Which of the domestic palaces in Edith Wharton's The House of Joy claims to be the titular source for the tragic novel? Each offers strong evidence in its favor. There is the bucolic decadence of Trenor’s Bellomont; the old financial severity of Mrs. Peniston's home on Fifth Avenue; the exhibitionism of the nouveau riche at the Wellington Brys residence; the flirtatious intrigue of Sabrina of Dorset; the flamboyant societal fringe in Gormer; the “scorching splendor and indolence” that fills the room of the rootless Mrs. Norma Hatch at the Emporium Hotel; and, of course, the ironic dilapidation of Lawrence Selden and Gerty Farish's apartments (289). So where should we look for the locus of the “joy” that Ms. Wharton’s title promises? The answer, as the reader will soon discover, is nowhere and everywhere at the same time, for this house is one whose roof menacingly dominates the entire world of the novel's characters. Say no to plagiarism. Get a tailor-made essay on "Why violent video games should not be banned"? Get an original essay At the center of this world is Lily Bart, a beautiful but poor young woman, living on the allowance of her wealthy Aunt Peniston and good ones. the humor of his rich friends. Determined to achieve a financially happy "marriage", Lily has spent the last ten years making her way in the high society marriage market. She is getting older, her marriage more imperative. As she herself admits: “I am horribly poor – and very expensive. I must have a lot of money” (24). But why does Lily have to have a lot of money? Quite simply because she was inculcated with the extravagance of the wealthy. Her tastes range from the fanciful to the opulent, and she acts primarily to satisfy "her sense of beauty and her desire for the outward finish of life" (8). The victim of a decadent and ultimately disastrous education, she feels both constrained and repelled by the social world in which she operates. “Well, the beginning was in my cradle, I suppose,” Lily laments, “in the way I was raised and the things I was taught to take care of” (237). Ms. Wharton never allows her readers to forget that Lily's physical and moral lessons follow the orders of fate and not of the novel's heroine. Even in a leisurely moment at the beginning of the novel, the author notes of the young woman adorned with jewels: "she was so obviously the victim of the civilization which had produced her that the links of her bracelet seemed like handcuffs chaining him to his fate” (6). Only a little later do we hear the narrator speak of Lily's life that "it was a hateful fate - but how to escape it? What choice did she have?" (25) Indeed, what choice do we have as readers if Ms. Wharton insists - so early in her novel - on the destruction of fin de siècle New York society in an atmosphere of stifling Calvinist predestination? Lily continues to go about her business in an effort to secure financial contentment, but we quickly sense that none of her choices will suddenly lift happiness above the dark horizon. And in feeling this, the reader turns out to be absolutely right. After the failure of a possible marriage with the insufferable Percy Gryce, Lily asks the husband of her friend Judy Trenor, Gus, to help her invest the small sum in his possession. She quickly earns a small fortune from her "speculations", only to discover that the money comes directly from Gus's pocket. By then, we shouldn't be surprised to learn, it's too late for Lily. Gus attempts to sexually take advantage of Lily's debt to him, only to be reprimanded by the furious young woman. She swears to repay the debt andto put his affairs in order, partly in homage to the scruples of his friend Lawrence Selden, partly under the impetus of his own moral imperative. Lily's strong moral fiber is perhaps the most frustrating quality bestowed upon her by Mrs. Wharton. on its poorly starred heroine. Despite her frivolous and inexorable attachments, Lily recognizes that society can be reduced to the "great gilded cage into which they were all crammed for the crowd to gawk at" (56). Stripped of its marble halls, its silk robes, its indulgent meals, this world offers little more than its own claustrophobic confines; it is, as Lily thinks, a cage occupied by captives who, “once arrived by plane, could never regain their freedom” (56). These doubts are strong enough to prevent her from committing to a worldly marriage, but too weak to drive her out of society altogether. Lily also has a sympathetic, if passive, eye for the two oppressed groups in the novel, namely women and the poor. Her own position makes her very aware that society and marriage subordinate women. “As for her clothes,” Lily asserts, “we're supposed to look pretty and well-dressed until we drop—and if we can't go on alone, we must partner up” (10). , she continues, is that “a girl has to do it, a man can do it if he wants.” However, many believe that with enough gusto and courage, a girl can choose. This is the belief put forward by Lawrence Selden, who longs for Lily to seize "the touch of wild freedom" that he suspects is in her nature, and by Gerty Farish, who wants her to follow through on his “generous impulses” (70, 164). It is also the belief of this critic, who wishes that Ms. Wharton had also shown the courage to make her heroine eschew the dull social circuit for a life of thoughtful self-reliance. But since we know from the beginning that Lily Bart only moves under the compulsion of a "heinous fate," we can hardly expect her to break free. While Selden's idea of ​​success as a "republic of the mind" tempts her, her own theory - that it's about "making the most out of life" - tyrannizes her into walking straight. ahead on the path to destruction. 70). She takes another very big step on this path by accepting an invitation from her friend Bertha Dorset to take a cruise around the Mediterranean. Although she wishes this trip to be an escape from her miserable debt to Trenor, Lily ends up serving as a distraction for George Dorset while his wife continues her infidelities with Ned Silverton. When George confronts Bertha about her behavior, the treacherous Bertha turns the whole debacle into an accusation against Lily. She is ruined in the eyes of society and, upon her return to New York, disinherited from the estate of her recently deceased aunt. Penniless and proud, Lily plods through the dregs of society rather than abandon her privileged lifestyle. But at the same time, she clings tightly to her scruples. She refuses to use certain incriminating letters to blackmail Bertha (a surefire way to be readmitted into her old social circle) and she never loses sight of her intentions to repay Trenor. Lily's grace under humiliating pressure only confirms something we suspected throughout the novel - she is much better than the society she belongs to. We see it, Selden sees it, why can't Lily see it? Or, the more prickly reader might ask, why doesn't Selden work harder to make Lily see him? Even Mrs. Wharton seems to be silently imploring him to come on stage and ;.