In the fourth chapter of Henry James Daisy Miller, the narrator states, “[Winterbourne] felt very sorry for her—not because he believed that she had completely lost her head, but because it was painful to hear so much that was pretty and undefended and natural assigned to a vulgar place among the categories of disorder” (54). The keywords I want to focus on here are “pretty,” “undefended,” and “natural.” To really unpack the meaning of these words though, I would first like to make two considerations: one of perceptions of Daisy Miller in relation to gender and history, and the other of another a specific scene in which Daisy’s prettiness and rebelliousness is responded to.
While reading Daisy Miller, I instinctually want to defend Daisy against accusations of her having “lost her head” or any other accusation of there being something fundamentally wrong with her mentally. She does show signs of narcissism and can be manipulative, but from my standpoint as a feminist in the 21st century, I would like for the most part to consider Daisy as something more along the lines of a liberated woman. Of course, women’s liberation, in more formal movements, would not come for nearly another hundred years’ after the novel was published, and the first wave of feminism was only just starting to really blossom at the time. Any hey, in the 19th century, wanting to deviate from societal norms was generally enough for a person to be diagnosed with a mental illness or otherwise shunned or invalidated. Putting aside histories of feminism and mental illness, I bring this up because I want to make clear that I do not believe that Daisy is supposed to be a liberated character, nor that her lack of concern for societal norms is supposed to be read as a thing that other women should be striving to achieve. No matter how much my contemporary lens is willing to forgive Daisy Miller, she would not have been perceived in the time period the way I perceive her now.
But if Daisy’s liberated character is clearly not supposed to be read as a positive thing considering historical contexts, then why is Winterbourne so enamored with and forgiving of her? For a brief moment I hoped, rather naively, that perhaps James was simply ahead of his time and that he wrote Daisy Miller to advance sophisticated portrayals of women that position them outside of conventional roles. Daisy is after all a representation of a certain kind of woman that existed historical that can be contextualized and understood today within larger histories of gender construction. But when looking at the context of some of the interactions between Daisy and Winterbourne, almost all of which include an observation of her beauty, I discovered the less feminist reason for Winterbourne’s fixation on Daisy Miller.
In chapter three when Winterbourne meets Giovanelli for the first time, Giovanelli makes a comment on Daisy’s character and Daisy immediately chastises him. She claims, “I have never allowed a gentleman to dictate to me, or to interfere with anything I do” (40). Whether or not this statement is true is a debate for another time. What I want to examine is the way that Daisy is described when she makes this statement and its content in conjunction with Winterbourne’s response. Before she makes this statement, Daisy is described as having “eyes that were prettier than ever” (40). Winterbourne then responds, “I think that you have made a mistake. You should sometimes listen to a gentleman—the right one” (40). The implication of the combination of Daisy’s prettiness, her defiant statement, and Winterbourne’s immediate correction demonstrates that Winterbourne is willing to excuse, even appreciate, Daisy’s deviations from the societal norms because of her beauty. More importantly, however, he, in his position as a real gentleman of proper society, would is capable of reforming, or in a way saving, her, if only she would listen.
Returning to those three words mentioned earlier, “pretty,” “undefended,” and “natural,” it is now possible to understand these words more deeply. Daisy’s prettiness is one of her most notable qualities, and her beauty is what draws Winterbourne to her. However, she also presents a wildness, one that is “natural” for a woman who has not been taught and sheltered properly (by a proper gentleman) to present. She has also not been properly defended, i.e. she does not have someone of proper society like Winterbourne to vouch for her in appropriate ways. A relationship between Daisy and Winterbourne would in a way, then, save Daisy. But if she were to accept such a thing, would she really be Daisy Miller anymore?
I find your argument very interesting, and putting my personal vendetta against Daisy aside, I appreciate your modern outlook on her ‘free spiritedness’ so to speak. Indeed, she does demonstrate moments of proto-feminist actions, and it would not have been in her character to succumb to the men who idolized her. However, I disagree that it is her beauty that liberates her, as we see in other parts of the story, with the older women refusing to so much as communicate with her. I feel that there is some jealousy underlying these actions that, in turn, almost imprison Daisy.
This was a fascinating read – I appreciate your examination and interpretation of Daisy’s character through a feminist lens. Clearly, when doing so, Daisy is certainly thought of in a different light.
I am going to make a connection between one of your comments (“if Daisy’s liberated character is clearly not supposed to be read as a positive thing considering historical contexts, then why is Winterbourne so enamored with and forgiving of her?”) and the historical and social atmosphere of the time.
If I remember correctly, earlier in the novella, Winterbourne states how he loves being able to classify people – to label them. However, Winterbourne is immediately charmed by Daisy (really, though, what is charming about her?) because he is having difficulty labeling her (a quest which proves difficult throughout the course of the story).
Although Winterbourne has been living in Europe for a major part of his life, he is, ultimately, an American. During the time, America was seen as a “New World,” and Daisy, one of its inhabitants, represents a “new” kind of wealth which Europe is lacking. In addition to being honest, she is incredibly straightforward. Winterbourne is enamored – and perhaps forgiving – of Daisy, to answer your question, because she is a symbol of America: young, ill-mannered, and ignorant of social conventions. This enamors Winterbourne because, yes, it is fresh for him, but also because he is, in his roots, an American.