He was taken aback at how ready Andersen was to attack his own father, or discuss, in casual terms, his close and difficult relationship with his older brother. Since Henry had not responded by discussing the many vagaries of Henry James senior, or his own brother’s constant willingness to wound him, believing that his father and his brother had first call on his loyalty, then he could not blame Andersen for feeling that he had nothing to say on these matters.
Andersen had made several references, during their meetings in Rome, and again in Rye, to the wealth of the James family, having heard of it discussed in Newport. He was, Henry knew, surprised at the modesty of his hotel in Rome and at the relative smallness of Lamb House. He had presumed that Henry’s industry arose from his desire for regular publication rather than an income. Before his arrival, the matter of money had been at the front of Henry’s mind and had become entwined with William’s proprietorial interest in the family’s business, William’s need to offer advice when none was sought.
Lamb House, whose owner had died, had been offered for sale some time earlier by the widow for two thousand pounds. The prospect of possessing the place filled Henry with an anxiety to move quickly in case it should be lost to him and a deep satisfaction at the idea that he could shut his door and turn the key without anyone having the right to enter his domain. The money would have to be raised quickly, however, and he did not have ready money. He covered his expenses by his writing and paid great attention to the money he received for stories and serializations. His inheritance, his capital and the dividends which came from them were controlled by William. They consisted mainly of the rents received from certain buildings in the town of Syracuse, which he had seen once and hoped never to have to view again, which William managed with, as far as he could make out, competence and prudence. But he did not think, even as he wrote to William, that he would need to take money from the capital, or borrow money using the Syracuse properties as the bond. The money, he believed, could be raised more simply from his own bank and paid back quickly by the fruits of his own industry.
Since William was coming to Europe, he had written to him to say that his apartment in Kensington, which had been briefly sublet, would now be free, and he hoped William and his family would install themselves there for a time before coming to Lamb House. He had meant the offer in all kindness, but William made clear that he wished to make his own arrangements. William James and Alice, Henry was told, would be travelling first to Germany where he would go to Nauheim to take the cure and then to England. He seemed to be declining the offer of the apartment.
Henry wrote to him at Nauheim about his interest in purchasing Lamb House. Later, he realized that he had explained far too much, as though he were an errant son writing to a parent, or indeed a profligate younger brother writing to his wiser, older sibling.
He had not asked William for advice, or for money. In retrospect, he wondered why he had written to him at all, why he had not gone ahead and purchased Lamb House without consulting a living soul other than his bank’s manager. He had described his new opportunity unthinkingly, in great excitement, and then had suffered the consequences.William had written him two letters in quick succession; the tone of the first was hortatory and hectoring: William as expert on the purchasing and disposal of real estate, on interest rates, and on the need for toughness and cunning in negotiation. Then, having met someone in Nauheim who had once seen the house and having discussed the entire matter freely with him, William wrote a second time to say that he believed the asking price was very extravagant and advising Henry that he should consult some wary business friend before in any way committing himself.
On receipt of the latter missive, Henry intended to write to him tersely to say that he had the matter under control and was not in need of any further advice. In fact, he would be grateful if William would not discuss the purchase of Lamb House at the price mentioned, or at any other price, with anyone, or indeed with him when they met.
He began the letter a number of times and then found himself, despite his original intention to be brief and cold, making clear that he would buy Lamb House in any case simply because he wanted to, but going on to explain its value and the reasonable asking price. He insisted that he was not yet wholly senile. He added to this letter when a further message came from his sister-in-law offering, with William’s approval, to lend him money from her own funds to buy Lamb House. He emphasized proudly to both William and Alice that he would not, in fact, need to borrow a penny, and wished to underline that, while he was grateful to Alice, William should understand that the decision to buy the house outright would not depend on his opinion or be influenced by it.
Henry pointed out that he had never lacked faith in his brother’s purchases nor sent him advice not sought for. He added that his joy at the prospect of getting the house had shrivelled under his brother’s warnings, but would, he was sure, rebloom. It was such a rare joy for him to want anything as he wanted Lamb House, he wrote, and he expected his brother to understand this.
He finished the letter late at night and, without reading it over, sealed the envelope and left it in the hall to be posted early in the morning. Alice, his sister-in-law, he was sure, had meant her offer kindly, and William’s advice had not been ill-intentioned, but they both suffered from a need, he felt, so deep-seated as to be well beyond their understanding, to have him act on their advice. And they would find it easier to spend time under his roof, had it been purchased on terms suggested by them.
When William wrote again apologizing for rubbing his brother up the wrong way, as he himself put it, he offered money from the Syracuse sinking fund which could in case of need be taken out. This merely added to Henry’s resentment which had also been smouldering over William’s refusal to accept definitely the offer of the flat in Kensington, and further resentments at his decision to go to Germany before he came to England. William was so proud of himself as a practical man, a family man, a man who did not write fictions but gave lectures, an American man plain in his habits and his arguments, representing gruff masculinity against his brother’s effete style; his refusal to take Henry’s flat seemed lacking in all common sense.
What Henry did not consider during this correspondence was his brother’s reason for being in Nauheim. Although William had written to say that he had a bad heart and Henry had made sympathetic references to this, it did not seem to him that his brother’s health might be in any serious danger. When, however, he met his brother from the train in early October, not having seen him for seven years, he was shocked at how much William had been weakened, although he sought to give no sign that this had been his first impression.
William had descended from the train looking as though he had woken from a deep sleep. He did not see Henry and stood waiting for his wife to step onto the platform before searching for him among the small crowd. As Burgess Noakes rushed to procure his luggage, William saw Henry and moved towards him, discarding instantly the pose of an old man and becoming enthusiastic in his movements. His face was thinner, Henry saw. When they had embraced and been joined by Alice, they walked back to supervise the loading of the luggage onto the wheelbarrow. William insisted on carrying one of the cases while Alice argued that he should not, and Henry pointed out that there was more room on the wheelbarrow and that Burgess Noakes was a champion athlete, much stronger than he looked. Burgess took the case, put it on the wheelbarrow and moved ahead.