Howells begins his bibliographic note by locating the composition of these essays in a specific time and place: the years 1893–1894, in a New York flat with a view of Central Park. He describes the act of writing as a fond re-entry into a "faery realm of books," and notes that the title was agreed upon with his editor before the essays were begun—a rare harmony. This framing immediately establishes the personal, retrospective tone that governs the collection.

The Bibliographical Frame

Howells opens with a brief history of the essays: serialized in a periodical of "vast circulation," then collected in a volume in 1895. He admits that no one likely enjoyed reading them as much as he enjoyed writing them. The note is deliberately spare—"their short and simple annals"—and he declines to add confidences that would enrich literary history. This restraint signals that the essays themselves, not their backstory, are the point. The reader is left to imagine the posterity they may reach.

Thackeray as Artistic Mirror

In the Thackeray section, Howells describes being on a "very high esthetic horse," appreciating Thackeray's novels as "prodigious works of art." He admits that this admiration flattered his own self-regard: he felt of finer sort for enjoying such fine art. He is candid about the moral limitations of Thackeray's worldview, calling him "of the world, worldly" and noting that later thinkers have seen life with a "vision which makes his seem rather purblind." Yet he does not censure Thackeray for his effect, recognizing that the coxcombry was already in himself.

Barry Lyndon as Peak Art

Howells singles out Barry Lyndon as the "farthest reach of the author's great talent," praising its autobiographic form as natural and flexible. He notes the over-coloring typical of Thackeray's time but argues that Barry Lyndon is less surcharged than Esmond, and therefore more perfect. The scoundrel narrator who never doubts he is a gentleman is, for Howells, Thackeray's most complete creation. This judgment is offered as a personal preference, not a universal claim.

The Gradual Possession of a Reader

Howells emphasizes that he did not encounter Thackeray's works all at once. He describes a slow process of "compassing a full knowledge and sense of his greatness," during which Thackeray sometimes outshone all other authors. He confesses to being a "hypnotized devotee" of three or four great writers, and notes that from Thackeray's art there flowed into him a "literary quality which tinged my whole mental substance." This passage reveals Howells's method: tracing how a writer's voice becomes internalized.

Howells's essays reward a reader who attends to the interplay between personal confession and critical judgment. He is not offering a systematic literary history but a record of how books shaped his sensibility. The excerpts show a writer aware of his own biases—the esthetic horse, the hypnotized devotion—and willing to examine them. A first reading might profitably track the moments when Howells steps back to assess his younger self's enthusiasms.