On book borrowing: forming part of a literary history seen through the perspective of a book from Charles Lamb's library.
--Samuel Taylor Coleridge, May 2, 1811
COLERIDGE WROTE THESE WORDS ON THE BACK FLYLEAF OF A COPY OF John Donne's Poems owned by Charles Lamb. (1) It would not be the first book he returned to his friend with predictions of imminent death or marginalia destined to outlive both men. A few months later, in Lamb's folio of the plays of Francis Beaumont and John Fletcher, Coleridge prophesied: "I shall not be long here, Charles! I gone, you will not mind my having spoiled a book in order to leave a Relic." (2) In reality, Coleridge was nowhere near death, and while he may not have known that, he certainly did know that he was not spoiling Lamb's book. "Spite of Appearances," he wrote on Lamb's 1669 edition of Donne, "this Copy is the better for the Mss. Notes. The Annotator himself says so." (3) Lest there should be any doubt about the annotator, he signed the note (as he did others) "S.T.C." Coleridge was a master of that scattered genre, marginalia, a term he himself coined. He was voluminous in his marginal commentary, so much so that Princeton University Press had to devote no less than six hefty volumes--one of them over twelve hundred pages--in his Collected Works to it. In Lamb's essay "The Two Races of Men," Lamb spoke teasingly of the manuscript notes Coleridge left in his books as "vying with the originals" not only in quality, but also "not unfrequently" in terms of quantity. (4)
Indeed, Coleridge was not above commenting on his own comments. "N.B. Tho' I have scribbled in it," he wrote in Lamb's copy of Donne, "this is & was Mr Charles Lamb's Book, who is likewise the Possessor & (I believe) lawful Proprietor of all the Volumes of the 'Old Plays' excepting one." (5) He was referring to the third volume of Lamb's twelve-volume set of Robert Dodsley's Select Collection of Old Plays, which he had lost. The volume included a revenge tragedy, a history, and three Jacobean comedies (John Webster's The White Devil, Jasper Fisher's Fuimos Troes, Robert Tailor's The Hog Hath Lost his Pearl, John Cooke's Greene's Tu Quoque, and Thomas Dekker and Thomas Middleton's The Honest Whore), and for Lamb, it was "perhaps the most valuable volume of them all." (6) Coleridge had borrowed it along with Lamb's copies of Samuel Daniel's Poems and Philip Sidney's Arcadia. "Pray, if you can," Lamb pleaded, "remember what you did with it, or where you took it out with you a walking perhaps; for, to use the old plea, it spoils a set. " (7) But Coleridge could not remember, and, on this occasion, having loaned his books to Coleridge, Lamb wound up with an unsightly gap in his bookshelves and two books made valuable not only because Lamb owned them but, more importantly, because he and Coleridge wrote in them.
These two races of men--lenders and borrowers, Lamb and Coleridge-were connected through what is called, in the book trade, the association copy, and also, more generally, through what we might call the principle of association. Lamb's library was a living nexus of association. The nodes of that network included books as well as readers, annotators, owners, booksellers, and a multitude of bookish encounters and events. To follow patterns of association between books, or between people who have been involved in the life of a book, is to build so many paths to, and through, a lost world of letters. Embracing the associational principle as a literary critical technique--belletristic and book historical, biographical and bibliographical--this essay will explore literary history from the perspective of the book. The story it contains will be transatlantic, spanning the gap from Lamb's bookshelves to Greenwich Street in lower Manhattan, and our primary means of conveyance will be that same octavo edition bearing the marks of Lamb, Coleridge, and various other hands since the seventeenth century: Poems, &c. By John Donne, late Dean of St. Pauls. With elegies on the authors death. To which is added divers copies under has own hand, never before printed.
Lamb's Books on Broadway: Charles Welford
Our story begins with the death of Mary Lamb in May of 1847. Mary survived her brother by fourteen years, and during that time the size of his library dwindled, as Lamb's friends and acquaintances walked off with his books--a process enabled no doubt by Mary's frequent bouts of madness and generosity of spirit. When she died, Lamb's adoptive son-in-law, the publisher Edward Moxon (who had married the Lambs's adopted daughter Emma Isolda) took charge of the remaining books as executor of his estate. The collection had been culled together from bookstalls and the dusty recesses of the second-hand bookshop. Lamb's friend Henry Crabb Robinson judged it "the finest collection of shabby books" he had ever seen. (8) The books were dog-eared and ragged, having been, variously, rescued from the rain, stripped of engravings, detached from their covers, sewn or glued back together, singed with smoke, soaked with gin, sprinkled with crumbs, and, as Coleridge would say, bescribbled. "Such a number of first-rate works of genius, but filthy copes, which a delicate man would really hesitate touching, is," Crabb Robinson declared, "nowhere to be found." (9) By the light of day, Lamb was himself embarrassed by them. "We have got our books into our new house," he wrote from Enfield in 1827: "I am a drayhorse if I was not asham'd of the indigested dirty lumber, as I toppled 'em out of the cart." (10)
Yet the tattered nature of Lamb's books was testament to their vitality. Lamb was aware of this, and on one occasion, when he sent Coleridge a box of books, he included this warning: "If you find the Miltons in certain parts dirtied and soiled with a crumb of right Gloucester blacked in the candle (my usual supper), or peradventure a stray ash of tobacco wafted into the crevices, look to that passage more especially: depend upon it, it contains good matter." (11) Lamb is being whimsical, but the stray bits of cheese and tobacco left in the book operate as signs, as he suggests. In another of Lamb's books, a copy of Sir Thomas Browne's Pseudodoxia Epidemica which he gave to Coleridge--and which Coleridge turned around and gave to Sara Hutchison, who in turn gave or relinquished it to Wordsworth, who signed his name on the tide page--Coleridge provides a more detailed index to the signs he left in the book:
* a profound or at least solid and judicious observation = majesty of conception or style // sublimity x brilliance or ingenuity Q characteristic quaintness F an error in fact or philosophy (12)
While the pristine, uncut, and hence unread book was prized by a certain kind of collector, Lamb's books were relics of more than one literary life. The more smudged and manhandled, the more their associational value. In the voice of Elia, Lamb asserts that Coleridge's marginalia trebled the value of his books. (13) The metric here is not that of the marketplace, but the sentimental, intellectual, scholarly quotient of the books. Lamb's books are interesting in a way that Sianne Ngai has described as an aesthetic category, one that involves being drawn to return, again and again, to the interesting object. (14)
Moxon the publisher, however, viewed Lamb's books through a more traditional aesthetic, and found that they came up short of beautiful. He would have given the lot of them to University College, but decided that they would not be worth their accepting. (15) In the end, he selected sixty of the volumes that seemed most worth saving, and disposed of the rest. When the Bostonian publisher James T. Fields visited Moxon at his London office in Dover Street three months later, he saw Lamb's books on Moxon's own shelves. "Today Moxon showed me the remnant of Elia's library, and gave me a copy of the 'Rape of the Lock' that once belonged to Charles Lamb, and contained some manuscript pages in his handwriting," Fields wrote on 23 August 1847. (16) It seems Moxon was continuing the tradition of Mary Lamb in giving Lamb's books away. But the bulk of the library was not destined for Boston, or Fields's famous Old Corner Bookstore.
Instead, it wound up in New York. When Crabb Robinson heard what had become of the survivors from Lamb's shelves, he professed disbelief that Moxon had "really sold Lamb's books to some American" for a mere 10[pounds sterling]: "This cannot be true, and if true so much the worse." (17) But the man who purchased Lamb's books had a more transatlantic identity than this scandalized response would imply. Charles Welford, son of a London bookseller, was a consummate bookman and an established figure in the book trade on both sides of the Atlantic. He was known, in the words of another London publisher, for "the extent and exactness" of his bibliographical expertise and for his "extraordinary knowledge of literature, ancient and modern." (18) With a knack for seizing the key features of a book, and a memory capable of retaining them, he had become "a walking cyclopaedia." (19) Welford had moved to New York from London the year Lamb died, and taken a job with Daniel Appleton & Company, the most prominent bookselling business (which included publishing at that time) in the city. "I can't conceive what this Mr. Welford is doing as clerk in a book store," mused a bibliophile who would buy some of Lamb's books; "He seems to know something about everything--talks about Sanskrit roots, Polyglots, scarce editions, boustrophedon inscriptions, and everything of the sort." (20) He also seemed "perfectly well acquainted with the works of many authors not often read, and well versed in all sorts of literature"; one would "think he might find a better situation than that of a clerk." (21) The prediction would soon prove true.
Welford left Appleton's in 1840 and started a business in partnership with John Russell Bartlett. Bartlett had been dealing with the London bookseller William C. Hall in acquiring books for the John Carter Brown library at Brown University. Providence was a small town, and Bartlett and Brown knew each other, but though he had worked in retail before moving to New York, he had no experience in the book business. Welford, on the other hand, had experience but no books. Together, they established what would become, like Boston's Old Corner Bookstore, a hub of the mid nineteenth-century literary world: Bartlett & Welford's "Antiquarian Bookstore and Repository for Standard Literature." The store opened on Broadway, on the first floor of the Astor House beneath the Astor Hotel, in New York. (22) The partners divided responsibilities, with Welford taking charge of book acquisition, and Bartlett of sales and accounting. They printed a catalogue of some three thousand "Books, Ancient and Modern, in Every Department of Literature and Science," and, like most bookstores, did some publishing. (23)
As most antiquarian books in America were imported from England, Welford left Bartlett back at the shop and traveled to London to scout for old books. After a ten-year absence, he no longer felt at home in the great metropolis, which he called a "great Babel," and with little over three hundred dollars in his pocket, he was not positioned well to do much. (24) Antiquarian books were becoming more expensive and scarce, having been snapped up in the book collecting mania of the 1830s, on both sides of the Atlantic. He took lodgings at 21 Mount Street, Grosvenor Square, and on 3 July 1846, complained to Bartlett: "I am too much out of humour, & out of spirits to write more than a few lines now. What on earth can I do in a place like London with barely money enough to buy my lodgings?" (25) He had less to spend on books than he had seen a rival (the American collector Henry T. Stevens) spend on binding for a single set. (26) Two weeks later he found himself "without a penny, & only indebted to chance for the means of procuring a dinner." (27) Yet, business was slow and Bartlett had no money to send him. In the margins of one of Welford's epistolary laments, he scribbled: "It was unnecessary to inflict on me a second abusive letter. You know perfectly my situation & that it was totally out of my power to remit you money when my liabilities here were actually beyond my receipts." (28) This "Answer," as he labeled it, immediately follows the pathetic last sentence of Welford's letter dated 3 August 1846: "What can you expect but that my next letter should be dated from the alms house or a Prison?" (29) But Welford was soon to make a deal that would cause a sensation in the transatlantic book world.
Lamb's reputation had been growing steadily since his death. "The Americans may be said to have taken the lead in this cordial recognition," Thomas Noon Talfourd wrote in his Memoirs of Charles Lamb', "Not content with relishing his 'official' writings, they set the example of diligently collecting all his scattered essays and even his most careless scraps." (30) This was true not only of editors, who set about compiling and publishing Lamb's miscellaneous writing, but of collectors who sought out his books, manuscripts, and other material relics of the author. As Crabb Robinson describes the event, Welford spoke with Moxon "of the idolatry with which Lamb's memory and writings were regarded in his country, and persuaded the publisher that no greater homage could be paid to that memory than to allow these relics to pass into their custody." (31) By February 1848, Lamb's books would be on display at Bartlett & Welford in New York.
The front page of The Literary World: A Journal of Foreign and American Literature, Science, and Art, on 5 February 1848, announced the following:
Gentle Elia, when he dreamed that there was but one city in the world deserving to be called "The Town," could never have conceived that Bartlett and Welford's would be thronged by Broadway loungers curiously conning over his cherished volumes. Yet it is even so. These books, which Lamb so loved that they seemed a part of himself, have been plucked from the smoke of London, deracinated from the pavements of Cockneydom, and now they are in the Astor House, all written over in the margin by Coleridge and Southey and Lamb himself. What will their fate be now? Who, amid the ever changing fortunes of American families, will keep the herd together in a library! Their destiny is now most assuredly to travel over the continent. Some to be dog's-eared in Oregon, some to grow crisp of cover in Labrador, some to be freshly bound in leather from a Californian bullock, some to follow annexation and be shelved in time in the "Society Library" of Mexico. (32)
The article was only partially prophetic. While the remaining books from Lamb's library would mostly go to bookmen in the urban book capitals of the United States, namely Boston and New York, some would reach more far-flung locales. Lamb's folio of Nature's Pictures Drawn by Fancies Pencil to the Life (1656) by Margaret Cavendish, Duchess of Newcastle--eulogized by Elia as "that princely woman, the thrice noble Margaret Newcastle"--would float down the Ohio River to Louisville, for instance, where the nieces, nephews, and sister-in-law of John Keats were still living. (33)
"Thanks to the kindness of Messrs. Bartlett and Welford, we have been sitting down to-day in company with 'huge armfuls' of books that once were in Charles Lamb's embrace; his 'midnight darlings,' his ragged folios, full of original side-notes in his own 'clerkly hand' and the more careless chirography of Coleridge," wrote Lewis Gaylord Clarke in The Knickerbocker; or New-York Monthly Magazine; "How little did Elia anticipate such a destiny for his beloved books, which are here in precisely the state in which he possessed and left them!" (34) The "huge armfuls" and "midnight darlings" quoted here are from Lamb's essay, "New Year's Eve" and refer to his books. Most of them would be sold quickly. When only eighteen were left, the Scottish emigre James T. Annan, who worked in a bookstore in Cincinnati, Ohio, wired to order the rest. Annan was a bibliophile in a town of lumber and flatboats. In November 1848, in order to become partner in the store, he would put his copies of Lamb's books up for auction again, by Bangs & Company in New York. They, too, would be scattered.
New World Bibliomaniac: George Templeton Strong
"Bibliomania is a kind of constitutional disease with me," confided George Templeton Strong to his diary; "I've been subject to it almost as long as I can remember." (35) Strong, who was used to haunting the bookshops of New York, was a junior in college when he acquired his first copy of Lamb. For the young collector, it was "a genuine and real acquisition to my library." (36) This was April 1837, the year of the great financial crash, and though times were bad, and "merchants going to the devil en masse," Strong walked home from school the day after his purchase uplifted. Columbia was then downtown in the financial district, in a three-story, pre-revolutionary building on a leafy green square between Murray and Barclay Streets, and Church Street and College Place (now West Broadway). "Came back by a delightful back road which I never traveled before," he wrote; "Very warm, grass green and birds singing." (37) Strong then spent the afternoon reading Lamb. The book he read may have been the two-volume Specimens of English Dramatic Poets; With Notes by Lamb, edited by Thomas Noon Talfourd and published in 1835, a book that remained in Strong's library until after his death.
In comparison to other Romantic writers, Lamb fared well in the young bibliophile's estimation. He thought little of the current fashion for the Shelleys, for instance. Percy Shelley's poetry struck him as "Rather humbuggical," and Mary Shelley's Frankenstein was "all humbug." (38) The novel was "one of the most unearthly and ghastly pieces of diablesse" he had ever encountered, "woefully deficient in probability." (39) And while Shelley may have had a "glorious mind," "he wasted its energies and threw himself away." (40) As for Coleridge, he had produced a few "unsurpassable" gems (among which Strong singles out "The Ancient Mariner" and Coleridge's translation of Friedrich Schiller's Wallenstein), but all told he had "accomplished little (of poetry) that will live." (41) Lamb, on the other hand, was a reigning master of prose. "I never got hold of a style which I think is quite equal to it," he claimed, "and it is truly, as they call it, 'inimitable.'" (42) Strong's mentor in literary as well as book historical matters was his professor of Greek and Latin at Columbia College, Charles Anthon--a devout bibliomaniac. Anthon's library in 1837 contained some five thousand books and manuscripts. (43) Strong formed the resolution of outdoing him with a collection of twelve thousand printed books and a thousand manuscripts, and as it turned out he would surpass his own goal. When Strong's books sold at auction in 1878, his catalogue listed 1,763 lots, including illuminated manuscripts, incunabula, missals, psalters, and first editions of English classics. It also included several choice selections from the library of Charles Lamb. In pointing out the highlights of the collection, the auctioneers begin with Lamb's books, in boldface:
It would require too much space to enumerate all the books to be found in this Catalogue that are valuable, curious, and very rarely met with; it will be sufficient merely to call the book buyer's attention to a few of the most attractive, such as: Lot 510, a copy of Donne's Poems, from the library of Charles Lamb, with numerous manuscript notes by S. T. Coleridge; Lot 904, a copy of Ben. Jonson, which belonged to Charles Lamb, with his notes; Lot 242, John Buncle, and a copy of God's Revenge against Murder, Lot 1357, both from Charles Lamb's library (44)
The capstone of the collection, it would seem, was Lamb's copy of Donne, with its "numerous manuscript notes by S. T. Coleridge." Strong signed the books he obtained from Lamb's library--much as Coleridge had signed his marginalia--with his initials: "G. T. S.," thus inscribing himself into the complex web of association surrounding them.
In general, the books that Strong selected from the sale of Lamb's library at Bartlett & Welford's store were the ones containing the most marginalia by Coleridge. The auctioneers also point to John Reynolds's The Triumphes of Gods Revenge Agaynst the Cryinge, & Execrable Sinne, of (Wilfull, & Premeditated) Murther (1651), once in the ranks of the folios Elia embraced so lovingly as "his midnight darlings." (45) An excess of generous enthusiasm seems to have carried Coleridge away in a note preceding the engraved title page. It concludes with a rhetorical flourish in the form of the following charming chiasmus: "so flatly delicious, so deliciously flat!-I LIKE JOHN REYNOLDS." (46) In a postscript to the note that was even longer than the note itself, he delights in the way the author of these violent tales of love, adultery, and murder summons such passion to preach his platitudes: "the Beauties of this Work are endless. There is something half-celestial in that infantine Combination of intense feeling with the vulgarest Trusims, the merest mouldy Scraps, of generalizing Morality." (47) Perhaps with the bibliomania of the book's owner in mind, he dubs its author "honest Murthereo-Maniacal John Reynolds." (48)
A similar sensibility seems to have guided Coleridge's remarks on "John Buncle" (Lot 242 above), the title character of Thomas Amory's autobiographical novel, The Life of John Buncle, Esq.; containing various observations and reflections, made in several parts of the world; and many extraordinary relations. Lamb owned the first edition published in two volumes, in 1756 and 1766 respectively. Lamb described it in a letter to Coleridge as "a curious romance-like work, and an extraordinary compound of all manner of subjects, from the depth of the ludicrous to the heights of sublime religious truth." (49) Buncle, "formed in Nature's most eccentric hour," provided "much abstruse science," which Lamb said went over his head, and "an infinite fund of pleasantry" that did not. (50) When Coleridge borrowed the book, he seems to have been amused on both counts. "A fine ignorant worthy fellow," he observes, following B uncle's challenge to the idea that the moon exerts a gravitational pull on the tides. (51) The note occurs in the first volume, and one can only guess what Coleridge thought of the second because he lost it. Elia refers to the place where it used to rest on his shelves: "In yonder nook, John Buncle, a widower-volume, with 'eyes closed,' mourns his ravished mate." (52)
In addition to these, Strong obtained six other books at the Bartlett & Welford sale. The "Ben Jonson" that the auctioneers single out as another gem of the collection was Lamb's copy of the Works of Ben Jonson, Wltich were formerly Printed in Two Volumes, are now Reprinted in One. To which is added A Comedy called the New Inn (1692). As Bartlett & Welford note in their sale catalogue: "The blank leaves, margins, &c. are filled with extracts from the old Dramatists and early English Writers, with additional poems, corrections of the Text, &c. in Charles Lamb's early hand-writing, forming a most curious and valuable memento of his favorite studies." (53) The remaining five (also in the language of the catalogue) were:
1) John Petwin's Letters Concerning the Mind; with a Sketch of Universal Arithmetic; &c. 8vo., London, 1750. Full of the most curious philosophic and abstruse notes and remarks by Coleridge, written in Pencil during his perusal of the book, and dated Oxford, October 19, 1820.
2) The History of Philip de Commines, Knight, Lord of Argenton. Translated, folio, Lond., 1674. With interesting Ms. Note by Charles Lamb, at the commencement, and "Memorabilia" by Coleridge at the end, on the free towns and republics of the Middle Ages, &c.
3) Henry More's Philosophical Poems, Platonic Song of the Soul, &c., i2mo., Cambridge, 1647. Fine copy, gilt edges, with additional Poems and few MS. Notes and corrections.
4) Miscellanies, in one vol. 8vo., containing five Tracts. This volume contains Antonio: a Tragedy by Wm. Godwin; Remorse: a Tragedy, by S. T. C.; Antiquity: a Farce, by B(aron) Field," &c. MS list of Contents. Ouside the cover is written, "The Remainder of Christ's Hospital--return the volume when done with. C. L. for L. Hunt, Esq."
5) Political Tracts, original 4to. Editions, Mason's English Garden, 1772, View of Covent Garden Theatre, curious plate, The Theatres, ditto, 1772. 1 vol. 4to. (54)
The first two of these joined John Buncle, John Donne, and John Reynolds in a special category of books that Bartlett & Welford label in their catalogue: "Books with Notes by S. T. Coleridge." Strong secured the full handful.
By 10 February 1848, he was impatient to have Lamb's books among the collection that had been accumulating on his shelves. He had had the shelves custom-made six years earlier, for a home he had caused to be built at 108 Greenwich Street. In imitation of the opening lines of Coleridge's "Kubla Khan," he describes it:
In Greenwich Street did G.T.S. A stately backbuilding decree, Where clear the Croton Water ran Through pipes impervious to man-- Up to the third stone. So x square feet of useless ground With fair brick walls were girdled round. (55)
The Alph (Coleridge's "Sacred River") did not run through the caverns of Greenwich Village, but the Croton River, a tributary of the Hudson, did. It flowed through an aqueduct and up the pipes to Strong's bathroom, though it did not travel up to the third story ("stone" to follow Coleridge's balladic archaisms), "there being no third story in rerum natura, at least not in the backbuilding." (56) Taking poetic license for the sake of the meter, he let "x" stand in for the number of square feet containing the backbuilding of his "villa, bungalow, schloss, chateau or whatever may be its appropriate name." (57) Truth be told, Strong did not know the number of feet, but if he had put them in the first foot of the sixth line, he would have converted "a harmonious iambic dimeter into a choliambic pentameter hyper-paralytic with a 'tail out of joint' like Pope Alexander's wounded Alexandrine Snake." (58) Strong was playfully alluding to Pope's mockery of imitative poets in An Essay on Criticism, a poem that formally mimics the blunders of composition it describes. Thus: "A needless Alexandrine ends the song, / That, like a wounded snake, drags its slow length along." (59) The editors of Strong's diary, missing the joke, put Pope in the index as a first name.
Strong would have appreciated Elia's concern for the symmetry of his shelves. His own books, looking down on him from the shelves of his library, had been a comfort to him "through so many long desolate winter evenings." (60) Shortly after getting Lamb's books home, he found himself "once more of an evening in this my little library and at the same old table, and everything looking so natural and as it used to look that I might almost fancy the last six months a pleasant delusion, only that instead of the lamp that used to be lit so punctually for me I've a couple of candles, and that the table is lumbered up with all sorts of things and in such an entirely chaotic condition that it is apparent that some unwonted cause has been at work and reduced it to its present state of neglect and confusion." (61) The change in the state of his library was due to the fact that Strong had fallen in love. He would soon commence the "melancholy business" of taking his books down, boxing them up, and putting them in storage, until the new house that he was preparing for married life, a few blocks up on Twenty-first Street, was ready to receive him. (62) "It's mournful work pulling them down from the places where I've been so happy in putting them," he reflected; "after the first ten minutes of removal there was a great gap left that will never be filled up again. ... it made me feel quite disconsolate to look at the breach I had made." (63) There are echoes here of the melancholy Elia, the bibliomaniac preserved in memory as mourning the "foul gap" in his shelves made by the plundering S. T. C., who walked off with, but never returned, the second volume of John Buncle. (64)
Literary Man About Town: Evert Augustus Duyckinck
The bibliomaniacal bug that "infected the city" (in Strong's words) did not bite his fellow New Yorker, Evert Augustus Duyckinck: editor, essayist, and literary man about town. Duyckinck, who attended (and wrote about) the sale, did not purchase any of Lamb's books. Like the bibliopole Welford, he had grown up in his father's bookstore, and like Strong, he had graduated from Columbia. His series, "Felix Merry's Fireside Essays," published in Park Benjamin's American Monthly shortly after graduation, was inspired by Lamb's Essays of Elia and captures the spirit of the original. He felt he was acting in Lamb's own spirit also when, instead of buying Lamb's books from Bartlett & Welford's at prices he felt were to high--and thought Lamb himself would not have paid--he took his own copies of the books to the store and transcribed the marginalia from Lamb's books into them. (65)
Duyckcinck had formed a belletristic library that included many of Elia's favorites: Donne, the Duchess of Newcastle, Ben Jonson. Like Lamb, he was less interested in reading new books than in "reading over the old and annotating--filling margins and note books." (66) The books that were once on Lamb's shelves were particularly suited to this habit of rereading--and to that degree, interesting. (67) "How wide the field of learning," Duyckinck observed: "so wide that we fall back in despair and content ourselves, the heart of wisdom, with cultivating the faculty of thinking--which is after all worth more than all the accumulations of knowledge." (68) Responding to an author is of course one way of thinking, and Lamb and Coleridge were both his guides in this manner. After copying Coleridge's manuscript notes, he found himself in agreement with Elia that they vied with the printed texts. "Today have I been cribbing notes to Donne from Charles Lamb's books at Welford's," he wrote to his brother George, "Coleridge's notes, where criticism has the moral beauty of the choicest poetry. How much is there of Coleridge's mind for us to travel in, and when we think we have accomplished the feat we shall be in a condition to begin the journey." (69)
Evert's younger brother, George Long Duykcinck, was residing in Paris at the time of the Bartlett & Welford sale, putting the gentlemanly cap on his education, as Evert had recently done. In a letter of 9 February 1848, Evert wrote him an account of it:
You should have had the tumbling of those books as they lay on Bartlett's floor; boys and men and women, for I saw all there, stomping into them. The appearance of them was shocking--positively so bad that a genius for getting together the worst possible bound bad copies was involved in the collection. They were so positively wretched that they really became fascinating in that very account--as your half way beggars are despised by every body while your thorough going pestiferous, rag and filth accumulation sits to Murillo and the Masters.... Lamb's library was a literary hospital for all stages of book decrepitude--yet there was virtue in the least of those old books-since, as I actually heard a grocer remark on his first sight of them, "Elia has actually had this book in his hands!" (70)
He was referring to the giant portraits of Neapolitan and Spanish beggars by Bartolomo Esteban Murillo on display at the Louvre. To a seventeenth-century audience used to seeing royalty, bishops, and noblemen in portraiture, Murillo's portraits of beggars were as sublimely fascinating as Lamb's beggarly books to a nineteenth-century man of taste like Duyckinck. Some of them looked as if a shoemaker had bound them with a "crop tarry stitch"; others were as "gouged and nicked as Dabolls and Euclids" (schoolboys' math textbooks). (71)
Yet, for all Duyckinck's tasteful sophistication, he was no less carried away by the sight of Lamb's books than the grocer he saw handling them. "The least touch of Lamb's fingers, a mere marking of the pencil or one illustrative parallel quotation seemed to carry with it other portions of his genius," he wrote; "Few words from him or Coleridge are as good as other men's books." (72) The narrative could read as a reverse type of free indirect discourse: Duyckinck is conveying the thoughts of the grocer who exclaimed "Elia has actually had this book in his hands!" until the final sentence, which is clearly in his own voice. But there was in fact a finer line between grocer and bookman in mid nineteenth-century America than there is now. John Russell Bartlett, before selling Lamb's books, sold groceries in his father's store. (73) Books were a trade like any other, and many a seller of hardware, cotton, sugar, or rum later wound up behind the counter of a bookstore. "I was bred a merchant and have followed the mercantile business to the present time," Bartlett wrote in 1849; "If I have acquired any literary fame, it is but the result of leisure hours profitably spent." (74) Yet, while Bartlett considered his reputation as a man of letters supplementary to his main occupation, Duyckinck was a literary professional: editor, journalist, publisher, and leading visionary of the American world of letters.
This may explain why he made it a point of pride not to overpay (or pay what he thought was too much) for Lamb's books. Using one's taste and discernment to identify genius--on the page, or among the jumble of books on Broadway--was a far different matter from merely paying a bookseller the market price for it. Enclosing a copy of the sale catalogue in his letter to George, Evert cautioned that he could probably find copies of all the books whose marginalia he had copied for the price of one of them at Bartlett & Welford. (75) Although the bookstore could probably have charged even more, he warned his brother not to mention this to Welford, who was then in Paris looking for more books, "lest he should be unhappy in the fear his more merciful partner should not charge enough." (76) On the other hand, seeing the books that had once surrounded Elia in his study was something money couldn't buy. "The sight of them together is worth more to me than the possession of any one would be," Duyckinck swore. (77) It would be one of the last glimpses to be had of Charles Lamb's library.
At the end of the day, neither of the Duyckinck brothers paid any money for Lamb's books. "It is acting much more in Lamb's spirit," according to Duyckinck, "to get books as he did from the stalls for the good matter within than to pay an extravagant price for his copies & thereby mutilate some of the justices and charities which he practiced." (78) He may have been thinking of any number of Lamb's essays. In "Old China," Elia's sister Bridget reminds him of their more impoverished days when Elia wore his brown suit threadbare in order to afford his folio of Beaumont and Fletcher. "Great and liberal is the magic of the bookstalls," as Leigh Hunt put it, the credo of the belletristic man of taste. (79) "So I have let his 'books' go by to more wealthy or careless purchasers," Evert explained to George, employing a slippage--from wealthy to careless--that was a common feature of bibliomaniacal discourse. (80) The folios of Henry More that Evert suggested might be worth considering would instead go to an antiquarian living in Boston. But that is another story, to be told on another occasion.81
Coleridge's Marginalia and "The Coleridge Miscellany": Henry Hope Reed
Henry Hope Reed, Professor of English Literature at the University of Pennsylvania, was a specialist in British Romanticism and the star of the faculty. A year before the sale of Lamb's books, he had produced an American edition of Wordsworth's Complete Poetical Works that included an appendix of selected prose, with the assistance of the poet himself. Reed was now keen to produce an American edition of Coleridge since he "often thought it a great pity that so much that is thoughtful, and what is still better--thought-giving" in Coleridge's writing "should be ... generally inaccessible." (82) He had a contract with Wiley & Putnam for a two-volume selection of Coleridge's miscellaneous writings to be published in Evert Duyckinck's "Library of Choice Reading." The Library featured American reprints of European belles lettres, and together with "The Library of American Books" (also conceived and edited by Duyckinck), it had quickly become "the central event in American literary publishing," as Ezra Greenspan remarks in his biography of George Palmer Putnam. (83)
When Evert Duyckinck wrote to Henry Reed about the sale of Lamb's books--and the unpublished marginalia by Coleridge in Lamb's copy of Donne--Reed was ecstatic. As he would have found, the notes, in attempting to explain Donne's difficult and idiosyncratic versification, provided the foundation for a detailed theory of poetics. Inside the front cover of the book, Coleridge claims that, unlike the poetry of Dryden or Pope, Donne's verse cannot be adequately scanned by counting syllables. It does not conform to expectations of the accentual syllabic line of poetry that characterizes English verse meter. Yet, Donne's verse was not flawed or metrically inept. Rather, "to read Donne you must measure Time, & discover the Time of Each word by the Sense & Passion." (84) To the quantitative metrical theory of Enlightenment rhetoricians, Coleridge adds sensation psychology and subjective readerly experience. He suggests that rhythm may be derived from the force and meaning of words, rather than from smaller linguistic units (syllables). The result is an epistemic shift to the Romantic idea of organic form. Significantly, it is Donne-who shocked the neoclassical ear of Samuel Johnson, and Johnson's neoclassical decorum as well, with his metaphysical "discordia concors"--who helps Coleridge work through ideas that would resurface throughout his notebooks and in Biographia Literaria about the evolution of form from content. (85)
The standard edition of Coleridge's collected work at the time was The Literary Remains of Samuel Taylor Coleridge, which the poet's nephew Henry Nelson Coleridge had edited. "How in the world did it happen that Nelson Coleridge in preparing the Remains did not access Lamb's books?" Reed wondered. (86) He had read about the sale of Lamb's books in Duyckinck's article for The Literary World, also edited by Duyckinck for Wiley & Putnam. Had he seen the catalogue, he would have seen the post-scripted nota bene: "The notes, &c., by Coleridge are entirely unpublished, and were entirely unknown to the Editors of his Literary Remains, to which they would form an important addition." (87) Reed believed he could produce a better arrangement of Coleridge's selected works in two volumes than the poet's nephew had done in four. "Is there not something to be had from the other books besides Donne?" he asked Duyckinck; "How is [it] with John Buncle--and the copy of Philip de Commines?" (88)
Like Duyckinck, Reed had been "practicing self-denial in the matter of book-buying," though despite this--and despite his fear of the prices that would be asked--he nevertheless craved "a single specimen" from the library of the English essayist. (89) He asked Duyckinck to send him a priced catalogue so he could discover "what opportunities there are for me to soften myself to be tempted." (90) He may have been tempted, but he did not buy any of the books. What he obtained instead was worth more to an academic like Reed: permission to publish Coleridge's unpublished marginalia. Duyckinck had been in touch with George Templeton Strong even before the latter had gotten Lamb's copy of Donne home to his shelves. "Donne is an old favorite of mine," Duyckinck confided. (91) He related how he had transcribed Coleridge's notes from the book into his own volume of Donne's poetry, with the consent of the clerks at Bartlett & Welford. "I will be ready, though I confess mournfully, to sacrifice the choice little copy of the poems in which I have written them," he offered, "shall the exclusive possession of the notes be important to you." (92) But Strong generously allowed the notes to be printed. Reed, for his part, recognized the associational power of Lamb's books in this affair. "There ought certainly to be a magic power in the way of promoting kindly and generous feeling, in the possession of Charles Lamb's books--and they will, I hope, be some day the occasion of making of Mr. Strong and me acquainted," he wrote. (93)
Reed agreed with Duyckinck, in the meantime, that "Coleridgeana" would not do for a title. He swore that he would not give any book of his such a name, any more than he would any of his children. He had a "repugnance to fantastical titles--or even fancy names unless particularly happy." (94) Instead, he proposed "The Coleridge Miscellany." He sketched it out for full effect on a separate scrap of paper in the form of a title page (fig. 1). But "The Coleridge Miscellany" would never appear in print. Like many academics, Reed was involved in more than one project, and, as weeks and then months slipped by, Duyckinck grew impatient.
"Is the Coleridge book suspended for a long time?" Duyckinck asked six months later, on December 8, 1848. (95) John Wiley & George Palmer Putnam had broken up in March, and the book world was unpredictable. The partners had divided their stock between them, with Wiley taking the store and the Library of Choice Reading, which he had commissioned. Putnam opened a new store a few doors down from Wiley. Duyckinck thought it "the simplest and best in arrangement of any in Broadway--well lighted, airy & clear as the deck of the Washington. You walk along black walnut looking cases of the books &c on a footing of thick matting and drop into waiting arm chairs. All over the doors is written 'Putnam.' " (96) By comparison, Wiley's store looked "dingy and opaque." (97) None of this boded well for "The Coleridge Miscellany," and, as it turned out, by the time Reed was ready to return to Coleridge, Wiley's business had failed. Duyckinck would resort to publishing Coleridge's notes on Donne in The Literary World a few years later (from 30 April through 28 May 1853). There would be no "Coleridge Miscellany."
Coda: The Beinecke
Today, Lamb's copy of Donne resides at the Beinecke Rare Book and Manuscript Library in New Haven. It has been withdrawn from circulation, and while it is thus protected, preserved to the extent possible from the ravages of time, it is also, from a book historical perspective, dead. All the bookish activity--reading and correspondence, annotation and reflection, the handling, borrowing, and exchanging of books--that once surrounded it has fallen permanently into the silence of the archive. The book has assumed its final form and cannot, except through negligence or accident, be altered. Unlike the private library--a living aesthetic--the institutional library was originally designed to provide knowledge, as much of it as possible, to its patrons. Only in the mid nineteenth century, mainly in the United States, did institutions begin to collect rare books as such, and principally through the efforts of individual collectors who bequeathed their collections to the institutions. If the institutional goals of the library were anonymous--perpetuity and comprehensiveness--private libraries were fueled and energized by constraint. They required choice and selection, and were accordingly forms of self-expression based on taste.
Sometimes growing, occasionally shrinking, the private library contained books that were constantly coming and going, being exchanged and annotated, plastered with bookplates, inscribed, interleaved, illustrated, bound and rebound, repaired, catalogued, placed on a shelf, moved to another, and so forth. Throughout all this they were continually breeding new associations, thereby maintaining the vitality of individual books. Lamb's copy of Donne, before winding up in the supervised silence of the Beinecke, passed through this more freewheeling bibliospace, if you will, trailing Coleridge's thoughts along with it. It had what Reed called the "magic power" of making connections, between bookmen and different clusters of bibliomania in the transatlantic world of letters. The sale of Charles Lamb's library in New York in 1848 thus provides a test case for an associational model of literary history that includes more bookish histories than we have had space to touch on here. The critical model is one that views literature, in the manner of the bibliophiles, as an art of living.
Annie Adams Fields Papers. Massachusetts Historical Society, Boston.
Bangs & Co. Catalogue of the Manuscripts, Etc., of the Late George T. Strong, Esq.... Which Will be Sold at Auction, by Banks & Co., Broadway, New York, November 4th, 1878, and Following Days. New York: printed by C. C. Shelley, 1878.
Bartlett, James Russell. Autobiography of James Russell Bartlett (1805-1886). Edited by Jerry E. Mueller. Providence: John Carter Brown Library, 2006.
Brown, Thomas. Pseudodoxia Epidemica: or Enquiries into Very Many Received Tenets, and Commonly Presumed Truths. 3rd ed. London: Nathaniel Ekins, 1658. Henry W. and Albert A. Berg Collection of English and American Literature, New York Public Library.
Catalogue of Charles Lamb's Library, for Sale by Bartlett & Welford, Booksellers and Importers, 7 Astor House, New York. New York: printed for Bartlett & Welford, 1848.
Coleridge, Samuel Taylor. Marginalia. Vol. 12 of The Collected Works of Samuel Taylor Coleridge. Edited by George Whalley. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1984.
[Duyckinck, Evert Augustus], "Charles Lamb's Library in New York." The Literary World: A Journal of Foreign and American Literature, Science, and Art 3 (Feb. 5, 1848): 10-11.
Duyckinck Family Papers. New York Public Library.
Fitzgerald, Percy. Charles Lamb: His Friends, His Haunts, and His Books. London: Richard Bentley, 1866.
Frances Sargent Locke Osgood Papers. Houghton Library, Harvard University.
Gigante, Denise. The Keats Brothers: The Life of John and George. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2011.
Greenspan, Ezra. George Palmer Putnam: Representative American Publisher. University Park: Pennsylvania State University Press, 2000.
Hunt, Leigh. "Bookstalls and 'Galateo.'" Men, Women, and Books: A Selection of Sketches, Essays, and Critical Memoirs from His Uncollected Prose Writings. London: Smith, Elder, 1891.
Johnson, Samuel. Vol. 1 of The Lives of the Most Eminent English Poets; with Critical Observations on their Works. Edited by Roger Lonsdale. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 2006.
John Russell Bartlett Papers. John Carter Brown Library, Providence.
Lamb, Charles. The Letters of Charles Lamb to which are added those of his sister Mary Lamb. Edited by E. V. Lucas. 3 Vols. New Haven: Yale University Press, 1935.
--. The Works of Charles and Mary Lamb. Edited by E. V. Lucas. 7 Vols. New York: G. P. Putnam's Sons, 1903.
Lucas, E. V. The Life of Charles Lamb. 2nd ed. 2 Vols. London: Methuen, 
Marston, Edward. After Work: Fragments from the Workshop of an Old Publisher. London: Heinemann, 1904.
Mueller, Jerry E., ed. Autobiography of John Russell Bartlett. Providence: John Carter Brown Library, 2006.
Ngai, Sianne. Our Aesthetic Categories: Zany, Cute, Interesting. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2012.
"Old Books: Lamb's Library." The Knickerbocker; or New-York Monthly Magazine 31 (March 1848): 263-68.
Pope, Alexander. The Poetical Works of Alexander Pope. Edited by Alexander Dyce. London: Pickering, 1835.
Robinson, Henry Crabb. The Diary of Henry Crabb Robinson: An Abridgement. Edited by Derek Hudson. London: Oxford University Press, 1967.
Strong, George Templeton. The Diary of George Templeton Strong. Edited by Allan Nevins and Milton Halsey Thomas. 4 Vols. New York: Macmillan, 1952.
Talfourd, Thomas Noon. Memoirs of Charles Lamb. Edited by Percy Fitzgerald. London: W. W. Gibbings, 1892.
(1.) Coleridge, The Collected Works of Samuel Taylor Coleridge, 12 vols., ed. George Whalley (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1984), 12.2.243. Vol. 12, Marginalia, is in 6 parts.
(2.) The book is in the British Museum; the comment is reprinted in "Appendix 3: Charles Lamb's Books," E. V. Lucas, The Life of Charles Lamb, 2nd ed., 2 vols. (London: Methuen, ), 2:313.
(3.) Coleridge, Collected Works, 12.2.221.
(4.) Charles Lamb, The Works of Charles and Mary Lamb, ed. E. V. Lucas, 7 vols. (New York: G. P. Putnam's Sons, 1903), 2:26.
(5.) Coleridge, Collected Works, 12.2.217.
(6.) Charles Lamb to S. T. Coleridge, 7 June 1809; The Letters of Charles Lamb to which are added those of his sister Mary Lamb, ed. E. V. Lucas, 3 vols. (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1935), 2:75.
(7.) Lamb to Coleridge, 7 June 1809, 2:75.
(8.) 10 January 1824; The Diary of Henry Crabb Robinson: An Abridgement, ed. Derek Hudson (London: Oxford University Press, 1967), 77.
(9.) Crabb Robinson, Diary, 77.
(10.) Charles Lamb to Thomas Hood, 18 September 1827; Lamb, Letters, 3:131.
(11.) Charles Lamb to S. T. Coleridge, 4 November 1802; Lamb, Letters, 1:328.
(12.) Samuel Taylor Coleridge, Manuscript note dated 10 March 1804, on front flyleaf of Thomas Brown, Pseudodoxia Epidemica: or Enquiries into Very Many Received Tenets, and Commonly Presumed Truths, 3rd ed. (London: Nathaniel Ekins, 1658); Henry W. and Albert A. Berg Collection of English and American Literature, New York Public Library.
(13.) Lamb, Works, 2:26.
(14.) Ngai, Our Aesthetic Categories: Zany, Cute, Interesting (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2012).
(15.) 27 April 1848; Crabb Robinson, Diary, 245.
(16.) Fields, entry for 23 August 1847; Diary, 1847, Annie Adams Fields Papers, 1852-1912; P281, Roll 3, Massachusetts Historical Society.
(17.) 27 April 1848; Crabb Robinson, Diary, 245.
(18.) Edward Marston, After Work: Fragments from the Workshop of an Old Publisher (London: Heinemann, 1904), 82.
(19.) Marston, After Work, 82.
(20.) 8 March 1836; The Diary of George Templeton Strong, eds. Allan Nevins and Milton Halsey Thomas, 4 vols. (New York: Macmillan, 1952), 1:12.
(21.) Diary of Strong, 1:12.
(22.) Jerry E. Mueller, ed., Autobiography of John Russell Bartlett (Providence: John Carter Brown Library, 2006), 163.
(23.) Bartlett, Autobiography, 163.
(24.) Charles Welford to F. S. Osgood, 3 February 1844; Frances Sargent Locke Osgood Papers, Folder 1846; Houghton Library, Harvard University.
(25.) Charles Welford to John Russell Bartlett, 3 July 1846; Box 2, Folder 17; John Russell Bartlett Papers., John Carter Brown Library, Brown University.
(26.) Welford to Bartlett, 3 July 1846.
(27.) Welford to Bartlett, 18 July 1846; Box 2, Folder 17; John Russell Bartlett Papers.
(28.) Welford to Bartlett, 3 August 1846, Box 2, Folder 18; John Russell Bartlett Papers.
(29.) Welford to Bartlett, 3 August 1846. I have added the question mark; Welford's tendency was to leave them out.
(30.) Talfourd, Memoirs of Charles Lamb, ed. Percy Fitzgerald (London: W. W. Gibbings, 1892), vii.
(31.) Percy Fitzgerald, Charles Lamb: His Friends, His Haunts, and His Books (London: Richard Bendey, 1866), 85-86.
(32.) [Evert Augustus Duyckinck], "Charles Lamb's Library in New York," The Literary World: A Journal of Foreign and American Literature, Science, and Art 3 (Feb. 5, 1848): 10.
(33.) Lamb, Works, 2:26. On the Keatses in Kentucky, see Denise Gigante, The Keats Brothers: The Life of John and George (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2011).
(34.) "Old Books: Lamb's Library," The Knickerbocker; or New-York Monthly Magazine 31 (March 1848): 264.
(35.) 30 September 1842; Strong, Diary 1:187.
(36.) 12 April 1837; Strong, Diary, 1:57.
(37.) 12 April 1837; Strong, Diary, 1:57.
(38.) 23 March 1837, and 29 March 1837, respectively; Strong, Diary, 1:52, 54.
(39.) 29 March 1837; Strong, Diary, 1:53.
(40.) 11 January 1840; Strong, Diary 1:122.
(41.) 11 January 1840; Strong, Diary 1:122.
(42.) 13 April 1837; Strong, Diary, 1:58.
(43.) 30 March 1837; Strong, Diary, 1:54.
(44.) Bangs & Co., Catalogue of the Manuscripts, Etc., of the Late George T. Strong, Esq. ... Which Will he Sold at Auction, by Banks & Co., Broadway, New York, November 4th, 1878, and Following Days (New York: printed by C. C. Shelley, 1878), 111.
(45.) Lamb, Works, 2:30.
(46.) Coleridge, Works, 12.4.238.
(47.) Coleridge, Works, 12.4.238.
(48.) Coleridge, Works, 12.4.238.
(49.) 24 June 1797; Lamb, Letters, 1:110.
(50.) 24 June 1797; Lamb, Letters, 1:110.
(51.) Coleridge, Works, 12.6.250.
(52.) Lamb, Works, 2:26. Buncle, following the death of one of his wives, spends four days in mourning with his "eyes closed."
(53.) Catalogue of Charles Lamb's Library, for Sale by Bartlett & Welford, Booksellers and Importers, 7 Astor House, New York (New York: printed for Bartlett & Welford, 1848), 2.
(54.) Catalogue of Charles Lamb's Library, [2-4].
(55.) 17 May 1843; Strong, Diary, 1:203.
(56.) 17 May 1843; Strong, Diary, 1:203.
(57.) 17 May 1843; Strong, Diary, 1:203.
(58.) 17 May 1843; Strong, Diary, 1:203-4.
(59.) This is how the lines appear in Strong's three-volume copy of The Poetical Works of Alexander Pope, edited by Alexander Dyce and published in London by Pickering in 1835, specifically, vol. 2 (bound in leather), page 17 (with gilt edges).
(60.) 19 February 1849; Strong, Diary, 1:345.
(61.) 10 September 1848; Strong, Diary, 1:327.
(62.) 19 February 1849; Strong, Diary, 1:345.
(63.) 19 February 1849; Strong, Diary, 1:345.
(64.) Lamb, "The Two Races of Men," Works, 2:25.
(65.) Evert A. Duyckinck to George T. Strong, 7 February 1848; Box 23; Duyckinck Family Papers, New York Public Library.
(66.) E. A. Duyckinck to G. L. Duyckinck, 9 February 1848; Box 23; Duyckinck Family Papers.
(67.) I refer again to Ngai's conceptualization of the "interesting" as an aesthetic category; see note 14 above.
(68.) E. A. Duyckinck to G. L. Duyckinck, 4 February 1848; Box 23; Duyckinck Family Papers.
(69.) E. A. Duyckinck to G. L. Duyckinck, 4 February 1848.
(70.) E. A. Duyckinck to G. L. Duyckinck, 9 February 1848.
(71.) E. A. Duyckinck to G. L. Duyckinck, 9 February 1848.
(72.) E. A. Duyckinck to G. L. Duyckinck, 9 February 1848.
(73.) Bartlett, Autobiography, 5.
(74.) John Russell Bartlett to [James Clayton], Secretary of State, 11 May 1849, Series 1, Box 3, Folder 16; John Russell Bartlett Papers, John Carter Brown Library.
(75.) E. A. Duyckinck to G. L. Duyckinck, 15 February 1848; Box 23; Duyckinck Family Papers.
(76.) E. A. Duyckinck to G. L. Duyckinck, 4 February 1848.
(77.) E. A. Duyckinck to G. L. Duyckinck, 4 February 1848.
(78.) E. A. Duyckinck to G. L. Duyckinck, 15 February 1848.
(79.) Hunt, "Bookstalls and 'Galateo,' " Men, Women, and Books: A Selection of Sketches, Essays, and Critical Memoirs from His Uncollected Prose Writings (London: Smith, Elder, 1891), 231.
(80.) E. A. Duyckinck to G. L. Duyckinck, 15 February 1848.
(81.) The present essay is part of a larger book manuscript, The Book Madness: A Story of Book Collectors in America, an associational literary history focused on the sale of Charles Lamb's library in New York, to be published by Harvard University Press.
(82.) Henry Hope Reed to E. A. Duyckinck, 18 April 1846; Box 14; Duyckinck Family Papers.
(83.) Greenspan, George Palmer Putnam: Representative American Publisher (University Park: Pennsylvania State University Press, 2000), 166.
(84.) Coleridge, Works, 12.2.216.
(85.) See Samuel Johnson's Life of Abraham Cowley in The Lives of the Most Eminent English Poets; with Critical Observations on their Works, ed. Roger Lonsdale, vol. 1 (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 2006), 200.
(86.) Reed to E. A. Duyckinck, 15 February 1848; Box 14; Duyckinck Family Papers.
(87.) Catalogue of Charles Lamb's Library, for Sale by Bartlett & Welford, 4.
(88.) Reed to E. A. Duyckinck, 15 February 1848.
(89.) Reed to E. A. Duyckinck, 15 February 1848.
(90.) Reed to E. A. Duyckinck, 15 February 1848.
(91.) E. A. Duyckinck to Strong, 7 February 1848.
(92.) E. A. Duyckinck to Strong, 7 February 1848.
(93.) Reed to E. A. Duyckinck, 15 February 1848.
(94.) Reed to E. A. Duyckinck, 1 May 1846; Box 14; Duyckinck Family Papers.
(95.) Quoted in Reed to E. A. Duyckinck, 8 December 1848; Box 14; Duyckinck Family Papers.
(96.) Quoted in Reed to E. A. Duyckinck, 8 December 1848.
(97.) E. A. Duyckinck to G. L. Duyckinck, 9 March 1848; Box 23; Duyckinck Family Papers.
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|Publication:||Studies in Romanticism|
|Date:||Sep 22, 2016|
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