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rumored Medusa-like aspect of the lady beneath the veil in ˜˜Zenobia™s
Legend,™™ contributes to an understanding of Coverdale™s sensibility as
fetishistic as well as voyeuristic. For a reading of Coverdale™s voyeurism and
fetishism, see Brown, Domestic Individualism, pp. ±±“°; for an account of
Hawthorne™s use of Medusa imagery in Blithedale and elsewhere in his
¬ction, see Joel P¬ster, The Production of Personal Life: Class, Gender, and the
Psychological in Hawthorne™s Fiction (Stanford University Press, ±±), pp. ·“
±°. In chapter , I pursue in greater detail the fetishistic implications of the
veiled lady and the Medusa™s head, two ¬gures which also appear in
Conrad™s Lord Jim and Under Western Eyes.
± For an in¬‚uential account of nineteenth-century American women in the
public sphere, see Mary Kelley, Private Woman, Public Stage: Literary Domesticity
in Nineteenth-Century America (New York: Oxford University Press, ±). My
understanding of Priscilla™s career owes much to Richard Brodhead™s
˜˜Veiled Ladies: Toward a History of Antebellum Entertainment,™™ Cultures
of Letters: Scenes of Reading and Writing in Nineteenth-Century America (University of
Chicago Press, ±), pp. “.
° Certain parallels to Nelly and her intradiegetic story-telling can be discern-
ed in Zenobia™s attempts to entertain Coverdale during his convalescence,
especially in the interpolated tale which Zenobia narrates to the assembled
company at Blithedale and in her supposed talent as a ˜˜stump-oratress.™™
However, Zenobia™s legend of ˜˜The Silvery Veil,™™ like Moodie™s story of
˜˜Fauntleroy,™™ never attains a status in Blithedale comparable to Nelly™s
history in Wuthering Heights. Instead, these imbedded narratives remain
 Notes to pages ··“
discrete, framed romances within Coverdale™s encompassing Romance.
± In ˜˜˜Bitter Honey™,™™ Carabine maintains a resolutely pro-Coverdalean
stance by contrasting the narrator™s ˜˜sympathy™™ with the ˜˜old humbugs™™ of
Westervelt™s mesmerism and Blithedale™s Utopianism, even though he ob-
serves that Coverdale™s retreat to his hermitage can be linked to a fear that
˜˜his own clairvoyance may be demonic™™ (p. ±). Thomas F. Strychacz
similarly sets Coverdale and Westervelt in opposition to each other; see
˜˜Coverdale and Women: Feverish Fantasies in The Blithedale Romance,™™
American Transcendental Quarterly  (December ±), ±.
 In Cultures of Letters, Brodhead describes the dynamics of Coverdale™s vicari-
ous self-constitution: ˜˜Life as Coverdale understands it is not what he has or
does but something presumed to be lodged in someone else. Watching that
someone, inhabiting that other through spectatorial self-projection and
consuming it through visual appropriation, becomes accordingly a means
to live into his life some part of that vitality that always ¬rst appears as ˜other
life™™™ (p. ±).
 Beth Newman touches on the formal, narrative, and ideological intersec-
tions between this concentrically narrated novel and the frame narration of
Wuthering Heights in ˜˜Narratives of Seduction and the Seductions of Narra-
tive: The Frame Structure of Frankenstein, ELH µ, no. ± (Spring ±), ±±“.
 For a powerful reading of gender and the gaze, and of visual metaphors for
narration in Wuthering Heights, see Beth Newman, ˜˜˜The Situation of the
Looker-On™: Gender, Narration, and Gaze in Wuthering Heights,™™ PMLA ±°µ,
no. µ (October ±°).
µ In his ± ˜˜Masculinity as Spectacle,™™ Screening the Male: Exploring Masculini-
ties in Hollywood Cinema, ed. Steven Cohan and Ina Rae Hark (New York:
Routledge, ±), Steve Neale critiques the distinction, posited by Laura
Mulvey in her groundbreaking ±·µ essay ˜˜Visual Pleasure and Narrative
Cinema™™ and by others following her, between voyeuristic gaze™s narrative-
halting e¬ects and the fetishistic gaze™s narrative-generating e¬ects. Neale
notes that, in Westerns, cinematic moments of spectacular masculinity do
not simply interrupt the development of the story but contribute to it,
complicating the assumption that spectacle and narrative must be opposed.
One could make a similar argument about the plot-furthering functions of
the spectacle of the deathbed scene in Wuthering Heights, though I emphasize
here the ways in which Nelly™s narrative caressing of the corpse does, in fact,
seem to interrupt or slow the progress of the story.
 Not all mediums were women, nor were all invalids. But the cultural
connection among these identities contributes to the assumed ˜˜femininity™™
of ¬gures who can also be identi¬ed by the ˜˜unmarked™™ categories such as
(white) race and (middle) class. In Domestic Individualism, Brown notes the
analogous dynamics of the overlapping cultural phenomenon of hysteria,
particularly with respect to its implications for labor and leisure identities;
see especially p. µ. We might therefore compare the physical housekeeping
work that Nelly does as a working-class woman with the intellectual literary
Notes to pages “ ·
work that Emily Bronte does as a bourgeois woman. The gender and class
¨
connotations of each woman™s labor are ambiguous, although di¬erently
ambiguous, suggesting a play between normative and counternormative
identities for both.
· I am indebted here to Margaret Homans™s analysis of Wuthering Heights™s
double narration in Bearing the Word: Language and Female Experience in Nine-
teenth-Century Women™s Writing (University of Chicago Press, ±), pp. “.
Homans also treats the larger range of strategies used by the Brontes and ¨
other Victorian women writers to reconcile authorship and motherhood.
See Kelley, Private Woman, Public Stage, pp. ±“, for a discussion of the
di¬erences between English women writers™ use of what were typically male
pseudonyms and American women writers™ typically female pseudonyms.
 Baym, ˜˜Melodramas of Beset Manhood™™ (see my Introduction, n. ±·). For
other accounts of Hawthorne™s response to women writers, see Raymona E.
Hull, ˜˜˜Scribbling Females™ and Serious Males,™™ Nathaniel Hawthorne Journal
µ (±·µ), µ“; Nina Baym, The Shape of Hawthorne™s Career (Ithaca: Cornell
University Press, ±·), pp. ±°“±° and pp. ±±“°°; Leland S. Person, Jr.,
Aesthetic Headaches: Women and a Masculinist Poetics in Poe, Melville and Hawthorne
(Athens, University of Georgia Press, ±), pp. ±“·; and James D.
Wallace, ˜˜Hawthorne and The Scribbling Women Reconsidered,™™ Ameri-
can Literature , no.  (June ±°).
 On the di¬erences between ˜˜centers of consciousness™™ as a narrative
technique and other narrative techniques including ¬rst-person narration,
free indirect discourse, and stream of consciousness or interior monologue,
see William R. Goetz, Henry James and the Darkest Abyss of Romance (Baton
Rouge: Louisiana State University Press, ±), pp. ·“±, and Manfred
Jahn, ˜˜Windows of Focalization: Deconstructing and Reconstructing a
Narratological Concept,™™ Style °, no.  (±).
° Henry James, Preface to Roderick Hudson in Henry James: Literary Criticism, vol.
II French Writers, Other European Writers, The Prefaces to the New York Edition
(New York: Library of America, ±), pp. ±°“µ°. Further quotations
from this edition will be cited in the body of the text with the abbreviation
˜˜LC.™™
± Henry James, The Portrait of a Lady (±°),  vols. (Fair¬eld, NJ: Augustus M.
Kelley, Publishers, ±·), I, p. µ. Further page numbers quoted in the
body of the text with relevant volume number.
 The vicissitudes of consumer culture in James™s ¬ction have been sounded
by New Critics such as Laurence Holland, The Expense of Vision: Essays on the
Craft of Henry James (±; Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, ±),
and more recently by Carolyn Porter, Seeing and Being: The Plight of the
Participant Observer in Emerson, James, Adams, and Faulkner (Middletown, CT:
Wesleyan University Press, ±±); Jean-Christophe Agnew, ˜˜The Consum-
ing Vision of Henry James,™™ The Culture of Consumption: Critical Essays in
American History, ±°“±°, ed. Richard W. Fox and T. J. Jackson Lears
(New York: Pantheon, ±); Michael Gilmore, ˜˜The Commodity World of
 Notes to pages °“µ
The Portrait of a Lady,™™ New England Quarterly , no. ± (±); Jonathan
Freedman, Professions of Taste: Henry James, British Aestheticism, and Commodity
Culture (Stanford University Press, ±°); Craig Howard White, ˜˜The
House of Interest: A Keyword in The Portrait of a Lady,™™ Modern Language
Quarterly µ, no.  (±±); and Peter Donahue, ˜˜Collecting as Ethos and
Technique in The Portrait of a Lady,™™ Studies in American Fiction µ, no. ± (±·).
 Caspar™s geographical distance from the American site of industrial produc-
tion resembles Lambert Strether™s and Chad Newsome™s disengagement
from the family business in Woollett, Massachusetts, and The Ambassadors™s
own rhetorical distance from the unnamed commodity produced there.
 Thomas Laqueur, Making Sex: Body and Gender From the Greeks to Freud
(Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, ±°), p. .
µ See Karen Halttunen, Con¬dence Men and Painted Women: A Study of Middle-
Class Culture in America, ±°“±·° (New Haven: Yale University Press, ±)
for a discussion of responses to the panic of ±· and the spectre of the
gambler/speculator, especially pp. ±“°. See also Ann Fabian, Card Sharps,
Dream Books, and Bucket Shops: Gambling in Nineteenth-Century America (Ithaca:
Cornell University Press, ±°), pp. “.
 Walter Benn Michaels argues that the United States™ adoption of the
monometallic gold standard in the ±·°s, like the gold standard ¬rst put into
operation by Great Britain in ±±, contributed to anxieties over economic
regulation and monetary representation as well as to the rise of the system of
literary representation known as naturalism); see The Gold Standard and the
Logic of Naturalism: American Literature at the Turn of the Century (Berkeley:
University of California Press, ±·), pp. ±·“°.
· Brown, Domestic Individualism, p. ±µ.
 On ˜˜closed™™/˜˜open™™ paradigms of male bodily economy, see Kevin J.
Mumford, ˜˜˜Lost Manhood™ Found: Male Sexual Impotence and Victorian
Culture in the United States,™™ Journal of the History of Sexuality , no. ± (July
±); Lesley A. Hall, ˜˜Forbidden by God, Despised by Men: Masturba-
tion, Medical Warnings, Moral Panic, and Manhood in Great Britain,
±µ°“±µ°,™™ Forbidden History: The State, Society, and the Regulation of Sexuality in
Modern Europe, ed. John C. Fout (University of Chicago Press, ±), es-
pecially pp. µ“; Lesley A. Hall, Hidden Anxieties: Male Sexuality, ±°°“±µ°
(Cambridge: Polity Press, ±±), pp. “; and Smith-Rosenberg, Disorderly
Conduct, pp. ±“. The shift in paradigms of male bodily economy resemble
the historically coincident shift from the ˜˜closed energy™™ model of illness,
˜˜which held that all illnesses were the result of an imbalance of energy in the
body,™™ to the more recent ˜˜speci¬c etiology™™ theory of disease; on the shift
in models of illness, see Herndl, Invalid Women, p. , n. .
 White, ˜˜The House of Interest,™™ p. ±.
° Henry James, ˜˜To H. G. Wells,™™ March , ±±±, Letters of Henry James, ed.
Percy Lubbock,  vols. (New York: Scribner™s, ±°), II, p. ±±.
± In ˜˜The Commodity World,™™ Gilmore puts Ralph™s response “ ˜˜I™ll be
Caliban and you shall be Ariel™™ (I, p. ±) “ to Henrietta™s attempt to enlist
Notes to pages ·“±°· 
his help in uniting Isabel and Caspar Goodwood in the context of the divide
between mental and manual labor in this period of American history,
arguing that the novel abounds in managers and is de¬cient in workers
(pp. “µ). I would note that the class division suggested here also bears
upon the divide between bourgeois and working-class styles of manhood, as
indicated by Henrietta™s retort: ˜˜You™re not at all like Caliban, because
you™re sophisticated, and Caliban was not™™ (I, p. ±).
 The ˜˜old bachelor™™ who is still a young man recalls a Jamesian bachelor
re¬‚ector who seems comparably prematurely aged: Winterbourne in
˜˜Daisy Miller.™™ The mirror image produced by the initial meeting between
Winterbourne and Randolph, Daisy™s precocious little brother with rotten
teeth, suggests a weird agedness-in-youth; together, they generate an image
of manhood that is at once historically belated and also stunted in growth.
 My discussion of the sentimental spectacle of male su¬ering is in¬‚uenced by
Sedgwick™s readings of Billy Budd, Wilde, and Nietzche; see especially
Epistemology, pp. ±±“µ° and ±·“±. Sedgwick™s treatment of sentimentalism
is part of a wider reassessment of the political uses of sentimental discourse;
for an overview of this critical reassessment, see the Introductions to The
Culture of Sentiment: Race, Gender, and Sentimentality in Nineteenth-Century America,
ed. Shirley Samuels (New York: Oxford University Press, ±), and to
Sentimental Men: Masculinity and the Politics of A¬ect in American Culture, ed. Mary
Chapman and Glenn Hendler (Berkeley: University of California Press,
forthcoming).
 Ora Segal, The Lucid Re¬‚ector: The Observer in Henry James™s Fiction (New
Haven: Yale University Press, ±), pp. °, , and µ; Gilmore, ˜˜The
Commodity World,™™ pp. “·±.


 ˜ ˜ ®   ©   ® ¤     ¬   ™™
± November µ, ±± entry from James™s ¬rst American journal, The Complete
Notebooks of Henry James, ed. Leon Edel and Lyall H. Powers (New York:
Oxford University Press, ±·), p. ±.
 My argument here is indebted to Richard H. Brodhead, The School of
Hawthorne (New York: Oxford University Press, ±); especially pp. ±±“°.
 I discuss the late nineteenth-century medicalization and illegalization of
homosexual practices and the formation of homosexual subcultures and
cultural identities in chapter ±. On literary ¬gurations of ˜˜double lives,™™ see
Ed Cohen, ˜˜The Double Lives of Man: Narration and Identi¬cation in
Late Nineteenth-Century Representation of Ec-centric Masculinities,™™ Vic-
torian Studies , no.  (±); and Wayne Koestenbaum, Double Talk: The
Erotics of Male Literary Collaboration (New York: Routledge, ±), especially
pp. ±“··.
 In The Romance of Failure: First Person Fictions in Poe, Hawthorne, and James (New
York: Oxford University Press, ±), p. ±°, n. ±, Jonathan Auerbach
constructs a four-part taxonomy of Jamesian ¬rst-person narration, ident-
° Notes to pages ±°·“±±±
ifying unmarried ˜˜analytic men-of-letters™™ as one type of Jamesian ¬rst-
person narrator, in addition to ˜˜Gothic,™™ ˜˜miscellaneous experiments in
point of view,™™ and ¬rst-person autobiographical and travel writing. Rather
than deploying such a taxonomy, I intend here to explore James™s own
understanding of his narrative method, particularly as it informs his use of
bachelor ¬gures.
µ One of the ¬rst major, proto-narratological studies to focus on this formal
technique in James™s ¬ction is Segal, The Lucid Re¬‚ector. Gerard Genette
´
coined the term ˜˜external focalization™™ to describe the use of an authorial
narrator in concert with characters who function as centers of subjectivity
or consciousness; see Narrative Discourse, p. ±°.
 Joseph Conrad, Lord Jim (±°°; New York: Penguin, ±), p. °°. Further
page references from this edition will be given in the body of the text with
˜˜LJ.™™
· Henry James, The Ambassadors (±°; New York: Penguin, ±), p. µ±.
 For an elegant reading of the multiple resonances of Conrad™s title, as well
as an insightful comparison of Conrad™s Marlow and James™s Strether, see
Michael H. Levenson, ˜˜Two Cultures and an Individual: Heart of Darkness
and The Ambassadors,™™ Modernism and the Fate of Individuality: Character and
Novelistic Form from Conrad to Woolf (Cambridge University Press, ±±), pp. ±“
··. An in¬‚uential earlier essay on James™s view of Conrad™s use of ¬rst-
person narration is Ian Watt, ˜˜Marlow, Henry James, and Heart of Dark-
ness,™™ Nineteenth-Century Fiction , no.  (September ±·).
 In After the Great Divide, Huyssen argues that the other of male modernism is
mass culture represented as feminine; see especially pp. ·“µµ. In New
Women, New Novels, Ardis contends that because ˜˜modernism™s antagonism
toward mass culture is itself motivated by an antagonism to the feminiz-
ation of all culture™™ (p. ±·), the female subject is modernism™s primary
other. The intersections among the variously gendered, sexed, sexually
oriented, and ˜˜queer™™ others of modernism are addressed in Sedgwick,
Epistemology; Boone, Libidinal Currents; and Andrew Hewitt, Political Inversions:
Homosexuality, Fascism, and the Modernist Imaginary (Stanford University Press,
±).
±° Susan Winnet, ˜˜Women, Men, Narrative, and Principles of Pleasure,™™
PMLA ±°µ, no.  (May ±°), µ°µ.
±± Sandra Corse, ˜˜Henry James on George Eliot and George Sand,™™ South
Atlantic Review, µ±, no. ± (January ±), °.
± On the construction of masculinity in James™s extensive critical commentary
on Sand, see Leland S. Person, Jr., ˜˜Henry James, George Sand, and the
Suspense of Masculinity,™™ PMLA ±°, no.  (May ±±).
± James, Letters, ed. Lubbock, II, p. ±±.
± I am indebted to Goetz™s Henry James and the Darkest Abyss of Romance for this
and other subtleties concerning ¬rst-person narrative in James™s writing.
Goetz convincingly argues that James takes ¬rst-person narrative as auto-
biographical in that it betrays the author™s and not just the narrator™s
Notes to pages ±±“±° ±
presence, thereby disrupting the seamless illusion upon which the impact of
romance depends (p. °). Goetz, however, does not discuss the threat of
autobiography as a sub-literary genre that I theorize here, nor does he
connect the epistemological undermining associated with the form to the
threats of sexual and gendered otherness.
±µ Goetz, Henry James and the Darkest Abyss of Romance, pp. °“.
± James, Letters, ed. Lubbock, II, p. ±±.
±· In a letter to her father of ±±, Mrs. Henry Adams wrote of Henry James
that ˜˜it™s not that he ˜bites o¬ more than he can chaw,™ as T. G. Appleton
said of Nathan, but he chaws more than he bites o¬™™ (p. °), The Letters of
Mrs. Henry Adams, ±µ“±, ed. Ward Thoron (Boston: Little, Brown, and
Co., ±·).
± James, Letters, ed. Lubbock, II, pp. ±±“.

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