416
PARTISAN REVIEW
of
the book is that he does
not
leave his wife to go off with the
Countess Olenska, New York born but emancipated. There is no feel–
ing, however, that Archer has condemned himself and the Countess
to an unrewarding life of frustration. The author is absorbed in
the beauty of rules and forms even when they stamp out spontaneity.
"It was you," the Countess tells Archer, "who made me understand
that under the dullness there are things so fine and sensitive and
delicate that even those I most cared for in my other life look cheap
in comparison." This is the climax of the message: that under the
thick glass of convention blooms the fine, fragile flower of patient
suffering and denial. To drop out of society is as vulgar as to pre–
dominate; one must endure and properly smile.
The novel, however, despite its note of calm resignation and
sacrifice, is pervaded with a sense of materialism. The presence of
"things" clogs even the best of Mrs. Wharton's writing. The author
of
The House of Mirth
was also the author of
The Decoration of
Houses.
One feels the charm of Ellen Olenska, but one feels it too
much in her taste and possessions: "some small slender tables of
dark wood, a delicate little Greek bronze in the chimney piece, and
a stretch of red damask nailed on the discolored wallpaper behind a
couple of Italian-looking pictures in old frames." She has "only two"
Jacqueminot roses in a slender vase, and her tea is served "with
handleless Japanese cups and little covered dishes." She finds a friend
in Philistia; he understands Europe, and their refuge is in the arts,
but their talk is filled with references to private rooms at Delmonico's
and "little oyster suppers." Even in the moment of greatest emo–
tional strain, when she looks at her watch she looks at a "little gold–
faced watch on an enameled chain." The vigor of the earlier books
is largely gone, but the sense of the world remains.
It was now that Edith Wharton found herself at the crossroads.
She could have continued in the nostalgic vein of
The Age of In–
nocence
and tethered herself, in James's phrase, to the native pas–
tures of her early memories. The tendency might have been toward
the sentimental, but the result could have had the charm of remem–
bered things. One can see this in the little series known as
Old N ew
York.
But, unfortunately, she chose for her major efforts the con–
temporary scene, especially the American scene, although it was a
decade since she had crossed the Atlantic to revisit her native shores.
