THE HOGARTH ESSAYS
HENRY JAMES AT WORK
BY
THEODORA BOSANQUET
HENRY JAMES AT WORK
I
I knew nothing of Henry James beyond the revelation of his novels andtales before the summer of 1907. Then, as I sat in a top-floor officenear Whitehall one August morning, compiling a very full index to theReport of the Royal Commission on Coast Erosion, my ears were struck by theastonishing sound of passages from The Ambassadors being dictatedto a young typist. Neglecting my Blue-book, I turned round to watch theoperator ticking off sentences which seemed to be at least as much of asurprise to her as they were to me. When my bewilderment had broken intoa question, I learnt that Henry James was on the point of coming backfrom Italy, that he had asked to be provided with an amanuensis, andthat the lady at the typewriter was making acquaintance with his style.Without any hopeful design of supplanting her, I lodged an immediatepetition that I might be allowed the next opportunity of filling thepost, supposing she should ever abandon it. I was told, to my amazement,that I need not wait. The established candidate was not enthusiasticabout the prospect before her, was even genuinely relieved to look inanother direction. If I set about practising typewriting on a Remingtonmachine at once, I could be interviewed by Henry James as soon as hearrived in London. Within an hour I had begun work on the typewriter. Bythe time he was ready to interview me, I could tap out paragraphs ofThe Ambassadors at quite a fair speed.
He asked no questions at that interview about my speed on a typewriteror about anything else. The friend to whom he had applied for anamanuensis had told him that I was sufficiently the right young womanfor his purpose and he relied on her word. He had, at the best, littlehope of any young woman beyond docility. We sat in armchairs on eitherside of a fireless grate while we observed each other. I suppose hefound me harmless and I know that I found him overwhelming. He was muchmore massive than I had expected, much broader and stouter and stronger.I remembered that someone had told me he used to be taken for asea-captain when he wore a beard, but it was clear that now, with thebeard shaved away, he would hardly have passed for, say, an admiral, inspite of the keen gray eyes set in a face burned to a colourablesea-faring brown by the Italian sun. No successful naval officer couldhave afforded to keep that sensitive mobile mouth. After the interview Iwondered what kind of impression one might have gained from a chanceencounter in some such observation cell as a railway carriage. Would ithave been possible to fit him confidently into any single category? Hehad reacted with so much success against both the American accent andthe English manner that he seemed only doubtfully Anglo-Saxon. He mightperhaps have been some species of disguised cardinal, or even a Romannobleman amusing himself by playing the part of a Sussex squire. Theobserver could at least have guessed that any part he chose to assumewould be finely conceived and generously played, for his features wereall cast in the classical mould of greatness. He might very well havebeen a merciful Cæsar or a benevolent Napoleon, and a painter whoworked at his portrait a year or two later was excusably reminded of somany illustrious makers of history that he declared it to be a hard taskto isolate the individual character of the model.
If the interview was overwhelming, it had none of the usual awkwardnessof such curious conversations. Instead of critical angles anddiscon