In “The Real Thing,” Henry James explores how financial needs affect his characters’ choices, their relationships to each other, and who they can be. The down-on-their-luck aristocratic Major Monarch and Mrs. Monarch need to find jobs. The unnamed artist who narrates the story would rather paint portraits, but must instead make commercial illustrations to pay the bills. And the painter’s other models—Miss Churm and Oronte—must take what work they can to live, and often must work multiple jobs. Yet while financial need constrains and shapes the options available to each of the characters, the story also clearly shows that some of the characters are better at earning a living than others: the aristocratic Monarchs fail because of a lack of adaptability, while the middle-class professional painter, working class Miss Churm, and poor immigrant Oronte are each able to shift their behaviors, roles, and even their identities to make a living. Put another way, the aristocrats fail, while the members of the other classes don’t, suggesting that there is something unique about the aristocratic class in this time period that makes it unable to adapt to the changing economy.
In the story, the characters’ relations to each other—and therefore their identities—are defined primarily by their financial situations. When the Monarchs first show up at the artist’s home, the artist initially thinks they’ve come to hire him to paint their portraits. But the Monarchs’ loss of money has flipped the script: they’ve actually come in hopes that he will employ them as models. As models, the Monarchs come into social contact with the working-class Miss Churm, whom they would otherwise never encounter. It’s an awkward situation. The Monarchs “didn’t know how to fraternise” with Miss Churm, while Miss Churm quickly comes to see the Monarchs not as her distant betters but instead as “her invidious rivals” for work. In this way, the financial demands that the characters face have upended the traditional social order, forcing characters into new social roles and unexpected relationships with one another.
The artist, Miss Churm, and Oronte all are able to shift between identities in order to support themselves financially. While the artist aspires to be “a great painter of portraits,” he must work as a commercial illustrator in order to make money. In fact, the story shows the artist only making commercial work, which suggests that financial need has shifted his true “identity” from “portrait painter” to “illustrator.” While making a living thwarts his dreams, he is nonetheless able to make this shift to earn money. Miss Churm, according to the artist, is a wonderful model who can “represent everything,” even “types” (or characters) that are very different from who she is. Her financial life depends on this adaptability—her talent has her “greatly in demand, never in want of employment.” She also sometimes does domestic work for the artist, such as serving tea, showing that she’s able to take on different jobs, as well. It’s clear, then, that her flexibility is key to her financial security. Similarly, Oronte was a penniless street vendor before getting hired by the artist. For the artist, he acts “in the double capacity” of servant and model. His financial situation is such that he needs to fulfill both roles, and so he does.
But the aristocratic Monarchs lack this flexibility and, as a result, cannot make a living. Their failure suggests that there is something unique about them—and the aristocratic class they represent—that makes them unsuitable employees. While the Monarchs need money, they are never good candidates for the positions to which they apply. Mrs. Monarch declares that “There isn’t a confounded job [she hasn’t] applied for . . . But they won’t look at [her].” It seems that people are not interested in hiring a pair of down-on-their-luck aristocrats whose “advantages [are] . . . preponderantly social”—in other words, who have no skills. The Monarchs’ inability to adapt makes them unsuitable for modeling, too. As the artist says of Mrs. Monarch, she is “always the same lady. She was the real thing, but always the same thing.” The Monarchs make a final desperate attempt to find employment by doing the painter’s household chores—by acting as his servants. However, aristocrats behaving as servants so unnerves the artist that he pays them just to go away.
The story implies that the failure of the Monarchs to adjust is directly connected to their aristocratic status. When they attempt to act as his servants, the artist says of the Monarchs, “They had accepted their failure, but they couldn’t accept their fate.” But no other character in the story would be described as having a “fate” at all. The Monarchs have a “fate” that the characters of other classes don’t because of the different relationship between the social classes and money. If the middle-class painter were to lose his money, for instance, he would stop being middle class and become working class. His class would shift along with his money. But a poor aristocrat doesn’t become middle class or working class; she’s still an aristocrat, just a penniless one. The English aristocracy was traditionally wealthy, but its long history meant that it was also founded on heritage, tradition, and a cultural connection to England’s past, such that an aristocrat can’t ever be anything other than an aristocrat. “The Real Thing” portrays late nineteenth century as a world defined by money—financial concerns drive the characters’ choices and relationships. But while the “newer” classes—whose members are defined by the money they have—can adaptably maneuver among the requirements of this word, the aristocrats can’t change. They are doomed to be exactly who they are: “the real thing.”
Money, Identity, and Class ThemeTracker
Money, Identity, and Class 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 (…)
But after a few times I began to find her too insurmountably stiff; do what I would with it my drawing looked like a photograph or a copy of a photograph. Her figure had no variety of expression—she herself had no sense of variety (…) I placed her in every conceivable position, but she managed to obliterate their differences. She was always a lady certainly, and into the bargain was always the same lady. She was the real thing, but was always the same 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.
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.