
Originally Posted by
mona amon
She’s not the type of young woman who is so blinded by love that she has any illusions about changing the man she wants to marry.
This is a huge topic and I'll respond in a later post.

Originally Posted by
mona amon
But this quote is the narrator giving us Olive's thoughts. They are not Basil's thoughts at all, but Olive trying to find reasons for Basil giving up his pursuit of Verena in New York. It goes on to say she was living in a fool's paradise. I don’t see how it proves your point.
Guilty as charged! You're right, I have misconstrued the context in more ways than one. And I should have been more cautious because Henry James, in my experience, at best gives whispered hints about his endings.
What I can say is that Henry James here foreshadows the ending through sentiments that Olive expresses but scarcely believes:
...after six months of courting and in spite of all her sympathy, her desire to do what people expected of her, she despised his opinions as much as the first day.
And mortification for Basil will come, but much later.

Originally Posted by
mona amon
First of all, Verena is not all that truthful. It is Olive who is the truthful one. Verena lies by omission – “ It was not, after all, so easy to keep back only a little...” But to be fair, she is untruthful only because she’s so scared of Olive’s immense power for suffering. I don’t think it’s important, but you claimed she was unerringly truthful, so just pointing it out.
It is important. The whitest of white lies, the only secret she had in the world, is a typical Henry James decoy (he does exactly the same with Catherine in Washington Square). The point is that Verena never "lies" again, to anyone, in the entire novel! As to who paints Verena with angelic integrity, I would say that the first impression she creates on everyone is that of an angel. That's one reason audiences adore her, the Burrages fete her, Olive adopts her, and Basil befriends her. It's true, that in time, such impressions become less favourable. Less favourable because Verena is much deeper than anyone appreciates (the evidence here is clear), with the possible exception of father, Selah.
On first meeting Verena, Basil’s glowing assessment exemplifies the admiration she almost universally attracts. And Basil's judgement here is truer than he realises. So true that it explains much in the curious ending: Verena is inscrutable.
You stand apart, you are unique, extraordinary; you constitute a category by yourself. In you the elements have been mixed in a manner so felicitous that I regard you as quite incorruptible. I don't know where you come from nor how you come to be what you are, but you are outside and above all vulgarising influences.
You say: Olive who is the truthful one?
I [the narrator] have said that it was Miss Chancellor's plan of life not to lie, but such a plan was compatible with a kind of consideration for the truth which led her to shrink from producing it on poor occasions.

Originally Posted by
mona amon
It’s Olive who has the intensity, the fixedness of purpose, the passionate dedication that you ascribe to Verena. No, I do not see Verena as insincere. She does earnestly believe in their cause, but it is a youthful enthusiasm dinned into her since childhood by others, and doesn’t go as deep as Olive’s.
You should not allow the ignorant speculation of others characters to influence your assessment of Verena. All textual evidence shows you are wrong about the depth of the passionate dedication of this the sweetest flower of character, and wrong in suggesting that her dedication is a little more than an artefact of her upbringing. Where in the novel is the hard evidence to support these propositions, which seems to me feeble rationalisations used to make sense of the ending for want of something better? Here is hard evidence:
[Verena] struck her [Olive] as the only person she had yet encountered who had exactly the same tenderness, the same pity, for women that she herself had.
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...that I [Verena] have dedicated my life; that there is something unspeakably dear to me.
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"No, I want to hate my liking. I want you to keep before me all the reasons why I should—many of them so fearfully important. Don't let me lose sight of anything! Don't be afraid I shall not be grateful when you remind me." That was one of the singular speeches that Verena made in the course of their constant discussion of the terrible question...
As she leaves the Boston Music Hall with Basil - we may surmise that - Verena is indeed grateful to Olive Chancellor.

Originally Posted by
mona amon
Previously, she’s always met his opposing views with joking equanimity, but now suddenly she’s scared, not of Basil’s views, but of her own faith being shaken.
Verena appreciates Basil's impressive persuasive powers, and the obvious danger he presents to her. He is far more magnetic than the mesmeric Selah Tarrant. These are the very powers Miss Birdseye urges her to harness to the cause of women; and this task will become Verena's genuine vocation.
If she had been less afraid, she [Olive] would have read things more clearly; she would have seen that we don't run away from people unless we fear them and that we don't fear them unless we know that we are unarmed. Verena feared Basil Ransom now (though this time she declined to run); but now she had taken up her weapons, she had told Olive she was exposed, she had asked her to be her defence.
Leaving the Boston Music Hall, we can be certain that Verena is well trained for battle and armed, by Olive, to the hilt.

Originally Posted by
mona amon
Now you say that Verena does not reject Feminism, but only Olive's brand of feminism. Where are we shown her retaining any sort of feministic views? What type of feminism is she supposed to convert Basil to?
This is a truly wonderful question and goes to the heart of the ending. It made me think long and hard. If Verena rejects Olive’s feminist vision, which isn’t really so bad, what is the greater good to which Verena aspires?
My gut reaction was: the feminism of Miss Birdseye, with Basil Ransom leading the charge. So yesterday I started looking for evidence. As brother of the fine philosopher and psychologist William James, I never underestimate the breadth of vision of Henry James. The following sentence is surely key to Verena's outlook:
[Selah Tarrant] looked at his child only from the point of view of the service she might render to humanity.
Olive wants the charismatic Verena to preach feminism to the converted and the wavering in the enlightened North, where slavery in America was first abandoned: a female preaching mainly to sympathetic, middle class females. Miss Birdseye inadvertently happens upon a radically different vision: the charismatic Basil preaching feminism to his reactionary brothers - black and white - in the deep South, that perennial den of prejudice and exploitation.
An eloquent Basil will bring enlightenment to Cotton Belt (Mississippi, Georgia, Alabama, Texas and Louisiana - where Miss Birdseye had long toiled) and not just to women. In future, it will be a man will delivering the liberating feminist gospel to men. Moreover, a white male Southerner will preach to the Southern blacks. Surely this is a big idea - way bigger than marrying for love and the vocation of "wife"!
How will Verena convert Basil to the women's cause? My guess is that she will achieve his conversion less through preaching to Basil than through acting out, like Miss Birdseye before her, a compassion for the oppressed, now legendary from that heroic age of New England life. The following are three wonderful passages (and I’m sure there are more) that I stumbled upon yesterday evening. These are the only references to tears, associated with Verena, apart from the closing sentence of the novel.
Ransom knew why it was that Verena had tears in her eyes as she looked up at her patient old friend [the dying Miss Birdseye]; she had spoken to him, often, during the last three weeks, of the stories Miss Birdseye had told her of the great work of her life, her mission, repeated year after year, among the Southern blacks. She had gone among them with every precaution, to teach them to read and write; she had carried them Bibles and told them of the friends they had in the North who prayed for their deliverance. Ransom knew that Verena didn't reproduce these legends with a view to making him ashamed of his Southern origin, his connexion with people who, in a past not yet remote, had made that kind of apostleship necessary; he knew this because she had heard what he thought of all that chapter himself; he had given her a kind of historical summary of the slavery question which left her no room to say that he was more tender to that particular example of human imbecility than he was to any other. But she had told him that this was what she would have liked to do—to wander, alone, with her life in her hand, on an errand of mercy, through a country in which society was arrayed against her; she would have liked it much better than simply talking about the right from the gas-lighted vantage of the New England platform. Ransom had replied simply "Balderdash!" it being his theory, as we have perceived, that he knew much more about Verena's native bent than the young lady herself. This did not, however, as he was perfectly aware, prevent her feeling that she had come too late for the heroic age of New England life, and regarding Miss Birdseye as a battered, immemorial monument of it. Ransom could share such an admiration as that, especially at this moment; he had said to Verena, more than once, that he wished he might have met the old lady in Carolina or Georgia before the war—shown her round among the negroes and talked over New England ideas with her; there were a good many he didn't care much about now, but at that time they would have been tremendously refreshing. Miss Birdseye had given herself away so lavishly all her life that it was rather odd there was anything left of her for the supreme surrender.
And a little earlier:
[Basil] allowed her, certainly, no illusion on the subject of the fate she should meet as his wife; he flung over it no rosiness of promised ease; he let her know that she should be poor, withdrawn from view, a partner of his struggle, of his severe, hard, unique stoicism. When he spoke of such things as these, and bent his eyes on her, she could not keep the tears from her own; she felt that to throw herself into his life (bare and arid as for the time it was) was the condition of happiness for her, and yet that the obstacles were terrible, cruel.
And in the beginning is a passage that shows Olive will be more right than she realises in thinking of Verena as the only person she had yet encountered who had exactly the same tenderness, the same pity, for women that she herself had.
it seemed to her [Olive] at times that she had been born to lead a crusade—the image of the unhappiness of women. The unhappiness of women! The voice of their silent suffering was always in her ears, the ocean of tears that they had shed from the beginning of time seemed to pour through her own eyes. Ages of oppression had rolled over them; uncounted millions had lived only to be tortured, to be crucified. They were her sisters, they were her own, and the day of their delivery had dawned. This was the only sacred cause...