Classics Without All the Class discussion
Jan 2013 -The Age of Innocence
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Newland's inaction - spoiler alert
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Perhaps after all the years that had passed, he preferred to keep her in his memories. Or perhaps he wanted her to make the first move to see him. When the blinds shut, he had his answer.


"A few streets away, a few hours away, Ellen Olenska waited. She had never gone back to her husband, and when he had died, some years before, she had made no change in her way of living. There was nothing now to keep her and Archer apart - and that afternoon he was to see her."
Of course, Ellen might have close male friends and it may be that Newland did not want to risk discovering that that was so. He may not have wanted to see Ellen in the company of others when nothing that mattered would be said between them. "When the blinds shut, he had his answer." (Margaret, message 2). Perhaps. But possibly instead, Ellen was just acquiescing in Newland's apparent wish not to see her. Who knows? The tendency of these people to communicate by inference and indirection - a regular practice in Newland's "Old Society" - seems risky to me. It certainly might result in misunderstanding.

"A few streets away, a few hours away, Ellen Olenska waited. She had never gone back to her husband, and when he had died, some years before, she ..."
Oh, that's right! How did I forget that? I remember (now!) savoring that paragraph and wondering if it meant the two would get together then.
"The tendency of these people to communicate by inference and indirection - a regular practice in Newland's "Old Society" - seems risky to me. It certainly might result in misunderstanding."
All that indirect communication in this book drove me crazy. Just as it does in real life.


The narrator relayed her thoughts as she waited for him to visit with Dallas. Darn that Newland! He had his chance for true connection with no conventions, as they said earlier, in the way. I would have written the end differently. Disappointing...it was as if he had his sons blessing at that.


Newland's fantasy of her over the years has been of her in her prime and not as an older women. This shows his resentment of her not letting him choose her over May and leading what he perceives as a life full of excitement ('the flower of life') instead of his life filled with 'dull duty'. So as punishment he leaves her with the imagine of him as he was in his prime through his son who people say 'took after him' and not as an older man.
By doing this he will try and show the now older and faded Madame Olenska what she missed out on all those years ago.

To me, the ending is the most poignant part of the book. They are free to be together...but they have lived such different lifestyles that they are unlikely to have any common ground anymore. We see on page 290 "But Archer had found himself held fast by habit, by memories, by a sudden startled shrinking from new things. Now, as he reviewed his past, he saw into what a deep rut he had sunk. The worst of doing one's duty was that it apparently unfitted one for doing anything else." When he decided to settle into his marriage and family, and to embrace the society about which he'd had so many doubts, he chose a path that led him to become a different man that he'd been during his affair. Perhaps he's as worried that Ellen will find him changed, dull, intellectually unstimulating (ironically, all the things he once thought about May), as he is worried that an older, faded Ellen would only erase his memories of a young vibrant Ellen.
When a memory has sustained you for so long, why risk blighting it?

When Newland tells his son that May "never asked him" to give up Ellen, this can be taken to mean two different thoughts. The first thing you may think is that Newland meant that May never asked him to choose because she made the decision on her own, by telling Ellen she was pregnant. The other thing that he could have meant was that she didn't ask because he himself made the decision by not actually making a decision - May didn't need to ask at that point. It was his societal obligation to stay with May. it was expected of him. And Newland Archer could always be counted on to do the 'right' thing, no matter his own private thoughts.
The last scene of the book is basically a repetition of the scene by the shore. Newland only has to reach out to take what he wants, what Ellen has offered him. He yet again waits for a 'sign' to tell him what to do. And just like by the ocean that day, Ellen refuses to tell him how to act. She knows what he wants - for her to force his hand, just like Mrs. Archer and May have been doing his whole life. Instead she has someone draw the blinds, just as she refused to turn around that day at the shore, both times knowing he was there but frozen in his indecision.
If Newland Archer truly wanted a life with Ellen Olenska, he would have had it. May gave him ample opportunities to back out of the engagement. I believe that Ellen was someone that Newland admired greatly and, while he did possess a kind of love for her, in the end, that love and admiration were just not real or strong enough to act upon.


Great point, Liz. I totally missed the parallel between the scene at the shore and the last scene of the book. Both times he waits for a sign, leaving it up to fate to decide so that he doesn't have to. And both times (perhaps) Ellen knows what he's doing and won't play his game. She is certainly the stronger of the two!

I have just finished reading "Hotel..." and give the novel 5 stars. It is a great story that many of you would like. Many readers of Age of Innocence have posted that they didn't like almost any of the characters in the book. By contrast, I think readers of "Hotel..." would like or admire nearly all of the characters in the book.
That's all I will say since I don't wish to give away any of the plot of "Hotel..." Participants in this group may read the reviews of "Hotel..." and decide for themselves if that book is for them. But I highly recommend it.

Or maybe after the book ended Ellen ran down the stairs and caught up with him? (I guess I can choose my own ending and that would make me happy).





I agree with Liz on this. I think at his core he was incapable of making any decisive action. The scene at the end not only mimics the scene at the shore, but also the scene in the play where the lover returns unseen and then leaves. It seems to me like Archer was more in love with love than with any person.
His inaction at the end to me is the perfect crown on his character. He has prefered all his life to live in dreams and not truly defy convention. At this point, it would be totally outside of his personality to do anything other than to pursue his dreams just hard enough to never reach them.


I'm surprised by the vehemence people feel toward Archer. The label coward, which was used several times in the thread, struck me at first as too simplistic, but when I think more about it, I suppose you're right: he is a coward. But then I wonder how many of us aren't cowards when it comes to that struggle between convention and personal freedom? Most of us may not live in a society as dictated by convention as Archer (and Wharton) did, but I'll bet many of us are still asked to balance our needs and wants against the needs and wants of the people around us. And when it comes to that... might it not have been more cowardly for Archer to have run off with Ellen at any point in the novel except at the end? If he had left May, even when they were only engaged, there could have been serious social consequences for her and the Wellands. We might say, What is social convention in the face of love -- and yet to these people social convention obviously meant a great deal. May might never have recovered, and this is especially true if Archer had left while they were married. So, Archer might have been a coward by our standards, but his choices -- and Ellen's choices, for she was really the strongest of all three main characters, I think -- might actually have been braver when viewed through the lens of the social conventions of his day.
I think Wharton's last chapter, which I found at times a little too "neat" (all the descriptions of change between Dallas' generation and Archer's; the summaries of Archer's, May's, and their children's lives), was meant to emphasize how very different Archer's world was than the "modern" society that began emerging around the turn of the century. Her discussions of telephones, electricity, and other modern conveniences was one of the ways she tried to show the rapid pace of change that Archer lived through -- and yet couldn't fully appreciate himself.
Still, none of this answers Judson's excellent thread-starting question: why didn't he see Ellen when he finally had a chance to see her as a free man? I think Marie in Message 23 made a really insightful point: the idea of Ellen was always more powerful than Ellen herself. And I think Ellen herself understood this, which is why she kept insisting, throughout the novel, that they could be near each other, but not with each other.
I also think Archer, by the end of the book, has finally come to accept who he really is: just another one of his generation and class. For so much of the novel, he's focused on how different he feels from a scummy guy like Lefferts or Beaufort, and certainly his travels, his appreciation for art and literature, and his views on women and divorce, make him seem different. But in the end, he knows that his generation and his class made him who he is -- and to escape that, I think, would have meant becoming someone else entirely. I'm not sure how many of us would really be able to shed our identity so easily. And I think Archer's self-realization in the end makes him braver than most people -- rather than cowardly. The Gorgon has opened his eyes (as it did Ellen's), but at least he was spared the implied horrors that she saw in her own marriage. Archer knows in the end that while in May he didn't find that grand passion he wanted with Ellen, he at least had a life with some influence and meaning (his municipal work, his children). To go to Ellen in the end would be to close his eyes again to the truth that he is a product of his own time and the privilege it brought him. Should he have been allowed to enjoy the fruits of that privilege while also flaunting its conventions? In the end, he doesn't think so, and I believe he was brave for coming to that conclusion.
Thanks for the discussion! I've enjoyed it immensely!

I love your post, Ckopphills! Very well thought out -- you articulate what I was thinking but couldn't express nearly as well.
I find it interesting that several people said something along the lines of "Archer ruined two women's lives." I think that's an unfair accusation. May seems to have been happy with him for many, many years. And I think Ellen's life, to the extent that it was "ruined" was messed up by her marriage, not Archer. But, as I've said before, I'm an Archer sympathizer all the way! :-)

Judson wrote: "At the end of the book Newland, while in Paris, declines to see Ellen although nothing prevents him from doing so. In fact, nothing prevents Newland and Ellen from renewing their relationship shou..."
I beleive the end in the very way it was written is the perfect enclosure for this novel, as it matches both characters behaviour all over the plot (Newland and ELlen' s) and leaves the reader with the same aching frustration they must have felt when their relationship was recognised and eventually accepted as impossible.

Actually, I think I read a post by you on another forum that made a similar point in a much clearer and more concise fashion!
Newland sympathizers, unite! :-)

Even though Wharton chose to end the novel with Newland not going upstairs to reunite with Ellen, that doesn't mean he didn't eventually.
In the ending scene, Newland seems to wait for a sign and gets one when the curtains are closed. It mirrors a scene in the middle of the story when he waits for another sign when Ellen is down by the shore (I believe it was a boat about to pass by them). And he doesn't go down to see her, but later on regrets it and goes out of his way to travel up to Boston in order to see her. It's possible that he felt similarly after returning to his hotel, and went back either later on that evening or the next day before he and Dallas left Paris.
I believe Wharton left the ending ambiguous that way, so that the reader can decide if he did go back or not. Plus, his boisterous son Dallas went out of his way to arrange the meeting, I could see him bringing Ellen back to their own hotel after those curtains were drawn. Personally, and this is coming from an author's standpoint, the published ending was one of many drafts, and Wharton purposefully went with an ending that frankly could go either way in my opinion.


No, this was the only one I'd read and plan to read more. I've heard good things about Ethan Frome and The House of Mirth.

It seems like Edith Wharton was more interested in social commentary about high society Victorian New York, and what it does to people-- how it works them, plays upon them, and how they turn out. So, she's not very nice to her characters.
With "Say I'm old-fashioned: that's enough" he's explaining to both his son and Ellen that New York Victorianism fashioned him because he stayed within its confines, and so he can't now act except by its will, and not his own. He is not a self-made man.
By Ellen closing the shutters, she is giving him a visual of his own heart.
And yet, Edith Wharton does have Newland's son Dallas, (a western name after a place where everything is booming oil and fortune and rules are changing) come into this last scene in what feels like a bridge between old and new. The couple doesn't seem completely doomed.
I like the idea that through Dallas, they may meet again in a more open setting, in a way that doesn't require such a claustrophobic "showdown", if they were suddenly faced with each other in Ellen's parlor, with all eyes noticing every minuscule detail of appearance, micro-movement and inflection of syllable. I think the tension in this enclosed but not private reunion might have me bowing out, too. At least until I was in a setting that was not so rigidly Victorian, and I could express myself more freely.

As far as ruining two women's lives, how can you lay that at his feet? May is described numerous times as being the capable of seeing only what she wanted to ("...hard bright blindness..."). She lived in exactly the world she wanted to. She wasn't unaware of his passion for Ellen, and she gave him opportunity to act upon it. She never stopped them, until she suspected she was pregnant, and then she acted forcefully to remove Ellen from the scene.
Ellen cautioned Newland several times that he was not suited for infidelity and duplicity, and removed herself from his orbit intentionally several times out of consideration for May, the family and for Newland's honor, even if Newland didn't appreciate it at the time. She could have gone back to Europe, to her husband or not to her husband, but she didn't, by her own choice, preferring to be peripherally within Newland's world, until, again, May delivered the (premature!) news she was pregnant, whereupon Ellen did the right thing and left.
As far as his inaction at the end, again, you have to have an appreciation for the person he had become and the times that shaped him into that person. Societal strictures were rigid. He sounds ossified, and paralyzed, and frozen, and perhaps a little bitter. Throughout the book, he waits too long to act, and he waits for her to initiate things. She knows him better than he knows himself, and she makes it easy for him at the end, by lowering the blinds. He is too old and trapped. That's why his son Dallas goes to see her; a younger, more accepting and more modern version of himself, with similar passions and interests but of far more tolerant times. The perpetually modern Ellen meets a more modern Archer and perhaps a new relationship is formed. Don't forget, Dallas marries the daughter of Julius Beaufort and Annie Ring. Such a thing would have been unimaginable a generation previously. Fanny Beaufort is the daughter of two pariahs, and she is the one who initiates the overture to Ellen ("...Fanny made me swear to do three things while I was in Paris: get her the score of the last Debussy songs, go to the Grand-Guignol and see Madame Olenska. You know she was awfully good to Fanny when Mr. Beaufort sent her over from Buenos Ayres to the Assomption. Fanny hadn't any friends in Paris, and Madame Olenska used to be kind to her and trot her about on holidays. I believe she was a great friend of the first Mrs. Beaufort's. And she's our cousin, of course. So I rang her up this morning, before I went out, and told her you and I were here for two days and wanted to see her."). Newland may just be overcome with so much revolution in his limited world.
It's very easy to judge Archer by today's standards, but you're doing the character and the book a disservice if you do, because it is 100% about the societal strictures of its time and the effects those have on one's life. I see Newland as a victim and a brave one. May's life would have been ruined if he had left her. His family and her family would have been disgraced. He sacrificed himself for honor.

The first time I read "The Age of Innocence" I thought to myself- wow, can May get any more scheming and manipulative? How can Archer ever choose to stay with her? And Archer too- why doesn't he ever pursue his own happiness and go with Ellen? Aren't you being too much of a conformist (perhaps I'd even gone as far as to call him a coward)?
Recently I watched the movie, and I reread the book again. I realised that this time round I could appreciate the lengthy descriptions of the architecture (although there are still may I don't understand), and my feelings towards the different characters changed as well.
Regarding why Archer chose not to see Ellen at the end, my belief is that (like many others have already mentioned above) he couldn't bear to see how the countless years apart had changed his image of his 'beloved' Ellen. His image of Ellen is what it is- an image, a "personal vision", and a "youthful memory", anything but the reality. From the very beginning, the Ellen he loved was only the image of her he had in his mind, which is probably why he was shocked countless times that "not an echo of [her voice] remained in his memory", and having the "mortified sensation of having forgotten what she looked like". For Archer, whom had been criticised (not really sure what other word to use) by both May and Ellen for his fantasies ("we can't behave like people in novels though, can we?" and "we'll look, not at visions, but at realities"), perhaps the suddenness of this chance to finally escape the confinements of convention is too much. (But then again, 28 years is a really long time, so I guess my point is Archer will never be ready to face the real Ellen when he has his imaginary "Ellen" so perfectly conjured up in his fantasies.) His last line "It's more real to me here than if I went up" only strengthens my view that this whole time, the woman he was so deeply in love with is actually only a figment of his imagination, and if he chose to go up to meet the Ellen that he "knew so strangely little [of]", he would be destroying his very perfectly moulded and shaped image of her that he had kept by his side for more than half his life. That would probably be too much for him to handle. Perhaps he finally understood after so many years that the Ellen he loved most was his idea of her, and what she represents- the unconventional, freedom- basically what he couldn't have. And hence he accepted that his reality was to live with his imaginations (now this just sounds like me pulling a bad joke).
Another reason why he chose not to go see Ellen, is probably the fact that Archer is really and truly a conventionalist. Although many seem to think that Archer is just being a coward (and many supporters of Archer think likewise), it's really not that much of a crime to be a conventionalist. Like what Ckopphills has said, even in our current society, we have to balance our own wants and needs against that of others around us, so wouldn't Archer, who lived in Old New York, be compelled to follow even more strictly those unspoken social codes of theirs? I agree that because of the society he grew up in, even when many of us see the last chapter as an opportunity for him to pursue his love with Ellen, to him, he had probably already missed "the flower of life" a long time ago, when he chose to (or just submitted meekly, whichever way you see it) stay by May's side and fulfil his duty to May and to society. I've never thought of him as brave, perhaps only as a realist and a conventionalist, but after reading this thread, I'm starting to see that he did really make the best choice out of the available ones that he had. Of course we will never know if Archer would have really left May (since she sprung on him and us the pregnancy), but I feel that from what we've seen of Archer though out the first 33 chapters, we probably know enough to guess what his choice would have been.
Something that I've never thought of, although now I wonder how I could have missed it- the parallel between the scene at the pier and the last chapter, brought up by Liz and Jenna. That just cast Ellen in a new light for me, because for some time I always thought of it as an inevitable passage of time that resulted in the man-servant drawing the awnings, and not that Ellen herself had to foresight to predict Archer's inability to make the move, and hence made the choice for him. Indeed both times Archer only had to reach out and Ellen would be at his hands, but both times (the first time perhaps because he was trying to live out that scene from the Shaughran) he chose not to. I guess one has to thank Ellen for being the wiser one out of them then. (If not he might have sat there the whole night.)
Although it seems plausible that Archer and Ellen might actually end up together after the end of the novel, as seen from how Archer looked up Ellen in Boston, and the symbolism of Dallas, I personally doubt so. While I was reading the last chapter I could already feel the build up to the end, and the kind of feeling premonition that many of us would not see the end that we want (for those Archer-Ellen supporters). I believe Archer's character and behaviour throughout the whole novel has already decided the end of the novel even before we read it, so the way Chapter 34 played out was kind of like a wrapping up of loose ends, and Wharton conveying through Archer her thoughts about the rapidly changing social structure of Old New York into the liberal and less conventional society it is today. With my limited knowledge of Newland Archer, and his utmost conformity to the conventional society of his time, I honestly cannot see how the novel could have ended any way other than this published version. And I cannot see there being a future between Archer and Ellen as well, and to quote Marie "If they actually got together it never would have worked". Unless of course he learns to let go of the Ellen in his dreams and gets to know the real Ellen, but to do that he'd need to let go of everything he has ever known, including his duty which had already "unfitted [him] for doing anything else". So even though deep down I'm an Ellen-Archer supporter (I'm a super supporter of romances (even more so impossible romances)) I don't see how they can ever have a happy ending together, given the era Archer and Ellen lived in. It's kind of bittersweet how Dallas, Archer's son, could be together with Fanny Beaufort, and to me it seems like Wharton suggesting that if not for the society they were born in; if only they were born in Dallas's and Fanny's time, Archer and Ellen could have lived out the romance between them. By that new age, "nobody was narrow-minded enough to rake up against her the half-forgotten facts of her father's past and her own origin", and "nobody was surprised when Dallas's engagement was announced", because Dallas and Fanny didn't have those "old-fashioned" conventions and unspoken social codes keeping them apart. I view Dallas and Fanny two ways- one way as a bittersweet reminder of what Archer and Ellen could have, if only they were born later, but also as a reminder that precisely because Archer is Newland Archer of Old New York, and Ellen the foreigner in that society, that their story could have even happened. Perhaps Wharton is suggesting that although a different destiny is possible in a new time, the characters of Old New York are ultimately products of their own society, and if Archer were to have acted differently and chosen differently, he wouldn't have truly been the Archer that we all know.
Just some of my thoughts!! Kind of incoherent at times but that's what I feel about Archer and this ending scene. I know I didn't really talk about May but I believe that was due to my own personal bias towards Archer, as flawed and idealistic as he may be. I just can't relate to May that much.

Edith Wharton doesn't give us much to say about May. She seems like a type-- earnest and naive, and used to getting her way-- because she always has right on her side. I think Archer wants May to be supported and rewarded for having her mind and heart always facing toward the uncomplicated right. She seems as symbolic to Archer as Ellen is, without him really knowing either one. He is a purist in many ways, perhaps. He admires Ellen's bravery for flouting convention and not hiding herself away, yet he wants May's world of innocence to be upheld and honored, because that's "the way things should be". For May and all she represents to "win" brings him a moral peace. That he ignores the yearnings of his heart, might make him think of himself as a tragic hero in his own view. Tragic in the sense that he can't live with the same purity of purpose as does Ellen, May, Dallas and Fannie. Because he has a choice, though, I don't see him as tragic, but maybe just a figure of wistfulness.
Perhaps "wistful" is how Edith Wharton was feeling toward New York in general. She isn't as severe in this book toward her characters as she is in "The House of Mirth" and "Ethan Frome". She lets Archer have his innocence without punishing him for it.

The other thing I want to say is the discussion regarding the beach and then the ending scene with the blind and how Ellen remains more gone than present in Newland's life... Remember the line in the movie when Ellen says to him about the Vandelion's "Perhaps that is what makes them so influential, that they make themselves scarce." This statement mirrors later her actions of appearing to Newland scarcely and "happening to him all over again" when she does. The last thing I want to talk about is the villain May!! Yes before they marry she asks Newland if there is someone else and insists she doesn't want to be the cause of anyone's unhappiness. To me its clear she knows there is someone else and marries him with that knowledge even though he foolishly protests. She knows its Ellen and just does everything she can to suck the dreams out of Newland the dreamer. In the movie when he is with her he can't breathe so he sticks his head out the window and she reprimands him saying "You'll catch your death." She tells him he cannot travel and to eliminate Ellen she tells her she is pregnant before she is even certain herself she is. She then tells her son before her death that she knows "they would be safe with their father because when she asked him to he gave up the thing he wanted most." How can you say you love someone if you ask them to do such a thing! She was more interested in securing a marriage for herself than having a husband who loved her. And she knew something was up with Ellen before she went through with the wedding! Newland married her, yes he did, but she was a suffocating leech to him. Nowadays relationships in the earliest dating stages would not survive such a thing let alone a marriage! Wharton says of Newland "he's been dead for months" referring to his time of marriage to her. More than conventions suffocating him it was having this manipulative wife who was completely unsupportive of the man he was. His conformation was to her not society. Arthur is given his innocence as Lizbeth said so Wharton could redeem her own with her readers.... A very forward thinking woman of her time, she shows us the price to be paid when we don't take that risk of being true to who we are. And through indecision and inaction we are our own wardens.

I think that Newland Archer has some issues with personal fullfillment vs. personal sacrifice.
I can't fault him for being as self involved as most of his social circle, but I can't feel much sympathy for him either. He is so self conscious about everything:
"His whole future seemed suddenly to be rolling before him; and passing down it's endless emptiness he saw the dwindling figure of a man to whom nothing was ever to happen..."
Oh, boo hoo - he doesn't ever have to worry about survival, or even making a living. He has all his basic needs taken care of by servants. He complains about May, but she is exactly the type of woman he chose for a wife. His big dilemma is brought on by his desire to conform. He says that he only started to really live when Ellen was around him and everything else about his life felt false, but he is not willing to change anything.



After reading Katie's comments about Edith Wharton's own life (which I had never read about) I went to Wikipedia and looked it up. You guys-- her life was way more interesting and dramatic than any of the characters and situations she imagined.
As pertaining to this particular thread, and perhaps an appetizer for the wiki article, Edith's middle name was NewBOLD. And was she ever!

Why does anyone think Newland does this? Is he afraid of what he might find if he sees her?