Originally Posted by
mona amon
…the ending with Verena and Basil succumbing to each other seems to be the realistic ending. However, he does show us Verena in tears and tells us they will not be her last, in order to remind us that his ending is not a romantic one with Basil carrying off Verena into the glorious sunset.
The massively understated sentence that ends the novel is typical of many a James’ book. If you want the ironic ending Henry James really intends, consider as entirely accurate the foreshadowing presented here:
"All what, Miss Tarrant?" Ransom asked.
"Well, what I told her [Miss Birdseye]. She is sure you are going to become one of our leaders, that you are very gifted for treating great questions and acting on masses of people, that you will become quite enthusiastic about our uprising, and that when you go up to the top as one of our champions it will all have been through me."
Ransom stood there, smiling at her…
Originally Posted by
mona amon
As for the quotes, my interpretation is quite different.
Your interpretation is entirely accurate insofar as it reflects the viewpoint of Basil Ransom and Olive Chancellor who, from the first, are like open windows for the reader. Yes, Basil and Olive interpret the situation exactly as you describe.
In reality, Verena will convert Basil through her bright mildness. She'll have to sacrifice her career out of love for Basil, but not Miss Birdseye's final vision for her. What little insight the dying Miss Birdseye actually has matters little alongside the huge impact on Verena. Olive does lose this battle of wills, as will Basil later on. Everyone makes demands of Verena, not least Miss Birdseye, and Verena willingly complies. Basil is as confident of his ultimate triumph as cousin Olive was, before him. He looks forward to marital bliss and, while this may happen, the Southerner will also fulfil Miss Birdseye's feminist vision.
What you seem to miss is that never, never, does Henry James allow us direct access to the viewpoint of Verena. We, like Olive and Basil, are left to infer the viewpoint of this exquisitely passionate and sincere...quivering, spotless, consecrated maiden. Appreciating the differing perspectives of the main characters is always the challenge in reading Henry James.
"Miss Birdseye said you would convert me, but you haven't yet," it came into his head to say.
"You can't tell yet; wait a little. My influence is peculiar; it sometimes comes out a long time afterwards!" This speech, on Verena's part, was evidently perfunctory, and the grandeur of her self-reference jocular; she was much more serious when she went on quickly, "Do you mean to say Miss Birdseye promised you that?"
"Oh yes. Talk about influence! you should have seen the influence I obtained over her."
"Well, what good will it do, if I'm going to tell Olive about your visit?"
"Well, you see, I think she hopes you won't. She believes you are going to convert me privately—so that I shall blaze forth, suddenly, out of the darkness of Mississippi, as a first-class proselyte: very effective and dramatic." [here is massive foreshadowing of the ending from the mouth of the saintly octogenarian]
Verena struck Basil Ransom as constantly simple, but there were moments when her candour seemed to him preternatural. "If I thought that would be the effect, I might make an exception," she remarked, speaking as if such a result were, after all, possible.
Originally Posted by
mona amon
But what do you feel is her genuine vocation? On reading that chapter again I think it's pretty clear that Basil means that her genuine vocation is to take care of home and family and be very beloved by him.
Verena's genuine vocation initially related to married life with Ransom. Nevertheless, the evangelical aspect of her vocation flowers in full glory following the death-bed prophesy of Miss Birdseye. Verena Tarrant will do father Selah, that one-time miracle monger, proud. Her Southerner husband, the man who liked to understand, will one day stand in the vanguard of the women's movement! If only Olive Chancellor could see that miraculous day!
As Verena says to Olive:
"Do you leave it all to me? You don't give me much help," Olive said.
"Help to what?"
"Help to help you."
"I don't want any help; I am quite strong enough!" Verena cried gaily. The next moment she inquired, in an appeal half comical, half touching, "My dear colleague, why do you make me say such conceited things?"
The married Ransom will face the same awesome artillery that, in the end, muzzled Olive, his cousin:
Olive had contributed with all her zeal to the development of Verena's gift; but I scarcely venture to think now, what she may have said to herself, in the secrecy of deep meditation, about the consequences of cultivating an abundant eloquence. Did she say that Verena was attempting to smother her now in her own phrases? Did she view with dismay the fatal effect of trying to have an answer for everything?