Age Of Innocence

Newland Archer is described in ‘The Age of Innocence’ as a man of thought; what do his inward reflections tell us about Old New York’s power to compromise the needs of the individual? In your answer you should consider: views of others relevant contextual information

_________________________________________ Newland Archer is an anomaly in New York’s delicate social system. A self described dilettante, he partakes in pleasure for pleasure’s sake, and unlike the rest of New York, not just in a purely superficial manner. His cerebral nature means that “thinking over a pleasure to come often gave him a subtler satisfaction than its realisation”. He, along with Ellen Olenska and the bohemian Ned Winsett, represent the opposing force to New York’s stifling, rigid adherence to conformity. New York society is one domineered by “immemorial custom”; it is itself one single entity rather than a collection of many. It depends on the unity of all within it for survival, ruthlessly cutting out any individual who may introduce independent thought and destroy it, like an invasive bacteria.

Their system is an effective one, using a manner of hieroglyphs, rites and unspoken actions to achieve its objective. The “maverick” characters are perhaps analogous to Edith Wharton herself, a product of the very same society transcribed on the pages. Like Archer, Wharton was an intellectual, preferring books to clothes and when her literary talents arose at a young age, her mother’s reaction “was one of fascinated horror”1. Wharton sought escapism through literature; the reading and the writing of it. It offered her respite from the “unimaginative and lethargic”2 exercise of age old virtues. Channelling her own thoughts and criticisms of Old New York through the private musings of Archer, we get the best representation of the fiercely conservative tribal community which took too much and gave so little in return. Countess Ellen Olenska is every bit the woman Edith Wharton wanted to be; independent, beautiful, smart and strikingly original. She is a “foreign and a … revolutionary force”3 and the novel opens with her appearance at the Opera, where all of New York high society came to see and be seen. Its small size kept out the “nouveau riche“4, whom New York was “beginning to dread and yet be drawn to”.

The reaction of New York to such a symbol of nonconformity appearing at the bastion of the Old New York social scene is one of abject horror. The sight of Ellen in the Mingott’s box causes Lawrence Lefferts, the “foremost authority on form”, to exclaim “Well-upon my soul!”, loudly voicing the concern that all of New York would invariably be feeling. This incident evokes Archer’s first emotion towards Ellen; indignation. We can compare this to the emotions May - his wife to be and archetypal product of New York - arises in him: “tender reverence” and so on. Ellen has instilled in Archer in a single instant a feeling more passionate, deep and earnest than May has in their many months of courtship. For the first time, Archer’s halcyon world of Old New York has been invaded by something exotic, alluring and unnerving, and where he disapproves of Ellen having any influence on May, he can’t help but be intrigued by her presence. Compelled by a sense of duty towards his soon to be “clan” another fiercely guarded tradition instilled in Archer by Old New York -, Archer makes his way to “the box which was thus attracting the undivided attention of masculine New York”. Here he shares his first moment with

Ellen, and senses that New York has put her under tribunal, eerily prefiguring the moment when the two lovers are ultimately broken by New York; driven apart after a silent, yet ferociously effective trial. Ironically, Ellen describes New York as “heaven”, although it is not elucidated whether she describes it this way cynically, though one would like to think so as it is the last place meant for such a free spirit as her. Perhaps Ellen’s judgement of Old New York society has been clouded over with years of absence, in contrast to Wharton who had to move to France before she could even begin writing her most scathing retort of her former society’s customs. Newland may not know it straight away, but this first experience with Ellen profoundly changes him as a person. He senses that not everything in New York has to be definite and set in stone. By bearing witness to her nonchalant disregard to social mores and customs, she has subversively worked her way into the only place that matters - his mind and she is henceforth never far from his thoughts. Ellen at first serves only to make Newland grateful to have his own piece of security in May; a typical, uncompromised, blank canvass of a New Yorker. He sees it as his duty to mould her in his image,

daydreaming of a future spent guiding her cautiously through the arts (as any “cosmopolitan” husband such as Newland should consider it his duty to). Of May and Archer one critic has said, “One can see that they are in fact predestined to become a typical New York couple if of slightly wider interests than the majority”5. The use of the word “predestined” only serves to accentuate the view of New York’s strict adherence to code and custom. It would take a titanic force to break New York’s bond on Archer, a force that comes in the guise of Ellen. It is during dinner with Sillerton Jackson that the subject of Ellen is first raised with Newland in company. Archer “waited with an amused curiosity” for the subject to be brought up, not wanting to initiate the conversation himself yet nevertheless desiring to talk about the alien woman that had been at the forefront of New York’s - and his - mind lately. Quietly observing his tribe’s feasting upon Ellen, Newland’s feelings toward her again start to well up inside him. Newland sees fit to defend her honour against his own set; the first tentative indication of Newland’s deviation from society towards Ellen - and himself. Carried on by the momentum of the argument, Newland exclaims “I hope she will!” in

response to Janey’s “I hear she means to get a divorce” - ironic in that his hasty, unheeded change of mind in regard to this position later on ultimately dooms Ellen and himself. The word falls in the room “like a bombshell” and this perhaps is the moment that betrays Newland to New York, ultimately resulting in the two lover’s downfall. Post dinner, Newland retires to his own study a deeply changed man. Whilst pontificating over a picture of May, he realises that “marriage was not the safe anchorage he had been taught to think, but a voyage on uncharted seas.” Ellen, through only a few words, has sent deep and meaningful reverberations through his psyche, rumbling the foundations on which his own personal vision of New York was built. Thoughts rush in and out of his mind, unearthing feelings New York had taught him, as a duty, to repress. He sees his future marriage with a clarity he has never realised before, and what it is to become: “a dull association of social and material interests held together by ignorance on one side and hypocrisy on the other”. Seeing that his future role is one of a self-replicating machination, purpose built solely to keep the rites and customs of New York alive at the

expense of progress, Newland feels trapped. With nowhere to run but his own mind, Archer is “too gentlemanly, too committed to the regime of doing the right thing, of avoiding unpleasantness of any kind”6 and makes sure to bury his problem deep down, where it won’t bother him. But this illuminating episode will forever be looming over him, quietly chipping away at any fragment of the foundation of Old New York left within him. Newland, a man of inaction, necessarily begins to live a lie. What was supposed to be his “moment for pure thoughts and cloudless hopes” has been corrupted by Ellen. As he undresses he is at his most vulnerable, and his symbolic covering of the fire can be seen as an allegory to New York’s blotting out of the unpleasant. With New York’s blood still running through his veins, albeit diluted, he grumbles “Hang Ellen Olenska”, futilely trying to grasp onto his crumbling ivory towers. New York had at this stage sensed an imbalance within itself. It could only deal with threats in two ways; by destroying or assimilating it. Seeing that Ellen was something it could not just destroy, and that it was quite impossible to ignore her and hope she’d go away, society decided it

was in the best interests of survival to incorporate her into its own being. This could only be achieved through the powerful van der Luyden’s, who “keep their influence as Ellen knows by making themselves so rare”7. The van der Luyden’s were perhaps the archetypal New York family. They could be seen as the deity’s of the puritanical society for which things such as ‘form’, ‘taste’ and ‘decency’ formed its religion. Reluctant to be at the top of the social ladder, they are there out of necessity, acting as the “arbiters of fashion”. With Ellen being granted the seal of approval by the cortex of New York, she is seemingly ready to be accepted into society, and any potential unpleasantness can be pushed away, where it belongs. Archer, perhaps assured by New York’s acceptance of Ellen, begins to embrace within him her spirit. Watching her from afar at her entrance into society, she arises genuine thoughts and emotions in him. Distracted by her eyes, his mind drifts off as to “what must have gone into the making” of them. Ellen has saturated Newland Archer’s New York with curious, romantic reflections, the like of which he had probably only experienced through books, and certainly not through May.

During their first real conversation, Ellen deconstructs New York, breaking customs and disrespecting important figures such as the Duke of St. Austrey. This thrilled Newland “so much that forgot the slight shock her previous remark had caused him”. Archer had finally found someone that shared his burgeoning, clandestine opinions of New York of which he couldn’t dare to utter. Throughout his conversation with Ellen, Archer is in a disembodied state, enchanted by her and only vaguely aware of the words coming out of his mouth. Even as May enters the room, it is Ellen who holds his attention, her striking individuality and beauty captivating he, that is usually so docile. Like rainfall to an arid plain, Ellen has instilled in Archer a new sense of life, which starts to rise through the cracked surface. Over time, Ellen’s influence on Newland becomes more explicit and overt. On visiting her house, Newland exclaims “It’s you who are telling me; opening my eyes to things I’d looked at so long I’d ceased to see them”. Ellen is the catalyst for Newland’s personal ‘Age of Enlightenment’, making him see lucidly New York in all its oppressive, repressive state: “It is Ellen Olenska who is able to explain to him the alternative - the disagreeable taste of ‘happiness brought by disloyalty and cruelty

and indifference’”8.