CBBC Week Two: The Age of Innocence, Chapters 11-18

Past discussions:
Week One, chapters 1-10

Welcome to Week Two of Cool Bloggers Book Club (CBBC) for The Age of Innocence by Edith Wharton. This week we'll be discussing chapters 11-18. 

There is an Internet archive of the novel and all page numbers I use in this post will be from that edition. 

What happened in these chapters?

Archer is approached at his law office by the head of the firm, Mr. Letterblair. Letterblair informs Archer that the Mingott family wished to consult with Mr. Letterblair regarding the Countess Olenska's desire to divorce her husband. Letterblair thinks Archer should be in on it since he's going to marry into the family. Archer is a snot about it.

Theoretically, the idea of divorce was almost as distasteful to him as to his mother; and he was annoyed that Mr. Letterblair (no doubt prompted by old Catherine Mingott) should be so evidently planning to draw him into the affair. After all, there were plenty of Mingott men for such jobs, and as yet he was not even a Mingott by marriage. (page 91)

But then Letterblair gives Archer all of the paperwork associated with the divorce, including a letter from the Count to his wife that Archer thinks would hurt Olenska's reputation and therefore her family's reputation if information from it got out. 

Archer goes to see Olenska and he's annoyed because Beaufort is already there. They discuss the divorce and he recommends she forget the whole thing. 

"Very well; I will do what you wish," she said abruptly.  (page 111)

A few nights later, Archer is at the theater by himself because May is in St. Augustine. Olenska is there and she tells him she has stopped the divorce proceedings. As he's leaving the theatre, Archer runs into Ned Winsett, a journalist who knows who Olenska is because she was kind to his child. 

At his office the next day, Archer muses that he wishes he were in Florida with May. Working sucks, yo. He sends a note to Olenska and she responds that she's "run away" to Skuytercliff, the Hudson mansion belonging to the van der Luydens. Archer, of course, finds his way to Hudson the next weekend. He runs into Olenska in the park and Beaufort appears out of nowhere. A few days later, Ellen sends Archer a note asking to see him so she can explain the events at Skuytercliff. Instead of responding, he packs his bags and leaves for St. Augustine.

(Weird thing I don't understand. The book now switches between calling her Olenska/the Countess to Ellen. I shall follow suit, but I don't know why I'm doing it.)

Once in Florida, May is excited to see him. May's mother thanks Archer for convincing Ellen not to sue for divorce. Archer is secretly annoyed, feeling that by not allowing her to divorce, the Mingotts are ensuring that Ellen will eventually become the mistress of Beaufort rather than the lawful wife of some upstanding man.

Alone with May, Archer gets on her to shorten the length of their engagement. May asks why he wants a short engagement. She wonders if it because he is not quite certain that he wants to marry her. She is afraid that this is because he is still in love with his mistress of years past. May feels that if Archer is still in love, his passions for his mistress should come before his social obligations to May. Newland manages to reassure May that he loves her.  But then! Archer is a twat.

It was evident that the effort of speaking had been much greater than her studied composure betrayed, and that at his first word of reassurance she had dropped back into the usual, as a too-adventurous child takes refuge in its mother's arms.

Archer had no heart to go on pleading with her; he was too much disappointed at the vanishing of the new being who had cast that one deep look at him from her transparent eyes. May seemed to be aware of his disappointment, but without knowing how to alleviate it; and they stood up and walked silently home. (page 150)

Once Archer gets back to work (I mean, really, who can just go on vacation for a week with no notice? this is NOT the life I live), he goes to visit Mrs. Mingott. Ellen shows up and she and Archer make plans to meet up the next day. When he arrives at her house, there are three people there - Ned Winsett (the journalist from leaving the theater), Agathon Carver, and Ellen's aunt who raised her after her parents died, Medora Manson. Ellen's husband, the Count, had asked Medora to convince Ellen to return to their marriage. 

Archer overreacts, startling both me and Medora. 

"That she ought to go back? I would rather see her dead!" cried the young man violently. (page 161)

Everyone else leaves and Ellen and Archer are left alone and they discuss Medora's request. What follows is a scene that makes very little sense to me. Archer suddenly declares his love and says Ellen can get a divorce and he can break his engagement and they can get together. She refuses, responding that it was Archer himself who taught her that one's personal happiness should never come at the expense of pain for others. Just then, a telegram arrives from May, stating that the Wellands have consented to push forward the wedding date.

San is reading through Libby.

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Hat mentions (why hats?):

On the bench in the hall lay a sable-lined overcoat, a folded opera hat of dull silk with a gold J. B. on the lining, and a white silk muffler: there was no mistaking the fact that these costly articles were the property of Julius Beaufort. (page 102)

 She drew them away, and he turned to the door, found his coat and hat under the faint gaslight of the hall, and plunged out into the winter night bursting with the belated eloquence of the inarticulate. (page 111)

"Tell me what you do all day," he said, crossing his arms under his tilted-back head, and pushing his hat forward to screen the sun-dazzle.  (page 141)

...May, who was looking her loveliest under a wide-brimmed hat that cast a shadow of mystery over her too-clear eyes... (page 145)

She bowed her head, vanishing from him under her conniving hat-brim. (page 146)

Under her hat-brim he saw the pallor of her profile, and a slight tremor of the nostril above her resolutely steadied lips. (page 147)

hats and overcoats (page 155)

On it lay a ragged grey scarf and an odd felt hat of semiclerical shape. (page 156)

Jacquie's book

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Things I looked up:

Pharisees (page 94) - a member of an ancient Jewish group or sect distinguished by strict observance of the traditional and written law

a canvas-back with currant jelly and a celery mayonnaise (page 96) - This is the third time "canvas-back" has appeared in this book, so I decided I should finally look it up. It's a species of diving duck, the largest found in North America.

The play was "The Shaughraun," with Dion Boucicault in the title role and Harry Montague and Ada Dyas as the lovers. (page 112) - "The Shaughraun" is a melodramatic play written by Irish playwright Dion Boucicault. It was first performed at Wallack's Theatre, New York, on November 14, 1874. Dion Boucicault played Conn in the original production. The play was a huge success, making half a million dollars for Boucicault. Dyas and Motague were actors in the same time period, so these are real people 

By Wisconsin Center for Film and Theater Research - http://www.wisconsinhistory.org/whi/fullRecord.asp?id=89173, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=30006551

as fine as anything he had ever seen Croisette and Bressant do in Paris, or Madge Robertson and Kendal in London (page 113) - Sophie Croizette and Jean Baptiste Prosper Bressant; Dame Madge Kendal born Margaret Shafto Robertson and W. H. Kendal - All of these actors appear to be real. 

bock (page 120, 122) - a strong dark beer brewed in the fall and drunk in the spring

and finally, about midnight, he assisted in putting a gold-fish in one visitor's bed, dressed up a burglar in the bath-room of a nervous aunt (page 128) - What does this mean? HELP ME. Is this just a series of pranks? Who has ever heard of either of these things? Please explain. 

black velvet polonaise (page 151) - a woman's dress with a tight bodice and a skirt open from the waist downward, looped up to show a decorative underskirt

un peu sauvage (page 158) - French for a little wild

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Lines of notes:

"You know, when it comes to the point, your parents have always let you have your way ever since you were a little girl," he argued; and she had answered, with her clearest look: "Yes; and that's what makes it so hard to refuse the very last thing they'll ever ask of me as a little girl."

That was the old New York note; that was the kind of answer he would like always to be sure of his wife's making. If one had habitually breathed the New York air there were times when anything less crystalline seemed stifling. (page 93)

This entire exchange made me so sad. Poor May. Going from her parents' control to her husband's. 

Newland Archer had been aware of these things ever since he could remember, and had accepted them as part of the structure of his universe. He knew that there were societies where painters and poets and novelists and men of science, and even great actors, were as sought after as Dukes; he had often pictured to himself what it would have been to live in the intimacy of drawing-rooms dominated by the talk of Merimee (whose "Lettres a une Inconnue" was one of his inseparables), of Thackeray, Browning or William Morris. But such things were inconceivable in New York, and unsettling to think of. (page 101)

Yes, it's unsettling to think of yourself having conversation with interesting people. *sigh*

To preserve an unbroken domesticity was essential to his peace of mind; he would not have known where his hair-brushes were, or how to provide stamps for his letters, if Mrs. Welland had not been there to tell him. (page 117)

Well, it's nice to know that weaponized incompetence is not new to the 21st century. 

...she gave an adipose chuckle and patted his knee with her puff-ball hand. (page 152)

SO MEAN.

Archer, changing colour, stood up also: it was the bitterest rebuke she could have given him. "I have never made love to you," he said, "and I never shall. But you are the woman I would have married if it had been possible for either of us." (page 169) 

This scene is so sudden and bizarre to me. 

mbmom11's book with Espurr as a gorgeous model

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Questions to ponder:

1. What's going on with Ellen and Beaufort? Why does Archer react so strongly to Beaufort?

2. Anybody else caught off-guard by Archer and Ellen's sudden outburst of love for each other? It seems like they've spoken very little to each other and it's been so fraught with talk of the divorce and her place in society. It's like a dumb insta-love trope in a modern romance novel. AND now we're in a "love" triangle with Archer, Ellen, and May.

3. Do we think Archer is cheating on May here? Should he be honest with May about what's going on with Ellen? Do we feel sorry for Archer because of how constrained things are for him? 

4. Anyone else annoyed that the POV here is Archer? I hate it. He's the least interesting.

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Homework for you: 

Okay, this book is set among the wealthy during the Gilded Age (1870s), a time in which the United States rose to power as an economic force, while more than 90% of its citizens were living in poverty. It's just a few years past the Civil War, but that war has (at least so far) not been mentioned. Immigration, poverty, voting rights - these are not topics Wharton has her characters grapple with. Since Wharton was writing this in the late 1910s/early 1920s in the wake of WWI, what point do you think she's trying to make by writing about New York high society? 

Are there any remnants of the Gilded Age near you? Leftover buildings, landmarks? Send them my way!

(If you want to send me a photo of your book, but forgot to do so this week, feel free to send it along this week!)

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Upcoming CBBC schedule:

Monday, February 16: Chapters 19-26
Monday, February 23: Chapter 27-34
Monday, March 2: Wrap-up