e that he alone
possesses, as the author and inventor of Strether; suppose that
instead of representing only the momentary appearance of Strether's
thought he begins to expound its substance: he must at once give us
the whole of it, must let us into every secret without delay, or his
exposition is plainly misleading. It is assumed that he tells all, if
he once begins. And so, too, if the book were cast autobiographically
and Strether spoke in person; he could not hold back, he could not
heighten the story of his thought with that touch of suspense, waiting
to be resolved, which stamps the impression so firmly into the memory
of the onlooker. In a tale of murder and mystery there is one man who
cannot possibly be the narrator, and that is the murderer himself; for
if he admits us into his mind at all he must do so without reserve,
thereby betraying the secret that we ought to be guessing at for
ourselves. But by this method of The Ambassadors the mind of which the
reader is made free, Strether's mind, is not given away; there is no
need for it to yield up all its secrets at once. The story in it is
played out by due degrees, and there may be just as much deliberation,
refrainment, suspension, as in a story told scenically upon the stage.
All the effect of true drama is thus at the disposal of the author,
even when he seems to be describing and picturing the consciousness
of one of his characters. He arrives at the point where apparently
nothing but a summary and a report should be possible, and even there
he is precluded from none of the privileges of a dramatist.

It is necessary to show that in his attitude towards his European
errand Strether is slowly turning upon himself and looking in another
direction. To announce the fact, with a tabulation of his reasons,
would be the historic, retrospective, undramatic way of dealing with
the matter. To bring his mind into view at the different moments, one
after another, when it is brushed by new experience--to make a little
scene of it, without breaking into hidden depths where the change of
purpose is proceeding--to multiply these glimpses until the silent
change is apparent, though no word has actually been said of it: this
is Henry James's way, and though the _method_ could scarcely be more
devious and roundabout, always refusing the short cut, yet by these
very qualities and precautions it finally produces the most direct
impression, for the reader has _seen_. That is why