THE POINT OF VIEW
BY
HENRY JAMES
London
MACMILLAN AND CO.
1886
Printed by R. & R. Clark, Edinburgh.
I.
FROM MISS AURORA CHURCH, AT SEA, TO
MISS WHITESIDE, IN PARIS.
. . . My dear child, the bromide ofsodium (if that’s what you call it) proved perfectlyuseless. I don’t mean that it did me no good, butthat I never had occasion to take the bottle out of my bag.It might have done wonders for me if I had needed it; but Ididn’t, simply because I have been a wonder myself.Will you believe that I have spent the whole voyage on deck, inthe most animated conversation and exercise? Twelve timesround the deck make a mile, I believe; and by this measurement Ihave been walking twenty miles a day. And down to everymeal, if you please, where I have displayed the appetite of afish-wife. Of course the weather has been lovely; sothere’s no great merit. The wicked old Atlantic hasbeen as blue as the sapphire in my only ring (a rather good one),and as smooth as the slippery floor of Madame Galopin’sdining-room. We have been for the last three hours in sightof land, and we are soon to enter the Bay of New York, which issaid to be exquisitely beautiful. But of course you recallit, though they say that everything changes so fast overhere. I find I don’t remember anything, for myrecollections of our voyage to Europe, so many years ago, areexceedingly dim; I only have a painful impression that mamma shutme up for an hour every day in the state-room, and made me learnby heart some religious poem. I was only five years old,and I believe that as a child I was extremely timid; on the otherhand, mamma, as you know, was dreadfully severe. She issevere to this day; only I have become indifferent; I have beenso pinched and pushed—morally speaking, bienentendu. It is true, however, that there are childrenof five on the vessel today who have been extremelyconspicuous—ranging all over the ship, and always underone’s feet. Of course they are little compatriots,which means that they are little barbarians. I don’tmean that all our compatriots are barbarous; they seem toimprove, somehow, after their first communion. Idon’t know whether it’s that ceremony that improvesthem, especially as so few of them go in for it; but the womenare certainly nicer than the little girls; I mean, of course, inproportion, you know. You warned me not to generalise, andyou see I have already begun, before we have arrived. But Isuppose there is no harm in it so long as it is favourable.Isn’t it favourable when I say that I have had the mostlovely time? I have never had so much liberty in my life,and I have been out alone, as you may say, every day of thevoyage. If it is a foretaste of what is to come, I shalltake to that very kindly. When I say that I have been outalone, I mean that we have always been two. But we two werealone, so to speak, and it was not like always having mamma, orMadame Galopin, or some lady in the pension, or thetemporary cook. Mamma has been very poorly; she is so verywell on land, it’s a wonder to see her at all takendown. She says, however, that it isn’t the being at