Why do we keep reading?

This wasn't my first encounter with James' "beast." Not more than a few months ago, I was reading this same exact story in my Creative Writing Fiction Workshop, and was equally as intrigued with the piece then as I am now.

The question that still lingers in my mind with regard to this piece is this: What keeps us reading this story? Why don't we give up after the tenth page or so? I don't mean to disrespect James, of course, as the brilliant writer he is, but his The Beast in the Jungle personally wasn't my favorite piece because of how long it keeps us from what seems to be "the point" of the story -- Marcher's shocking revelation, his "deep, dark secret." While we can understand why a reader may become frustrated with James for playing us for so long, only to let us down with a purpose that not only bypasses us, but the protagonist as well, we must also praise James for the aspects of the piece and his writing that do in fact make us want to read the piece in its entirety. If not the structure of the plot, it's the curiosity of his diction and language use, the odd, sexless relationship between his two main characters, and the poignant and suspenseful moments between them that keep us hanging on -- even though we are indeed left hanging at the end. Perhaps we appreciate the piece because we feel like James has pulled one over on us -- building us up to think something dramatic and earth-shattering was going to happen, but having the anti-climactic ending act as the real tragedy and catastrophe in the end.

Maybe that's what keeps us reading.

The “Kill Daisy Miller” Conspiracy

(or “When You Eliminate Everything Else, What Remains is to Kill Daisy Miller”)

Daisy Miller has a rather rushed ending for a novella; Daisy’s sudden sickness and resulting death come all within the last few pages. I think that the last time I read Daisy Miller, the professor said that Henry James often had plots that take a sudden, unexpected turn for the worst. It may just go hand and hand with his other tropes. (I would also like to attest that, after reading the plot summary of one of James’s longer novels, this seems to be prevailingly true. Good thing we aren’t characters in his books.)

Then we have to wonder: if Daisy Miller had lived, what would she be doing in her future?

On one hand, Daisy could have done something rather scandalous and is then metaphorically chased out of European society. It seemed that the novella was heading in that direction already. So why not follow through? I think that the final perception of Europeans and Americans would be different. Europeans would appear very exclusive and maybe even childish for not handling things like a “proper adult.” We would also get mixed messages about what it means to be an American. Are we just beyond hope of reforming into “proper” society? Or maybe only a select few can enter? Overall, this ending seems rather hard on both cases.

How about an ending that had hope for Daisy joining into European society? This instantly brings into mind people chanting “One of us! One of us!” Daisy would no longer be unique. She would have had a period of rebellion, but then she would be tamed and ascend into European culture and society just like most of the characters. Then the novel would just be saying that Americans aren’t very cultured and they all need to ascend and lose their American wildness.

Both of these possible endings for Daisy accomplish, to some degree, what James is already showing us. But they both seem rather dull. Either Daisy conforms or not. Americans are apparently crass, and European society is still a pinnacle that one must reach because we all know Europeans are full of culture. (Yes, that was sarcasm.)

This may have been a case where James just didn’t know what to do with Daisy. To be fair to him, the ending he does have technically works. We don’t know what Daisy’s potential was, and we are left at the height of trying to figure out American versus European debate. It sticks out like a sore thumb compared to the rest of the work, but it may be the best option of those that James had.

Death by Culture

Daisy, who travels Europe but does not seem to appreciate or experience culture, contracts the illness that kills her at the Colosseum, a vestige of Ancient Rome and an incomparable symbol of Europe's history. I didn't know quite what to make of this. James, if not Winterbourne, seems to subtly mock Daisy and Americans like her who do not "understand" the nuances of European life. So it confused me that when she finally seems to be seeking out what she lacks, James kills her. One more example of the "damned if you do, damned if you don't" nature of Daisy's short life. Perhaps James implies that Daisy was not seeking out the Colosseum for the right reasons; instead of wanting to gain intellectual knowledge or absorb the history, she just wants an adventure and that isn't good enough for James and Winterbourne. 

The more I thought about this, the more I thought about the significance of the Colosseum. It was a place of violence and entertainment, which seems to parallel gauche, shallow aspects of America and Daisy herself. However, the Colosseum was also a place where executions took place, particularly those of Christian martyrs. Because it is revealed at the end that Daisy was "innocent" after all, James might not be as judgmental towards Daisy as I thought. He could be comparing her to these innocent victims, and showing the way the cruelty of Winterbourne's world killed Daisy. 

The Mystery of Daisy

As humans, we're always looking to categorize, to type, to classify...We always want things and people to fit into pre-designated categories or types, making it easier for us to understand them. We don't like it when these people and things don't exactly fit into a "box" of some sort. Outliers are confusing.

Daisy Miller in Henry James' eponymous text stands out as one of these types of people we can't completely figure out. Daisy possesses an inherent complexity that troubles and intrigues us as readers. While Daisy appears extremely innocent and naïve on the surface, her conduct and manners speak otherwise; in the words of Winterbourne, Daisy is "very charming, but how deucedly sociable!" (James 10). We, along with Winterbourne, can't decide whether we like or dislike Daisy. Especially when she passes suddenly at the end of the story, we don't know whether to condemn her as a girl who paid the price for her pride, ignorance, and lack of decorum, or if she was indeed a naïve girl who was tragically misguided and confused?

I think it's important for us to relish this confusion and ambiguity a bit. It's far more interesting for us to explore various interpretations of Daisy and her storyline and to contemplate James' potential disparate intentions rather than to be frustrated with our not being able to categorize her in one way or another. Part of the beauty of this James piece is in how it gets us thinking about both Daisy and Winterbourne's characters (since Winterbourne is the lens through which we see and evaluate Daisy) in different ways.

Scotch

I was intrigued by Onno's comparison of Henry James to scotch in class, and I have to confess that upon first reading of Daisy Miller I do not like the taste (for now)! As Onno said, it seems to represent "everything I hate": portentousness and richness and overabundant luxury, it seemed to me to lack any real substance. I found myself asking, why is this meaningful? What makes this Literature with a capital L?

I kept asking these questions all the way up to the end and I'm still asking them. For me, the ending is the most interesting part. What has been up to this point a story seemingly to be only about a man chasing around "an American flirt" suddenly has become very meaningful. One would think that a shallow romance novel would end with a marriage, or some kind of drama where Daisy rejects Giovanelli and announces her love for Winterbourne, but it doesn't. Instead it ends with Daisy dying and life going "back to normal" for Winterbourne - which is at once bewildering and interesting.

Clues throughout the novel hint that James may be trying to get at something deeper. In an early description of Daisy, James says almost sarcastically "She had ever so many intimate friends that had been there ever so many times. And then she had ever so many dresses and things from Paris. Whenever she put on a Paris dress she felt as if she were in Europe" (11, Kindle Edition). She is also clearly enamored with "society" and gentleman giving her dinners. "Last winter I had seventeen dinners given me; and three of them were by gentleman" (12).

In a typical romance novel, one would think that this would simply be the climate. Gentleman giving dinners and the woman having to decide on the most gentlemanly gentleman who can win her heart (this is perhaps a stereotype, and reveals my apathy towards romance novels). But by having Daisy so obviously enamored by dinners and gentleman and society James is trying to critique that kind of "society". Ultimately it is Daisy's love of society that kills her, as she frolics in it deeper and deeper with Giovanelli, and it is revealed that her relationship with him was very shallow. Could this be evidence of Jame's critique?

The Character of Giovanelli

Daisy and Winterbourne are definitely the most intriguing characters in Daisy Miller; however, I also developed a profound interest in Mr. Giovanelli by the end of the novella. The narrator really reveals nothing regarding the substance of his and Daisy's relationship, only what other Americans in Rome think of it. Daisy describes him as "'a great friend of mine,'" and as "'tremendously clever." He apparently is not clever enough to recognize the audacity and individualism in Daisy's character though. I thought it was incredibly poignant that by the end of the novel Giovonelli proclaims Daisy as "'the most innocent'" shortly after Winterbourne comes to the conclusion that her abnormal behavior actually stems from an inherent audacity and disregard for societal expectations. The narrator articulates Winterbourne's epiphany as "she was a young lady whom a young gentleman need no longer be at pains to respect" (p. 48). He proceeds to say of Daisy "what a clever little reprobate she was, and how smartly she played an injured innocence" (p. 48).  But Giovanelli, who spends enormously more time with Daisy than Winterbourne does, seems completely oblivious to her true personality, her true recklessness and clever self-awareness. James conceals such a large portion of Daisy and Giovenlli's relationship that it's completely unclear how Giovanelli misinterprets her personality. I think Daisy's character is so interesting because so many people misinterpret who she actually is, and Giovanelli does this very explicitly. He sees her clever rebelliousness as innocence.

Upgraded and Style and Content in "Beast"?

I don’t know how many times I had to read the first sentence of “The Beast in the Jungle.” It seemed unnecessarily complex, and also, upon second glance, almost meaningless: “What determined the speech that startled him in the course of their encounter scarcely matters, being probably but some words spoken by himself quite without intention– spoken as they lingered and slowly moved together after their renewal of acquaintance” (303). So, essentially, James is telling us that Marcher said something that doesn’t matter, for little reason, to a woman he already knows? Why begin a story with a sentence that disregards the main character’s words and motive as unimportant?

The contrast in style between “Daisy Miller” and “The Beast in the Jungle” therefore becomes clear right away– as it simultaneously disorients the reader. What’s perhaps even more frustrating is that “Beast” (at least through the first three chapters) seems at first to concern something far more trivial than “Daisy Miller.” The latter tells the tale of a mysterious young woman and her admirer flitting around Europe; there’s scandal and romance and death. The former is about a man who claims that he has a bad feeling that something’s going to happen, and the first half, at least, describes a friendship built singularly on waiting for that bad thing to occur. The convoluted writing builds up something that, to me, seems a little ridiculous. I really would like Marcher to stop feeling sorry for himself.

On the other hand, if you can get past the slight absurdity of Marcher’s issue, it does seem like “Beast” addresses something more profound than “Daisy Miller.” It tackles some unknown enemy, and a sense of the foreboding– things that could grow to some universal truth by the end of the story. Whereas Daisy Miller is a portrait of a innocent American girl not yet ready for high European society.

I suppose I’m curious about two things: whether the suddenly elevated style in “Beast” brings something substantial to the story that was lacking in “Daisy Miller”; and also if the supposed maturation of writing style mirrors a maturation in content. Having only read half of “The Beast in the Jungle,” it’s certainly too soon to tell, but I hope the answer to both is “yes.” It would be unfortunate if the growth accrued over the course of all or part of a career in writing brought nothing new to the table. Given that James is such a celebrated author, I’d guess I won’t be disappointed.

An Alternative Scenario in Daisy Miller

           While I do understand the point of view of Winterbourne being a homosexual character in Henry James’ Daisy Miller, the story becomes increasingly tragic if Winterbourne is considered heterosexual. While I will not argue against Winterbourne’s seemingly homosexual identity, I would like to point out that Winterbourne does go on a date of sorts with Daisy to Chillon Castle. Winterbourne does seem to be infatuated with Daisy, as he repeatedly compliments her beauty, though he does not understand her actions that are perceived as inappropriate.

            All that said, if a reader views Winterbourne as a heterosexual, the ending to this short story s extraordinarily tragic. This is because, up until Daisy’s death, the reader is led to believe that she is engaged to Giovanelli. Daisy appears to be happy with Giovanelli and our protagonist seems to bump into the engaged couple when he is out in public. When Winterbourne sees Daisy and Giovanelli at the Coliseum one night, he warns them to vacate the premises as the area is a hotspot for malaria. What is bizarre is that Daisy seems to be interested in Winterbourne throughout the piece as more than a friend. She does ask Winterbourne before he leaves the Coliseum if he believes she is actually engaged. Perhaps it is just my instinct, but I perceived this moment to be Daisy looking for Winterbourne to become bothered by her future martial arrangements. Clearly, Daisy cares about Winterbourne’s opinion of her (seen through the note she left him before she passes), but also through Giovanelli’s remark at Daisy’s funeral. Perhaps if Winterbourne was heterosexual, or if the two had expressed their feelings to one another more openly, Daisy’s death would never have occurred.

Daisy as a Tragic Character

I agree with Leslie that Daisy Miller’s ending lack a clear, just moral message, but her sudden death presents her as a tragic character underserving of her sudden illness and the social ridicule and ostracism she experiences. In the beginning of the novel, Winterbourne defends that Daisy is not a coquette; his description of her as “very unsophisticated” and “only a pretty American flirt” suggest her harmlessness and innocence (11).  While Winterbourne is later taken off-guard by her bold demands and challenge to his authority, Daisy explains, “That’s all I want—a little fuss” (21). By challenging European social expectations of women through her interactions with men, Daisy finally gains the attention her mother and absent father fail to provide her. Many of Daisy’s actions, including visiting the Château de Chillon with Winterbourne and inviting Giovanelli to Mrs. Walker’s party, are an attempt to rouse her mother’s concern and challenge her mother’s complacency. Even after Mrs. Miller discovers that Daisy’s illness is a result of her outdoor excursions with Giovanelli, she quickly dismisses Giovanelli’s responsibility for her daughter’s health and safety. Mrs. Miller comments to Winterbourne, “A lady told me that [Giovanelli] was afraid I was angry for taking Daisy around at night. Well, so I am; but I suppose he knows I am a lady. I would never scorn to scold” (50). This statement further reveals Mrs. Miller’s weakness and dismissiveness of her duties as a mother. She claims that she is powerless to challenge men, even in her superior social position. Daisy risks her reputation and health in an effort to gain Winterbourne and her mother’s approval and attention, but tragically, neither character saves her in time. 

"Studying" Daisy Miller

The more I think about Daisy Miller, the more I come to appreciate the truth of Ali's point in class today that Winterbourne is interested in and appreciates women seemingly without a sexual agenda. I read the novel the first time through seeing this lack of sexual talk as simply the discretion of the time or a method of conspicuous concealment to draw the reader along. It seemed implicit to me that Winterbourne is sexually interested in Daisy, but Ali's point made me wonder whether this is supported by the novel or if I had imposed this view upon him. The full title of the novel, Daisy Miller: A Study, seems to support the lack of sexuality in the story. You almost expect the story to be scientific, a classification of a certain type of woman. This idea of "studying" is emphasized cyclically by the narrator at both the beginning and end of the story. In the beginning, we are told Winterbourne "was at Geneva, 'studying"' (4). "Studying" with quotation marks around it is then defined by the narrator as Winterbourne devoting himself to a lady. Winterbourne is quick to switch "studies" though and the woman in Geneva doesn't reappear once Winterbourne has arrived at Vevey and begins studying Daisy.

At the end of the novella, after Daisy's death, the story comes full circle. Winterbourne returns to Geneva and "is 'studying' hard--an intimation that he is much interested in a very clever foreign lady" (51). He has quickly moved on from his study of Daisy, as he did from his study of the original Geneva woman (is it possible he has in fact returned to this woman?). This seeming lack of a deep emotional connection, as well as the repetition of "studying," lead me to believe that Winterbourne's relationship with women is more clinical, or at least more based on analysis and intrigue, that I had originally imagined. Admitting the intentional fallacy into the discussion, I wonder if this portrayal of Winterbourne was a conscious decision by James to make him either homosexual or asexual, or if James' own sexuality and relationships with women are creeping into a text that is meant to be heteronormative.

"A Question for the Metaphysicians"

In Daisy Miller, Henry James considers ideas of culture, particularly the space that forms between high and low, European and American. There is, naturally, the question of whether there is any validity to these distinctions, of where these ideas of superiority or inferiority arise from and how they are propagated. What also appears is the specter of morality as it relates to these notions of culture. James seems to wish for his reader to ask after the consequences of engaging with either of these strains, the characters in Daisy Miller serving as examples of these effects and, in certain cases, as instigators on these topics. Winterbourne's aunt, Mrs. Costello, does just this near the beginning of the novella's second part, telling Winterbourne that the Millers "are hopelessly vulgar" before stating that the morality of this vulgarity is "a question for the metaphysicians. [The Millers] are bad enough to dislike at any rate; and for this short life that is quite enough" (428 [my pagination is off due to my usage of an e-book]). Where Winterbourne posits that this vulgarity is but a show of innocence, his aunt immediately views it as a sure sign of the family's consummate 'badness,' a brief semantic tiff that stands as an emblem for much of the novel's central conflict. Winterbourne seems hopelessly attracted to this innocence for as long as it is aimed at him, but as soon as he is no longer the sole object of Daisy's affections (however erratic they may be), he turns to a sort of tacit acceptance of the immorality (or bad taste) present in her behavior. The novella's conclusion, with its rapid disposal of Daisy and its illustrations of the words shared between Winterbourne and Giovanelli, almost points to this reckless behavior as the cause of her death. If the tale ended here, one might take it as an almost absurd method of informing the reader to stay within the confines of proper decorum. However, Winterbourne's turn towards "a very clever foreign lady" in Geneva slates his high cultural stance as well, evening out the criticism or perhaps even nullifying it entirely (886).

Culture in Daisy Miller

We briefly discussed in class today the way that culture plays a role in the beginning of the novel, but one part that I found specifically captivating was when Winterbourne first mentions Daisy to Mrs. Costello, his aunt, and she calls her "very common...the sort of Americans that one does one's duty by not--not accepting" (14). This statement describes an exclusivity of culture; that one in a higher culture cannot accept or interact with ones of a lower culture. This interested me, because first off, James is writing from a very high culture, and one needs to be of a certain culture in order to travel to Switzerland and Rome as Daisy does. Therefore, I started thinking it was really just about a difference in society and culture between Americans and Europeans.

This concept is brought up a couple more times throughout the story, and Daisy's "commonality" is directly mentioned again when Winterbourne and she are on their way to The Castle of Chillon, "He had been a little afraid that she would talk loud, laugh over-much, and even, perhaps, desire to move about the boat a good deal. But he quite forgot his fears; he sat smiling, with his eyes upon her face, while, without moving from her place, she delivered herself of a great number of original reflections" (23). This is an interesting passage because it discusses the clashing between her beauty and her culture, in Winterbourne and Mrs. Costello's eyes. Then again it is followed by Winterbourne questioning whether he could have perhaps just become used to her "commonness" (23). This question proves that Winterbourne still values culture above her beauty.

Lastly, another example I found of this concept was once again when Mrs. Costello and Winterbourne are discussing Daisy and Giovanelli (Mrs. Costello continues to dislike both of them), and then Winterbourne agrees with his aunt and says, "It is very true...that Daisy and her mamma have not yet risen to that stage of--what shall I call it?--of culture, at which the idea of catching a cunt or a marchese begins. I believe they are intellectually incapable of that conception" (43). This statement seems to go beyond those of culture that had preceded it. It seems to say that not only does their cultural level define whether they are acceptable to be around, or that their commonness is lower than Winterbourne and his aunt, but it also says that Daisy is unable to attain any higher culture.

In looking at these quotations I wonder why James decided to depict the American culture this way, as he was born and educated in America (and then moved to Europe and travelled). What's interesting about this is that he must have started/have been a part of this American culture that he believes to be so low and unworthy. Thus he is directly contradicting his own story as he certainly had the ability to cultivate his own European high culture eventually.

Plot and Message in "Daisy Miller"

Though I really enjoyed reading "Daisy Miller", I was disappointed not to come out at the end with a moral.  To me, Daisy's death seemed sudden, and not related to a karmic punishment for her behavior — by the end, we barely know what she has been up to, anyway.  The story seemed like a stripped down version of Jane Austen's Northanger Abbey, but less plot driven, as well as less decisive in its conclusion.
I have been trying to brainstorm what James might have intended for his audience to take away from the story, and have not been incredibly successful. I have considered that he might be discouraging judgement of others. Given Daisy's death at the end, it seems that she must have been wronged to some degree. However, she isn't made to be the most likeable character as the narrator grows tired of her games. Another idea I have considered is the foolishness of social status — the narrator lost his chance with Daisy Miller because he was (at least partially) caught up in his aunt's warnings against being associated with such a woman. Or, even more interestingly so, that stories don't necesserially need a "message" — that they can simply be enjoyable to read without one. I certainly found that true in my own reading.

Ladies and Gentlemen

The character, Winterbourne, while obsessing over Daisy Miller, also shows his focus on how gentlemen and ladies should act.
As he tries to figure out the character of Daisy Miller, he notes on her actions and how it fits into societal expectations. Because of her beauty, he expects her to fit into his fantasy of a perfectly polite girl of the "best society", yet it is the ways in which she shocks both him and all those watching her, that keep him interested.
When Winterbourne arrived in Rome, "he was annoyed at hearing of a state of affairs so little in harmony with an image of a very pretty girl looking out of an old Roman window and asking herself urgently when Mr. Winterbourne would arrive." He wanted her to fall for him easily and be dreaming about his arrival, yet he was greatly interesting her because of the way she had a slight scandal to her by going to the castle alone with him.
Winterbourne kept trying to convince himself and others that Daisy was a "nice girl". It isn't until towards the end of the book that, "he came back to the question whether this was in fact a nice girl. Would a nice girl - even allowing for her being a little American flirt - make a rendezvous with a presumably low-lived foreigner?" (33). And it isn't until after Daisy's death that Winterbourne isn't clouded by her prettiness and decides that she wasn't the dream girl he tried to make her out to be.
Whether Daisy was ignorant of how to act like a lady or not, she caught attention by not acting as one. Daisy embodies the way women are asked to fit a certain image by following the rules of behavior set for them. She tells Winterbourne clearly, "I have never allowed a gentlemen to dictate to me, or to interfere with anything I do." (32). And yet he keeps persisting that she must be the pretty doting sweetheart that he wants her to be.

Americanness in Daisy Miller

One of the things that separates "Daisy Miller" from the other works that we've read so far in class is its setting. Taking place in Europe, "Daisy Miller" provides a different perspective from many of the other places that we've seen. Much of what we've read defines Americanness based on the setting - Cooper uses the wild descriptions to romanticize the transformation of the American landscape, Emerson revels in the beauty in nature - so it is interesting to see how this short story still relates to Americanness while taking place overseas. Mrs. Costello warns Winterbourne that he would regret living out of the country for so long, and in the last few lines of "Daisy Miller," Winterbourne laments, "You were right in that remark that you made last summer. I was booked to make a mistake. I have lived too long in foreign parts" (51). James contrasts America and Europe by placing American characters in this foreign setting, but he introduces a new type of Americanness that we have not seen before. Daisy seems to be defined by her "American innocence" throughout the story, but is also very blatantly flirtatious. Perhaps James attempts to emphasize the effects of European culture on Americanness or to highlight the changes in how women in America are being viewed during this time. I'm curious to see how other classmates interpret this change in setting from the other works that we've read, particularly with why Winterbourne then decides to continue living in Geneva and how Daisy redefines (or doesn't) American expectations for women in the 19th century.

Criticism of Winterbourne

I had a lot of problems with Winterbourne throughout "Daisy Miller." I found it troubling that he was constantly trying to "define" what kind of girl Daisy was, as if it was a requirement for her to fit within a certain subset of society. I also found it problematic when he was so judgmental of Daisy's behavior with Giovanelli, since Winterbourne himself was not opposed to going against societal norms and expectations when Daisy wanted to spend time with him. For example, when Winterbourne and Daisy first meet, he acknowledges that in Geneva "a young man was not a liberty to speak to a young unmarried lady except under certain rarely-occurring conditions," and his only justification for going against this societal rule is that they are in Vevey and not Geneva. Further, he takes Daisy to the Chateau de Chillon without a chaperone, something his aunt feels is very inappropriate. I never felt like Winterbourne was actually concerned for Daisy and her reputation. He seemed jealous of Giovanelli and Daisy's relationship, angry with himself for not having the courage to act on his infatuation with Daisy, and, at times when Daisy was acting out in public, even embarrassed by his intrigue for her.

The Weakness of the Women in Daisy Miller

The first time I read Daisy Miller, I was paying more attention to the plot. This time, I was able to see some more of the details. I noticed that a significant number of the women in the story were ill, weak, or impotent and that this keeps them confined in some manner. Mrs. Miller suffers from dyspepsia and the inability to control her children, Mrs. Costello suffers from recurring headaches and cannot influence Mr. Winterbourne, Mrs. Miller cannot control Daisy, and Daisy herself dies of the fever. Conversely, the men have more agency and are able bodied. Mr. Winterbourne is capable of avoiding the fever and making his own decisions without negative consequences, Mr. Giovanelli also does not succumb to the fever and does not suffer from the social scorn directed at Daisy, and even Randoph is able to move about and do as he pleases, he doesn’t even go to bed when he is supposed to but stays up all night.

Even the clothes that the women wear confine them. Daisy is described as being dressed in “a hundred frills and flounces and knots of pale-coloured ribbon” which she had to keep smoothing. Daisy could not run about as her brother because of her dress. Her clothing also marks her in Rome as being of a higher class and so attracted attention for walking about through the parks. Her clothing was meant to confine her to the inside of hotel rooms and confine her to her social status. Daisy cannot escape the social expectations that confine her in ways she refused to be confined, and she died for freedom. The social cold shoulder and judgement, the clothes, her ineffectual mother all combined to create a situation where Daisy could not escape without extreme tarnishing of her reputation and so she died of the fever.

Don't Underestimate Jack!

"A Matter of Principle" was probably one of my favorite tales in Chestnutt's Tales of Conjure and The Color Line Collection. I couldn't help but to feel very satisfied with the ending, as the Clayton's get what they truly deserve for their discrimination against the supposed black-as-night Hamilton Brown (even though he does end up indeed being of Alice's race, to Mr. Clayton's shock!) and their general myopic and self-contradicting outlook on race and interracial relations.

Yet, what was perhaps even more amusing was Jack's role in moving the plot to its surprising and satisfying conclusion. Jack, Mr. Clayton's distant cousin, is discounted as the subservient errand boy and Alice's last option if she fails to find a husband to match her race. Yet, ironically, Jack ends up being the character that blows the whole Congressional reception by mistaking Brown's dark-skinned traveling partner for the Congressman suitor himself. In this way, Jack ends up possessing a considerable amount of power in the tale for which we don't give him credit early on in the story. Jack is the catalyst that brings about the despair of the Clayton's, and the victory on the part of Brown and us, the moralistic readers. Jack's character reminds us that each and every character in a tale has the potential to contribute to the plot in a special or unexpected way. We can't make assumptions too quickly.

So, with that, I just have to say: Well done, Jack. Well done.

That's How Things Are

In class today, it was brought up that Chesnutt's characters don’t learn the morals that the readers instantly see and understand. It’s an interesting thing to think about in context with history. Specifically, the Civil War and what that meant for people.

The Civil War, as historians will point out, was not fought initially to free the slaves. There was a lot of factors that led to it, and slavery was just one of the issues. There was also a difference in economy and some competitiveness. (There are probably way more than what I've just listed, too.) In school, the Civil War is generalized to being a war that ended slavery. Really, it was more of a war of crushing an attempt at independence and then imposing new national laws. (If you can't tell, this is my dislike of inaccurate history being taught.)

But the moral of history was not a learning moment. People did not suddenly wake up and realize that slavery was evil. They got up, and were either already under the belief that slavery was evil, or they got up and were upset at the world for taking their “property.” People didn't learn. Moral lessons in racism are still not even understood today. We’re still struggling with this.

Chesnutt’s stories reflect some of this. The Civil War led to amendments and laws that changed how legally things can be looked at, but internal thinking remained the same. Maybe that’s why his character’s don’t change at the end of the story. While, given the distance and time, we understand what moral issues are being talked about, the characters themselves are stuck on the same track because it was just one unfortunate moment. Nothing more, nothing less.

Parallel stories in "The Passing of Grandison"

In "The Passing of Grandison," Chestnutt tells two stories, that of white Dick Owens and that of Grandison the slave. Grandison's story is deliberately understated and downplayed, with the plot twist at the end of course that he escapes on his own. This structure directly communicated the stratification and separation slavery constructed between races. From the beginning, what to Grandison was a matter of life, death and personal liberty was merely Dick trying to impress a woman (p. 83). 

Chestnutt's irony was particularly biting in the passage on page 88 when Grandison expresses exaggerated fear at the idea of abolitionists, which his master tries to warn him against him: "'Dey won't try her steal me, will day, marster?' asked the negro, with sudden alarm." Over the course of the story, Dick shows Grandison essentially what he needs to do to escape Dick's father and find freedom. Grandison seems loyal to the point of perhaps stupidity to the colonel and Dick, but to the reader it seems like Grandison was acting and biding his time from the start. 

A Hierarchical System of Oppression

One of the aspects of “A Matter of Principle” that struck me most was the way in which the story portrays (and points to the irony in) a hierarchical system of racial discrimination and oppression. In the beginning of the story, Mr. Clayton articulates the discrimination he faces as a man of “mixed” race. He claims, “the white people lump us all together as negroes, and condemn us all to the same social ostracism” but defends, “I don’t accept this classification…and I imagine that, as the chief party in interest, I have a right to my own opinion” (67). In this statement, Mr. Clayton expresses his desire to associate with white people because his biological makeup is primarily white and because he believes he is entitled to his own self-identification. The great irony of the story is that he is blind to his own racism and to how he deflects the oppression he experiences onto people who have a darker skin tone than him, such as Congressman Hamilton Brown. Hamilton Brown’s name itself is perhaps a paradox. It associates Hamilton (perhaps a reference to Alexander Hamilton, a prominent white political figure in American history) with the color brown.

This hierarchical system of oppression is further highlighted by the narrator’s description of marriage relations. The narrator gives insight into societal norms by stating that “Miss Clayton and her friends, by reason of their assumed superiority of black people, or perhaps as much by reason of a somewhat morbid shrinking from the curiosity manifested toward married people of strongly contrasting colors, would not marry black men, and except in a rare instance would white men would not marry them” (69). The narrator conveys three things in this long sentence: that society generally disapproves of interracial couples, that women who appear “white” reject black men as suitable partners, and that white men would not marry women of mixed race. The story creates a world in which white men are superior to all and in which racial makeup, rather than gender, determine all other positions in the social hierarchy. There is a system of oppression that “trickles down” from white men. Ironically, Mr. Clayton goes to great lengths to prevent his daughter from “mixing” socially with black men when in fact she and Mr. Clayton have a mixed racial identity.

            After Mr. Clayton believes that Congressman Brown is dark-skinned, he is determined to entirely disassociate himself from him and must place his family in total isolation to do so. His blindness to his own racism is apparent in his claim, “we’ll have to do this thoroughly, or our motives will be misconstrued, and people will say we are prejudiced and all that, when it is only a matter of principles with us” (79). Even after creating an elaborate scheme to avoid hosting Congressman Brown for fear of societal scrutiny, he worries society may also perceive his plan as prejudice. There is no way in which he can truly win society’s approval. Furthermore, he tries to convince himself and his family that their racism is based on “principles” rather than skin tone. He is desperately and helplessly trying to defy the system of oppression and social hierarchy in the world of the story.

Ideology in Cesnutt

I really enjoyed our discussion a few weeks ago on 'ideologies' in literature, and how highly respected literature seems to be that which obscures its ideological content and asserts itself as a literary text rather than a social text. Charles Chesnutt's stories definitely have an ideological affiliation, or at least attempt to, but I think he manages to obscure it better than almost any author we've read thus far. He writes stories that are at once entertaining, poignant, satirical, and difficult, despite expressing something regarding the social reality of Black Americans and slavery.

Regarding the Tales of Conjure, I think he primarily uses the form of frame stories to obscure his social message. The frame stories of Uncle Julius plunge readers into the past, a past full of mysticism and absurdity.They entertain, but also disturb, explaining in matter-of-fact terms the gruesome deaths of slaves and the dehumanization of a race. Uncle Julius' dialect reveals an allegiance to realism despite the stories' fantastical content. Hidden beneath the extremely difficult phrasings, are profound truths and ideological positions regarding the state of American society.

Regarding The Color Line, I think Chesnutt's ideology is slightly more apparent than in the other stories. This is probably because they refrain from dialectal narration and fantastical frame stories; however, they still use satire and tragedy to express the foolishness of white oppression and the difficulty of Black Americans' lives during this era. "Tragedy" might be an extreme word to use, but I think it's a fair one: the Clayton's family's allegiance to racist principles brings forth a disappointing end: Alice loses a potential suitor. Meanwhile, in "The Passing of Grandison," Chesnutt exposes and satirizes white self-awareness as the protectors of the black race. These stories reveal the absurdity of racism through very literary means.

A Man of his Principles

I found Chestnutt’s “A Matter of Principle” to have somewhat of a confusing meaning behind the piece. The reader learns very early on that Mr. Clayton, a wealthy, influential member of the Groveland community, is not a white man. That said, he identifies with the principles that white men likely identified with in the 1870’s. This can be seen through Clayton’s speech at the beginning of the passage when he explains, “we can at least have principles, and try to live up to them the best we can. If we are not accepted as white, we can at any rate make it clear that we object to being called black” (1899, 67). This ‘principle’ or value to desire not being seen or labeled as black becomes Clayton’s obsession as the story progresses.  This is seen when Alice, Clayton’s daughter, speaks of dancing with various men of differing skin pigments while in Washington. Once Alice reveals to her father that the Congressman whom she danced with is black, her father becomes enraged and exclaims, “You weren’t obliged to go back on your principles because you were away from home” (72). Clayton has expressed zero interest in affiliating himself with any black man, out of fear of being ostracized for associating with people of color. Yet, the congressman is in fact fairly light-skinned, and the racial judgment exemplified by the Clayton’s leads to the prosperity of those who are more accepting of all people.

            Once he sees a dark colored man who he believes to be Congressman Brown in the train station, Clayton devises a plan that would prevent the man to stay in his home. I find it confusing that Clayton does not find himself racist, just as a man with ‘principles.’ He even thinks to himself, “I have no prejudice against his color- he can’t help that, - but it is the principle of the thing” (78). To me, the reasoning for disallowing the Congressman in the Clayton household is clear. Regardless of how Clayton refers to his ‘principles,’ Clayton is a racist who, himself, is passing as white. I find Clayton’s behavior despicable, especially given that he lost a fantastic suitor for his daughter. The story ends with Representative Brown becoming engaged to Miss Lura Watkins. This may be indicative that had Clayton simply been more accepting, perhaps his daughter could have been fortunate enough to be in Lura’s position.