Andres Ferrada
Girl with a Mandoline by Pablo Picasso (1910)
In The Portrait of a Lady Henry James structures a pictorial narrative composition. Within the analytical limits of this paper the term "pictorial" should be assessed in its most general connotation as that quality which renders, in a descriptive manner, knowledge of a particular object. In this case the artist conceptualizes the object as “a certain young woman affronting her destiny” (James xxxii).
I think it pertinent at this point to see how James conceived of literary portraiture. The 1908 preface to the New York edition of The Portrait of a Lady is introduced with an account of the circumstances involved in the production of the earlier text. James refers to Venice, where the latter sections of the novel were written, and the difficulties in finding concentration amid such a wonderfully distracting setting:
The waterside life, the wondrous lagoon spread before me, and the ceaseless human chatter of Venice came at my windows, to which I seem to myself to have been constantly driven, in the fruitless fidget of composition. (James xxv)In order to successfully grasp the images of his theme, James had to shun the overwhelming stream of beauty pouring itself through his window. According to David Lubin, “This [. . .] is what every portraitist must do: he must look away from the immensity and flux, the only too much, and turn instead to text or canvas, where an orderly, manageable, circumscribed version of reality’s immensity and flux can be set forth” (101).
It is my contention that, in turning away from his window, James visualizes a fragmented image of Isabel Archer which resembles the ingenious technique of cubist-based compositional modes. In presenting heterogeneous yet interrelated facets of the heroine’s character, James seems to be approaching analytical Cubism. The object is increasingly broken down and analyzed by means of simultaneous rendition, that is the presentation of several aspects of the object at once (Mayer 102). In James’s novel the uses of simultaneity are revealed as he unveils Isabel’s conflicting thoughts and actions at the same time.
Whereas analytical Cubism is primarily a technique of representation, “in synthetic Cubism the construction of a stable and unified pictorial composition from fragmented figural abstractions became the paramount consideration” (Osborne 136). James’s cubist representation, however, remains purely analytical, for he consistently refuses to provide a synthetic restoration of Isabel’s multifaceted composition. The various perspectives from which James approaches Isabel allow him to explore different phases in the evolution of her character, namely expectancy, awakening, descent, subjection, and realization.
I. Expectancy
Chapter III contains the introductory sketch of Isabel, which emphasizes her youth, her self-imposed solitude, and her keen interest in intellectual pursuits. The last of these, however, remains conceptually latent, incapable of expressing itself into visible manifestations. At this incipient point of her life, she is pure potentiality. However, Mrs. Touchett’s providential arrival triggers a series of unexpected events which are to divert Isabel’s powerful imagination into actualities.
Isabel’s indulgence in self-exploration and reflexive activity necessarily requires a propitious locale for meditation, which James structures in the form of her grandmother’s spacious house in Albany. The prevailing images in the description of the rooms focus on alleys, passages, and arches thus establishing a transitional effect. The transition is obviously spatial, signaling the progression from one room or hall to the other; but it is also metaphorical since it bridges the passage from the known to the unknown. Isabel’s favorite apartment is “the office,” a place destined to store discarded furniture. One of its entrances “had been condemned, and it was secured by bolts which a particularly slender little girl found it impossible to slide” (23). The presence of the inviolable shielded door accounts for the “mysterious melancholy” pervading the room as well as Isabel’s fascination with this atmosphere:
She knew that this silent, motionless portal opened into the street; if the side-lights had not been filled with green paper she might have looked out [. . .]. But she had no wish to look out, for this would have interfered with her theory that there was a strange, unseen place on the other side-- a place which became to the child’s imagination [. . .] a region of delight or terror (23).Isabel's early attraction to the unlimited possibilities rendered by existing yet unperceived realities will eventually evolve into her characteristic heightened desire to explore, examine, and contemplate the multifarious scope of human experience.
Isabel’s lust for knowledge in abstract terms is rooted in her own idealized and romanticized attitudes toward surrounding experience. Taking this aspect into consideration, it will not be difficult to understand her detachment from pecuniary concerns. Accordingly, she is the only member of the Archer family who does not criticize--openly or otherwise--her father’s economically ineffectual engagements. Therefore, Isabel places freedom of thought and action in a higher position than the concrete benefits derived from material sufficiency.
Isabel’s romantic notions also reflect themselves in the importance she ascribes to the retrospective evaluation of former experiences. As Mrs. Touchett tries to rationalize the girl’s seemingly nostalgic attachment to the old house, Isabel explains:
“I like places in which things have happened –even if they’re sad things. A great many people have died here; the place has been full of life.”This looking back likewise evinces, in a more extended way, her admiration for historical prominent figures. Therefore, antiquity seems to her a far more desirable option than newness, for it accumulates the eternal mystery of the human condition, which she ardently desires to unravel.
“Is that what you call being full of life?”
“I mean full of experience –of people’s feelings and sorrows. And not only their sorrows only, for I’ve been very happy here as a child.” (26)
II. Awakening
In Chapter VIII Lord Warburton enthusiastically takes up the task of introducing Isabel to the nuances of English social mores. Isabel’s hypercritical eye, however, prevents her from seeing Lord Warburton’s interventions as totally transparent remarks. The narrator mentions that “Isabel was often amused at his explicitness and at the small allowance he seemed to make either for her own experience or for her imagination” (73). As the statement implies, the nobleman does certainly fail to estimate the rich imagination of her young American interlocutor. However, he does not fail to weigh Isabel’s inexperience at all. Her travel to England, and later on to the Old Continent, will serve Isabel as her initiation into the varied range of interactions which will constitute the corpus of her most relevant experiences abroad. Therefore, this phase can be termed as the awakening period in which the author composes the heroine's gradual and, oftentimes, painful procession toward the discovery of fundamental truths. As a result, Isabel’s current theories and beliefs will undergo profound transformations, especially those involving freedom and independence.
As the conversation proceeds, Isabel insists on criticizing Warburton’s condescending attitude: “'It’s a pity you can’t see me in my war-paint and feathers,'” she exclaims, “'if I had known how kind you are to the poor savages I would have brought over my native costume!'” (74). Paradoxically, Isabel does not seem to realize that she is, indeed, wearing her native costume, that of unfeigned candidness. Such a costume makes Isabel appear self-conscious and analytical in the extreme. As a result, she suspiciously perceives innuendoes and undercurrents where none have been implied. In order to do justice to Lord Warburton, the narrator comments that he:
had travelled through the United States and knew much more about them than Isabel; he was so good as to say that America was the most charming country in the world, but his recollections of it appeared to encourage the idea that Americans in England would need to have a great many things explained to them (74).If Warburton is so good as to declare America a fascinating land, so he is in remaining discretely silent in reply to Isabel’s loquacity. Since he is far more experienced than she is, it is not difficult for him to realize that he is dealing with a young American lady. In this respect, Isabel’s limited experiential repertoire determines her enthusiasm and eagerness to enter the select circle of life connoisseurs. Isabel grows tired of her apprentice-like position in which she vicariously listens to stories of delight and horror without actually taking part in them. She therefore thinks it is about time that the power of her imagination be balanced with the invigorating streams of actual experience. Therefore, Isabel's first step toward the actualization of her assumptions will be her affective commitment to Gilbert Osmond, the refined American exatriate residing in Italy. Hence the importance of the European milieu which molds, in varying degrees, Isabel's character in ways she had never experienced before.
III. Descent
Most of the dialogical interactions involving the characters of the novel reveal James’s concern with the elaboration of an impeccably concise style. The introductory sections of Chapter XXXII, which concentrate on Mrs. Touchett’s disapproving reaction to Isabel’s engagement, represent a notable instance of this concern. The dialogue held between Isabel and her aunt represents a notable instance of this concern. Every sentence is pregnant with meaning and not a single word is wasted. If the clothes that Isabel chooses to wear do not reveal her self, then it is the conversational act which partly illuminates the fragmented composition of her complex personality. Although Isabel believes she thoroughly masters her verbal constructions, Mrs. Touchett’s simple yet incisive remarks decidedly undermine the foundations of her niece’s utterances. When Mrs. Touchett refers to Osmond as “Madame Merle’s friend,” Isabel replies: “If you mean that Madame Merle has had anything to do with my engagement you’re greatly mistaken” (360), thus revealing her profound naïveté.
Isabel’s descent into the vortex, therefore, is precipitated by both her inability to objectify her situation and her proclivity to idealize the figure of her husband-to-be. In this sense, Elizabeth Allen claims that “Osmond’s apparent disregard for society [. . .] encourages Isabel to feel she will be free from externally imposed values--she thinks that her active step has been the perception of Osmond’s fineness, despite all social disapproval” (73). Isabel, unknowingly, is letting herself be engulfed by the vertiginous flare of Osmond’s attractiveness.
In the following chapter, we learn Ralph’s reaction to Isabel’s engagement. Ralph’s success in making his cousin the heiress of a big fortune will precipitate the heroine’s descent into confusion. Ralph had initially believed that if Isabel had been completely free from economic restraints, then she would have been able to achieve personal freedom. However, the money she has inherited from Mr. Touchett, instead of expanding her perspective of the human experience, has reduced her to the absorbingly monotonous Osmond-oriented relationship. The narrator provides enough evidence to confirm Isabel’s self-imposed social encapsulation as he states that:
she had now little free or unemployed emotion for minor needs, and accepted as an incident, in fact quite as an ornament, of her lot the idea that to prefer Gilbert Osmond as she preferred him was perforce to break all other ties. She tasted of the sweets of this preference [. . .]. (379)As a consequence of her physical and mental confinement into the shady chambers of Palazzo Roccanera, the range of Isabel's interactions decreases dramatically. It is evident that in choosing to devote her self to the adoration of her husband's luring personality, Isabel remains unable to preserve the affective bonds that unite her to Caspar Goodwood, Lord Warburton, and her dear cousin Ralph Touchett.
As Ralph tells Isabel that she is “going to be put into a cage,” his companion, without measuring the significance of her words, defiantly replies “If I like my cage, that needn’t trouble you.” Perplexed and disappointed, Ralph asserts: “You must have changed immensely. A year ago you valued your liberty beyond everything. You wanted only to see life” (369); thus he acknowledes that what hurts him the most is witnessing the splendidly winged bird gliding earthwards.
IV. Subjection
In Chapter XXXIX the reader learns that Isabel, after her marriage, has deliberately shunned the presence of her former friends, particularly Ralph Touchett’s. Osmond, who dotes on the idea of having married a “high spirit attuned to softness,” (379) finds in Isabel’s devotion the perfect canvas to perform his work of art. For Osmond the creation of beauty is an intimately idiosyncratic process that excludes the participation of Isabel, who plays a purely peripheral and instrumental role. Furthermore, his wife’s “remarkably fresh” nature serves Osmond as an inspirational source for the aesthetic materialization of his life, which is entirely conceived of and exhausted within himself.
In marrying Osmond Isabel loses individuality and becomes a satellite swirling around a major planet. Her orbit is reduced and revealed only in relation to the egotistical gravitational force emanating from Osmond. Would it be accurate to assert that Isabel consciously relinquishes her self as an act of love? It certainly seems to me that Isabel’s own limitations prevent her from casting a deeper view onto the nature of things. Accordingly, it would not be appropriate to establish a priori the unconditional submission of her self since she has not yet realized the implications of her liaison to Osmond. At this stage of the cubist portraiture of Isabel, the negativity of the concepts submission and relinquishment remains foreign to her since she considers these to be the expected responses of a dutiful wife. As a result, Isabel deceivingly makes herself believe that she has reached personal satisfaction within the severe restrictions of her newly acquired marital status. However, she is unable to convey the same impression to Ralph who discovers that:
There was something fixed and mechanical in the serenity painted on [her face]; this was not an expression [. . .], it was a representation, it was even an advertisement. [. . .] she produced the impression of being particularly enviable, that it was supposed, among many people, to be a privilege even to know her (425).Isabel has clearly lost the spiritual tranquility and freshness which she abundantly bore as the offerings of an outlandish goddess to the inhabitants of Gardencourt estate. It is precisely the familiarization with a new repertoire of experiences which has dried her up. In marrying Osmond Isabel put on exquisitely woven garments of artificiality and sophistication which rigidly entombed her freedom. Retrospectively, Ralph wonders what might have changed her cousin so much, thus exclaiming “Poor human-hearted Isabel, what perversity had bitten her?” and “What did Isabel represent?” The weight of the answer falls heavenly upon his heart: “she represented Gilbert Osmond. ‘God Heavens, what a function!’ he then woefully exclaimed” (427).
In Chapter XL the narrator establishes that Isabel’s appreciation of Madame Merle is romantically driven and, therefore, lacks an objective perspective. The presence of the elegant dame at Palazzo Roccanera effects a powerful attraction on Isabel, very similar to the tantalizing purple mystery of a wine which resists itself to reveal the origins of its intoxicating scent. Isabel suspects that the soul of Madame Merle has been not only quieted after violent agitation, but also hardened in a manner the young lady greatly admires:
That personage was armed at all points; it was a pleasure to see a
character so completely equipped
for the social battle. [. . .] She was never weary, never overcome with
disgust; she never appeared to
need rest or consolation (435).
In this sense, Madame Merle's statuary Janus-faced persona epitomizes the female qualities which Isabel most appreciates: disticntion, sensibility, and knowledge--both conceptual and empirical. As it will be discussed in the last section of the paper, after a closer observation of Madame Merle's ostensibly delineated character, Isabel will eventually be able to discern the dame's actual clayish soul underneath the wonderfully marbled surface.
As time progresses, Isabel becomes conscious of the complexity of her situation and, in a more general sense, the impossibility of leading a life entirely devoted to the aesthetic exploitation of the self. The narrator states that “Isabel, as she herself grew older, became acquainted with revulsions, with disgusts; there were days when the world looked black and she asked herself with some sharpness what it was that she was pretending to live for” (435). The progressive diminishment of Isabel's reliance on life may explain her admiration for Madame Merle’s hermetic personality, which makes her impervious to the blasts of existence.
Chapter XL provides significant information to understand the origin of Isabel’s dissatisfaction. The narrator asserts that “A girl in love was doubtless not a free agent; but the sole source of her mistake had been within herself. There had been no plot, no snare; she had looked and considered and chosen” (440). As the passage suggests, Isabel becomes the catalyst of her own tedium vitae and the hopeless condition derived from it. As it will be discussed later, this proposition is only partially true since Isabel has indeed been object of an orchestration that undermines the freedom she believes to possess.
V. Realization
This phase of the cubist characterization of Isabel points to a facet which emphasizes the painful realization of manipulative forces acting upon her. As Charles Samuels determines, “Part of The Portrait of a Lady establishes Isabel as the author of her ruin, but another part shows that Isabel was the victim of a plot. Ultimately, this melodramatic fact is compatible with a tragic reading: Isabel also chose her betrayers” (110). In Chapter XLIX the personages of the masquerade reveal themselves to Isabel in their true dimension as deeply materialistic creatures. As a matter of fact, the fissures of Madame Merle’s broken mask show Isabel that “her nearness was not the charming accident she had so long supposed” (560). In adopting highly refined lifestyles enriched by the pleasures of antique landscapes and precious artifacts, Osmond and Madame Merle transform themselves into insatiable predatory aesthetes. In this respect Isabel’s qualities --youth, innocence, beauty, and fortune--make her the ideal candidate for victimization.
The hidden truths which are revealed to Isabel throughout the conversation with Madame Merle are basically three. Firstly, she discovers that the officious influence of Madame Merle proves highly effective in engaging her to Osmond. Secondly, Isabel realizes that Madame Merle’s interest in her grew deeper soon after she learns that “her young friend had been subject to the good old man’s charity”(563). Thirdly, Isabel sees that “the man in the world whom she had supposed to be the least sordid had married her, like a vulgar adventurer, for her money” (563).
However painful these revelations may appear, none of them strikes Isabel so profoundly as the secret confided to her by Countess Gemini: Pansy is in fact Madame Merle’s and Osmond’s daughter born from their extramarital affair. Pansy, much akin to Isabel, has been manipulated and molded to satisfy the egotistical concerns of her parents. Pansy’s position, however, is far more disadvantageous than Isabel’s since she remains ignorant of the manipulative forces which have been acting upon her.
Despite gaining precious insights into her husband’s perverse nature, Isabel is unable to follow a steadfast course of action. She grows overwhelmed by fear and hesitation. Contrary to logical expectations, her enlightened spirit remains atavistically attached to the marital bondage. Consequently, after Ralph’s death she feels impelled to leave London and return to Italy since:
Certain obligations were involved in the very fact of marriage, and were quite independent of the quantity of enjoyment extracted from it. Isabel thought of her husband as little as might be; but now that she was at a distance, beyond its spell, she thought with a kind of spiritual shudder of Rome (633).Isabel’s final realization, then, is the saddest of all for it mockingly reminds her that her attempts toward freedom have completely failed. As Allen pertinently notes:
Believing in the ideals of the world without understanding how they are maintained in reality, Isabel cannot really challenge the process of signification which demands that she, as woman, becomes portrait rather than painter or spectator. Unequipped to recognise fully the appropriation of her self as a range of values by those around her, Isabel’s freedom is indeed an illusion (59).Aware of her hopeless position, Isabel resolves to strengthen her commitment toward Osmond. She does not love him, yet she will devote herself to play the social role of dutiful wife. The tactic appears plausible upon considering Isabel’s attachment to Pansy, for whom she professes a sisterly love. Since the girl has been both physically and spiritually minimized, the range of her interactions is extremely limited and her need for a protectress immense. Therefore, the tendency of some critics--among them Richard Chase and Richard Poirier--to evaluate Isabel’s return to Osmond as "a precipitated folly that brings her to the verge of tragedy" (Long 122) seems to neglect the fact that Isabel consistently proves to be innately responsive to others’ needs.
As it has been revealed
by the manner James portrays Isabel Archer, it seems to me that James’s
dominant interest does not lie in assembling Isabel’s fragmented facets
into a cohesive pictorial structure, but rather in exploring how these
fragments enlighten our knowledge of her character. Consequently, in depicting
Isabel from diverse perspectives James emphasizes the rich plurality of
a female character that resists being framed within the observer’s conventional
parameters of abstraction. As Virginia Smith argues, “the Jamesian
heroine must rely on herself. Which is why Isabel’s story--her voyage
of self-expression--ends somewhere between life and art, like a portrait
left incomplete” (42).
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The Love
Letter by Pedro Lira
National
Museum of Fine Arts, Santiago, Chile
In avoiding a synthesis
of the scattered facets of Isabel into a unified whole, the author’s portraiture
stresses an analytical cubist approach. By utilizing this approach, James
disregards definite, empirical points of view, thus emphasizing a conceptual
aesthetic philosophy that intends to represent the characters of his fictionalized
world in their essence rather than in their appearance. Although
individually discernible, the diverse descriptive planes of the young lady
remain unexhausted as regards their expressive possibilities. At
this point the reader is most likely to recall Henrietta's qualification
of her friend as "the stricken deer, seeking the innermost shade" (546),
which prophetically determines the heroine's final fragmentation. Therefore,
the inconclusive nature of this pictorial/narrative resolution adequately
informs the contradictory and complex essence of Isabel Archer, which adamantly
resists definite closure.