Henry James’s “The Real Thing” was published in 1892, during the late English Victorian period, and it addresses the changing social structures of its time. At this point in English history, the Industrial Revolution—along with expanding global trade opportunities created, in part, by England’s colonial empire—shifted England’s workforce and economy away from agriculture (which was controlled by the landed aristocracy), towards urban manufacturing (which primarily benefited the middle and working classes). The growing economic power of the middle and working classes also led to political reforms that further increased their political power. The result was a weakened English aristocracy, but one that still clung to its own traditions and sense of self. By setting up a scenario in which a middle-class, professional artist works with two sets of models—the Monarchs (made up of Major Monarch and Mrs. Monarch), who are aristocrats fallen on hard times; and the working-class Miss Churm and poor immigrant Oronte—“The Real Thing” portrays the class tensions and changes at play in the late 19th century. In the end, the Monarchs are too rigid and unimaginative to successfully model, and the artist dismisses them. The artist’s rejection of the Monarchs—who the story implies represent all of the English aristocracy—implies that the English aristocracy of this time has become paralyzed: it’s losing its wealth and yet is unable to change.
James uses the Monarchs to represent the late-Victorian English aristocracy, a class whose fortune has diminished and who struggle to adapt socially and economically to the changing times. This representation is made clear from the beginning. First, they are initially introduced not as individuals, but as types: “A gentleman—with a lady.” They even self-identify as types: “The real thing; a gentleman, you know, or a lady.” Their name, Monarch, also suggests that they represent the entire aristocratic class. Contrary to appearances, though, they aren’t wealthy. Major Monarch informs the artist that they “had the misfortune to lose [their] money,” which is why they are now seeking employment. This downfall clearly parallels the fortunes of the aristocratic class more broadly, many of whom were experiencing hard times. The artist also notes that “There was something about them that represented credit,” suggesting that the aristocracy are on borrowed time and money. The Monarchs are also portrayed as stuck in their customs. The artist finds them pleasant, but “so simple.” Their “pathetic decorum and mysteriously permanent newness” speak to their dedication to outdated aristocratic propriety. The fact that the Monarchs make such terrible models—they are “too insurmountably stiff”—is emblematic of their general inability to change.
In contrast to the aristocracy, the middle, working, and immigrant classes (represented in the story by the artist, Miss Churm, and Oronte, respectively) all possess the flexibility that allows them to keep up with the changing socioeconomic landscape. The artist is an entrepreneurial middle-class businessman. He is both an employee (hired by newspapers, publishers, and portrait-sitters) and an employer (he hires models). He interacts easily with people of all social classes and his studio acts as a “Bohemian” oasis. Meanwhile, the working-class Miss Churm, although not formally educated, is “really very clever” in her work. The artist applauds her as “an excellent model” who “could represent everything.” Because of her talent, she is “greatly in demand, never in want of employment.” Through her, James suggests that members of the working class, with their varied skill sets, vitality, and adaptability, are well equipped for success. Finally, Oronte, an Italian immigrant, stands in for immigrants to England. Almost immediately, the artist identifies Oronte as “a treasure,” given his wealth of expression and ability to communicate despite not even speaking English. The artist hires him in a “double capacity” as both model and servant, which shows Oronte’s ability to fulfill a variety of roles. This speaks to the elasticity of not just the working class, but the immigrant class too.
But the Monarchs don’t just struggle with their cultivated rigidity and lack of professional experience; they also face the unwillingness of other classes to let them change. Miss Churm views the Monarchs as her “invidious rivals,” and is “secretly derisive” of them. She immediately predicts their inability to model, saying of Mrs. Monarch “if she can sit, I’ll tyke to bookkeeping.” She is not the only one with this skeptical attitude; no one is interested in hiring the Monarchs. Mrs. Monarch says “There isn’t a confounded job I haven’t applied for . . . But they won’t look at me.” Despite the Monarchs’ efforts, the professional and business classes are not interested in hiring the aristocracy, likely because the aristocrats have no concrete skills beyond being aristocrats. Eventually the Monarchs’ ineptitude as models gets them fired. In response, in a moment of desperation, the Monarchs try to be useful by acting as the artist’s servants: cleaning his house, washing his dishes. They are trying to do what Oronte is doing: filling dual roles. But the artist finds this transformation to be so “dreadful” that it kills his creative fervor and prompts him to give the Monarchs “a sum of money to go away.” Whereas Miss Churm views the Monarchs as competition, the artist’s discomfort at the Monarchs effort to work as servants is different. He sees them as “the real thing”—as the aristocracy—and the idea of them not being that real thing strikes him as dreadful.
Through the story of the Monarchs, then, James suggests that the English aristocracy are impossibly stuck: it’s not simply that they won’t adjust to the changing circumstances of the Victorian period, but that they can’t, and nobody would accept it if they did.
Class in England at the End of the 19th Century ThemeTracker
Class in England at the End of the 19th Century Quotes in The Real Thing
The hand of time had played over her freely, but only to simplify. She was slim and stiff, and so well-dressed, in dark blue cloth, with lappets and pockets and buttons, that it was clear she employed the same tailor as her husband. The couple had an indefinable air of prosperous thrift—they evidently got a good deal of luxury for their money.
(…) it was an embarrassment to find myself appraising physically, as if they were animals on hire or useful blacks, a pair whom I should have expected to meet only in one of the relations in which criticism is tacit.
“There isn’t a confounded job I haven’t applied for—waited for—prayed for. You can fancy we’d be pretty bad first. Secretaryship and that sort of thing? You might as well ask for a peerage. I’d be anything—I’m strong; a messenger or a coalheaver. I’d put on a gold-laced cap and open carriage-doors in front of the haberdasher’s; I’d hang about a station, to carry portmanteaux; I’d be a postman. But they won’t look at you; there are thousands, as good as yourself, already on the ground.”
I scarcely ever saw [Miss Churm] come in without thinking afresh how odd it was that, being so little in herself, she should yet be so much in others. She was meagre little Miss Churm, but she was an ample heroine of romance. She was only a freckled cockney, but she could represent everything, from a fine lady to a shepherdess (…)
“Oh, you think she’s shabby, but you must allow for the alchemy of art.”
However, they went off with an evident increase of comfort, founded on their demonstrable advantage in being the real thing.
I thought Mrs. Monarch’s face slightly convulsed when, on her coming back with her husband, she found Oronte installed. It was strange to have to recognize in a scrap of a lazzarone a competitor to her magnificent Major.
[The Monarchs] bored me a good deal; but the very fact that they bored me admonished me not to sacrifice them—if there was anything to be done with them—simply to irritation. As I look back at this phase they seem to me to have pervaded my life not a little. I have a vision of them as most of the time in my studio, seated, against the wall, on an old velvet bench to be out of the way, and looking like a pair of patient courtiers in a royal ante-chamber. I am convinced that during the coldest weeks of the winter they held their ground because it saved them fire. Their newness was losing its gloss, and it was impossible not to feel that they were objects of charity.
They had accepted their failure, but they couldn’t accept their fate. They had bowed their heads in bewilderment to the perverse and cruel law in virtue of which the real thing could be so much less precious than the unreal; but they didn’t want to starve.