The Wings of the Dove

James uses the urban geography of London as a symbolic shorthand for the social standing of the characters. In the opening chapter, he notes that Kate’s family is forced to move to a “blighted home in Lexham Gardens” following their fall from grace (41). Her sister, meanwhile, lives “at the worst roundabout Cromwell Road” (40). Here, James names two marginal neighborhoods at the time, just on the edge of respectability, and these addresses reflect the Croy family’s financial struggles and the decline of their social capital. In contrast, Aunt Maud lives directly opposite the Lancaster Gate entrance to Kensington Gardens. The homes in this area were built in the mid-19th century to “satisfy the tastes of a newly affluent middle class” (538). Thus, James frames Maud as part of the aspiring, upwardly mobile middle class.

While Milly and Susan are in London, they take a hotel room on “Brook Street,” implied to be Claridge’s Hotel in Mayfair. Claridge’s is a five-star luxury hotel that first opened in 1812. The hotel is known, in part, for playing host to royalty, including Empress Eugenie of France and Queen Victoria, making it a fitting symbol for Milly’s status as a de facto American “princess.”

Milly and Susan’s tendency to view their surroundings as paintings emphasizes their romantic desires to see themselves as part of a grand, cultured, idealized European historical landscape. Their travels through Europe are part of a 19th-century tradition for middle-class and wealthy Westerners, particularly Americans, known as the Grand Tour. At the time, the United States, a relatively new country, was thought to be devoid of significant culture. Young adults like Milly would travel through Europe to learn about high art and culture; they visited museums like the National Gallery in London and landmarks like Roman ruins.

Throughout The Wings of the Dove, James uses ekphrasis—a detailed description of art as a literary device—positioning several prestigious European paintings as catalysts for important moments in Milly’s journey of self-discovery. As Milly notes, throughout her travels in Europe, she had largely “turn[ed] her back on such opportunities for real improvement” (230) until she resolves to go to the National Gallery, “one of the attractions of Europe and one of its highest aids to culture” (230). While there, she is more interested in the people than the paintings, but she has a true moment of connection with the Bronzino portrait—implied to be The Portrait of Lucrezia Panciatichi (1545). She feels, taking in the painting, “things melted together—the beauty and the history and the facility and the splendid midsummer glow: it was a sort of magnificent maximum, the pink dawn of an apotheosis coming so curiously soon” (182). Seeing the painting allows Milly to imagine herself within the lineage of this high art, exacerbating her desire to experience the world to its fullest extent.

For her part, Susan reflects this romantic desire to create a personal connection to high art in her description of Milly’s party in Venice as “a Veronese picture, as near as can be” (390). She draws a direct connection between herself and the depicted scene, describing herself as “put into the corner of the foreground of effect” (390). She also draws Densher into the picture, describing him as “the grand young man who surpasses the others and holds up his head and the wine-cup” (391)—a reference to The Wedding at Cana by Paolo Veronese (1562-1563), which depicts Jesus turning water into wine.