It was the sole evidence
of political emotion in a lifetime of seventy-three years.
American writing men are justly proud, nevertheless, of this
expatriated craftsman. The American is inclined to admire good
workmanship of any kind, as far as he can understand the
mechanism of it. The task of really understanding Henry James has
been left chiefly to clever women and to a few critics, but ever
since "A Passionate Pilgrim" and "Roderick Hudson" appeared in,
1875, it has been recognized that here was a master, in his own
fashion. What that fashion is may now be known by anyone who will
take the pains to read the author's prefaces to the New York
edition of his revised works. Never, not even in the Paris which
James loved, has an artist put his intentions and his
self-criticism more definitively upon paper. The secret of Henry
James is told plainly enough here: a specially equipped
intelligence, a freedom from normal responsibilities, a consuming
desire to create beautiful things, and, as life unfolded its
complexities and nuances before his vision, an increasing passion
to seek the beauty which lies entangled and betrayed, a beauty
often adumbrated rather than made plastic, stories that must be
hinted at rather than told, raptures that exist for the initiated
only.
Pages:
265
266
267
268
269
270
271
272
273
274
275
276
277
278
279
280
281
282
283
284
285
286
287
288
289