The Ambassadors | Page 4

to and gathered up had contained part of the "note" that I
was to recognise on the spot as to my purpose--had contained in fact
the greater part; the rest was in the place and the time and the scene
they sketched: these constituents clustered and combined to give me
further support, to give me what I may call the note absolute. There it
stands, accordingly, full in the tideway; driven in, with hard taps, like
some strong stake for the noose of a cable, the swirl of the current
roundabout it. What amplified the hint to more than the bulk of hints in
general was the gift with it of the old Paris garden, for in that token
were sealed up values infinitely precious. There was of course the seal
to break and each item of the packet to count over and handle and
estimate; but somehow, in the light of the hint, all the elements of a
situation of the sort most to my taste were there. I could even remember
no occasion on which, so confronted, I had found it of a livelier interest
to take stock, in this fashion, of suggested wealth. For I think, verily,
that there are degrees of merit in subjects--in spite of the fact that to
treat even one of the most ambiguous with due decency we must for the
time, for the feverish and prejudiced hour, at least figure its merit and
its dignity as POSSIBLY absolute. What it comes to, doubtless, is that
even among the supremely good--since with such alone is it one's
theory of one's honour to be concerned--there is an ideal BEAUTY of
goodness the invoked action of which is to raise the artistic faith to its
maximum. Then truly, I hold, one's theme may be said to shine, and
that of "The Ambassadors," I confess, wore this glow for me from
beginning to end. Fortunately thus I am able to estimate this as, frankly,
quite the best, "all round," of all my productions; any failure of that
justification would have made such an extreme of complacency
publicly fatuous.

I recall then in this connexion no moment of subjective intermittence,
never one of those alarms as for a suspected hollow beneath one's feet,
a felt ingratitude in the scheme adopted, under which confidence fails
and opportunity seems but to mock. If the motive of "The Wings of the
Dove," as I have noted, was to worry me at moments by a sealing-up of
its face--though without prejudice to its again, of a sudden, fairly
grimacing with expression--so in this other business I had absolute
conviction and constant clearness to deal with; it had been a frank
proposition, the whole bunch of data, installed on my premises like a
monotony of fine weather. (The order of composition, in these things, I
may mention, was reversed by the order of publication; the earlier
written of the two books having appeared as the later.) Even under the
weight of my hero's years I could feel my postulate firm; even under
the strain of the difference between those of Madame de Vionnet and
those of Chad Newsome, a difference liable to be denounced as
shocking, I could still feel it serene. Nothing resisted, nothing betrayed,
I seem to make out, in this full and sound sense of the matter; it shed
from any side I could turn it to the same golden glow. I rejoiced in the
promise of a hero so mature, who would give me thereby the more to
bite into--since it's only into thickened motive and accumulated
character, I think, that the painter of life bites more than a little. My
poor friend should have accumulated character, certainly; or rather
would be quite naturally and handsomely possessed of it, in the sense
that he would have, and would always have felt he had, imagination
galore, and that this yet wouldn't have wrecked him. It was
immeasurable, the opportunity to "do" a man of imagination, for if
THERE mightn't be a chance to "bite," where in the world might it be?
This personage of course, so enriched, wouldn't give me, for his type,
imagination in PREDOMINANCE or as his prime faculty, nor should I,
in view of other matters, have found that convenient. So particular a
luxury --some occasion, that is, for study of the high gift in SUPREME
command of a case or of a career--would still doubtless come on the
day I should be ready to pay for it; and till then might, as from far back,
remain hung up well in view and just out of reach. The comparative
case meanwhile would serve--it was only on the minor scale that I had
treated myself even to comparative cases.

I was to hasten to add however that, happy stopgaps