The Portrait of a Lady by Henry James

The opening sentence of Portrait of a Lady may not be the most exciting in all of literature ("Under certain circumstances there are few hours in life more agreeable than the hour dedicated to the ceremony known as afternoon tea"), but the novel's opening perfectly prepares the reader for the development of the novel's main themes.

The main theme of Portrait of a Lady is the conflict between individualism (represented here by Isabel Archer's "independence") and social custom. The novel begins with the ultimate social custom, the English tea ceremony, set amid a genteel landscape populated by good-natured, affectionate members of the high upper classes. This well-ordered and familiar scene, which has obviously been acted out by the three men involved a hundred times before, is then disturbed by the appearance of Isabel, who arrives amid a chaos of barking dogs and ruffled expectations. At once, Isabel is at odds with the calm traditions of social convention, and the novel's thematic exploration is off to a strong start.

To say that Isabel's individualism is at odds with social convention is not to say that she is at odds with the conventional people around her; on the contrary, all of the men on the lawn seem very taken with her, especially Ralph, who impulsively gives her his dog, and Lord Warburton, who declares that she is his idea of an "interesting woman." It is important to note that we do not learn a great deal about Isabel herself in this section, virtually nothing of her past, and very little of her personality beyond what we see through the eyes of the other characters. All we are told is that she is an "independent woman," a very vague description that nevertheless piques the interest of Lord Warburton and the Touchetts—in the late 1860s in upper-class English country houses, we can infer, independent women of any sort are in very short supply.

Throughout Portrait of a Lady, James will alternate between showing us Isabel's life from Isabel's perspective and showing it through the perspective of peripheral characters such as Ralph. The use of peripheral points of view casts a great deal of light on Isabel's actions—here, for instance, James uses Ralph's perspective to show us what kind of impression Isabel makes on those around her, giving us the sense that she is different and special, a sense that would have been difficult to impart had we viewed the same scene through Isabel's eyes.

It is also important to note that Portrait of a Lady is set almost entirely among a group of Americans who live in Europe, and the novel's most significant secondary theme is the contrast between the idea of Europe and the idea of America, and how those ideas are negotiated in the minds of the expatriated Americans. In a very general sense, James uses the idea of America to represent innocence, individualism, optimism, and action, while Europe tends to represent sophistication, social convention, decadence, and tradition.

First written in the 1880s and extensively revised in 1908, The Portrait of a Lady is often considered to be James's greatest achievement. In it, he explored many of his most characteristic themes, including the conflict between American individualism and European social custom and the situation of Americans in Europe. It also includes many of his most memorable characters, including the lady of the novel's title, Isabel Archer, the indomitable Mrs. Touchett, the wise and funny Ralph Touchett, the fast-talking Henrietta Stackpole, and the sinister villains, Gilbert Osmond and Madame Merle.

While he was a dedicated observer of human beings in society, James was a socially distant man who formed few close friendships. He never married and openly claimed to practice celibacy. Perhaps this gave him time to write: in four decades of his writing career, he produced nearly 100 books, including such classics as The Golden Bowl, The Wings of the Dove, and the immortal ghost story "The Turn of the Screw." He died on February 28, 1916, shortly after receiving the English Order of Merit for his dedication to the British cause in World War I.

Isabel Archer is a woman in her early twenties who comes from a genteel family in Albany, New York, in the late 1860s. Her mother died when she was a young girl, and her father raised her in a haphazard manner, allowing her to educate herself and encouraging her independence. As a result, the adult Isabel is widely read, imaginative, confident in her own mind, and slightly narcissistic; she has the reputation in Albany for being a formidable intellect, and as a result she often seems intimidating to men. She has had few suitors, but one of them is Caspar Goodwood, the powerful, charismatic son of a wealthy Boston mill owner. Isabel is drawn to Caspar, but her commitment to her independence makes her fear him as well, for she feels that to marry him would be to sacrifice her freedom.

Shortly after Isabel's father dies, she receives a visit from her indomitable aunt, Mrs. Touchett, an American who lives in Europe. Mrs. Touchett offers to take Isabel on a trip to Europe, and Isabel eagerly agrees, telling Caspar that she cannot tell him whether she wishes to marry him until she has had at least a year to travel in Europe with her aunt. Isabel and Mrs. Touchett leave for England, where Mrs. Touchett's estranged husband is a powerful banker. Isabel makes a strong impression on everyone at Mr. Touchett's county manor of Gardencourt: her cousin Ralph, slowly dying of a lung disorder, becomes deeply devoted to her, and the Touchetts' aristocratic neighbor Lord Warburton falls in love with her. Warburton proposes, but Isabel declines; though she fears that she is passing up a great social opportunity by not marrying Warburton, she still believes that marriage would damage her treasured independence. As a result, she pledges to accomplish something wonderful with her life, something that will justify her decision to reject Warburton.

Isabel's friend Henrietta Stackpole, an American journalist, believes that Europe is changing Isabel, slowly eroding her American values and replacing them with romantic idealism. Henrietta comes to Gardencourt and secretly arranges for Caspar Goodwood to meet Isabel in London. Goodwood again presses Isabel to marry him; this time, she tells him she needs at least two years before she can answer him, and she promises him nothing. She is thrilled to have exercised her independence so forcefully. Mr. Touchett's health declines, and Ralph convinces him that when he dies, he should leave half his wealth to Isabel: this will protect her independence and ensure that she will never have to marry for money. Mr. Touchett agrees shortly before he dies. Isabel is left with a large fortune for the first time in her life. Her inheritance piques the interest of Madame Merle, Mrs. Touchett's polished, elegant friend; Madame Merle begins to lavish attention on Isabel, and the two women become close friends.

Isabel travels to Florence with Mrs. Touchett and Madame Merle; Merle introduces Isabel to a man named Gilbert Osmond, a man of no social standing or wealth, but whom Merle describes as one of the finest gentlemen in Europe, wholly devoted to art and aesthetics. Osmond's daughter Pansy is being brought up in a convent; his wife is dead. In secret, Osmond and Merle have a mysterious relationship; Merle is attempting to manipulate Isabel into marrying Osmond so that he will have access to her fortune. Osmond is pleased to marry Isabel, not only for her money, but also because she makes a fine addition to his collection of art objects.

Everyone in Isabel's world disapproves of Osmond, especially Ralph, but Isabel chooses to marry him anyway. She has a child the year after they are married, but the boy dies six months after he is born. Three years into their marriage, Isabel and Osmond have come to despise one another; they live with Pansy in a palazzo in Rome, where Osmond treats Isabel as barely a member of the family: to him, she is a social hostess and a source of wealth, and he is annoyed by her independence and her insistence on having her own opinions. Isabel chafes against Osmond's arrogance, his selfishness, and his sinister desire to crush her individuality, but she does not consider leaving him. For all her commitment to her independence, Isabel is also committed to her social duty, and when she married Osmond, she did so with the intention of transforming herself into a good wife.

A young American art collector who lives in Paris, Edward Rosier, comes to Rome and falls in love with Pansy; Pansy returns his feelings. But Osmond is insistent that Pansy should marry a nobleman, and he says that Rosier is neither rich nor highborn enough. Matters grow complicated when Lord Warburton arrives on the scene and begins to court Pansy. Warburton is still in love with Isabel and wants to marry Pansy solely to get closer to her. But Osmond desperately wants to see Pansy married to Warburton. Isabel is torn about whether to fulfill her duty to her husband and help him arrange the match between Warburton and Pansy, or to fulfill the impulse of her conscience and discourage Warburton, while helping Pansy find a way to marry Rosier.

At a ball one night, Isabel shows Warburton the dejected-looking Rosier and explains that this is the man who is in love with Pansy. Guiltily, Warburton admits that he is not in love with Pansy; he quietly arranges to leave Rome. Osmond is furious with Isabel, convinced that she is plotting intentionally to humiliate him. Madame Merle is also furious with her, confronting her with shocking impropriety and demanding brazenly to know what she did to Warburton. Isabel has realized that there is something mysterious about Madame Merle's relationship with her husband; now, she suddenly realizes that Merle is his lover.

At this time, Ralph is rapidly deteriorating, and Isabel receives word that he is dying. She longs to travel to England to be with him, but Osmond forbids it. Now Isabel must struggle to decide whether to obey his command and remain true to her marriage vows or to disregard him and hurry to her cousin's bedside. Encouraging her to go, Osmond's sister, the Countess Gemini, tells her that there is still more to Merle and Osmond's relationship. Merle is Pansy's mother; Pansy was born out of wedlock. Osmond's wife died at about the same time, so Merle and Osmond spread the story that she died in childbirth. Pansy was placed in a convent to be raised, and she does not know that Merle is her real mother. Isabel is shocked and disgusted by her husband's atrocious behavior—she even feels sorry for Merle for falling under his spell—so she decides to follow her heart and travel to England.

After Ralph's death, Isabel struggles to decide whether to return to her husband or not. She promised Pansy that she would return to Rome, and her commitment to social propriety impels her to go back and honor her marriage. But her independent spirit urges her to flee from Osmond and find happiness elsewhere. Caspar Goodwood appears at the funeral, and afterwards, he asks Isabel to run away with him and forget about her husband. The next day, unable to find her, Goodwood asks Henrietta where she has gone. Henrietta quietly tells him that Isabel has returned to Rome, unable to break away from her marriage to Gilbert Osmond.

The Portrait of a Lady explores the conflict between the individual and society by examining the life of Isabel Archer, a young American woman who must choose between her independent spirit and the demands of social convention. After professing and longing to be an independent woman, autonomous and answerable only to herself, Isabel falls in love with and marries the sinister Gilbert Osmond, who wants her only for her money and who treats her as an object, almost as part of his art collection. Isabel must then decide whether to honor her marriage vows and preserve social propriety or to leave her miserable marriage and escape to a happier, more independent life, possibly with her American suitor Caspar Goodwood. In the end, after the death of her cousin Ralph, the staunchest advocate of her independence, Isabel chooses to return to Osmond and maintain her marriage. She is motivated partly by a sense of social duty, partly by a sense of pride, and partly by the love of her stepdaughter, Pansy, the daughter of Osmond and his manipulative lover Madame Merle.

As the title of the novel indicates, Isabel is the principal character of the book, and the main focus of the novel is on presenting, explaining, and developing her character. James is one of America's great psychological realists, and he uses all his creative powers to ensure that Isabel's conflict is the natural product of a believable mind, and not merely an abstract philosophical consideration. In brief, Isabel's independence of spirit is largely a result of her childhood, when she was generally neglected by her father and allowed to read any book in her grandmother's library; in this way, she supervised her own haphazard education and allowed her mind to develop without discipline or order. Her natural intelligence has always ensured that she is at least as quick as anyone around her, and in Albany, New York, she has the reputation of being a formidable intellect.

After she travels to England with her aunt, Mrs. Touchett, however, it becomes clear that Isabel has a woefully unstructured imagination, as well as a romantic streak that suits her position as an optimistic, innocent American. (For James, throughout Portrait of a Lady, America is a place of individualism and naïveté, while Europe is a place of sophistication, convention, and decadence.) Isabel often considers her life as though it were a novel. She also has a tendency to think about herself obsessively and has a vast faith in her own moral strength—in fact, recognizing that she has never faced hardship, Isabel actually wishes that she might be made to suffer, so that she could prove her ability to overcome suffering without betraying her principles.

When Isabel moves to England, her cousin Ralph is so taken with her spirit of independence that he convinces his dying father to leave half his fortune to Isabel. This is intended to prevent her from ever having to marry for money, but ironically it attracts the treachery of the novel's villains, Madame Merle and Gilbert Osmond. They conspire to convince Isabel to marry Osmond in order to gain access to her wealth. Her marriage to Osmond effectively stifles Isabel's independent spirit, as her husband treats her as an object and tries to force her to share his opinions and abandon her own.

This is the thematic background of Portrait of a Lady, and James skillfully intertwines the novel's psychological and thematic elements. Isabel's downfall with Osmond, for instance, enables the book's most trenchant exploration of the conflict between her desire to conform to social convention and her fiercely independent mind. It is also perfectly explained by the elements of Isabel's character: her haphazard upbringing has led her to long for stability and safety, even if they mean a loss of independence, and her active imagination enables her to create an illusory picture of Osmond, which she believes in more than the real thing, at least until she is married to him. Once she marries Osmond, Isabel's pride in her moral strength makes it impossible for her to consider leaving him: she once longed for hardship, and now that she has found it, it would be hypocritical for her to surrender to it by violating social custom and abandoning her husband.

In the same way that James unites his psychological and thematic subjects, he also intertwines the novel's settings with its themes. Set almost entirely among a group of American expatriates living in Europe in the 1860s and 70s, the book relies on a kind of moral geography, in which America represents innocence, individualism, and capability; Europe represents decadence, sophistication, and social convention; and England represents the best mix of the two. Isabel moves from America to England to continental Europe, and at each stage she comes to mirror her surroundings, gradually losing a bit of independence with each move. Eventually she lives in Rome, the historic heart of continental Europe, and it is here that she endures her greatest hardship with Gilbert Osmond.

Narratively, James uses many of his most characteristic techniques in Portrait of a Lady. In addition to his polished, elegant prose and his sedate, slow pacing, he utilizes a favorite technique of skipping over some of the novel's main events in telling the story. Instead of narrating moments such as Isabel's wedding with Osmond, James skips over them, relating that they have happened only after the fact, in peripheral conversations. This literary technique is known as ellipses. In the novel, James most often uses his elliptical technique in scenes when Isabel chooses to value social custom over her independence—her acceptance of Gilbert's proposal, their wedding, her decision to return to Rome after briefly leaving for Ralph's funeral at the end of the novel. James uses this method to create the sense that, in these moments, Isabel is no longer accessible to the reader; in a sense, by choosing to be with Gilbert Osmond, Isabel is lost.

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The American by Henry James

On a lovely day in May, 1868, Christopher Newman, a wealthy American businessman, sits down in the Louvre with an aesthetic headache, having seen too many paintings. A young Parisian copyist, Noémie Nioche, catches his eye, and he agrees to buy the painting she is working on for the extravagant price of 2,000 francs.

Shortly thereafter, Newman recognizes Tom Tristram, an old friend from the Civil War, wandering the gallery. Newman explains that he has made quite a fortune and now, having realized the inanity of seeking competitive revenge on his fellow businessmen, has decided to move to Europe to enjoy his wealth.

Over dinner, Newman admits to the Tristrams that he has come to Europe to find a wife to complete his fortune. Mrs. Tristram suggests Claire de Cintré, the beautiful and widowed daughter of an impossibly aristocratic family, the Bellegardes. Several days later, Newman stops by the Tristram house only to find the visiting Claire, who politely invites him to call on her. When Newman stops by the Bellegarde home, a pleasant young man promises to go get Claire, but is checked by an imposing older figure who claims she is not at home.

Shortly thereafter, M. Nioche, Noémie's father, appears at Newman's hotel with his daughter's heavily varnished and framed picture. When the timid, bankrupt Nioche admits his fear that his beautiful daughter will come to a bad end, Newman offers to let her earn a modest dowry by painting. When he meets Noémie in the Louvre to commission the paintings, however, she tells him bluntly that she cannot paint and will only marry if she can do so very well.

Mrs. Tristram encourages Newman to spend the summer traveling, promising that Claire will wait for his return. Newman spends a wonderful summer exploring ruins, monuments, cathedrals, and the countryside with his usual enthusiasm. On his return to Paris in the fall, Newman calls on Claire and finds her at home with her brother Valentin, the pleasant young man he met on the first visit. Newman is deeply drawn to Claire's presence, her peace, and her intense yet mild eyes.

About a week later, Valentin calls on Newman at home. The two talk late into the night and soon become fast friends. Valentin explains to Newman that Claire was married at eighteen, against her will, to the disagreeable old Count de Cintré. Valentin tried to stop the wedding, but his mother, the Marquise and his brother, Urbain—the imposing older figure who barred Newman's first visit—coveted the Count's pedigree and fortune. When the Count died and his questionable business practices were exposed, Claire was so horrified that she withdrew her claim to his money. The Marquise and Urbain allowed this withdrawal on the condition that Claire obey them completely for ten years on every issue but marriage.

Newman tells Valentin that he would like to marry Claire. Valentin promises to help Newman's cause, out of both friendship and a spirit of mischief. The following day, Newman calls on Claire and finds her alone. He frankly details his love, his assets, and his desire to marry her. Fascinated but hesitant, Claire tells him she has decided not to marry, but agrees to get to know him if he promises not to speak of marriage for six months.

Delighted by Newman's success, Valentin arranges an audience with the heads of the family—the forbidding Marquise and Urbain—later that week. On the appointed evening, after some painful small talk, Newman horrifies the assembled company with a long and candid speech about his poor adolescence and the makings of his fortune. When the others have left for a ball, Newman bluntly tells the Marquise that he would like to marry her daughter. After inquiring with equal frankness about his wealth, the Marquise grudgingly agrees to consider his proposal.

Several days later, M. Nioche unexpectedly appears at Newman's hotel room, clearly worried about Noémie's antics. Newman decides to visit Noémie at the Louvre to discern the trouble. He encounters Valentin en route and brings him along. Valentin, completely charmed by Noémie and her ruthless, sublime ambition, resolves to pursue her. Shortly thereafter, Newman receives an invitation to dinner at the Bellegarde house. After dinner, Urbain confirms that the family has decided to accept Newman as a candidate for Claire's hand.

Over the next six weeks Newman comes often to the Bellegarde house, more than content to haunt Claire's rooms and attend her parties. One afternoon as he awaits Claire, Newman is approached by Mrs. Bread, the Bellegardes' old English maid, who secretly encourages him in his courtship. Meanwhile, the Bellegardes' long-lost cousin Lord Deepmere arrives in Paris.

Upon the expiration of the six-month period of silence about marriage, Newman proposes to Claire again, and she accepts. The next day, Mrs. Bread warns Newman to lose no time in getting married. The Marquise is evidently displeased by the engagement, but agrees to throw an engagement ball. The following few days are the happiest in Newman's life, as he sees Claire every day, exchanging longing glances and tender words. Meanwhile, the Marquise and Urbain are away, taking Deepmere on a tour of Paris.

On the night of the Bellegarde ball, Newman suffers endless introductions gladly and feels elated. He surprises first the Marquis and then Claire in heated discussions with Lord Deepmere, but thinks little of it. Afterwards, he and Claire exchange declarations of happiness.

Shortly thereafter, Newman attends a performance of the opera Don Giovanni, and sees that several of his acquaintances are also there. During the second act, Valentin and Stanislas Kapp, who have both been sitting in Noémie's box, exchange insults and agree to a duel as a point of honor. Noémie is thrilled, knowing that being dueled over will do wonders for her social standing. Against Newman's protests, Valentin leaves for the duel, which is held just over the Swiss border.

The next morning, Newman arrives at the Bellegardes' to find Claire's carriage packed. In great distress, Claire confesses that she can no longer marry him. The Marquise and Urbain admit that they have interfered, unable to accept the idea that a commercial person should marry into their family. Newman visits Mrs. Tristram, who guesses that the Bellegardes want Claire to marry the rich Lord Deepmere instead, though the honest Deepmere ruined things by telling Claire everything at the ball. Returning home to a note that Valentin has been mortally wounded in the duel, Newman packs his bags and heads for the Swiss border.

Newman arrives in Geneva to find Valentin near death. When Newman reluctantly recounts the broken engagement with Claire, Valentin formally apologizes for his family and tells Newman to ask Mrs. Bread about a skeleton in the Bellegarde family closet that Newman can use to get revenge. Newman attends Valentin's funeral, but cannot bear to watch the actual burial and leaves. Three days later, he calls on Claire at the family château in Fleurières, hoping to extract a rational justification for her rejection. But she hides behind dark hints of a curse on the family, ruing her own vain attempts at happiness and declaring her intention to become a Carmelite nun.

Newman threatens the Bellegardes with his superficial knowledge of their secret, but they refuse to budge. That night, Newman secretly meets Mrs. Bread, who tells him the full secret—the Marquise and Urbain killed the Marquis, Claire's father, at the family's country home because he opposed Claire's first marriage to the Comte de Cintré. Mrs. Bread gives Newman a secret testament to these circumstances that the Marquis wrote just before he died.

The next week in Paris, Mrs. Bread comes to work for Newman as his housekeeper. Newman goes to mass at the Carmelite convent, but, horrified by the nuns' joyless chanting, he leaves. After the service, he confronts the Marquise and Urbain with the details of their crime and a copy of the Marquis' letter. The Bellegardes are clearly stunned, but regain their composure and leave. The next morning, Urbain visits Newman to ask his price for destroying the note. Newman wants Claire, but Urbain refuses to give her. The two part in stalemate.

Newman decides to ruin the Bellegardes by telling all their friends about the murder. But when Newman calls on a rich Duchess, the first person he intends to tell, he is overwhelmed by the folly of his errand. Instead, he leaves for London to think. One day in Hyde Park, Newman see Noémie on Lord Deepmere's arm, attended by her miserable father.

After several months in London, Newman returns to the States. He makes it to San Francisco before the weight of his unfinished business in France becomes unbearable. Returning to Paris, Newman walks to Claire's convent and finds only a high, blank wall. Realizing that Claire is completely lost to him, Newman destroys the Marquis' incriminatory note in Mrs. Tristram's fireplace and packs his bags for America.

Newman goes to Europe because he wants to see the best of what the world has to offer. For the moment, at least, he has had enough of making money, and would now like to see what his money can buy. He wants to hear the best music, taste the best wine, see the best art and, most ambitiously, find the best woman to be his wife. Yet implicit in Newman's European ambitions is his misperception that Europe can be understood simply as an older, richer, and more sophisticated version of America. Newman and others like him imagine Europe as the sort of place that America would be in perhaps a hundred years, if it puts its mind to painting and sculpture and music with the same industry it has thus far demonstrated in its commerce and industry. This good-natured conception—essentially, that the difference between America and Europe cannot run too deep—is a symptom of the stereotypically American ignorance of history, and thus of all the cultural, social, and political differences that accrue in history's wake. In short, Americans are frequently seen as failing to distinguish an abstract admiration for European culture and artifacts from a selfish wish to possess them. The imagined similarities between Europe and America allow American buyers, tourists, and fiancés to acquire their European objects of desire on American terms. But the consequences of such culturally ignorant acquisition were often, as the novel attests, tragic.

This issue begs the question of why and how these American misperceptions have arisen? In one simplified reading, the America of James's time is too fundamentally tied to material production to move on to the more sophisticated industries of cultural and ideological production. As a result, though they admire and covet the fruits of the European project, Americans abroad during this time lack the intuitive apparatus for dealing with the political and social formalisms and complexities of Europe. James deliberately presents the Bellegardes—or more precisely the nuclear aristocratic family—as the fundamental unit of French society juxtaposed against a superlatively American individual. The juxtaposition is one of a successful, if lapsed, capitalist against a self-important family who might cynically be called producers of culture. Much of the difficulty the Bellegarde elders have with Newman, and that he has with them, results from the expected difference in values, beliefs, habits, occupations and desires. Another crucial point, however, has to do with the levels on which difference is approached and understood.

In The American, one important cipher for European and American difference is arrangement of space. The Paris Newman finds is an intricate, labyrinthine mess of streets and boulevards. Newman's encounter with Europe is partly a matter of learning to negotiate the different landscape and the physical ways in which humans have chosen to arrange themselves. He avidly walks the city, asks Valentin endless questions about the Bellegarde house, imagines the effects of American mechanical innovations in Europe, and delights in his quaint and excessively gilded quarters. Yet as long as Newman attempts to make sense of Europe as a variation on American paradigms, he remains unable to perceive Europe's fundamental difference as anything other than creative deviance. Tellingly, at novel's end, Newman does not admit to a great difference between European and American temperaments or attempt to construct a calculus in which Urbain's actions would appear logical. Instead, he simply concludes that the Bellegardes are crazy. As a result, even after Mrs. Bread's testimony, Claire's actions remain ultimately mysterious. Put simply, Newman suffers from a kind of qualified open-mindedness, a willingness to try to fit anything into his preconceived democratic framework. Faced with two cruel and self-centered aristocrats, Newman decides to deal honestly and clearly, even as it becomes clear that neither of them warrant his benefit of the doubt. This plain-faced mode of interaction, jarring with the Bellegardes' continual scheming, effects a series of slips whose cumulative effect is catastrophe.

The Ambassadors by Henry James

Lambert Strether, an American from Woollett, Massachusetts, arrives in Chester, England. At the hotel desk, he learns that his old friend Waymarsh has not arrived. Instead, Strether meets a young American lady named Maria Gostrey who claims to know Waymarsh. Quickly becoming friends, Strether explains to Miss Gostrey that he has been sent to Europe by his fiancée, Mrs. Newsome, to fetch her son, Chad. In Woollett, everyone believes that Chad has become romantically involved with an inappropriate woman and refuses to come home so that they remain together. Strether’s mission, as Mrs. Newsome’s trusted ambassador, is to convince Chad to come back to Woollett, where he is needed by the family business. Strether confidently believes that his mission is noble and necessary. If he succeeds, he and Mrs. Newsome will be married. Miss Gostrey suggests that Strether wait to judge Chad until after Strether has seen this lover with his own eyes. Throughout the novel, Strether relies on Miss Gostrey for confidence-boosting advice.

Strether, Waymarsh, and Miss Gostrey head to Paris, where Chad lives. When they arrive, they learn Chad is away. While they wait for Chad’s return, Miss Gostrey leads the two older men on sightseeing trips, and Strether begins to enjoy his time in Europe. Strether visits Chad’s apartment and notices an unfamiliar man lingering on the balcony. Strether makes this man’s acquaintance and learns that he goes by the name “little Bilham.” A friend of Chad’s, Bilham takes care of Chad’s house when Chad is traveling. Miss Gostrey suggests to Strether that Bilham is operating under Chad’s “instructions.” Regardless, Strether finds Bilham charming and invites the young man to the opera. Bilham, however, does not show. Instead, a stranger enters the box. Strether realizes that this new arrival is Chad Newsome. Chad has returned from his travels quite a changed man.

After the opera, Strether tells Chad why he has come to Paris. However, as he speaks, Strether finds himself less certain of his stance. Chad, once callow and juvenile, now seems confident and restrained. His new personality impresses Strether, who wonders what—or who—has caused Chad’s transformation. Chad asks Strether to stay and meet his close friends, a mother and a daughter, who are arriving in a few days time. Strether, wondering if one of these women has been the impetus for Chad’s improvement, and assuming the daughter to be Chad’s lover, agrees to stay. Meanwhile, Bilham convinces Strether that Chad has a “virtuous attachment”—and that Chad’s relationship with the mysterious woman is innocent. Strether eventually meets the women, Madame de Vionnet and her daughter, Jeanne, at a high society party, but he does not see them long enough to cement an impression. After the brief introduction to Madame de Vionnet, Strether finds himself alone with little Bilham. Strether takes the opportunity to offer Bilham some sage advice: live all you can before it is too late. This advice exposes Strether’s own change since coming to Europe. In Paris, he feels renewed, young again, doubly alive.

Over time, Strether comes to think that Madame de Vionnet has been the good influence on Chad. Strether eventually learns that Maria Gostrey and Marie de Vionnet went to school together as young women but have not seen each other for many years. When Chad arranges for the marriage of Jeanne to another man, Strether realizes that Madame de Vionnet is Chad’s reason for staying in Paris. Strether surprises himself by promising Madame de Vionnet that he will try and keep Chad near her. As if aware of this promise, Mrs. Newsome writes Strether and demands that he end his tenure as her ambassador. Her ultimatum: bring Chad home or return to Massachusetts by the next ship. Even though his refusal to return home puts his marriage to Mrs. Newsome in jeopardy, Strether longs to stay in Europe. In a complete reversal, Chad declares that he is ready to return to Woollett, but Strether begs him to stay in Paris. Almost immediately, Mrs. Newsome sends a new shipment of ambassadors: her daughter, Sarah Pocock, along with her husband, Jim, and Jim’s sister, Mamie, who Mrs. Newsome hopes will marry Chad. Strether worries that Sarah will contradict his reports on Chad’s progress and on Madame de Vionnet’s worthiness to Mrs. Newsome.

Initially, Strether believes that Sarah is as charmed by Chad’s Parisian life as Strether was. But soon, Sarah meets Strether face to face and reiterates Mrs. Newsome’s negative views of the situation. She demands Strether’s complete compliance in convincing Chad to go home to Woollett as soon as she, Waymarsh, Jim, and Mamie return from a leisure trip to Switzerland. Waymarsh and Sarah are acutely disappointed in Strether. While the others are away, Strether takes a day-trip himself to the French countryside. There, he coincidentally spots Chad and Madame de Vionnet riding together on a small boat. All at once, he understands: their relationship is unmistakably intimate and obviously lacking in virtue. But, even though Chad and Madame de Vionnet were deceitful, Strether still feels that their involvement has improved Chad as a person.

Afterward, when Strether visits Madame de Vionnet, she seems defeated and convinced that Chad will return to the United States. She insists that she has wanted Strether all along, to which Strether replies that she has had him. Nevertheless, Strether suggests that he can still help her keep Chad. However, after Chad stays away from them both for an entire week, Strether’s resolve begins to erode. When Strether finally confronts Chad, the young man speaks only of plans for improving the family business in Woollett. His desire to return home is unambiguous. Even though Strether thinks that Chad would be more fulfilled in Europe with Madame de Vionnet, he cannot convince Chad to stay. Instead, Strether goes to visit Miss Gostrey, at which point her long-gestating love for him is made obvious. She makes what amounts to a marriage proposal to Strether, but he feels he cannot accept it. Even as he realizes that, compared to Europe, his life in Woollett will be bland, Strether chooses to return to the United States.

Throughout the novel, the narrator constantly locates events in specific places, and characters repeatedly refer to specific locations. James foregrounds the importance of place right from the beginning by emphasizing how different Strether feels in Europe than in the United States. Upon meeting in England, Miss Gostrey tells Strether that she has met his friend Waymarsh in Milrose, Connecticut. Likewise, Strether explains that he comes from Woollett, Massachusetts. The specificity of location is a form of shorthand for the characters: where someone comes from gives all sorts of information about that person’s likes, dislikes, habits, and behavior. Miss Gostrey assumes that Chad has a virtuous relationship with a woman simply by hearing that Chad has gone to Cannes, France. Had the relationship not been virtuous, she reasons, Chad would not have been able to travel to such an exclusive place. She similarly reassures Strether about little Bilham by explaining, “he’s all right—he’s one of us” (that is, an American). In fact, the importance of place and location spurs the novel’s plot: Mrs. Newsome sends Strether to rescue Chad precisely because of where he is living. The family in Woollett worries about Chad because he’s living in Paris, a city known at the time for its debauchery and immorality.

As a character, Strether represents the struggle to live life to the fullest extent. When Strether first meets Miss Gostrey, he articulates his inability to fully appreciate the moments of his life. He feels as though he has suffered from this inability throughout his entire youth and adulthood, and he regrets having missed out on significant life experiences. Now middle-aged, Strether fears that he will never be able to live fully in the moment. But, in Paris, he begins to experience truly saturated moments. Thanks to the frank advice and forthright guidance of Miss Gostrey, Strether learns to let go of the pain of regret and begins to live in the present. In this way, he embodies the theme of the full, richly lived life versus the staid, boring unlived life that is central to The Ambassadors. Strether originally goes to Paris with the intention of helping Chad fulfill his potential—as a businessman in Woollett. Yet, Strether eventually feels that Chad would lead a richer life by staying in Paris.

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Daisy Miller by Henry James

At a hotel in the resort town of Vevey, Switzerland, a young American named Winterbourne meets a rich, pretty American girl named Daisy Miller, who is traveling around Europe with her mother and her younger brother, Randolph. Winterbourne, who has lived in Geneva most of his life, is both charmed and mystified by Daisy, who is less proper than the European girls he has encountered. She seems wonderfully spontaneous, if a little crass and “uncultivated.” Despite the fact that Mrs. Costello, his aunt, strongly disapproves of the Millers and flatly refuses to be introduced to Daisy, Winterbourne spends time with Daisy at Vevey and even accompanies her, unchaperoned, to Chillon Castle, a famous local tourist attraction.

The following winter, Winterbourne goes to Rome, knowing Daisy will be there, and is distressed to learn from his aunt that she has taken up with a number of well-known fortune hunters and become the talk of the town. She has one suitor in particular, a handsome Italian named Mr. Giovanelli, of uncertain background, whose conduct with Daisy mystifies Winterbourne and scandalizes the American community in Rome. Among those scandalized is Mrs. Walker, who is at the center of Rome’s fashionable society.

Both Mrs. Walker and Winterbourne attempt to warn Daisy about the effect her behavior is having on her reputation, but she refuses to listen. As Daisy spends increasingly more time with Mr. Giovanelli, Winterbourne begins to have doubts about her character and how to interpret her behavior. He also becomes uncertain about the nature of Daisy’s relationship with Mr. Giovanelli. Sometimes Daisy tells him they are engaged, and other times she tells him they are not.

One night, on his way home from a dinner party, Winterbourne passes the Coliseum and decides to look at it by moonlight, braving the bad night air that is known to cause “Roman fever,” which is malaria. He finds Daisy and Mr. Giovanelli there and immediately comes to the conclusion that she is too lacking in self-respect to bother about. Winterbourne is still concerned for Daisy’s health, however, and he reproaches Giovanelli and urges him to get her safely home.

A few days later, Daisy becomes gravely ill, and she dies soon after. Before dying, she gives her mother a message to pass on to Winterbourne that indicates that she cared what he thought about her after all. At the time, he does not understand it, but a year later, still thinking about Daisy, he tells his aunt that he made a great mistake and has lived in Europe too long. Nevertheless, he returns to Geneva and his former life.

Daisy Miller was one of James’s earliest treatments of one of the themes for which he became best known: the expatriate or footloose American abroad. Americans abroad was a subject very much of the moment in the years after the Civil War. The postwar boom, the so-called Gilded Age, had given rise to a new class of American businessman, whose stylish families were eager to make “the grand tour” and expose themselves to the art and culture of the Old World. Americans were visiting Europe for the first time in record numbers, and the clash between the two cultures was a novel and widespread phenomenon.

James was of two minds about the American character. By temperament, he was more sympathetic with the European way of life, with its emphasis on culture, education, and the art of conversation. Like most Europeans, he saw his compatriots as boorish, undereducated, and absurdly provincial, unaware of a vast and centuries-old world outside their own new and expanding dominions. However, he was also fascinated by the poignant innocence of the American national character, with its emphasis on earnestness rather than artifice. In later novels, such as The Portrait of a Lady and The American, James would continue to explore the moral implications of an artlessness that, like Daisy’s, cannot defend itself against the worldliness and cynicism of a decadent society based, necessarily, on hypocrisy.

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