Documente Academic
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1547-7045Studies
0049-7878
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Womens
Studies, Vol. 39, No. 3, Jan 2010: pp. 00
RightsMischa
Alicia
and Justice
Renfroe
in Whartons The Reef
In this comment to her fianc, George Darrow, Anna Leath succinctly summarizes the tangled connections that bind the characters together in Edith Whartons The Reef (1912). Often
described as the most Jamesian of Whartons novels, The Reef
tracks the complicated relationships among Anna Leath, her
childhood sweetheart George Darrow, her step-son Owen Leath,
and her daughters governess Sophy Viner. Anna and Darrow
reunite by chance after the death of Annas husband, Fraser
Leath. While on his way to see Anna, Darrow meets Sophy Viner
during a Paris stop where they have a brief affair, and when Darrow
finally arrives at Givr (Annas home), he discovers that Sophy is
actually Annas young daughters governess and that she is also
engaged to Owen. In a conversation with Sophy shortly after they
are reunited at Givr, Darrow describes their relationship in a way
that highlights several of the novels concerns:
As to my reasons for wanting to help you, a good deal depends on the
words one uses to define rather indefinite things. Its true enough that I
want to help you; but the wish isnt due to . . . to any past kindness on your
part, but simply to my own interest in you. Why not put it that our friendship gives me the right to intervene for what I believe to be your benefit?
(165, ellipses in original)
I would like to thank John Hart, Mary Papke, Allen Dunn, Charles Maland, and Otis
Stephens for commenting on various versions of this article. I would also like to thank audiences at the Association for the Study of Law, Culture, and the Humanities conference
and at the John J. College of Criminal Justices Law and Literature conference for their
perceptive questions and comments on earlier versions of several parts of this article.
Address correspondence to Alicia Mischa Renfroe, English Department, MTSU P.O.
Box 70, 1301 East Main Street, Murfreesboro, TN 37132. E-mail: mrenfroe@mtsu.edu
238
239
1
For instance, Laura K. Johnson argues that The House of Mirth (1905) and Glimpses of
the Moon (1922) evaluate competing claims within the legal definition of marriage and
that Whartons preoccupation with the laws terms created an unresolved tension in her
fiction (947). Taking a different approach, Elaine N. Orr suggests that The House of Mirth
provides an alternative model of negotiation to the legalistic contractual negotiation (55)
in which human interaction is adversarial, competitive, and self-interested (56). For Orr,
relational or empathetic problem solving, on the other hand, is the alternative pattern of
negotiation whispered in Whartons novel through Lilys desire for friendship and her
dawning awareness of the need for emotional, and not merely monetary, connections
(56). Several pieces have also appeared on Summer (1918), including my Prior Claims and
Sovereign Rights: The Sexual Contract in Edith Whartons Summer. In this article, I situate rights-claims specifically in the context of the social contract and its underlying sexual
contract. See also Rhonda Skillerns Becoming a Good Girl: Law, Language, and Ritual
in Edith Whartons Summer for an account of Charitys integration into the Law of the
Father as well as its manifestation in our patriarchal legal system. On The Reef, Anne MacMaster
notes that Whartons plots often feature two women who assert competing claims for the
possession of one man, the legal claim (like marriage or engagement) usually preceding
the otherillegitimateclaim (29); however, MacMaster does not provide an in-depth
analysis of the way that law or legal language might work in the text.
240
Numerous political theorists and legal scholars take issue with Berlins approach. See
Michael Sandels Liberalism and the Limits of Justice for one example.
241
Dimock and others note some problems with Gilligans gendering of justice without
analyzing possible social aspects that may produce the difference between men and women.
I agree with Dimocks claim that Gilligans approach is unduly polarizing (8) even as it
highlights an important distinction.
242
243
244
before: I am too ill to see you. Dont you understand that what hurts me
is not the fact of the change, which I find myself able to accept with a kind
of cheerful stoicism that reassures me?Its not that, Dear, but the pain,
the unutterable pain of thinking you incapable of understanding my
frankness & my honest desire to let you lead your own life.You say:
I will be all you have the right to expect.If I have any rights, I
renounce them. (Letters 19697)
245
privilege; when he left her after their most recent reunion, he did
so with the sense that he was a being singled out and privileged,
to whom she had entrusted something precious to keep (20).
For Darrow, this exchange amounts to a gift left to him to do
with as he willed (20). Though he does not explain what the
something precious actually is, his language makes it clear that
he believes Anna has given something up so that his privilege is
derived from her corresponding loss.
Darrows reaction to her delay of their plans to meet at
Givr, the ancestral home of Annas deceased first husband,
Arthur Leath, suggests the extent of the privilege he believes that
she has granted him. Darrow, then, sees their relationship in
highly legalistic terms in which his privilege is clearly defined in
relation to Annas corresponding duty. Following a rights-based
conception of justice and its account of the person, Darrow privileges clear-cut contractual obligations in which promises should
be kept. Such a conception of their relationship fosters a sense of
stability undermined by Annas telegram and the unexpected
nature of the obstacle. Though it is not entirely clear what Annas
duty may be, at least a part of it may include Annas relinquishment of the right to change her mind, a right which is essential
to her own agency. Later, as he hopes for a letter from Anna, he
imagines that its contents might annul the writers telegraphed
injunction, and call him to her side at once (55). It is significant
that Darrow does not merely want Anna to change her mind
again and then to summon him to Givr; instead, he wants an
annulment, a legal instrument designed to nullify whatever agreement preceded it, which would completely negate her act of
agency. Indeed, Blacks Law Dictionary defines annul generally as
to reduce to nothing, a definition that suggests Darrows desire
to reduce Annas act of agency to nothing.6 In Darrows imagination, Anna becomes, in this sense, a non-entity with no rights.
In legal terms, her telegram would no longer exist, and the
annulment would erase the evidence that Anna did, in fact,
change her mind. Since Wharton opens the novel in Darrows
6
The full definition is even more telling: to reduce to nothing; annihilate; obliterate;
to make void or of no effect; to nullify; to abolish; to do away with. To cancel; destroy;
abrogate. To annul a judgment or judicial proceeding is to deprive it of all force and
operation, either ab inito [from the first act] or prospectively as to future transactions.
246
point of view and alternates between Darrow and Anna for the
rest of the novel, readers do not know Annas reason for the
change until much later when her perspective becomes the focus.
As the language in the opening section suggests, contractual logic
infuses Darrows perception of their relationship and enables
him to reduce it to clear-cut rights and privileges that erase
Annas prior obligations.
Wharton complicates this initial account of Darrows relationship with Anna by creating the first in a series of triangles:
Darrow, Anna, and Sophy. Through a chance meeting, Darrow
falls into an affair with Sophy, a beautiful young woman he
had briefly met during an earlier visit to her former employer,
Mrs. Murrett. Like Darrow, Sophy also uses the language of
rights in the classical liberal sense (as a way to claim a right to
a particular thing), and she clearly connects rights with ownership
and property. When Sophy and Darrow discuss Darrows past
relationship with Lady Urlica, another member of Mrs. Murretts
circle, Sophy explains:
YesI was envious of Lady Urlica . . . because she had almost all the things
Ive always wanted: clothes and fun and motors, and admiration and
yachting and Paris. . . . And how do you suppose a girl can see that sort of
thing about her day after day, and never wonder why some women, who
dont seem to have any more right to it, have it all tumbled into their laps,
while others are writing dinner invitations, and straightening out accounts,
and copying visiting lists, and finishing golf-stockings, and matching ribbon,
and seeing that the dogs get their sulphur? One looks in ones glass after
all! (32, ellipses in original)
247
248
249
250
251
this sense of his understanding was the deepest element in their feeling
for each other. There were so many things between them that were never
spoken of, or even indirectly alluded to, yet that, even in their occasional
discussions and differences, formed the unadduced arguments making
for final agreement. (102)
Their connection defies reduction to a simple exchange that produces corresponding rights and duties in the parties. By establishing
this strange connection between Anna and Owen, Wharton introduces yet another triangle, AnnaOwenDarrow, that further
complicates any attempt to describe these relationships in terms
of clear-cut rights, duties, or contractual obligations between two
parties. As these relationships become more and more complicated,
it becomes more and more difficult to determine the justness of a
particular action or decision.
Both Anna and Darrow have pre-existing commitments that
impact their relationship, particularly when they make additional
promises to Owen and to Sophy. In both cases, contractual logic
falters when confronted with this web of complex, interconnected
relationships. Darrow becomes uneasy when he realizes that Anna
has obligations to Owen, just as he has obligations to Sophy, that
complicate their obligations to each other. Indeed, Darrows logic
follows the legal systems attempt to rank relationships based on
legal categories. He seems troubled by Annas sense of duty to
Owen and states that when Owen is settled, Owen must recognize
that Darrow has the first claim on Anna (120). In spite of Darrows
uncertainty, Anna refuses to offer further explanations, again
asserting her promise to Owen: Ive promised Owen not to tell
anyone (121). Eventually, Darrow promises to help Anna secure
Owens future happiness, though Darrow does not know that this
promise involves Sophy Viner; Darrow states that together they
cant fail to pull it off! (131). At the end of this exchange, they
share a long kiss of communion (127) that Darrow may see as at
least a partial fulfillment of the girlhood promises which her
lips were afraid to keep (41). This sexual promise awakens Darrow
to the high privilege of possessing her, and he likens her to a
picture so hung that it can be seen only at a certain angle: an
angle known to no one but its possessor. The thought flattered
his sense of possessorship . . . (128, ellipses in original). His
sense of ownership is later echoed by Anna as she experiences
252
feelings that are richer, deeper, more enslaving than any she
had known before (292). Here, this informal contract, with its
sexual overtones, facilitates the commodification of the self,
and it is not surprising that Wharton describes these feelings as
enslaving for Anna.7
Darrows promise to help Anna to aid Owen creates yet another
triangle: DarrowSophyOwen. At Annas request and without
knowledge that Sophy is involved with Owen, Darrow becomes an
advocate, of sorts, for Owen by seeking the approval of Owens
marriage by Madame de Chantelle, the representative of the
forces of order and tradition (132). Here, Darrow simultaneously
occupies two conflicting and presumably mutually exclusive roles
Sophys former lover who vaguely promised to help her and
Annas fianc who promised to serve as Owens advocate. Caught
in these competing roles, Darrow quickly realizes that his relationships can no longer be understood as rights or obligations
between two parties. As he laments his plight, he realizes that the
situation, detestable at best, would have been relatively simple if
protecting Sophy Viner had been the only duty involved in it
(148). Though Darrow believes his duty to Sophy is paramount,
he must still recognize his contingent obligations (148).8
Legalistic language becomes increasingly prominent in the
conversations between Sophy and Darrow as the situation becomes
increasingly more complex. These conversations foreshadow
Sophys trial. According to Darrow, when Sophy arrives, her first
impulse was to defend her right to the place she had won, and to
learn as quickly as possible if he meant to dispute it (147 emphasis
mine). However, Darrow soon realizes that he lacks the necessary
facts to make a judgment about her (164), and, somewhat at a
loss, he appeals to her to listen to his reasons because theres
7
See Carol Patemans The Sexual Contract for an account of the sexual contract that
precedes and underpins the social contract and the legal contracts that flow from it.
Patemans emphasis on the sexual contract highlights that moment when women become
subordinated to man as men instead of as paternalistic fathers (3).
8
Darrow reiterates this dilemma: He had patched up as decent a conclusion as he
could to an incident that should obviously have no sequel; but he had known all along
that with the securing of Miss Viners peace of mind only a part of his obligation was
discharged, and that with that part of his obligation his remaining duty was in conflict. It
had been his first business to convince the girl that their secret was safe with him; but it
was far from easy to square this with the equally urgent obligation of safe-guarding Annas
responsibility toward her child (161).
253
been time, on both sides, to think them over (164). This attention to both sides reinforces the adversarial nature of the situation as well as the conception of justice as a way to resolve
competing claims, one of which must trump the other. Sophy
assumes that he is renewing his offer to help her out of more
than a sense of personal obligation to her; she implies that he
offers his help because he believes he owes something to Anna
Leath (165). Darrow, refusing to respond directly to her allegation, points out that, when it comes to reasons, a good deal
depends on the words one uses to define rather indefinite things,
and he appeals to what he calls a right granted by their friendship to intervene in her benefit (165). Here, their competing
visions of their respective rights set the stage for a standoff.
Like a good courtroom lawyer presenting her own case
with cold lucidity (166), Sophy uses Darrows own words against
him and, after getting Darrow to admit his friendship with Anna,
makes the logical leap that, just as his friendship with her affords
him certain rights, his friendship with Anna might create the
justification, or even the duty, for his advising Anna not to keep
Sophy as Effies governess (16566). Sophy finally explains that
she will not, in any case, be Effies governess long because she has
had another offer (167); however, Sophy does not explain that
this offer is a marriage proposal from Owen. When Sophy later
learns that Darrow has spoken to Madame de Chantelle about
Sophys potential marriage, Sophy powerfully asserts the language of
rights in her own defense and questions Darrow: By what right, I
should like to know? What have you to do with me, or anything in
the world that concerns me? (193). When Darrow explains that
Madame de Chantelle is against the marriage, Sophy reminds
him of his earlier promise to say nothing about their affair and
accuses him of believing that she has no right to marry Owen
(19394). Thus, Darrow finds himself torn between his obligation
to Sophy and his obligation to Anna. As this confusing series of
agreements suggests, complex relationships cannot be reduced
easily to clearly defined rights and duties that dictate a particular
course of action.
These competing rights require an outside arbiter of justice,
Madame de Chantelle, to make a final determination and pass
judgment on the charges against Sophy (185). Darrows first
perception of her is quite telling; he notes that she thought a
254
The diplomat Darrow can evoke his lineage to secure the ground
from which to make his case.
Indeed, this characterization of opposing powers again
echoes the sense of Givr as a court, here with Madame de Chantelle
as judge. Her power becomes apparent through Whartons quite
interesting use of the legally significant term summons. Blacks
Law Dictionary defines a summons as: a means of acquiring jurisdiction over a party.9 Significantly, Darrow is somewhat disconcerted by the summons he receives to meet with Madame de
Chantelle (179). Caught between competing claims and cast in
the role of reluctant advocate, Darrow clings to his promise to
Anna and defines his position in contractual terms even as he
admits that he promised her his helpbut before he knew what
he was promising (202). Acknowledging this promise, he admits
that he wants to speak on Sophys behalf and claims, I dont see
how I can make it either for or against her (202). Once again,
his language implies a standoff between two sides. Lacking both
property and social position, Sophy has no standing in the
court that will decide her fate. She is excluded and left without
a true advocate until the intervention of Adelaide Painter, Madame
de Chantelles pragmatic American friend, who is also frequently
9
255
256
Darrow complains that Anna will not allow him a voice (265)
when she dismisses him without a hearing (266). He urges Anna,
be just to me; it is your right (267). Here, Darrows remark conflates Annas identity as a just person with the very language that
renders that model of the self a paradox. Here, her right simply
masks what Darrow views as an obligation, a duty, to do him justice.
As these promises consume the text, Wharton describes the
court as having been damaged; indeed, Darrow noticed that the
gale of two days before had nearly stripped the tops of the lime
trees in the court (253). Annas viewpoint suggests a similar
mutilation of justice; she states that it was as though he and she
had been looking at two sides of the same thing, and the side she
had seen had been all light and life, and his a place of graves . . .
(255, ellipses in original). Annas shifting view of the complex
series of promises further suggests the intensity of her relationship with Owen. At first, she recognizes her connections to both
Owen and Darrow, claiming that Were all bound together in
this coil (253). However, like Darrow, she later attempts to categorize her obligations. Her duty to Owen soon reasserts itself as
she contends that she owed herself first to himshe was bound to
protect him not only from all knowledge of the secret she had
surprised but alsoand chiefly!from its consequences (256).
Similarly, Anna also implicitly acknowledges her duty to Owen as
she places Owens rights ahead of her own. When Sophy explains
that she plans to leave Givr, she describes her mistake as daring
to dream I had a right (284) and indicates that she is informing
Anna before Owen due to her obligations as Effies governess.
Anna responds thus: Owen has a right to ask that you should
consider him first before you think of his sister (222). For Sophy,
confessing her love for Darrow is an act of self justification; as she
puts it, it is that that justifies me (284). In contrast, Anna asserts
a negative conception of liberty, arguing that Sophy had no
right to let Owen love her (284). Just as Darrow earlier reduced
Anna to a non-entity with no right, so to does Anna erase Sophys
act of self-justification. In this sense, The Reef offers a powerful
critique of rights by highlighting a central paradox: the language
that articulates a claim to selfhood makes possible the erasure of
the self it calls into being.
As the novel nears its conclusion, then, it seems that Wharton
has resolved the problem of justice in the way that the legal system
257
doesby simply erasing the parties whose claims do not fit the
structure and privileging those with rights that do. Indeed, the
structure of the novel itself highlights this problem. Because
point of view alternates between Darrow and Anna, neither Sophy
nor Owen may testify on their own behalf. Both characters may
be erased because they are not granted control of the narrative.
With Sophy and Owen absent, it seems that justice can be served
in the usual fashionAnna and Darrow can resolve their dispute
supposedly apart from the many obligations they have incurred
with Sophy and Owen. Anna acknowledges that there were certain dishonors with which she had never dreamed that any pact
could be made because she had had an incorruptible passion
for good faith and fairness (277). However, Anna comes to an
important recognition: how can there be a best for you thats
made of someone elses worst? (289). In this moment, Anna
seems to recognize the threat to the self that is produced by
claiming a right defined through and created by a corresponding
loss to another.
However, Anna cannot completely escape the logic of this
system. Later, she recalls Darrows prediction that when she had
explored the intricacies and darknesses of her own heart her
judgment of others would be less absolute (293), and she realizes that she and Darrow belonged to each other (292).10 Only
after Anna sexually consummates their relationship does she
come to feel that they were bound together as two trees with
interwoven roots (328). Their new relationship subsumes Annas
sense of duty to Effie and, by implication, to Owen as well. Anna
states that she was his [Darrows] now, for life: there could never
be any question of sacrificing herself to Effies welfare, or to any
abstract sense of duty (315). Anna recognizes then that Darrow
gains new rights when she acknowledges that the sexual contact
confers privileges that however deferentially and tenderly he
claimed them . . . marked a difference and proclaimed a right
(324). With this comes the recognition that his right derives its
content from her loss.
10
Anna in part justifies her decision by universalizing Darrows behavior as she imagines
that her first husband might have had affairs as well: she wanted to think that all men
were like that because Darrow was like that; she wanted to justify her acceptance of the fact
by persuading herself that only through such concessions could women like herself hope
to keep what they would not give up (295).
258
259
11
MacNaughton refers to the final scene as an unsettling epilogue (222), and Wolff
aptly notes that we are left without even the means for assessing the dark suspicions
raised by Annas last visit: the essence of Sophy Viner eludes us entirely (210). Tuttleton,
in contrast, argues that Anna renounces the possibility of happiness as Darrows wife
(467). Also focusing on Annas renunciation, Gargano suggests that Annas repudiation
of both Sophy and Darrow is based on her . . . assurance . . . that every breach of trust undermines the fragile and constantly imperiled socio-moral structure (48). However, I
agree with MacNaughtons point that critics who find definite proof here that Anna
either will or will not return to George are simply deluding themselves (222).
260
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