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    The Whole Family by Henry James (Illustrated)
    The Whole Family by Henry James (Illustrated)
    The Whole Family by Henry James (Illustrated)
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    The Whole Family by Henry James (Illustrated)

    By Henry James

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    This eBook features the unabridged text of ‘The Whole Family’ from the bestselling edition of ‘The Complete Works of Henry James’.

    Having established their name as the leading publisher of classic literature and art, Delphi Classics produce publications that are individually crafted with superior formatting, while introducing many rare texts for the first time in digital print. The Delphi Classics edition of James includes original annotations and illustrations relating to the life and works of the author, as well as individual tables of contents, allowing you to navigate eBooks quickly and easily.

    eBook features:
    * The complete unabridged text of ‘The Whole Family’
    * Beautifully illustrated with images related to James’s works
    * Individual contents table, allowing easy navigation around the eBook
    * Excellent formatting of the textPlease visit www.delphiclassics.com to learn more about our wide range of titles
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherPublishdrive
    Release dateJul 17, 2017
    ISBN9781786569790
    The Whole Family by Henry James (Illustrated)
    Author

    Henry James

    Henry James (1843–1916) was an American writer, highly regarded as one of the key proponents of literary realism, as well as for his contributions to literary criticism. His writing centres on the clash and overlap between Europe and America, and The Portrait of a Lady is regarded as his most notable work.

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      Book preview

      The Whole Family by Henry James (Illustrated) - Henry James

      The Complete Works of

      HENRY JAMES

      VOLUME 21 OF 65

      The Whole Family

      Parts Edition

      By Delphi Classics, 2016

      Version 10

      COPYRIGHT

      ‘The Whole Family’

      Henry James: Parts Edition (in 65 parts)

      First published in the United Kingdom in 2017 by Delphi Classics.

      © Delphi Classics, 2017.

      All rights reserved.  No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior permission in writing of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form other than that in which it is published.

      ISBN: 978 1 78656 979 0

      Delphi Classics

      is an imprint of

      Delphi Publishing Ltd

      Hastings, East Sussex

      United Kingdom

      Contact: sales@delphiclassics.com

      www.delphiclassics.com

      Henry James: Parts Edition

      This eBook is Part 21 of the Delphi Classics edition of Henry James in 65 Parts. It features the unabridged text of The Whole Family from the bestselling edition of the author’s Complete Works. Having established their name as the leading publisher of classic literature and art, Delphi Classics produce publications that are individually crafted with superior formatting, while introducing many rare texts for the first time in digital print. Our Parts Editions feature original annotations and illustrations relating to the life and works of Henry James, as well as individual tables of contents, allowing you to navigate eBooks quickly and easily.

      Visit here to buy the entire Parts Edition of Henry James or the Complete Works of Henry James in a single eBook.

      Learn more about our Parts Edition, with free downloads, via this link or browse our most popular Parts here.

      HENRY JAMES

      IN 65 VOLUMES

      Parts Edition Contents

      The Novels

      1, Watch and Ward

      2, Roderick Hudson

      3, The American

      4, The Europeans

      5, Confidence

      6, Washington Square

      7, The Portrait of a Lady

      8, The Bostonians

      9, The Princess Casamassima

      10, The Reverberator

      11, The Tragic Muse

      12, The Other House

      13, The Spoils of Poynton

      14, What Maisie Knew

      15, The Awkward Age

      16, The Sacred Fount

      17, The Wings of the Dove

      18, The Ambassadors

      19, The Golden Bowl

      20, The Outcry

      21, The Whole Family

      22, The Ivory Tower

      23, The Sense of the Past

      The Novellas

      24, Daisy Miller

      25, The Aspern Papers

      26, A London Life

      27, The Lesson of the Master

      28, The Turn of the Screw

      29, In the Cage

      30, The Beast in the Jungle

      The Tales

      31, The Complete Tales

      The Plays

      32, Pyramus and Thisbe

      33, Still Waters

      34, A Change of Heart

      35, Daisy Miller

      36, Tenants

      37, Disengaged

      38, The Album

      39, The Reprobate

      40, Guy Domville

      41, Summersoft

      42, The High Bid

      43, The Outcry

      The Travel Writing

      44, Transatlantic Sketches

      45, Portraits of Places

      46, A Little Tour in France

      47, English Hours

      48, The American Scene

      49, Italian Hours

      The Non-Fiction

      50, French Novelists and Poets

      51, Hawthorne

      52, Partial Portraits

      53, Essays in London and Elsewhere

      54, Picture and Text

      55, William Wetmore Story and His Friends

      56, Views and Reviews

      57, Notes on Novelists

      58, Within the Rim and Other Essays

      59, Notes and Reviews

      60, The Art of the Novel

      The Letters

      61, The Letters of Henry James

      The Autobiographies

      62, A Small Boy and Others

      63, Notes of a Son and Brother

      64, The Middle Years

      The Criticism

      65, The Criticism

      www.delphiclassics.com

      The Whole Family

      Originally serialised in Harper’s Bazaar in 1908, The Whole Family is a collaborative novel of twelve chapters, each told by a different author.  This unusual project was conceived by novelist William Dean Howells and carried out under the direction of Harper’s Bazaar editor Elizabeth Jordan, who, like Howells, wrote one of the chapters herself. Howells’ idea for the novel was to show how an engagement or marriage would affect and be affected by an entire family. The project is entertaining in how the authors’ contentious interrelationships mirror the sometimes dysfunctional family they describe in their chapters.

      As well as including James’ contribution to the project, Chapter Seven – The Married Son, the complete text of The Whole Family is provided in this collection.

      The first edition

      CONTENTS

      I. THE FATHER, by William Dean Howells

      II. THE OLD-MAID AUNT, by Mary E. Wilkins Freeman

      III. THE GRANDMOTHER, by Mary Heaton Vorse

      IV. THE DAUGHTER-IN-LAW, by Mary Stewart Cutting

      V. THE SCHOOL-GIRL, by Elizabeth Jordan

      VI. THE SON-IN-LAW, by John Kendrick Bangs

      VII. THE MARRIED SON, by Henry James

      VIII. THE MARRIED DAUGHTER, By Elizabeth Stuart Phelps

      IX. THE MOTHER, by Edith Wyatt

      X. THE SCHOOL-BOY, By Mary Raymond Shipman Andrews

      Rabbits.

      XI. PEGGY, by Alice Brown

      XII. THE FRIEND OF THE FAMILY, by Henry Van Dyke

      William Dean Howells (1837-1920) was an American realist author and literary critic.

      James, 1912

      I. THE FATHER, by William Dean Howells

      As soon as we heard the pleasant news — I suppose the news of an engagement ought always to be called pleasant — it was decided that I ought to speak first about it, and speak to the father. We had not been a great while in the neighborhood, and it would look less like a bid for the familiar acquaintance of people living on a larger scale than ourselves, and less of an opening for our own intimacy if they turned out to be not quite so desirable in other ways as they were in the worldly way. For the ladies of the respective families first to offer and receive congratulations would be very much more committing on both sides; at the same time, to avoid the appearance of stiffness, some one ought to speak, and speak promptly. The news had not come to us directly from our neighbors, but authoritatively from a friend of theirs, who was also a friend of ours, and we could not very well hold back. So, in the cool of the early evening, when I had quite finished rasping my lawn with the new mower, I left it at the end of the swath, which had brought me near the fence, and said across it,

      Good-evening!

      My neighbor turned from making his man pour a pail of water on the earth round a freshly planted tree, and said, Oh, good-evening! How d’ye do? Glad to see you! and offered his hand over the low coping so cordially that I felt warranted in holding it a moment.

      I hope it’s in order for me to say how very much my wife and I are interested in the news we’ve heard about one of your daughters? May I offer our best wishes for her happiness?

      Oh, thank you, my neighbor said. You’re very good indeed. Yes, it’s rather exciting — for us. I guess that’s all for to-night, Al, he said, in dismissal of his man, before turning to lay his arms comfortably on the fence top. Then he laughed, before he added, to me, And rather surprising, too.

      Those things are always rather surprising, aren’t they? I suggested.

      Well, yes, I suppose they are. It oughtn’t be so in our case, though, as we’ve been through it twice before: once with my son — he oughtn’t to have counted, but he did — and once with my eldest daughter. Yes, you might say you never do quite expect it, though everybody else does. Then, in this case, she was the baby so long, that we always thought of her as a little girl. Yes, she’s kept on being the pet, I guess, and we couldn’t realize what was in the air.

      I had thought, from the first sight of him, that there was something very charming in my neighbor’s looks. He had a large, round head, which had once been red, but was now a russet silvered, and was not too large for his manly frame, swaying amply outward, but not too amply, at the girth. He had blue, kind eyes, and a face fully freckled, and the girl he was speaking of with a tenderness in his tones rather than his words, was a young feminine copy of him; only, her head was little, under its load of red hair, and her figure, which we had lately noticed flitting in and out, as with a shy consciousness of being stared at on account of her engagement, was as light as his was heavy on its feet.

      I said, Naturally, and he seemed glad of the chance to laugh again.

      "Well, of course! And her being away at school made it all the more so. If we’d had her under our eye, here — Well, we shouldn’t have had her under our eye if she had BEEN here; or if we had, we shouldn’t have seen what was going on; at least I shouldn’t; maybe her mother would. So it’s just as well it happened as it did happen, I guess. We shouldn’t have been any the wiser if we’d known all about it. I joined him in his laugh at his paradox, and he began again. What’s that about being the unexpected that happens? I guess what happens is what ought to have been expected. We might have known when we let her go to a coeducational college that we were taking a risk of losing her; but we lost our other daughter that way, and SHE never went to ANY kind of college. I guess we counted the chances before we let her go. What’s the use? Of course we did, and I remember saying to my wife, who’s more anxious than I am about most things — women are, I guess — that if the worst came to the worst, it might not be such a bad thing. I always thought it wasn’t such an objectionable feature, in the coeducational system, if the young people did get acquainted under it, and maybe so well acquainted that they didn’t want to part enemies in the end. I said to my wife that I didn’t see how, if a girl was going to get married, she could have a better basis than knowing the fellow through three or four years’ hard work together. When you think of the sort of hit-or-miss affairs most marriages are that young people make after a few parties and picnics, coeducation as a preliminary to domestic happiness doesn’t seem a bad notion."

      There’s something in what you say, I assented.

      Of course there is, my neighbor insisted. I couldn’t help laughing, though, and he laughed, as if to show how helpless he had been, at what my wife said. She said she guessed if it came to that they would get to know more of each other’s looks than they did of their minds. She had me there, but I don’t think my girl has made out so very poorly even as far as books are concerned.

      Upon this invitation to praise her, I ventured to say, A young lady of Miss Talbert’s looks doesn’t need much help from books.

      I could see that what I had said pleased him to the core, though he put on a frown of disclaimer in replying, I don’t know about her looks. She’s a GOOD girl, though, and that’s the main thing, I guess.

      For her father, yes, but other people don’t mind her being pretty, I persisted. My wife says when Miss Talbert comes out into the garden, the other flowers have no chance.

      Good for Mrs. Temple! my neighbor shouted, joyously giving himself away.

      I have always noticed that when you praise a girl’s beauty to her father, though he makes a point of turning it off in the direction of her goodness, he likes so well to believe she is pretty that he cannot hold out against any persistence in the admirer of her beauty. My neighbor now said with the effect of tasting a peculiar sweetness in my words, I guess I shall have to tell my wife, that. Then he added, with a rush of hospitality, Won’t you come in and tell her yourself?

      Not now, thank you. It’s about our tea-time.

      Glad it isn’t your DINNER-time! he said, heartily.

      Well, yes. We don’t see the sense of dining late in a place like this. The fact is, we’re both village-bred, and we like the mid-day dinner. We make rather a high tea, though.

      So do we. I always want a dish of something hot. My wife thinks cake is light, but I think meat is.

      Well, cake is the New England superstition, I observed. And I suppose York State, too.

      Yes, more than pie is, he agreed. For supper, anyway. You may have pie at any or all of the three meals, but you have GOT to have cake at tea, if you are anybody at all. In the place where my wife lived, a woman’s social standing was measured by the number of kinds of cake she had.

      We laughed at that, too, and then there came a little interval and I said, Your place is looking fine.

      He turned his head and gave it a comprehensive stare. Yes, it is, he admitted. They tell me it’s an ugly old house, and I guess if my girls, counting my daughter-in-law, had their way, they would have that French roof off, and something Georgian — that’s what they call it — on, about as quick as the carpenter could do it. They want a kind of classic front, with pillars and a pediment; or more the Mount Vernon style, body yellow, with white trim. They call it Georgian after Washington? This was obviously a joke.

      No, I believe it was another George, or four others. But I don’t wonder you want to keep your house as it is. It expresses something characteristic. I saved myself by forbearing to say it was handsome. It was, in fact, a vast, gray-green wooden edifice, with a mansard-roof cut up into many angles, tipped at the gables with rockets and finials, and with a square tower in front, ending in a sort of lookout at the top, with a fence of iron filigree round it. The taste of 1875 could not go further; it must have cost a heap of money in the depreciated paper of the day.

      I suggested something of the kind to my neighbor, and he laughed. I guess it cost all we had at the time. We had been saving along up, and in those days it used to be thought that the best investment you could make was to put your money in a house of your own. That’s what we did, anyway. I had just got to be superintendent of the Works, and I don’t say but what we felt my position a little. Well, we felt it more than we did when I got to be owner. He laughed in good-humored self-satire. My wife used to say we wanted a large house so as to have it big enough to hold me, when I was feeling my best, and we built the largest we could for all the money we had. She had a plan of her own, which she took partly from the house of a girl friend of hers where she had been visiting, and we got a builder to carry out her idea. We did have some talk about an architect, but the builder said he didn’t want any architect bothering around HIM, and I don’t know as SHE did, either. Her idea was plenty of chambers and plenty of room in them, and two big parlors one side of the front door, and a library and dining-room on the other; kitchen in the L part, and girl’s room over that; wide front hall, and black-walnut finish all through the first floor. It was considered the best house at the time in Eastridge, and I guess it was. But now, I don’t say but what it’s old-fashioned. I have to own up to that with the girls, but I tell them so are we, and that seems to make it all right for a while. I guess we sha’n’t change.

      He continued to stare at the simple-hearted edifice, so simple-hearted in its out-dated pretentiousness, and then he turned and leaned over the top of the fence where he had left his arms lying, while contemplating the early monument of his success. In making my journalistic study, more or less involuntary, of Eastridge, I had put him down as materially the first man of the place; I might have gone farther and put him down as the first man intellectually. We folk who have to do more constantly with reading and writing are apt to think that the other folk who have more to do with making and marketing have not so much mind, but I fancy we make a mistake in that now and then. It is only another kind of mind which they have quite as much of as we have of ours. It was intellectual force that built up the Plated-Ware Works of Eastridge, where there was no other reason for their being, and it was mental grip that held constantly to the management, and finally grasped the ownership. Nobody ever said that Talbert had come unfairly into that, or that he had misused his money in buying men after he began to come into it in quantity. He was felt in a great many ways, though he made something of a point of not being prominent in politics, after being president of the village two terms. The minister of his church was certainly such a preacher as he liked; and nothing was done in the church society without him; he gave the town a library building, and a soldier’s monument; he was foremost in getting the water brought in, which was natural enough since he needed it the most; he took a great interest in school matters, and had a fight to keep himself off the board of education; he went into his pocket for village improvements whenever he was asked, and he was the chief contributor to the public fountain under the big elm. If he carefully, or even jealously guarded his own interests, and held the leading law firm in the hollow of his hand, he was not oppressive, to the general knowledge. He was a despot, perhaps, but he was Blackstone’s ideal of the head of a state, a good despot. In all his family relations he was of the exemplary perfection which most other men attain only on their tombstones, and I had found him the best of neighbors. There were some shadows of diffidence between the ladies of our families, mainly on the part of my wife, but none between Talbert and me. He showed me, as a newspaper man with ideals if not abilities rather above the average, a deference which pleased my wife, even more than me.

      It was the married daughter whom she most feared might, if occasion offered, give herself more consequence than her due. She had tried to rule her own family while in her father’s house, and now though she had a house of her own, my wife believed that she had not wholly relinquished her dominion there. Her husband was the junior member of the law firm which Talbert kept in his pay, to the exclusion of most other clients, and he was a very good fellow, so far as I knew, with the modern conception of his profession which, in our smaller towns and cities, has resulted in corporation lawyers and criminal lawyers, and has left to a few aging attorneys the faded traditions and the scanty affairs of the profession. My wife does not mind his standing somewhat in awe of his father-in-law, but she thinks poorly of his spirit in relation to that managing girl he has married. Talbert’s son is in the business with him, and will probably succeed him in it; but it is well known in the place that he will never be the man his father is, not merely on account of his college education, but also on account of the easy temperament, which if he had indulged it to the full would have left him no better than some kind of artist. As it is, he seems to leave all the push to his father; he still does some sketching outside, and putters over the aesthetic details in the business, the new designs for the plated ware, and the illustrated catalogues which the house publishes every year; I am in hopes that we shall get the printing, after we have got the facilities. It would be all right with the young man in the opinion of his censors if he had married a different kind of woman, but young Mrs. Talbert is popularly held just such another as her husband, and easy-going to the last degree. She was two or three years at the Art Students’ League, and it was there that her husband met her before they both decided to give up painting and get married.

      The two youngest children, or the fall chickens as they are called in recognition of the wide interval between their ages and those of the other children, are probably of the indeterminate character proper to their years. We think the girl rather inclines to a hauteur based upon the general neglect of that quality in the family, where even the eldest sister is too much engaged in ruling to have much force left for snubbing. The child carries herself with a vague loftiness, which has apparently not awaited the moment of long skirts for keeping pretenders to her favor at a distance. In the default of other impertinents to keep in abeyance we fancy that she exercises her gift upon her younger brother, who, so far as we have been able to note, is of a disposition which would be entirely sweet if it were not for the exasperations he suffers from her. I like to put myself in his place, and to hold that he believes himself a better judge than she of the sort of companions he chooses, she being disabled by the mental constitution of her sex, and the defects of a girl’s training, from knowing the rare quality of boys who present themselves even to my friendly eyes as dirty, and, when not patched, ragged. I please myself in my guesses at her character with the conjecture that she is not satisfied with her sister’s engagement to a fellow-student in a co-educational college, who is looking forward to a professorship.

      In spite of her injustice in regard to his own companions, this imaginable attitude of hers impresses the boy, if I understand boys. I have no doubt he reasons that she must be right about something, and as she is never right about boys, she must be right about brothers-in-law, potential if not actual. This one may be, for all the boy knows, a sissy; he inclines to believe, from what he understands of the matter, that he is indeed a sissy, or he would never have gone to a college where half the students are girls. He himself, as I have heard, intends to go to a college, but whether Harvard, or Bryant’s Business College, he has not yet decided. One thing he does know, though, and that is there are not going to be any girls in it. We have not allowed our invention so great play in regard to the elder members of our neighbor’s family perhaps because we really know

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