Henry James published The Portrait of a Lady in 1881 and created what many critics consider the first fully modern novel in English. Its subject is a young American woman who comes to Europe with ideals about freedom and independence and discovers that freedom, when it arrives in the form of money, is not the same as freedom from the designs of other people. James’s technique – the sustained, fine-grained rendering of a consciousness in the process of understanding its own situation – is the foundation of a tradition that runs through Virginia Woolf and beyond.
Isabel Archer is an intelligent, proud, independent young woman from Albany, New York, who is taken to England by her aunt, Mrs. Touchett, and introduced into a world she finds both exciting and suspicious. Her uncle Daniel Touchett and his son Ralph become deeply fond of her. When Daniel dies, Ralph persuades him to leave a large portion of his estate to Isabel – so that she can, as Ralph puts it, be free to do whatever she likes with her life.
Isabel refuses the well-intentioned proposals of two men who would have given her a comfortable life: Lord Warburton, an English aristocrat, and Caspar Goodwood, an American businessman who loves her persistently. She goes to Florence, where she encounters the American expatriate Gilbert Osmond, a dilettante of refined taste and no money, and his friend Madame Merle, who is charming and accomplished in ways that Isabel admires without fully understanding.
Isabel marries Osmond. The marriage is a catastrophe. Osmond wants her money and her pliability, and he has precisely neither. The novel’s second half tracks the slow revelation of what Isabel has walked into and what she will do about it.
Isabel is one of the great creations of American fiction. She is also, and deliberately, deeply flawed in the specific way that intelligence and pride produce flaws: she is so confident in her own judgment, so convinced that she can see through conventional behavior to the truth beneath, that she walks directly into the trap that Osmond and Madame Merle have laid for her.
James is not cruel to her. He shows the exact mechanism of her error: she mistakes Osmond’s superficial refinement for depth, his fastidiousness for principle, his contempt for everything around him for discrimination. She is wrong about him in the way that intelligent people are sometimes spectacularly wrong: by filtering everything through their own assumptions.
Osmond is one of the most carefully constructed villains in English literature. He is not melodramatic or obviously threatening. He is simply a man who has reduced his life to the cultivation of taste and who regards other people – including his wife – as objects to be arranged or displayed. His cruelty is expressed through silence, through irony, through the precise withdrawal of approval. He is believable in a way that simpler villains are not.
The novel’s famous Chapter 42 – in which Isabel sits alone at night and thinks – is considered the founding document of the psychological novel. James spends an entire chapter inside Isabel’s consciousness as she processes what her marriage has cost her. Nothing happens externally; everything happens internally. The effect is that the reader understands Isabel more fully than she has been understood by any character in the book.
James’s prose demands active reading. His sentences are long, qualified, attentive to what they do not quite say. This is not obscurity for its own sake; it is the formal equivalent of human consciousness, which does not proceed in simple declarative sentences.
Readers who want a novel that takes seriously the inner life of an intelligent woman, who can sit with long, complex sentences, and who are interested in the founding documents of the modern novel will find The Portrait of a Lady essential and endlessly rewarding. It is not an easy book, but it is a great one.