The Europeans

by Henry James, 1878

Henry James was 35 when he wrote this novel. This is of interest to me because I have just turned 35, and like many men d'une certaine age, I find myself wondering what sorts of things a man's life might profitably produce. Of course the comparison is misplaced for several reasons, not the least of which is that Henry James is Henry James, blessedly inimitible in both style and subject. He is also that rarest of creatures, the man of both talent and priviledge who was able (au sense plus grande du terme) to devote his life exclusively to his art. My life, in contrast, is a bastard affair, my art a poridge of disjoint passions, and my children sickly: a man torn between theorems and book reviews.

By the time he wrote The Europeans, James had been going great guns for a while. At an early age he had made the courageous decision to withdraw from law school and pursue a life of letters, thus deviating from the path of power and wealth for the much more uncertain route of the literary arts. It is not clear to me to what extent James' material well being was ever in doubt: his grandfather was one of the first American millionaires, and money ran in the blood line. But it was a family of uncommon accomplishment, and I have no doubt that the fear of failure ran as deep in James as in any other man: there are no guarantees with writing, regardless of who your kinfolk are.

The novel is a light hearted affair. It sketches the attempts of the brilliant but aging and physically unremarkable Eugenia to secure a wealthy American husband. She fails, though her younger brother, Felix, secures a mate, an inheritance, and true love to boot. The novel reads like a comedy, with just deserts handed out like party favors at its conclusion. Formal plot structure not withstanding, the novel is psychologically penetrating and, like all of James' works, constructed with considerable craftsmanship.

On a basic level, the novel examines the ways certain European attitudes, ideas, and mores differ from their American counterparts. For all her Machiavellian intent, Eugenia is basically virtuous: she knows what she wants and sees no moral dilemma in devoting all her considerable charm and cunning to its pursuit. She is basically honest, in particular with herself, though her honestly is sorely taxed, and begins to fall apart, at the end of the book, when it becomes increasingly clear that a marriage proposal shall not materialize. Never a particular stickler for literal truth, it becomes expedient for both her pride and her project to massage the facts: she tells Acton she has sent off her divorce note, though she tells Felix she has not. She claims to be considering a marriage offer from Acton, and when the offer does not materialize, she tells Felix that she has turned him down. But this is the response of a woman in extremity, a woman whose beauty is fading and whose natural hopes for a comfortable marriage are fast crumbling. Having failed with Acton, she makes one more desperate play for the puerile Clifton, and when he manages to scuttle off, she is left, at last, alone with the brutal question: "Was she to have gained nothing?"

Felix is by far the more likeable of the European siblings, though his breezy good cheer and relentless humor render him rather two dimensional. It seems unlikely that he should have inherited nothing of the dark intention of his sister, or at the very least his normal human portion of that character. Still, he such a delight that we wish to accept him as real and model our secret selves on this whimsical Bohemian. His 'European' penchant for pleasure is tempered with a strong sense of social decency that refuses (at least at first) to allow him to court Gertrude, and when he finally does, and announces himself to Mr. Wentworth, it is with great apology and a regretful though unembarassed recognition of his own lightness. It is this character of open honesty that in some sense makes him more American than the Americans, and helps explain the success of his suit.

The Americans themselves are less well drawn. Wentworth is a charicature, Lizzy a placeholder, Charlotte a type, and Clifton a foil. Acton is a bit more complex than the others. Indeed, his competent blandness is in keeping with the character of a successful middle aged businessman: he is a profoundly safe man, a man who has already made his forture and now need only hold on to it, dallying his days over afternoon tea in the floral veranda of his country estate. Ultimately, it is Acton's failure that he can't fall in love with Eugenia: he recognizes a part of himself that craves exactly the niggling kernel of doubt that attachment to this European sophisticate would entail, but though he can intuit the pleasures, he cannot bring himself to actually live them. He ends up marrying a nice young girl and allows his brilliant, amusing, but perilously challenging Eugenia to escape back to the old country.

Main Characters
Eugenia
Felix
Mr. Wentworth
Charlotte
Gertrude
Rev. Brand
Robert Acton
Clifford
Lizie