Despite the many complexities of The Ambassadors,
we can, without oversimplifying, make several straight-forward assertions
about Strether's experience. First, by the opening of the novel, Strether
has reached an odd maturation. The quality of his life in New England has
heightened his sensibilities but has also very much narrowed their range. As
his life's possibilities have dwindled, he has become alive to almost every
stimulus, so much so that his point of view has found (or, given his
personality, has had to find) a precarious balance between an intellect
regimented to almost insane convolutions and an emotional center, or soul,
driven toward a sort of desperately poetic rapture. So, Strether is an
egoist without egotism. Having so little to himself, he is not selfish or
arrogant, but, wanting to see so much in himself, he is so self-involved
that he might seem generally gullible.
Second, Strether's "mission" to Europe is bound
to fail. Mrs. Newsome could not have chosen a worse missionary. The mission
requires someone worldlywise, determined, persuasive, diplomatic, pragmatic,
and finally materially self-interested. But Strether is emotionally
self-involved, passive, responsive, polite, and finally ambivalent about
whether he even has any self-interest. If Mrs. Newsome saw the mission as a
test of Strether's marriageability--of her ability to manage him--she has,
in separating himself from him, unwittingly sabotaged her hold on him; she
has, in demanding that he show himself "a man," opened him to
experiences that will bring him to a more thoughtful maturation, if not to
manliness.
Third, Strether brings a very private, cherished
nostalgia to Europe. He will supposedly save Chad from Europe, but from the
moment he steps off the ship, he is savoring every breath of the experience.
He is not a hypocrite because of this paradox; he does not give up his
mission to enjoy his vacation, nor does he indulge himself while admonishing
Chad to devote himself to "responsibility" instead of to hedonism.
Rather, this paradox puts Strether in a state of continual bewilderment,
compounded by that most basic tension in his personality. While he thinks he
is sorting out Chad's motives, Strether is actually struggling through his
own convoluted thinking to some awkwardly complacent emotional intensity.
So, we can trust Strether's character--and we must admire him in the end
because he has the courage to trust himself in the face of his
limitations--but we cannot trust his point of view. For, though Strether is
true to what he sees, he does not for the most part see truly.
Finally, Strether is very exasperating, both to us as
readers and to the other characters, because he is so basically likable. In
fact, he wants so much to be liked that he opens himself to being used. The
other characters recognize quickly how easy it is to use him, even as they
find him so likable that they regret at once continuing to use him. Over the
long haul, all of this ambivalence toward Strether wears on the other
characters and on us. We almost despise him for not making more of himself,
for not stepping out of himself into the world, but we also admire him for
being so little like ourselves, for thinking of himself in ways we can no
longer think (perhaps, have never thought) of ourselves. In short, we lose
patience with him even as we admire his patience with himself while
surrounded by hypocrites of every sort.
Most critics would seem to agree on these basic
dimensions of Strether's character. Yet, most are so taken by the curious
thematic intricacies and implications of a narrative restricted to the
viewpoint of such a man that they ignore the dramatic dimensions given to
the characters around Strether. Too often they apply a full understanding of
Strether's limitations only piecemeal to their readings of the other
characters. Too often they accept Strether's impressions of the other
characters almost verbatim for the sake of correspondences that are
provocative more on a thematic or a philosophical level than on a dramatic
level. Too often they reduce the other characters to stock or stick figures
while applauding the full maturation of James's technique and sensibility.
In short, in their failures to look far enough beyond Strether's
sensibility, they have underestimated or even ignored a good many of James's
novelistic skills: his deft hand with, and eye and ear for, subplots; his
way of suggesting or echoing complexities in major characters through
contrasting ambiguities in minor characters; his compulsive interest in the
essentially indescribable but infinitely suggestive cross-patterning of
human motives; and, most of all, his manipulation of comic possibilities to
enlarge and advance every aspect of his fictional design.
Nowhere are these failures in critical readings of
The
Ambassadors more apparent than in the estimation of Waymarsh. First of
all, it is very surprising that so little consideration has been given to
Waymarsh's role in the novel since his "presence" looms throughout
the first third of the novel and again makes itself felt when events finally
start coming to a head. But Waymarsh is usually treated in passing as if he
were only a very minor character worthy of at most several paragraphs and
those mostly direct quotation. In fact, when Waymarsh is mentioned, a point
is usually being made about Strether, but without any consideration of the
dimensions that Waymarsh must have as even a minor character, dimensions
that would then alter in some ways the point being made about Strether. A
fuller, more realistic reading of Waymarsh's character would make us read
Strether's experience more realistically, would put Strether's unusual
behavior in a decidedly realistic context--would less change our reading of
Strether's character than bring to it the clarity of fully realized
complexities on all levels of interpretation.
The big error in the readings of Waymarsh is that the
critics seem never to challenge Strether's impressions of him, even when
those impressions are patently incredible. It is almost as if, in this
respect, the critics have not gotten beyond the involvement in the narrative
that should characterize a first reading. Much of the power of the novel
does derive from our discovering, with Strether, the limitations of his
viewpoint, of his sensibilities. So, on a first reading, we are perhaps
halfway through the novel before we realize that Strether is swimming, as it
were, in sensations that are more cerebral than real. And by the time we are
starting to appreciate Strether's unreliability as perceiver (more, perhaps,
than as reporter--much as, in a more dramatic sense, Strether himself is
starting to appreciate it), Waymarsh has faded for a while into the
background. James, I think, assumes that when Waymarsh does reappear we will
view him differently, that we will reinterpret his earlier behavior in light
of what we have learned about Strether--even if Strether does not do so in
light of what he has learned about himself, even if Strether is too much
involved in trying to understand his focal misapprehension of the
relationship between Chad Newsome and Mme. de Vionnet to recognize the
similar miscalculations he has made about others.
Despite Strether's feelings to the contrary, Waymarsh has
chosen to live in Europe and more than any other American in the novel does
in fact live there, even more so than Chad, who finally shows himself
to be no more than a rich young man who has self-indulgently prolonged his
"European education"--in the most tawdry sense of the phrase.
Waymarsh, then, stands apart from the other characters in a very basic
circumstantial way, and this fact should at least cause us to wonder whether
his motives, in general, might not be more personal than anything else. And,
if Waymarsh is not merely the rather simple "type" that Strether
and the critics have variously labeled him, then might not the early
contrast he provides with Strether involve his having common sense (rather
than Strether's flighty sensitivity), a sense of his own best interests
(rather than Strether's confused sense of loyalties), a genuine sense of
humor (rather than Strether's pedantic sense of the quaintly humorous), and,
most of all, a genuinely mature personality--though not necessarily
provocative or especially attractive (rather than Strether's paradoxically
naive "maturity")? Finally, to appreciate Waymarsh, we must
distance ourselves from the narrative that presents him to us--which is not
to say that we must disregard the narrative. We must simply assert the
common sense, the sense of the world, that for so long eludes Strether. We
must, in short, see Strether as, I think, Waymarsh sees him. This effort
will allow us to give a proportion to Strether's experience that can only
enhance our appreciation of that experience.
We must, first of all, consider Strether's arrival from
Waymarsh's point of view. They are old "friends" (which in this
novel can mean anything from passing acquaintances to a young cad and his
mistress), and they have not seen each other for "a long interval"
(29--all page references are to the Norton Critical Edition). We
learn almost nothing about their earlier "friendship"--about its
basis, its duration, its lapse. All we get is an oblique reference to the
"power and promise" (29) that Waymarsh once represented for
Strether (and, we might add here, except for the loss of that youthful
quality or aspect and the break-up of his marriage, Waymarsh remains
successful and vital); so, Strether seems to attach the labels
"dear," "old," and "dyspeptic" to Waymarsh
(17, 21) for ambiguously emotional reasons and then to interpret Waymarsh's
behavior within the limits of his own expectations, which seem to have
formed only a day and a half before his landing, when he was struck with
"such a consciousness of personal freedom as he hadn't known for
years" (17). It seems, therefore, that Strether had attached himself to
Waymarsh in their youth because he had seen something superior to himself in
Waymarsh, that he has not been able to maintain the relationship (perhaps
because Waymarsh had moved quickly beyond the scope of his admiration), that
after many years he has presumed on the old relationship, and that now, upon
his landing, he has regretted or even resented his need to presume. There is
absolutely no reason for us to assume that Waymarsh will be glad to see
Strether. His agreeing to meet Strether is probably a reluctant courtesy,
which Strether returns by avoiding him. Waymarsh, in fact, has every reason
to feel annoyed when, wondering what has become of his "friend" at
the hotel, he comes upon him so soon attached, arm in arm, to Maria Gostrey.
This situation must confirm Waymarsh's most dismal
apprehensions about what he has let himself in for with Strether. Maria uses
her knowledge of Waymarsh to introduce herself to Strether, at least
Waymarsh knows what she is about--recognizing her as a type to be avoided, a
fortune-hunter or at least a man-hunter or husband-hunter. Stuck for a good
while in the company not only of Strether but also of Maria and forced to
witness what goes on between them, Waymarsh has every reason to look glum
and disapproving, though Strether lacks the perception to gauge the reasons.
It is not a too far-fetched possibility, given how the
past is veiled over in this novel, that Maria was once, if only briefly,
involved with Waymarsh. It may be that Maria is using Strether to reattach
herself to Waymarsh. For only after Strether mentions that he is meeting
Waymarsh does Maria decide to remain in Chester: "'Perhaps I shall [see
Waymarsh]--for I'm staying over'" (19). The dash seems the telling mark
of punctuation here. When Strether, Maria, and Waymarsh do come together
outside the hotel, the opening chapter ends on this ambiguous moment:
"Mr. Waymarsh was for his part joyless" (27). The italics
are James's and seem to indicate, to emphasize, an ambiguity or a doubleness
of reference-- Waymarsh's being "joyless" for his own part at
seeing Maria again and being "joyless" for Strether's part at
seeing him attached to her. At the beginning of the next chapter, Maria
tries in the evening to ingratiate or re-ingratiate herself with Waymarsh,
and he is having none of it. He is as close-mouthed about any previous
connection with her as he is, very curiously, close-mouthed about his failed
marriage (27, 30). What Strether sees as garrulousness might just as easily
be seen as discretion, a quality that Maria, in contrast, so obviously
lacks. Whatever the nature of Maria's "rattling link" (21) with
Waymarsh, Strether seems unnecessarily jealous or protective given
Waymarsh's attitude toward her.
Of course, all of the preceding is speculation. Maria may
never have been involved with Waymarsh. But we can be much more certain that
she is at least very interested in him now, that she is making gestures to
Waymarsh that only Strether could miss, that she is feeling out the better
possibilities that Waymarsh might offer without too much damaging her
possibilities with Strether. Thus, we can explain that ambiguous breakfast
scene (35), where Maria "helps" Strether by ordering Waymarsh's
breakfast. And we can also explain the very odd comments that Maria makes to
Strether while Waymarsh is shopping at the jeweler's: when Strether says,
"'He has struck for freedom,'" Maria answers, "'Ah, what a
price to pay! And I was preparing some for him so cheap'" (39),
referring perhaps to the seductive regalia to which she treats Strether when
they go to the theater (42), for Maria says, "'And you should hear the
ease I take--and I above all intend to take--with Mr. Waymarsh'"
(40); furthermore, she bridles at Strether's half-completed remark that she
has "cost" him "already" (41) and then in the space of a
few moments wonders if Waymarsh "'has been splendid [has bought an
expensive jewel] . . . for me'" (41). Strether through all of this is
acting like a schoolboy with pretensions to being sophisticated, assuming
that the worldly-wise Waymarsh will think his being so often with Maria
"sophisticated," "worldly," and "wicked" (39).
In fact, if anyone is thinking "queer things" (39), it's Strether.
Waymarsh is running around the shops to avoid having to be too much with
Strether and Maria, and calling his behavior a "'sacred rage'"
(41) is just hyperbolic silliness and obtuseness on Strether's part. Notice
also that Strether first complains that Waymarsh likes to stop only at the
shops of "iron-mongers and saddlers" and not at the
"tailors" which Strether enjoys. Strether is trying to make a
point about Waymarsh's taste, but he may be ironically making a point about
his own dandyish taste: Waymarsh may not object to tailors so much as he
objects to watching Strether's fussing over himself as he chooses clothes
that make him conspicuous (38). It is Waymarsh, not Strether, who has an
interest in the jeweller's and, moreover, the means to afford the jewels. It
would seem, as Maria half-perceives, that Waymarsh is buying a bauble for
some lady with whom he has a common interest. Later, when Maria is being
clever with Strether in a conversation about Chad's connection to Little
Bilham, Waymarsh is not even listening (88), but his lack of interest does
not prevent Maria from making one last attempt at attaching herself to him,
when she very nearly forces him to escort her home from the theater (93).
Perhaps all of Maria's double-interest does finally sink at least into
Strether's subconscious, or perhaps he is caught between not quite wanting
to have her as a mistress and recognizing that she would be a more suitable
mistress than a wife, for he does, of course, "fail" her at the
end of the novel.
While Waymarsh undoubtedly finds Maria Gostrey too
grasping to be a suitable mistress, he does seem to find Miss Barrace very
suitable. Being in the company of Miss Barrace, for one thing, allows him to
avoid Maria Gostrey, Strether, and the whole mess concerning Chad. On
meeting Waymarsh, Miss Barrace is obviously taken with his possibilities:
"'the sight of it warms my poor chilled heart; this specimen is
wonderful; in the right quarter, you know, he'll have a success fou'"
(77). She is, of course, being hyperbolic about both Waymarsh and
herself--we know she isn't old or chilled--but Strether misses the fun and
seriously regards Waymarsh as something like a dinosaur, transferring his
own lack of social ease to Waymarsh. Waymarsh, however, shows himself to be
very socially adept in his own peculiar way (125-26) and, I think, we ought
to read his stand-offishness as a clever, paradoxically respected response
to the superficiality of many of those in Miss Barrace's circle. Perhaps she
is commenting on his not having "'started anything'" with the
other women in the group. In any case, it seems very likely that Waymarsh
takes Miss Barrace as his lover, at least for a while, for she later teases
Strether, "'Mine and his [an innocent attachment]? Ah, don't rob it of
all interest'" (158).
Strether not only has this obsession with innocent
attachments, but he also sees conspiracy everywhere. (I violate chronology
here for the sake of coherence.) As I have indicated earlier, Strether has
written to Waymarsh to presume on their old friendship. Waymarsh clearly
doesn't know why Strether has come to Europe (32). Waymarsh clearly is not
an agent of Mrs. Newsome. In fact, he clearly dislikes her: "'Is Mrs.
Newsome over here?' He spoke with a droll dread of her" (33).
Moreover, in their long, early conversation, Waymarsh makes every effort to
understand what Strether is doing in Europe and becomes very comically
exasperated by Strether's confused sense of purpose. He sees that Mrs.
Newsome has reduced Strether to her notion of a suitable husband, and he is
surprised at his "friend's" not seeing it. Clearly, he himself
wants no part of the Newsomes' affairs--"'Oh, don't work them off on me!'"
(74)--and he advises Strether, "'Quit this!'" (74). Then, when
Strether in every way seems to disregard this advice, Waymarsh extricates
himself, avoiding Strether, behavior that Strether sees as sort of disgusted
admonishment--but clearly in the entirely wrong sense (182-83). Until
Waymarsh takes up with Sarah Pocock, Strether has no real reason for
considering Waymarsh an agent of Mrs. Newsome except that they are passingly
acquainted and have lived in nearby towns in New England.
All of which brings us, finally, to Waymarsh's
relationship with Sarah Pocock. For all their supposed moral superiority to
Chad and his French mistress, both Sarah and her husband, Jim, take
advantage of their opportunities to have European affairs. Waymarsh, who
obviously gets around so much that Strether's impression of him as
solitarily glum is incredibly laughable, somehow manages to take up with the
much younger Sarah Pocock. Of course, both of them are as discreet as they
can be, presenting their relationship as a platonically romantic interest at
most. But their charade becomes painfully hypocritical when they have to
confront Strether about his handling of Chad. Sarah clearly does not respect
Strether for his dependence on her mother, for his simpering ineffectuality,
and, naturally she bridles at any intimation that Strether, in taking the
part of Mme. de Vionnet, is showing some romantic interest in her. Waymarsh,
for his part, seems for a while to think that he can sustain his
relationship with Sarah without having to get involved in the business with
Chad. Strether's obtuseness, however, soon makes Waymarsh's preference
impossible, and Waymarsh is driven by exasperation as much as anything else
to plead with Strether to take his earlier advice--"'Quit this!'"
(274), advice which Strether now interprets as meaning much more because of
his infatuation with Mme. de Vionnet. It is like talking to a wall. There
is, moreover, absolutely no reason to accept Strether's suspicions that
Waymarsh had written to Mrs. Newsome to suggest that Sarah and her husband
rescue Strether as well as Chad. In sum, if Strether has not gotten all of
it wrong, he has gotten enough of it wrong for us to say that The
Ambassadors presents us with a more complex version of the narrative
ambiguity at the center of most discussions of The Turn of the Screw.
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