James employs vivid visual imagery to describe Catherine's rebellious choice of attire when she’s old enough to choose her own clothes:
Catherine’s back was a broad one, and would have carried a good deal; but to the weight of the paternal displeasure, she never ventured to expose it, and our heroine was twenty years old before she treated herself, for evening wear, to a red satin gown trimmed with gold fringe; though this was an article which, for many years, she had coveted in secret. It made her look, when she sported it, like a woman of thirty; [...]
This red satin gown, accentuated by the gold fringe, marks a striking departure from Catherine's previous subdued wardrobe of "Republican simplicity." But beneath its showy surface, it also emphasizes the vast chasm between her self-perception and how she’s seen by her father and others around her. The narrator's comment that she looks "like a woman of thirty" when she wears the dress only reinforces this. A bold choice like this bright dress points to a desire for self-expression and maturity, especially as Catherine has “coveted” the dress “in secret” for two decades.
The disparity between how Catherine wants to appear and her father's expectations of her underscore their differing views on her developing womanhood. The gown becomes more than just clothing in this context. Rather, it is a symbol of Catherine's ongoing battle for self-knowledge and self-actualization. James's use of visual imagery in describing Catherine's gown speaks to her fragile psychological and emotional state. The description is not just about the fabric but what it represents. After 20 years, Catherine's back is finally “broad enough” to hold up some of the weight of the “paternal displeasure” she is so concerned about.
In describing the interior of Mrs. Montgomery's residence, the narrator employs rich visual imagery and a metaphor referring to a bowerbird’s mating ritual:
She received him in a little parlor, which was precisely the parkour he had expected: a small unspeckled bower, ornamented with a desultory foliage of tissue-paper, and with clusters of glass drops, amid which—to carry out the analogy—the temperature of the leafy season was maintained by means of a cast-iron stove, emitting a dry blue flame, and smelling strongly of varnish. The walls were embellished with engravings swathed in pink gauze, and the tables ornamented with volumes of extracts from the poets, usually bound in black cloth stamped with florid designs in jaundiced gilt.
This passage captures the cramped, gaudy ambiance of a middle-class household of late-1800s New York. While the dwelling is not falling to pieces, the author does emphasize several visual cues of declining wealth and faded charm. The detailed imagery here, from the "desultory foliage of tissue-paper" to the "blue flame" of the stove that exudes a "powerful scent of varnish," paints a picture of the cramped and over-decorated interior. It's as though things that aren't of good quality are "varnished" over to make them seem better.
The space feels crowded and claustrophobic. Descriptions of overblown embellishment, including "pink gauze" and "jaundiced gilt," hint at an attempt at grandeur that is cheapened by the passage of time. “Jaundice” is a disease of the liver, which turns the skin of its victims a distinctive yellow color. By saying that the gilt is “jaundiced,” the author implies that it’s yellowing and sickly-looking. It's not real gold, as one would undoubtedly find decorating the Sloper residence.
Referring to the home as an "unspeckled bower" likens it to a bowerbird's nest. These birds collect brightly colored objects and sticks to attract a mate, hoping to entice them with a bright display. A “speckled bower” in this context is a location crafted for allure and attraction. However, the adjective "unspeckled" suggests a lack of beauty or appeal. Mrs. Montgomery’s house is not appealing or alluring, it’s overcrowded and worn-out. Through this metaphor, James underscores the setting's feeling of cheapness and the tired, diminished elegance of this home.
James offers a picturesque portrayal of Mrs. Montgomery's home, filling this passage with intense visual imagery and a simile referring to a toy shop. This all comes together to differentiate it from the grand Washington Square residence:
There were green shutters upon the windows, without slats, but pierced with little holes, arranged in groups; and before the house was a diminutive yard, ornamented with a bush of mysterious character, and surrounded by a low wooden paling, painted in the same green as the shutters. The place looked like a magnified babyhouse and might have been taken down from a shelf in a toy-shop.
In this scene, Mrs. Montgomery’s house is described as endearing and unassuming from the outside. The recurring language of smallness—it has a "diminutive yard" and looks like a "magnified babyhouse"—underlines its humble, unpretentious aspect. In stark contrast to the grandeur of the Sloper home, Mrs. Montgomery's residence is all modesty and simplicity. This sets the stage for Dr. Sloper’s visit, which displays the differences in wealth and status between the physician and this older, less financially secure woman. All the imagery in this passage is related to neatness and smallness, from the matching green paint and “palings” to the endearingly small holes in the shutters.
The comparison of the dwelling to a "babyhouse" is not just an observation of its size but a reflection on its innocence and charm. The simile of it appearing as if "taken down from a shelf in a toy-shop" further amplifies how whimsical it seems to Dr. Sloper. It's so small to him that it doesn't seem like anyone could actually live there: compared to his own house, this doesn't seem impossible.
This description also serves a strategic narrative purpose. By juxtaposing Mrs. Montgomery's residence with the opulence of the Sloper house from which Catherine's father arrives, James sharpens the socioeconomic contrasts that play a significant role in Washington Square. This home, with its green shutters and peculiar bushes, becomes emblematic of a life less grand and less austere than the one Catherine is faced with. Mrs. Montgomery’s dwelling is unassuming and welcoming, like her. While the Washington Square house seems irrevocably tied to the haughtiness and aristocratic restraint of Dr. Sloper, Mrs. Montgomery is genuine, unassuming, and unpretentious.
The narrative presents Catherine's internal conflict about Morris Townsend—namely, her desire to assert herself against her father's overwhelming will—using tactile imagery and a simile referring to the debilitating effect of being crushed by a great physical weight:
The idea of a struggle with her father, of setting up her will against his own, was heavy on her soul, and it kept her formally submissive, as a great physical weight keeps us motionless.
This simile conveys the immense emotional toll exerted by Dr. Sloper's expectations on his daughter. The "great physical weight" refers to the overwhelming force of paternal authority that keeps Catherine paralyzed. Just the thought of a disagreement with Dr. Sloper prevents her from asserting her wants and needs. This tactile imagery of crushing makes the reader feel the suffocating nature of Catherine's expected obedience. In this passage, James makes readers palpably understand the immense pressure she is under.
Catherine knows that her father's decisions will make her unhappy, as they often have done before. However, the idea of “setting her will up against his own” also makes her unhappy. It’s not just a weight she can push against physically—it’s literally “heavy on her soul.” The weight she feels so strongly is the societal and familial constraints she has grown up with. Much like a physical weight that hinders movement, Dr. Sloper's domineering presence and expectations keep Catherine firmly tethered in place, preventing her from exploring her own agency and desires.
This passage’s tactile imagery is very evocative, painting a vivid picture of a young woman ensnared and encumbered by societal and familial obligations. The "weight" not only represents her father's direct influence but also symbolizes the broader societal constraints of the time. Women, particularly those of Catherine's social standing, were often denied agency by male authority figures and were expected to obey without question. By emphasizing the "motionlessness" that this weight forces on Catherine, the narrative underscores the stifling atmosphere she navigates. She is frozen in place by the weight of patriarchal expectations.
While they’re high in the Alps, Catherine finds herself immersed in situational irony, fearing not the barren landscape, but her own father's motivations. The visual imagery James employs casts an unsettling atmosphere:
The place was ugly and lonely, but the place could do her no harm. There was a kind of still intensity about her father which made him dangerous, but Catherine hardly went so far as to say to herself that it might be part of his plan to fasten his hand—the neat, fine, supple hand of a distinguished physician—in her throat.
The detailed description of Dr. Sloper's hand in this passage as "neat, fine, supple" accentuates the irony that James is employing, which plays on the idea that a doctor’s hand could be reimagined as a weapon. Here, a physician's hands—symbols of care—become instruments of imagined violence. The imagery thus highlights the refined qualities of Dr. Sloper's hand while simultaneously turning his body into a potential instrument of harm. This situational irony underscores the profound emotional distance and strain between father and daughter. The "still intensity" of his demeanor paints Dr. Sloper as a lurking threat, creating a heightened sense of unease and tension for Catherine and for the reader.
Juxtaposing this menacing situation with the “ugly and lonely” backdrop mirrors Catherine's internal fears. The rich visual imagery of the scene in the rest of the passage paints an alarming tableau of this frightening moment. A backdrop as grand and serene as the Alps is made to seem “ugly and lonely” in this context. The beauty and splendor of the landscape should have been a source of comfort and wonder, yet for Catherine the Alps have become threatening and unpleasant.
The juxtaposition creates a deeply unsettling atmosphere, allowing the reader to feel Catherine's extreme unease and tension. The irony is palpable. In a place where one should feel awed by nature, Catherine's predominant fear is actually of her own father. This situational irony, emphasizing the contrast between what is expected (the serenity of nature) and what is experienced (Catherine’s fear of a loved one), underscores the psychological strain she’s under.
