Henry James

The Portrait of a Lady is a novel by Henry James. It is one of James's most popular long novels, and is regarded by critics as one of his finest. The Portrait of a Lady is the story of a spirited young American woman, Isabel Archer, who in "affronting her destiny", finds it overwhelming. She inherits a large amount of money and subsequently becomes the victim of Machiavellian scheming by two American expatriates. Like many of James's novels, it is set in Europe, mostly England and Italy. Generally regarded as the masterpiece of James's early period, this novel reflects James's continuing interest in the differences between the New World and the Old, often to the detriment of the former. It also treats in a profound way the themes of personal freedom, responsibility, and betrayal.

The Portrait of a Lady

Helen 

‘Never mind what they call you, he said. When you do suffer, they call you an idiot. The great point is to be as happy as possible.’

‘I shall always tell you’’, her aunt answered, `whenever I see you taking what seems to be too much liberty.' 

‘Pray do; but I dont say I shall always think your remonstrance just.’

‘Very likely not. You are too fond of your liberty.’

‘Yes. I think I am very fond of it. But I always want to know the things one shouldn't do.' 

Don't taunt me with that; that I don't know you better makes me unhappy enough already; it's all my loss. 

I don't see what harm there is in my wishing not to tie myself. I don't want to begin life by marrying. There are other things a woman can do.

‘Go everywhere,' he said at last, in a low, kind voice; do everv. thing; get everything out of life. Be happy - be triumphant.' 

‘What do you mean by being triumphant?' 

‘I love you, but I love without hope’, said Ralph, quickly, forcing a smile, and feeling that in that last declaration he had expressed more than he intended.

‘It has made me better, loving you’, he said on another occasion; ‘it has made me wiser, andeasier, and brighter. I used to want a great many things before, and to be angry that I didn't have them. Theoretically, I was satisfied, as I once told you. I flattered myself that I had limited my wants. But I was subject to irritation; I used to have morbid, sterile, hateful fits of hunger, of desire. Now I am really satisfied, because I can't think of anything better. It is just as when one has been trying to spell out a book in the twilight, and suddenly the lamp comes in. I had been putting out my eyes over the book of life, and finding nothing to reward me for my pains; but now that I can read it properly I see that it's a delightful story. My dear girl, I can't tell you how life seems to stretch there before us - what a long summer afternoon awaits us. It's the latter half of an Italian day - with a golden haze, and the shadows just lengthening, and that divine delicacy in the light, the air, the landscape, which I have loved all my life, and which you love to-day.’

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