In his modest way (his manner rather suggests a family doctor), Leon Edel has "put to press" more than twenty books during the last twelve years, and read ten thousand of Henry James' letters. Now, during his visit here, he enjoys "peopling the streets of Cambridge" with the figures of that past era he works in and loves.

"Being the first occupant of the guest suite in Quincy House is a pleasant coincidence for me," says Professor Edel. "The James' residence used to be on Quincy Street--where the Faculty Club is now," he explains. "I devote a whole section of my James` biography to his Quincy period'--and here I am in your Quincy House."

As a substitute for Albert J. Guerard, who is on leave, Professor Edel is handling the formidable Comparative Literature 166 ("The largest course I taught at N.Y.U. had about one hundred students"), a course titled Literature and Psychology, and a seminar on James. "Professor Guerard gives a course on the writing of fiction, you know, but I don't write fiction myself," he says. "However, this spring I will give a course in the writing of biography and criticism. A lot of careful thought goes into biographical writing. For instance, how much psychology should one use? I thought I might have the class try writing a composite biography of some minor literary figure. Each student would be assigned two chapters and we would see how it turned out."

But foremost, Edel is a Jamesian--and he was a Jamesian before it was considered fashionable. Born in Pittsburgh, he was whisked off to Canada by his parents, and he completed the major part of his education there. After receiving an M.A. from McGill in 1928, he studied for the "difficult" degree at the Sorbonne, the State Doctorate. "There were two dissertions required," he explains, "and I gave mine on James." He also explored his interest in psychology, "becoming one of the Adler entourage."

When he came back, the depression was "going full blast." Edel wrote for Canadian newspapers, did broadcasting work, tutoring, and received a Guggenheim fellowship to edit James' plays. "The army used my talents well in World War II," he added, "Others in my position were sent to Tokyo, but they sent me to France, where I was on the military end of psychological warfare. The Germans would be in pockets, you see, and we would get them to surrender, using loudspeakers and leaflets. It saved a lot of lives."

When he returned, Edel found that interest in James had increased considerably. His Depression scholarship was rewarded in the form of publishers' contracts and an offer to write a James biography. During this period, he taught at Princeton, Harvard Summer School, Indiana, and the University of Hawaii. He received a permanent appointment at N.Y.U. in 1950.

"My interest is in the whole literary movement beginning with James and ending with Faulkner," Edel says. "James is just beginning to move in the direction of the subjective, of `inside experience.' Why is he more popular now than before? I think the reason is that he understood what happens when two people meet. He's the great novelist of `interpersonal relationships', to use psychological jargon.

"Also, he's such a great stylist--those wonderful phrases which people are always quoting in dissertations. `This decent and dauntless people'--Churchill used James and probably didn't realize he was quoting him. And James touched his time at so many points. George Moore writes, 'James went to Paris and met Turgenev, William Dean Howells stayed at home and read James.' It is marvelous that an American could take his seat at the European table of fiction so early in our history.

"And James was concerned (at a time when Americans weren't) about what place Americans should take in the civilized world. It's curious that at that time people should have thought he was highly critical of Americans. Actually, Americans carry off the moral victories in his novels.

"I try to get as much class discussion as possible in my teaching," Professor Edel says. "The act of reading is such a personal thing. I want students to see that it is an individual experience, and not look at a book as if it were behind a museum glass. You should read things out of a book, not into a book--this is what James wants you to do in Turn of the Screw. That's why Turn of the Screw will never be successful on television; James is ambiguous, and you can't be ambiguous on television!

"The twentieth century novel? I think James would be delighted with Faulkner's technical virtuosity, at its best. Lack of professionalism would have bothered him--James was a professional. And he didn't like violence in the novel. There are a few suicides and accidents, but nothing rash. His novels deal with mature people and the problems that arise among mature people."

In addition to the second volume of his biography of James, Professor Edel is assembling a four volume edition of James' letters. "It's very difficult reading them," Edel says. "I have, on occasion, spent half a morning with a magnifying glass looking at one world. I dictate the letter to a tape recorder--my one concession to mechanization--and a secretary types them up. It's difficult to select the important ones when you have ten thousand to choose from."

There was a pause in the conversation and Professor Edel smiled curiously. "I thought you were going to ask me what I thought of quiz shows!" he said.