 vols.: 1838.
*The Huguenot: 3 vols.: 1838.
Blanche of Navarre: a play: 1839.
Charles Tyrrell: 2 vols.: 1839.
*The Gentleman of the Old School: 3 vols.: 1839.
*Henry of Guise: 3 vols.: 1839.
History of the United States Boundary Question: 1839.
*The King’s Highway: 3 vols.: 1840.
The Man at Arms: 3 vols.: 1840.
Rose d’Albret: 3 vols.: 1840.
The Jacquerie: 3 vols.: 1841.
The Vernon Letters: 3 vols.: (edited). 1841.
*Castleneau; or the Ancient Régime: 3 vols.: 1841.
*The Brigand; or Corse de Léon: 3 vols.: 1841.
Corn Laws.
History of Richard Cœur de Lion: 4 vols.: 1841–42.
Commissioner; or De Lunatico Inquirendo: 1842.
*Morley Ernstein: 3 vols.: 1842.
Eva St. Clair, and Other Tales: 2 vols.: 1843.
The False Heir: 3 vols.: 1843.
*Forest Days: 3 vols.: 1843.
History of Chivalry: 1843.
*Arabella Stuart: 3 vols.: 1843.
*Agincourt: 3 vols.: 1844.
Arrah Neil: 3 vols.: 1845.
The Smuggler: 3 vols.: 1845.
Heidelberg: 3 vols.: 1846.
The Stepmother: 3 vols.: 1846.
Whim and its Consequences: 3 vols.: 1847.
Margaret Graham: 2 vols.: 1847.
The Last of the Fairies: 1847.
The Castle of Ehrenstein: 3 vols.: 1847.
The Woodman: 3 vols.: 1847.
The Convict: 3 vols.: 1847.
Life of Henry IV. of France: 3 vols.: 1847.
Russell: 3 vols.: 1847.
Sir Theodore Broughton: 3 vols.: 1847.
Beauchamp: 3 vols.: 1848.
Carmazalaman; a Fairy Drama: 1848.
The Fight of the Fiddlers: 1848.
Forgery; or Best Intentions: 3 vols.: 1848.
*Gowrie; or the King’s Plot: 1848.
Dark Scenes of History: 3 vols.: 1849.
John Jones’ Tales from English History: 2 vols.: 1849.
A String of Pearls: 2 vols.: 1849. [His first written book; published
1833 (?); Allibone assigns its publication to 1849].
Ireland’s “David Rizzio”: 1849: (edited).
Heathfield’s “Means of Relief from Taxation”: 1849: (edited).
Henry Smeaton: 3 vols.: 1850.
The Fate: 3 vols.: 1851.
Revenge: (sometimes called A Story Without a Name): 3 vols.: 1851.
Pequinillo: 3 vols.: 1852.
Adrian; or the Clouds of the Mind: (jointly with M. B. Field): 2 vols.:
1852.
Agnes Sorel: 3 vols.: 1853.
Ticonderoga; or the Black Eagle: 3 vols.: 1854.
Prince Life: 1855.
The Old Dominion; or the Southampton Massacre: 3 vols.: 1856.
Lord Montagu’s Page: 1858.
The Cavalier: (Bernard March?): 1859.
Adra; or the Peruvians: a poem: (_circa_, 1829).
The City of the Silent: a poem.
The Desultory Man: 3 vols.
Life of Vicissitudes.
My Aunt Pontypool: 3 vols.
The Old Oak Chest: 3 vols.
-----
Footnote 1:
Trevelyan’s Life of Macaulay, I, 93.
Footnote 2:
Tennyson: E. L. Cary, 19.
Footnote 3:
A Great Punch Editor, London, 1907.
Footnote 4:
My Study Windows, 337.
Footnote 5:
See a review in _The Literary Collector_, September, 1905.
Footnote 6:
See Temple Bar Edition, iii, 51–52.
Footnote 7:
Blackwood, April, 1827.
Footnote 8:
Sala’s Life and Adventures (1896), 83.
Footnote 9:
Axon’s Memoir, xxiii: _The World_, March 28, 1878.
Footnote 10:
Forster’s Dickens, i. 141.
Footnote 11:
Life of Lady Blessington, iii. 226, 227.
Footnote 12:
_Idem._, iii. 224.
Footnote 13:
January 3, 1840: Letters, Am. Edition, 1870, ii. p. 218.
Footnote 14:
Forster’s _Life of Dickens_, I, 118.
Footnote 15:
Life of Cruikshank (1882), i, 48–49.
Footnote 16:
Dictionary of National Biography, _Cruikshank_.
Footnote 17:
Vol. I, 211.
Footnote 18:
See introduction to Biographical Edition of Thackeray, IV. 19.
Footnote 19:
British Artists from Hogarth to Turner, ii, 59.
Footnote 20:
Vol. ii, 321–322.
Footnote 21:
Dict. Nat. Biog., i, 198.
Footnote 22:
Autobiography, iv, 390–393.
Footnote 23:
As a matter of curiosity, I examined the twenty-one novels composing
the “Revised Edition” of 1844–1849 to ascertain just how many
introduced the horseman or horsemen in the first chapter. Seven
disclose them; in eight they are absent; in four, the horsemen are “a
party”; in two, they appear in the second chapter, the first being
merely introductory.
Footnote 24:
Brander Matthews: Aspects of Fiction, 153.
Footnote 25:
They are said to have caused the death of Oliver Goldsmith, and
pamphlets were published on the subject. Foster’s _Oliver Goldsmith_,
II. 461–463.
Footnote 26:
Boswell (Geo. Birkbeck Hill’s Edition), I. 183.
Footnote 27:
_Id._, III. 442.
Footnote 28:
Memories: by M. B. Field p. 188—Harper’s, 1874.
Footnote 29:
Allibone gives the date of publication as 1849; but it must have been
published in some form prior to May 17, 1833. See _post_, page 184.
Footnote 30:
Works Vol. I. “The Gipsey,” vii.
Footnote 31:
Dictionary of National Biography, xxix, 209–210.
Footnote 32:
Fitzpatrick’s Life of Lever, II. 21.
Footnote 33:
This is all according to Field, and may be taken for what it is worth.
Footnote 34:
Memoirs, 191–195.
Footnote 35:
It is said, but on rather dubious authority, that he was sometimes
called “George Prince Regent James,” and that many believed it to be
his real name.
Footnote 36:
See Appendix.
Footnote 37:
Works, Vol. I. xiv.
Footnote 38:
Letter to Cunningham, _post_, page—.
Footnote 39:
Letter of C. L. James.
Footnote 40:
English Lands, Letters and Kings, 284.
Footnote 41:
Life of Lever, II. 21.
Footnote 42:
Fitzpatrick’s Life of Lever II. 418.
Footnote 43:
Noctes Ambrosianæ, II. 370—Blackwood Edition, 1887.
Footnote 44:
Marginalia, Black’s Edition—III. 393.
Footnote 45:
Hall’s Book of Memories, 263.
Footnote 46:
Jerdan’s Autobiography, iv 210.
Footnote 47:
It was R. H. Horne. A New Spirit of the Age (1844) p. 136.
Footnote 48:
London Athenæum, April 11, 1846.
Footnote 49:
Dublin University Magazine, March, 1842.
Footnote 50:
Essays and Reviews, ii, 116, 137.
Footnote 51:
Derby’s Fifty Years Among Authors, etc. 405.
Footnote 52:
My Confidences, 161.
Footnote 53:
My Confidences, 533, 534.
Footnote 54:
Mr. Gladstone succeeded Lord Ripon as President of the Board of Trade
and took his seat in the Cabinet on May 19, 1843.
Footnote 55:
American Lands and Letters, II. 252.
Footnote 56:
Life of Cooper, 268.
Footnote 57:
Life and Letters of Bayard Taylor, I, 203.
Footnote 58:
Hawthorne and his Circle, 33, 34.
Footnote 59:
Vol. I, 422–423.
Footnote 60:
Hawthorne and his Wife, I. 415.
Footnote 61:
_Id._ 397, 398.
Footnote 62:
A little bit snobbish for a Hawthorne, is it not?
Footnote 63:
Observe how Mr. Julian Hawthorne wholly omits the point of the
observation about the pleasure excursion.
Footnote 64:
Life of Hawthorne and his Wife, I. 422–424.
Footnote 65:
Life of H. W. Longfellow, by Stephen Longfellow, II. 177.
Footnote 66:
_Id._, 182.
Footnote 67:
Charles Ollier, 1788–1859.
Footnote 68:
Encyclopædia Britannica, XIII. 561 (Ninth Edition).
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