Lily's Desire of Discovery

          A common, and perhaps well-hidden, theme throughout The House of Mirth is that while Lily is so apt to analyze everyone around her, deep down, as revealed by characters like Lawrence Selden, Miss Bart wishes to be inspected and understood with the same precision and accuracy she bestows upon the individuals under her observation: “She had never heard him speak with such affirmation. His habitual touch was that of the eclectic who lightly turns over and compares; and she was moved by this sudden glimpse into the laboratory where his faiths were formed” (Wharton, 62). At this point Lily begins to chip away at the perhaps reserved intelligence and perceptiveness of Selden, who, in his typically lackadaisical manner, goes on to describe an interesting philosophy of free-will and optimistic self-determinism the lawyer calls the “republic of the spirit”, aka the bachelor’s definition of success; as opposed to Lily’s predictable and perhaps unusually naïve explanation that success is: “to get as much as one can out of life” (Wharton, 60). Such a narrow-minded response seems to justify Selden’s cynicism toward Lily’s behavior and need for affluence. At the same time though, the answer given may be more evident of the social conditioning Miss Bart has received and less reflective of her true nature, which Selden suspects to be wholly artificial and self-serving; however, considering how little we truly know of Lily added with the short allowance of time we’ve had to judge her motives and actions, I think it would be unfair to sell her out as simply “manipulative”.

          Wind the clock backward during the duo’s conversation and a person sees a curious moment of genuine shame felt by Miss Bart about herself that leads one to suspect her desire for wealth is simply an enumerated value: that in fact under the surface of her seemingly selfish visage lies a more innocent and romantic sense of ideals. By setting off her more important priorities (or at least the professed ones), Lily, whether or not she is aware, commits the slip of revealing a more tender side, a side perhaps more like Selden then either parties realize. Take for example her sudden concern at being categorized as shallow or ignoble by her male friend: “You think me horribly sordid, don’t you? But perhaps it’s rather that I never had any choice. There was no one, I mean, to tell me about the republic of the spirit” (Wharton, 60). In quickly saving face for her unwonted show of weakness by giving excuses, Lily inadvertently sentences herself to being guilty of actually caring about what Selden thinks of her; why else bother trying to justify her motive to marry a wealthy man? The question then remains: if Selden is aware but hiding his knowledge of Lily’s soft spot for him, how will he react later throughout the novel? I think it won’t be long before this inquiry is answered; honestly my hunch is that the growing intimacy between the two will become the ultimate conflict of Edith Wharton’s book. 

Picture Source: https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEih0oaMcfQaZ68gnunr0DeUSJc2tA8jCVwrOWMwPZ5drN1quM3xEsDk7xefTKbRe7qmTLtMCTszTxXN7mOI22SPMd2GJ5tGUAAC5oEQp5q80lgSL14gKT4DfEFVfypDOYxN9BPHI6jMIoG-/s1600/houseofmirth.jpg