Marc A. Ouellette: “Invisible Butler” 1 of 28 “There will be no discernible traces left:” The Invisible Butler in Ishiguro’s The Remains of the Day This paper draws its title, in part, from one of the anecdotes Stevens, the butler in Kazuo Ishiguro’s novel, The Remains of the Day, recounts to illustrate the qualities of a good butler. Most important among the required attributes is the ability to carry out one’s duties without leaving any discernible traces. Silver, for instance, should be polished but not appear to have been polished. Mrs. D.C. Webster, an American who married into British “old money,” expressed astonishment at the treatment of servants during an interview for The Learning Channel’s documentary, The Secret World of Fame and Fortune. In her home, Mrs. Webster “had a staff of twelve . . . They would do everything for you. If you took a sweater off, it would disappear. If they were too loud or if they were seen, they would be dismissed.” Further, the Webster home operated in a manner typical of the class and the era to which it and Ishiguro’s Darlington Hall belong. In this system only the commission of an error causes an awareness of the servant’s presence. The unfortunate effect of such a system is that not only do the servant’s eforts go unseen, but the servant himself or herself becomes invisible. In this regard, Stevens once complains that serving only two dinner guests is more difficult than serving a full room. He recalls: I would myself much prefer to wait on just one diner, even if he were a total stranger. It is when there are two diners present, even when one of them is one’s own employer, that one finds it most difficult to achieve that balance between attentiveness and the illusion of absence that is essential to good waiting; it is in this situation that one is rarely free of the suspicion that one’s presence is Marc A. Ouellette: “Invisible Butler” 2 of 28 inhibiting the conversation. (72) More significant than Stevens’ efforts to be invisible is Lord Darlington’s attitude towards his butler. On the occasion cited above, Lord Darlington assures his dinner companion that he can talk in front of Stevens. The implication is that Lord Darlington and his guest can behave as if Stevens were not in the room with them. As a result of this type of treatment, Stevens experiences a version of the invisibility Ralph Ellison outlines in his masterpiece, Invisible Man. Ellison’s narrator explains, “I am a man of substance, of flesh and bone, fiber and liquids — and I might even be said to possess a mind. I am invisible, understand, simply because people refuse to see me. . . . they see only my surroundings, themselves, or figments of their imagination — indeed, everything and anything except me” (3). While Ellison refers to the effects of a racist society, Stevens is clearly the victim of an aristocratic society—one that is heading toward fascism and its associated ills. In fact, the society for which Darlington Hall serves as a microcosm is built on perhaps a more rigidly defined order.1 In this society, racism is only one of several repressive practices through which the hierarchy is maintained. In this latter regard, scholars have rightly examined the postcolonial implications of Ishiguro’s novel. These readings suggest that the story is an allegory of Britain’s relations with its empire. Taken in this context, Darlington Hall provides a window into the empire. As Susie O’Brien observes, this is “evident in Stevens’ unquestioning submission to a social oder which reflects and supports the model of filial devotion deployed by empire to mask the enforced servitude of its colonies” (790). What gets lost in this model is how this is effected 1 The long-running BBC comedy, Are You Being Served?, pokes much of its fun at the overwrought and yet barely discernible class distinctions which may be based on accent, dwelling, location, and even one’s hat. One of the most frequent routines involves Capt. Peacock, the Hamburg-wearing semi-detached lower-middle manager, admonishing Mr. Mash or Mr. Harmon, the unionized Cockney labourer, for being “on the floor” while the store is open. The cleaners and movers — that is, the lower classes — are not supposed to be seen. Marc A. Ouellette: “Invisible Butler” 3 of 28 and achieved at the personal level. David Lodge allows that Stevens is an unreliable narrator whose purpose is to “reveal in an interesting way the gap between appearance and reality, and to show how human beings distort or conceal the latter” (155). Although his focus is on formal rather than ideological features, Lodge nevertheless turns to the historical events on which the book is based. Lodge does not address how or why Stevens is unreliable, only that he is.2 Nevertheless, Stevens’ invisibility is central to the themes outlined above and it functions in two distinct but related manners. I The perceived need for a butler to remain unseen means that Stevens is invisible even to himself. That is to say, he is invisible in the Lacanian sense of an infant trapped, or arrested, in the mirror stage.3 As Lacan explains: We have only to understand the mirror stage as an identification, in the full sense that analysis gives to the term: namely, the transformation that takes place in the subject when he assumes an image . . . This jubilant assumption of his [or her] specular image by the child . . . would seem to exhibit in an exemplary situation the symbolic matrix in which the I [or individual] is precipitated in a primordial form, before it is objectified in the dialectic of identification with the other, and before language restores to it, in the universal, its function as subject. (2) Stevens only has an illusion of subjectivity in that he believes that his being reflects the 2 Admittedly, this is not Lodge’s purpose in The Art of Fiction, but his remarks emphasize the “themes of political bad faith and emotional sterility” as opposed to the self-erasure of the unreliable narrator. It is his selferasure that makes Stevens unreliable. 3 Although the author has written elsewhere on the subject of psychological invisibility, the Lacanian approach is partly inspired by Robert Young’s paper, “No I cannot see it but I can read it”: Theorizing AfricanAmerican Subjectivity.” Young applies this perspective to Invisible Man and Bluest Eye. Marc A. Ouellette: “Invisible Butler” 4 of 28 appearance of a good butler; i.e., this is the image he has assumed. More important is Stevens’ difficulty acquiring language. In Lacanian terms, language is a part of the “symbolic matrix,” as above, or more commonly, the “Symbolic Order.” According to Alan Sheridan, the Symbolic Order is “the determining order of the subject, and its effects are radical: the subject in Lacan’s sense, is himself an effect of the symbolic” (ix). Yet language will never restore anything for Stevens. Instead, he frequently demonstrates his difficulty with language through his inability to communicate with Miss Kenton, in his reluctance to banter with Mr. Farraday, and in his choice of romance novels as means to learn what he perceives to be “fine” language. The lack of language coupled with the nature of his profession ensures that Stevens’ development remains arrested and that he remains invisible because he does not achieve subjectivity. If, in the Cartesian formulation, thinking is a prerequisite of selfhood, then Stevens’ selfhood is some way “off.” Stevens thus denies himself any agency. Unfortunately, this is not altogether surprising since he confesses: As far as I am concerned, Miss Kenton, my vocation will not be fulfilled until I have done all I can to see his lordship through the great tasks he has set himself. The day his lordship’s work is complete, the day he is able to rest on his laurels, content in the knowledge that he has done all anyone could ever reasonably ask of him, only on that day, Miss Kenton, will I be able to call myself, as you put it, a well-contented man. (173) Stevens is forced by his position, and his disposition, to live vicariously through Lord Darlington, or at least see his own success in terms of his master’s. Thus, Stevens is not a self. Although she focuses on Stevens’ obsessive tendencies, Renata Salecl offers a similar opinion regarding the butler’s behaviour. Based on Lacan, she characterizes the obsessive as “one who installs himself Marc A. Ouellette: “Invisible Butler” 5 of 28 in the place of the Other, from where he then acts in such a way that he prevents any risk of encountering his desire. That is why [Stevens] invents a number of rituals, self-imposed rules, anad organizes his life in a compulsive way” (182). In any case, Stevens cannot differentiate himself from his master, in the same way in which he could not separate himself from his father or from his position as a butler. Without agency there is no individual. The fact that the vacation that inspired the journal that forms the novel was Mr. Farraday’s idea and had to be forced on Stevens only reinforces this notion. Further, Stevens defers to Lord Darlington’s wish to abolish democracy, which is the ultimate statement of individuality in a free society. At the beginning of the novel, Stevens remarks that “over the past few months, I have been responsible for a series of small errors in the carrying out of my duties” (5). However, Stevens deludes himself into believing that these errors are the result of “nothing more sinister than a faulty staff plan” (5). We have to remember that Stevens, by his own admission, is a less than trustworthy narrator. Further, these “trivial” errors only foreshadow the later account of the demise of Mr. Stevens Sr. While Stevens claims that he was blind to the obvious with regard to his father, the real issue at stake is one of invisibility. The staff and their activities are supposed to remain unseen; one of the few times they are actually recognized occurs when they commit errors. In fact, one of Stevens’ favourite stories of the qualities of a good butler is a model of invisibility. The butler in India finds a tiger under the dining table just before dinner but takes care of the situation such that he is able to report: “Dinner will be served at the usual time and I am pleased to say that there will be no discernible traces left of the recent occurrence by that time” (36). The story becomes more important given Stevens’ observation that it “gives a vital clue” into his father’s thinking (36). Even in such extreme and dangerous circumstances as having a tiger in the house, the actions and emotions — and therefore the persons — of the staff Marc A. Ouellette: “Invisible Butler” 6 of 28 have to remain invisible. That this is a revelation of his “father’s ideals” indicates that for Stevens Jr. dignity and invisibility are synonymous (37). In this case, there is no doubt that invisibilty is a more important method of subjection than silence. The massive noise of “three gun shots” from the “twelve-bores” means that the actions did not go unheard; more importantly, they did go unseen. As previously mentioned, Stevens does admit to several errors on his part. While he is inclined to rationalize them as being the result of a diminished staff, one of his errors points more correctly to his own diminished capacity. Stevens recalls an “incident last April relating to the silver” (139). This error is repetition of the earlier error committed by his father. Stevens does not actually state the nature of the problem but the implication is unmistakable. Stevens explains that “I had spotted the occurrence and had advanced swiftly to remove the offending item. [Although] I may in fact have done so a little too swiftly on account of my disturbance, for Mr. Farraday gave a small start, muttering: ‘Ah, Stevens’” (139-40). The current threat to Stevens is his own visibility. His work is supposed to be invisible. That is to say, he should not be seen doing it. Moreover, if the job is done properly, there should be no traces left of its ever having been done in the first place. Therefore, it comes as little surprise that Stevens would behave in the confused manner he relates: As I advanced again upon the table – and a Mr. Farraday now apparently absorbed in his newspaper – it occurred to me I might slip the fork on to the tablecloth quietly without disturbing my employer’s reading. However, the possibility had already occurred to me that Mr. Farraday was simply feigning indifference in order to minimize my embarrassment, and such a surreptitious delivery could be interpreted as complacency on my part towards my error – or worse, an attempt to Marc A. Ouellette: “Invisible Butler” 7 of 28 cover it up. This was why, then, I decided it appropriate to put the fork down on to the table with a certain emphasis, causing my employer to start a second time, look up and mutter again: ‘Ah Stevens.’ (140). The first and overwhelming instinct for Stevens is to remove and replace the offending fork unseen by Mr. Farraday. However, Mr. Farraday does not notice the fork; he notices the butler. Stevens misinterprets Mr. Farraday’s recognition of his presence and then assumes that he must own up to his shortcoming by making his presence known when he returns, lest he be seen covering up an error. Thus, Stevens must render yet another thing invisible. As with the first time he notices Stevens, Mr. Farraday merely acknowledges his presence. Unlike Lord Darlington, Mr. Farraday does not contrive meetings with his butler by pretending suddenly to notice him. Mr. Farraday has no scruple about being seen talking to his butler nor about his butler being seen, as his willingness to banter with Stevens indicates. For his part, Stevens is still operating under the illusion that as a butler, his dignity is directly proportional to his invisibility. Mr. Farraday’s ritual for conversation with Stevens involves closing “any book or periodical he has been reading, ris[ing] and stretch[ing] out his arms in front of the windows, as though in anticipation of conversation” with him (13). Indeed, that this is ritualized on the part of Farraday indicates that the conversation, such as it is, is forced; that is, contrived and ultimately phoney. Any sense of “democracy” created by the banter is immediately undercut by the reality of the employer/servant relationship. Stevens admits that he “did not take sufficient account of the fact that at that time of the day, what Mr. Farraday enjoys is a conversation of a lighthearted, humorous sort” (13). This is a reflection of the fact that Stevens is unable to acquire language and therefore selfhood. That is to say, he does not recognize nor is he even aware of the Symbolic Order except as what it is: a social construction and a part of his job. He merely views Marc A. Ouellette: “Invisible Butler” 8 of 28 the banter as one more duty to be performed. He does not ever consider himself to be anything like an equal to Mr. Farraday because by considering the act of speech to be a duty performed at the beck and call — a rather discreet call at that — of Mr. Farraday, Stevens only perpetuates the master-servant paradigm. This point becomes more clear given two of Stevens’ subsequent remarks. First, that such bantering, “in the United States, no doubt, is a sign of a good, friendly understanding between employer and employee” (14). In this case, a good, friendly understanding between employer and employee is not only foreign to the grounds of Darlington Hall, it is foreign to England and further removed by virtue of the vast ocean of water (as well as language and culture) that separates England from America. Stevens admits that he is “rather unsure” (14) and “could never be sure exactly what was required” on the occasions he was called on to engage in banter (15). Nevertheless, he will try to learn for fear that “in America, it is all part of what is considered good professional service that an employee provide entertaining banter” (15); after all, Stevens is convinced that the best butlers come from England. In any case, he views the bantering not as dialogic, in the sense of a conversation, but as monologic in the sense that he is performing for his employer. That is to say, he is at best a performance artist and at worst a clown in waistcoat and tails doing tricks for his master, or, in Stevens’ words, “a kind of performing monkey at a house party” (35). The result is that Stevens remains invisible in the sense that neither he nor his superiors view him as a person.4 Stevens’ later confusion regarding the timing and the propriety of casual comments provides further evidence of his arrested development. Part of the problem is that Stevens wholeheartedly believes his speech to be nothing more and nothing less than a duty. He admits 4 In this regard, the scene with Mr. Farraday parallels Stevens’ interrogation by Lord Spencer and contrasts his two abortive conversations with Reggie Cardinal. The three later scenes are detailed elsewhere. Marc A. Ouellette: “Invisible Butler” 9 of 28 that it is a duty that he cannot “ever discharge with much enthusiasm,” which indicates an obvious reluctance to use language, especially informal and potentially personal language. Speech, then, is not a social tool, but is reduced to the level of Stevens’ butler’s tools: a broom, a polishing rag, or a dustpan. He laments, “how would one know for sure that at any given moment a response of the bantering sort is truly what is expected?” (16). This statement, coupled with the anecdote about the gypsies, demonstrates that Stevens is not able to differentiate between self and other. He cannot consider the position of the other because he assumes his own position is universal. Stevens explains that his “witticism” that the gypsies are more like “swallows than crows . . . from the migratory aspect” (16) went unappreciated because it “would not be easily appreciated by someone who was not aware that it was gypsies who had passed by” (17). In psycholinguistic terms, Stevens’ (mis)communications constitute what Amye Warren and Carol Tate call an “egocentric error,” a specialized form of “egocentric speech,” or “thinking out loud” (253). An egocentric error is the mentioning of information not shared by both parties in the communication exchange. This kind of error is considered egocentric because the person making the error implicitly fails to take into account the position of the person receiving the message. Warren and Tate note that these errors are frequently “unforced,” in that they occur during “topic initiations rather than responses” to specific queries (258). Thus, Stevens’ utterance is egocentric in that he fails to take into account the position of the receiver, Mr. Farraday, when he attempts to initiate a witty exchange with him. Additionally, Stevens refers to information not yet available to Mr Farraday. Indeed, one might consider the entirety of The Remains of the Day as nothing but egocentric speech that has been recalled by an admittedly faulty memory and recorded by an equally faulty stenographer. Nevertheless, Stevens concludes the intitial discussion of banter with a digression into the Marc A. Ouellette: “Invisible Butler” 10 of 28 qualities of a good butler and the Hayes Society, a gathering of good butlers.The latter is significant because it is not a social club for butlers, at least not for Stevens. Rather it is an opportunity for him to further his professionalization. Stevens remains invisible because people do not see a man when they look at him, they see a butler. Indeed, M. Dupont refers to him only as “butler” when in need of service (105). In this light, Stevens defines the qualities of a good butler in the same manner in which he describes “Great Britain” (28). Both are marked by a “calmness . . . [a] sense of restraint” as opposed to the “unseemly demonstrativeness” found in Africa and America (29). It is no accident that when referring to his homeland, Stevens switches from England to Great Britain, as the first consonants of the words mirror those in the phrase “great butler.” Stevens believes that one is a suitable metaphor for the other since both stress the suppression of anything resembling character, or at least individuality. The result is that the individual is removed from view in order to create the illusion of homogeneity. Lacan asserts that there are three interacting and interdependent “Orders,” or levels of human understanding. In The Works of Jacques Lacan: An Introduction, Bice Benvenuto and Roger Kennedy explain that Lacan’s “Imaginary Order includes the field of phantasies and images. It evolves out of the mirror stage, but extends into the adult subject’s relationships with others. The prototype of the typical imaginary relationship is the infant before the mirror, fascinated with his [or her] own image” (81). Conversely, the “Real Order . . . seems to be the domain outside the subject. The Real Order is ‘out there’; it is what the subject keeps ‘bumping up against’, and it sometimes seems to refer to the domain that subsists outside symbolization” (81). Linking the Real and Imaginary Orders is the previously mentioned Symbolic Order, which is “concerned with the function of symbols and symbolic systems, including social and cultural symbolism. Language belongs to the Symbolic Order, and in Lacan’s view, it is through language Marc A. Ouellette: “Invisible Butler” 11 of 28 that the subject can represent desires and feelings, and so it is through the Symbolic Order that the subject can be represented or constituted” (81). For his part, Stevens fumbles in his attempts to grasp the Symbolic Order. Stevens’ failure at bantering, for instance, as cited above, provides ample evidence of this developmental challenge. Moreover, during his discussion of circumstances following Lord Darlington’s decision to remove the Jewish maids from the staff, Stevens offers other examples. Miss Kenton initially threatens to resign from the staff due to the affair. Unfortunately she is not in a financial position that would allow her to do so, which makes her the target of some very awkward attempts at teasing — bantering, if you will — on the part of Stevens. It is Stevens failure to grasp language, to “represent desires and feelings,” that ensures that his subjectivity cannot be “represented or constituted.” That is to say, until he becomes an active and willing (as opposed to obligated) participant in the Symbolic Order, Stevens will, in essence, remain invisible. According to Jane Gallop in Reading Lacan, the “mirror stage is a turning point. After it, the subject’s relation to him [or her]self is always mediated through a totalizing image that has come from outside. For example, the mirror image becomes a totalizing ideal that organizes and orients the self” (79). Further, Gallop explains that the mirror stage is not necessarily attached to any sort of chronology, for: It is a turning point that ‘projects’ the individual into ‘history,’ that is into the future perfect. The individual is no longer living a natural development, a chronological maturation. She [or he] is projected, thrown forward, in an anticipation that makes her [or his] progress no longer a natural development but a ‘history,’ a movement doubly twisted by anticipation [of what he or she will be] and retroaction [of what she or he has been]. (83) Marc A. Ouellette: “Invisible Butler” 12 of 28 Thus, Stevens anticipates that he will be a “great butler,” but he fears that he has not always been one. Gallop notes that since “the entire past and present is dependent upon an already anticipated maturity — that is, a projected ideal one — any ‘natural maturation’ (however closely it might resemble the anticipated ideal one) must be defended against, for it threatens to expose the fact that the self is an illusion done with mirrors” (83). In this regard, Stevens’ inability to handle “with dignity” the task of explaining the “facts of life” to Lord Darlington’s godson, Reginald Cardinal, comes as no surprise (81). This inability to speak with Reginald Cardinal is repeated at the end of the novel, when the younger Cardinal has to force Stevens to sit down and listen in a scene that is also reminiscent of Lord Spencer’s interrogation in that Stevens is unable to reply. As would be expected, Stevens’ self-denial is extended to other areas. For example, he refuses to allow flowers in his room and pretty girls in (the service of ) the house. Stevens goes so far as to say that servants who look for love among their ranks are “a blight on good professionalism” in his quest to render his own feelings invisible (51). Indeed, Stevens appears to be suffering from “méconnaissance — the refusal to acknowledge thoughts and feelings” of the mirror stage (Benvenuto & Kennedy 52). We must recall that Stevens is proud of his ability to “never allow himself to be ‘off duty’ in the presence of others” (169). That is to say, his deportment always reflects the image of a good butler. This is especially apparent after Miss Kenton informs Stevens that she is getting married. Stevens’ behaviour during this episode is a near repeat of his performance during his father’s death. On both occasions an international conference is contemporaneous with what should be a very emotional time for Stevens. However, the most Stevens can utter is the ultra-professional “I will do my best to secure a replacement at the earliest opportunity, Miss Kenton. Now if you will excuse me, I must return upstairs” (218). When Miss Kenton confronts him a second time, Stevens actually says “I have Marc A. Ouellette: “Invisible Butler” 13 of 28 not taken anything you have said to heart, Miss Kenton. In fact, I cannot recall what it is you might be referring to” (226). Only a few hours have passed, but his denial already has taken effect. By the time the gentlemen have departed, an hour later, Stevens is able to report just as he had during the conference at the time of his father’s death: “a deep feeling of triumph started to well up within me. . . . I had, after all, just come through an extremely trying evening, throughout which I had managed to preserve a ‘dignity in keeping with my position’ – and had done so, moreover, in a manner even my father might have been proud of” (227). Ishiguro perhaps overemphasizes the moment when Stevens rightly recognizes that this evening is a “sort of summary” of his life (228). The novel opens with a description of a conversation between Mr. Farraday and Stevens in which the former convinces his butler to take the vacation that occasions the writing of the journal that becomes the novel. This conversation and Stevens’ meeting with Miss Kenton at the end of the journey frame the story, as the “sort of summary” vignette is woven into the latter account. The symmetry of the novel is furthered by the inclusion of Stevens’ conviction that he has seen the best of England from within Darlington Hall. In this regard, Mr. Farraday remarks, “You fellows, you’re always locked up in these big houses helping out, how do you ever get to see around this beautiful country of yours? . . . It’s wrong that a man can’t get to see around his own country,” to which Stevens replies, “It has been my privilege to see the best of England over the years, sir, within these very walls” (4). Curiously, Stevens is on a ladder looking down on his master. This reversed or ironic position with respect to his employer only serves to emphasize the true nature of the relationship. The theme of invisibility appears because Stevens holds up Darlington Hall as a “mirror” of England, and in many respects his father as a mirror of himself. In the latter regard, there is something more at work than a mere Oedipal struggle to replace the Marc A. Ouellette: “Invisible Butler” 14 of 28 father. When Stevens bemoans his father’s “limited command of English,” it should not be forgotten that he himself is not an accomplished practitioner (35). Miss Kenton discovers Stevens reading a “sentimental romance” because he believes it to be “an extremely efficient way to maintain and develop one’s command of the English language” (167). In this instance, Stevens combines two aspects of his arrested development: the denial of desires and the inability to grasp language. He compensates for his own lack of a love life with those found in the romances. However, in so doing, he conflates the illusory with the real, as evidenced by his conviction that the patches of “purple prose” in the romances will enhance his command of the language. In reality, this is an illusion (delusion) based on an illusion. While Stevens may feel that he has more than replaced his father, he is actually a continuation of the paradigm of servitude: the condition has not changed. He thinks he sees England when what he sees is purely an illusion of England, and even if he did see England in this figurative mirror, it too would not be a real image because of the very nature of mirrors: even the best mirror presents nothing more than a time-delayed two-dimensional reflected image of “real life.” Stevens indicates that for him the phallus, or centre, is Darlington Hall. As Mary Klages explains, in the Lacanian sense, “The Law-of-the-Father, or Name-of-the-Father, is another term for the . . . the centre of the system, the thing that governs the whole structure — its shape and how all the elements in the system can move and form relationships. The phallus anchors the chains of signifiers . . . stops play . . . [and] is the centre of the Symbolic Order, of language” (6). Moreover, in Lacan’s terms, the “Name-of-the-Father . . . refers not to the real father, nor to the imaginary father, but to the symbolic father” (Sheridan xi). Klages also notes that the symbolic father, “rather than being a real person, becomes a structuring principle of the Symbolic Order” (6). For Stevens, the symbolic father is represented by his father as butler qua Marc A. Ouellette: “Invisible Butler” 15 of 28 butler, the Hayes Society, and of course, the (abstract) concept of “dignity.” Additionally, in a stunning exaggeration of microcosm, Stevens operates under the illusion that he sees all of England without ever leaving Darlington Hall. He is clearly having a misrecognition, or méconnaissance, and is not out of the mirror stage. The failure regarding banter is also part of the misrecognition and there are several major reasons for this: one is that no matter what is said, Stevens does not have any real autonomy because he is still subservient to Mr. Farraday; second, because of the first part, banter is a substitute for language; third, because of Stevens’ own arrested development vis à vis Darlington Hall as the phallus, he has to force himself to learn to banter. That is to say, language is only possible in a subservient role within the walls of Darlington Hall and is therefore a duty and for this reason too it is false, like the language he learns from the romance novels, as we find out later. II Indeed, Stevens’ mind becomes the “four walls” of Darlington Hall, and of course this type of situation only “serves” to stifle the individual and maintain the invisibility of Stevens as a person in “his own country” — one should remember, as Peter Stallybrass points out, that in Britain, one is not a citizen, one is a subject and “to be a subject is to be subjected, to be under the dominion of a governor” (593). The degree to which this effect is felt is a product of one’s standing in the social scale. Although the trip that occasions the writing of the journal is supposed to be a vacation, Stevens is only concerned with “one professional task . . . regarding Miss Kenton and [the] present staffing problems” (26). In this case, Stevens projects his own invisibility onto Miss Kenton in that he never refers to her by her first or married name and he only regards her as a professional rather than as a woman and potential lover. The sense of invisibility — or at least the arrested development — in terms of identifying himself with Marc A. Ouellette: “Invisible Butler” 16 of 28 Darlington Hall is only enhanced by the realization that Lord Darlington is an “amateur,” that is, a phoney, and therefore the phallus, that is the centre, is an illusion. The irony, of course, is that Stevens is the “professional,” as he is wont to remind us, and this, by definition, goes unseen, that is to say, is invisible, to Stevens and his master, but not to the reader. So Stevens’ selfhood, already an illusion, is founded on something ultimately artificial and mythological, and therefore an illusion as well. This fact is only reinforced by the later revelation that Stevens’ knowledge of England is further confined to the pages of The Wonder of England, a pre-war master-narrative. In reality, what he sees and reads in the book is not England, but an account of and a collection of images of England. Indeed, even on his trip, Stevens takes the car loaned to him by Mr. Farraday. The effect is that he never truly leaves Darlington Hall because he always takes Darlington Hall (and the book) with him, ensuring that the layered themes of containment and his invisibility remain perpetuated. Perhaps the mst difficult part of arguing Stevens’ invisibility is accounting for his (very) material existence. The first part of the essay details Stevens’ invisibility in the Lacanian sense. However, the current section turns to Michel Foucault’s account of disciplined bodies to show how the invisibility is actually enforced. Interestingly, the enforcement is done most often by the servant himself or herself. Such a system is described by Foucault in Discipline and Punish. In his discussion of discipline, Foucault first differentiates between “useful” and “intelligible” bodies (136). He then introduces a third term, “docility,” which “joins the analysable body to the manipulable body. A body is docile that may be subjected, used, transformed and improved” (136). Thus, concludes Foucault, “discipline produces subjected and practised bodies, ‘docile’ bodies” (138). There is no doubt that Stevens’ is a well-practised body. He spends most of his time proving this fact. In terms of invisibility, the most important of the disciplinary practices Marc A. Ouellette: “Invisible Butler” 17 of 28 Foucault describes is “Panopticism.” He bases this concept on Jeremy Bentham’s design for a prison in which surveillance of all of the inmates’ actions is possible. The French philosopher summarizes: This enclosed, segmented space, observed at every point, in which the individuals are inserted in a fixed place, in which the slightest movements are supervised, in which all events are recorded, in which an uninterrupted work of writing links the centre and periphery, in which power is exercised without division, according to a continuous hierarchical figure, in which each individual is constantly located, examined and distributed . . . all this constitutes a compact model of the disciplinary mechanism. (197) In short, “Visibility is a trap,” which prisoners will try to avoid (200). In contrast, Foucault explains that “invisibility is a guarantee of order” (200). In the ideal setting, prisoners are constantly viewed from a central tower. Thus, there are contingent relationships between the theme invisibility and the themes of containment and height. In addition, Stevens’ participation in the Darlington Hall system ensures his continued invisibility. The theme of invisibility coincides with a noticeable inversion of positions when Stevens describes his father’s last days as a “professional.” The first description comes to us in a quotation from Miss Kenton. Notably, she recalls that she and the younger Steven were looking down on Stevens Sr. while the old man was “walking back and forth in front of the summerhouse, looking down at the ground as though he hoped to find some precious jewel he had dropped there” (50). In this case, Stevens’ status with respect to his father is reversed. First, the younger Stevens occupies a vantage point such that he looks down on his father without being seen to do so. Moreover, William Stevens, though the father and the elder, is in fact the Marc A. Ouellette: “Invisible Butler” 18 of 28 junior butler. Stevens Jr. is inclined to consider his father only in terms of his position. That is, he notes only a butler who lets himself be seen. It is only in retrospect that he realizes his father was “much ravaged by arthritis and other ailments” and probably should not be working at all (51). The confusion surrounding Stevens Sr.’s duties and Miss Kenton’s use of the elder butler’s first name stems from Stevens’ inability to differentiate the personal from the professional, or himself from his father. The argument between Miss Kenton and Stevens is fundamentally a dispute about who sees what: Miss Kenton sees an old man being asked to do too much while Stevens tries desperately to see a great butler. Stevens’ state of denial is in part caused by the fact that if he were to acknowledge his father’s errors then he would have to acknowledge that his father’s humanity, and, by extension, his own. Miss Kenton then forces Stevens to see the reality of the situation. However, he merely becomes annoyed at her for pointing out the dust-pan which “would have been conspicuous not only from the five ground-floor doorways openings on to the hall, but also from the staircase and the first-floor balconies” (56), the “remains of polish” (56) on the silver, Stevens Sr.’s nose dangling drops “over the soup bowls” (60), and more importantly, the reversed “Chinamen” (57). The last highly visible error takes on greater significance since there is an upstairs as well as a downstairs “Chinaman.” The cosmology of the misplaced figures emphasizes that they are emblematic of the father and son butlers, whose roles have been reversed. Stevens’ comical performance during the “Chinamen” episode confirms not just his arrested development, but the importance of invisibility in a butler’s life. Rather than face Miss Kenton to resolve what he calls a “childish affair,” he contemplates a “departure via the french windows” (58). Indeed, if anyone is being childish it is he, as his preference to running over resolving indicates. Nevertheless, he cites the bad weather as the the reason that prevented him from bolting: “that is Marc A. Ouellette: “Invisible Butler” 19 of 28 to say, several large puddles and patches of mud were in evidence” (58). This means that Stevens cannot run away without leaving very visible traces of his own childish behaviour. The sequence of events surrounding Stevens Sr.’s demise highlight the effects of Panopticism on the servants. For Foucault, the major effect is its tendency to induce in the inmate a sttae of conscious and permanent visibility that assures the automatic functioning of power. So to arrange things that the surveillance is permanent in its effects, even if it is discontinuous in its action; thata the perfection of power should tend to render its actual exercise unnecessary . . . in short, that the inmates should be caught up in aa power situation of which they are themselves the bearers. (201) In other words, those who are subjected eventually will police themselves. The servants enforce their own subjection. In this case, subjection takes the form of invisibility; therein lies the real failing of Stevens Sr. It is unfortunate that it takes a glaring and tragic event like Stevens Sr.’s (obviously symbolic) fall to make everyone other than the already cognizant Miss Kenton aware of the situation. Since the fall occurs in his view, Lord Darlington is forced to take action. In a fashion that emphasizes the theme of invisibility and foreshadows his later handling of the Jewish maids, Lord Darlington first contrives a situation in which he can talk to Stevens. Stevens explains that “It was a ploy of Lord Darlington’s to stand at this shelf studying the spines of the encyclopedias as I came down the staircase, and sometimes, to increase the effect of an accidental meeting he would actually pull out a volume and pretend to be engrossed as I completed my descent. Then, as I passed him, he would say: ‘Oh Stevens, there was something I meant to say to you’” (60). Lord Darlington’s social standing requires that he perform this elaborate ruse so as not to seem to notice the presence of his butler, who should properly remain Marc A. Ouellette: “Invisible Butler” 20 of 28 unseen. Second, Lord Darlington leaves it to Stevens to make his master’s “problems” disappear. Lord Darlington’s words, “In view of the persons who will be present, I do not think I exaggerate,” are telling (62). While he means to say “in consideration” of the people who will be present, the word “view” has obvious other meanings. Lord Darlington does not wish his conference to be “seen” by outsiders in the sense of its being secret. In addition he would not want his guests to “see” the help lest they worry about their confidentiality being compromised by the latter group. For his part, Stevens is similarly motivated. The number of visitors makes it more difficult to achieve his aims. As Foucault observes, “the more numerous those anonymous and temporary observers are, the greater the risk for the inmate of being surprised and the greater his awareness of being observed” (202). Stevens’ seeming insensitivity is an affect of his heightened self-subjection. Thus, his inability to speak with his father foreshadows his later handling of his portion of the despicable treatment of the Jewish maids: telling Miss Kenton and then the girls that they were to be let go. Although Lord Darlington is duped by Nazi propaganda, one cannot help but recall that a significant motivation underlying that propaganda was not just to eradicate the Jews, but to make all traces of them disappear. Of the conversation with Miss Kenton, Stevens explains: Nevertheless, my duty in this instance was quite clear, and as I saw it, there was nothing to be gained at all in irresponsibly displaying such personal doubts [about Lord Darlington’s decision]. It was a difficult task, but as such, one that demanded to be carried out with dignity. And so it was that when I finally raised the matter towards the end of our conversation that evening, I did so in as concise and businesslike a way as possible (148) For his part, Stevens has the added advantage of retrospect, “since the Jewish issue has become Marc A. Ouellette: “Invisible Butler” 21 of 28 so sensitive of late,” to add a semblance of sensitivity into his position (148). After all, Stevens does chastise Miss Kenton with the comment, “Miss Kenton, I am surprised to find you reacting in this manner. Surely, I don’t have to remind you that our professional duty is not to our own foibles and sentiments, but to the wishes of our employer” (149). Moreover, even if Stevens ever had ambivalent sentiments, neither Miss Kenton nor the girls would have known because the butler always carries out his duties with “dignity.” But dignity is more than merely following orders, as Stevens patronizingly informs Miss Kenton, “There are many things you and I are simply not in a position to understand . . . his lordship, I might venture, is somewhat better placed to judge what is for the best” (149). In other words, Stevens does not actually afford himself the luxury of an opinion, dissenting or not. This scene is paralleled with the interrogation scene in which Stevens is cross-examined by Lord Spencer. He should have been humiliated by the experience. Instead, once again looking down on his master from a perch on a ladder in a comic reversal of Panopticism, Stevens tells Lord Darlington that he was “only too happy to be of service. . . . [and] was not unduly inconvenienced” by the ordeal (197). Yet we know from Foucault that “the Panopticon was also a laboratory; it could be used as a machine to carry out experiments, to alter behaviour, to train or correct individuals . . . to teach different techniques simultaneously to the workers” (202). Seen this way, Lord Darlington’s dismissal of the maids is an exercise in eugenics. When combined with Lord Spencer’s harangue of Stevens, the two episodes can be considered experiments in fascism. As Homi K. Bhabha puts it, “the brilliance of Ishiguro’s exposition of the ideology of service lies in his linking the national and the international, the indigenous and the colonial, by focusing on the anti-Semitism of the interwar period. He thus mediates race and cultural difference through a form of difference — Jewishness — that confuses the boundaries of class and race” (62). A third linkage, between the individual Marc A. Ouellette: “Invisible Butler” 22 of 28 and the national, can be added to Bhabha’s list. Darlington Hall, then, becomes a laboratory for the British fascists, one in which they can practice their theories on willing, if unwitting, subjects. The doubling of the themes of containment and invisibility appear with regard to the death of Stevens’ brother and the death of their father. In the case of the former, Leonard Stevens (who is allowed the luxury of a first name unlike his butler brother) was killed in a “most unBritish” action in the Boer War (40). For their part, the Boers also confuse boundaries of class and race. While Mr. Silvers agrees that “the General” acted unprofessionally, as it were, and realizes the difficulty the General’s presence poses for Stevens Sr., he hypocritically engages in commerce with the disgraced commander. The hypocrisy then becomes an enforced and inherited position, as Stevens Sr. subordinates the semblance of a self to the service of stoicism, or just as well, to stoic service. This act of self-abnegation is followed by the presumably (since Stevens Sr. asked his master to make the donation) anonymous and therefore unseen donation of the General’s gratuity to a charity (42). Similarly, Stevens Jr. is presented with a choice of contemporaneous crises that need attending: his father’s death or the important conference at Darlington Hall. The roles are reversed in so far as Stevens chooses to be a servant rather than to be a son. Yet the suppression of the personal in favour of the professional is hardly a reversal. It is a family trait, passed from one generation to the next. Ishiguro then connects the individual to the national and the national to the international. In a stunning display of the “emotional restraint which only the English race are capable of,” Stevens completely submerges whatever emotions he might have had for his dying father in order to attend professionally to the concurrent international conference. In fact, Stevens even sends the doctor to the sore-footed M. Dupont Marc A. Ouellette: “Invisible Butler” 23 of 28 rather than to his father.5 Upon reflection, Stevens calls the conference a “turning point in my professional development” and feels a “large sense of triumph” (110). There are two very interesting developments from this point with regard to invisibility. The first is that Stevens knows that the true test of a butler’s “greatness” is his ability to perform “under some severe test” (43). However, he admits that “most of us cannot claim to have ever scrutinized [butlers] under such conditions” (43). That is to say, even at its highest levels a butler’s professionalism cannot be seen, and, more importantly, he is the agent of his own subjection. Conclusion Significantly more sinister than his denials of human desires, though, are Stevens’ repeated denials of his association with Lord Darlington. Given Lord Darlington’s sympathy for the German cause, the postwar setting of the novel poses serious problems for Stevens. When asked by “the Colonel’s batman” whether or not he knows Lord Darlington, Stevens replies “Oh no, I am employed by Mr. John Farraday, the American gentleman who bought the house from the Darlington family” (120). Stevens rationalizes this denial of his former employer (and former self) by connecting it to an incident that occurred during the visit of the Wakefields. When asked by the status-obsessed couple if he had worked for Lord Darlington, Stevens flatly responds, “I didn’t madam, no” (123). Interestingly, there is redundancy built into this answer, as though Stevens needs to convince himself as well as the Wakefields that he was not employed by Lord Darlington. Stevens then attempts to dismiss his denial as being in keeping with the performance of his duties, since it is “not customary in England for an employee to discuss his past employers” (125). After the second incident, Stevens admits that his explanation to Mr. Farraday, 5 Interestingly, M. Dupont is monocled — that is, literally one-eyed — suggesting a fundamental difference between the British and their French counterparts, especially in terms of their visual capacities. Marc A. Ouellette: “Invisible Butler” 24 of 28 “though, of course, not entirely devoid of truth – was woefully inadequate” (125). Stevens rightly recognizes that there is a connection between the falsehoods but does not admit the true nature of the connection. In so doing, Stevens makes his third denial, for it may be that you are under the impression I am somehow embarrassed or ashamed of my association with his lordship, and it is this that lies behind such conduct. Then let me make it clear that nothing could be further from the truth. The great majority of what one hears said about his lordship today is, in any case, utter nonsense, based on an almost complete ignorance of the facts. Indeed, it seems to me that my odd conduct can be very plausibly explained in terms of my wish to avoid any possibility of hearing any further such nonsense concerning his lordship; that is to say, I have chosen to tell white lies in both instances as the simplest means of avoiding unpleasantness. This does seem a very plausible explanation the more I think about it; for it is true, nothing vexes me more these days than to hear this sort of nonsense being repeated. (125-6) That Stevens is looking to the past (his relationship with Lord Darlington) while hoping for the ideal future (reunion with Miss Kenton and her return to Darlington Hall) makes the mirror stage analogy more clear. The “white lies” are, in fact, a means of avoiding the unpleasantness his association with Lord Darlington recalls: the latter’s fascism and the loss of Miss Kenton. However, the real unpleasantness is the fact that Stevens’ entire life has been built on an illusion. The erroneous belief that Lord Darlington was a “gentleman of great moral stature” is only a part of this illusion (126). By reducing the untruths to “white lies,” Stevens hopes to reduce his own culpability and thereby avoid the unpleasant realization that he is trying very hard to delude himself. In the mirror stage, the subject sees “his [or her] form as more or less total and Marc A. Ouellette: “Invisible Butler” 25 of 28 unified in an external image, in a virtual, alienated, ideal unity that cannot actually be touched . . . [however] it is a mirage . . . that is, an external form which the mirror reflects back in a reversed symmetry and perspective” (Benvenuto & Kennedy 55). Moreover, although the concept of the self is “formed on the basis of an imaginary relationship of the subject with his [or her] own body. The ego has the illusion of autonomy, but it is only an illusion” (Benvenuto & Kennedy 56). Ultimately, Stevens is trying to convince no one other than himself with his “white lies.” This becomes obvious when one considers that Stevens is not writing a novel, intended for public consumption, but instead he is writing a journal and is thus writing to himself. Indeed, the journal itself becomes a mirror of sorts for Stevens; one in which he cannot see himself. Still, the white lies are also part of Stevens’ self-policing. In fact, he is still serving Lord Darlington after the latter’s demise. The denials are a vain attempt to conceal Lord Darlington’s collaboration and in this way Stevens tries to protect his master. Stevens’ denials, then, parallel one of his father’smore celebrated moments. The story Stevens relates after the tale of the tiger demonstrates that the invisibility is not self-imposed but is instead enforced by the ruling establishment and then reinforced by the servants themselves. When Stevens Sr. stops the car because two of the gentlemen inside have been mocking his employer, he does not “display any obvious anger,” he merely opens the door and stands there “for some moments” (39). While Stevens Sr. is obviously silent, it is the fact that he makes himself visible, that is, felt as a presence in a lower class revolt of sorts, that shocks the misbehaving “gentlemen” into obedience. His very conspicuous presence that speaks. However, this seeming revolt is not as liberating as it might appear. Afterall, Stevens Sr. is defending the reputation of his master. By defending his master, however, Stevens Sr. also defends his own subordination. He becomes, in essence, a self-policing subject because he is securing his servititude. The younger Stevens Marc A. Ouellette: “Invisible Butler” 26 of 28 behaves similarly during his own automobile trip. This is not surprising given Foucault’s finding that the “panoptic schema makes any apparatus of power more intense; its assures its economy . . . its assures its efficacity by its continuous functioning and its automatic mechanisms” (206). While much has been made of the title of the novel and its meanings, in this reading the butlers’ outings suggest another.6 As Bhabha and O’Brien argue, the novel is an allegory of postcolonial relations. It is worth recalling the imperial boast that “the sun never sets on the British Empire.” This statement incorporates a day’s duration in its metaphor. Former members of the empire, such as Canada and Australia, eventually became “self-governing dominions,” as opposed to independent states, when they left the fold, just as Stevens never really leaves Darlington Hall. The members of the Commonwealth followed Britain into two world wars, but after World War II, Britain became the occupied state. In the novel, Mr. Farraday is the fulfillment of Sen. Lewis’ prophecy. Now the empire has retreated sufficiently for the sun to set on it. All that remains of that “day” is the span of the island. 6 For example, Renata Salecl offers a detailed Freudian reading of the title based on the concept of dreams as “days residues” (182). Marc A. Ouellette: “Invisible Butler” 27 of 28 Works Cited Bhabha, Homi K. “Are You a Man or a Mouse?” Constructing Masculinities. Ed. Maurice Berger, Brian Wallis and Simon Watson. New York: Routledge, 1995. 57-65. Benvenuto, Bice and Roger Kennedy. The Works of Jacques Lacan: An Introduction. London: Free Association Books, 1986. Ellison, Ralph. Invisible Man. New York: Random, 1994. Foucault, Michel. Discipline and Punish: The Birth of the Prision. Trans. Alan Sheridan. 2nd ed. Toronto: Random (Vintage), 1995. Gallop, Jane. Reading Lacan. Ithaca: Cornell UP, 1985. Ishiguro, Kazuo. The Remains of the Day. New York: Alfred Knopf, 1989. Klages, Mary. Lecture Notes on Jacques Lacan. English 2010. Online. University of Colorado, 8 December, 1997. Internet. 12 April, 1999. Available http://www.colorado.edu/English/ENGL2012Klages/lacan.html Lacan, Jacques. Écrits: A Selection. Trans. Alan Sheridan. London: Tavistock Publications, 1977. Lodge, David. The Art of Fiction. London: Secker and Warburg, 1992. 154-7. O’Brien, Susie. “Serving a New World Order: Postcolonial Politics in Kazuo Ishiguro’s The Remains of the Day.” Modern Fiction Studies 42.4 (1996): 787-806. Salecl, Renata. “I Can’t Love You Unless I Give You Up.” Gaze and Voice as Love Objects. Ed. Slavoj Žižek and Renata Salecl. Durham, NC: Duke UP, 1996. 179-207. Sheridan, Alan. Translator’s Note to Écrits: A Selection. London: Tavistock Publications, 1977. Stallybrass, Peter. “Shakespeare, the Individual and the Text.” Cultural Studies. Eds. Lawrence Grossberg, Cary Nelson and Paula Treichler. New York: Routledge, 1992. 593-609. Marc A. Ouellette: “Invisible Butler” 28 of 28 Warren, Amye and Carol Tate. “Egocentrism in Children’s Telephone Conversations.” Private Speech: From Social Interaction to Self-Regulation. Ed. Rafael M. Diaz and Laura E. Berk. Hillsdale, New Jersey: Lawrence Erlbaum Associates, 1992. Webster, Mrs. D.C. Interview. Secret World of Fame and Fortune. TLC. 19 July 2001. Young, Robert. “‘No I cannot see it but I can read it’: Theorizing African-American Subjectivity.” American Cultural Studies: Theory, Practice, Pedagogy. U of Tulsa. Tulsa, OK, 26 Feb. 1999.