Lamb House, Rye.
Sunday [Nov. 12, 1899].
My dear Gosse,
I wholly agree with you as to any motion toward the preposterous and unseemly deportation from their noble resting-place of those illustrious and helpless ashes. I find myself, somehow, unable to think of Louis in these days (much more to speak of him) without an emotion akin to tears; and such blatant busybody ineptitude causes the cup to overflow and sickens as well as enrages. But nothing but cheap newspaperism will come of it—it has in it the power, fortunately, to drop, utterly and abysmally, if not touched—if decently ignored. Don't write a protest—don't write anything: simply hush! The lurid asininity of the hour!
...I will write you about your best train Saturday—which heaven speed! It will probably be the 3.23 from Charing Cross—better, really, than the (new) 5.15 from St. Paul's. I find S. Africa a nightmare and need cheering. Arrive therefore primed for that office.
Ever yours,
HENRY JAMES.
To Miss Henrietta Reubell.
Lamb House, Rye.
Sunday midnight.
[Nov. 12th, 1899.]
Dear Miss Reubell,