Introduction:
Anti-Semitism in the 19th and early 20th centuries was a huge problem in America as well as around the world. Anti-Semitic feelings and Jewish racial stereotypes were commonly expressed by well-known 19th century American fiction writers such as F. Scott Fitzgerald (Goldman, 25), Edith Wharton, Henry James (Goldman, 30), and Frank Norris. Jewish literary representations often contained many of the common stereotypes associated with the Jewish race. Jewish immigration to the United States in the 19th century lead to fear and misunderstandings of Jewish character and motives. New York City became the “hub of American Jewish life” in the late 1800’s after the Jewish immigrants grew to become “one-quarter of the city’s population” (Foner, 105). American writers began to express their fear of the “Hebrew conquest of New York” in fiction literature (Cheyette, 6). Edith Wharton’s The House of Mirth provides an excellent example of the mixed feelings and upper class American prejudice towards Jews. Below are two excerpts from her novel and an analysis on the anti-Semitic views and Jewish stereotypes observed in each example.
Plot Introduction of Excerpt 1:
This first excerpt is taken from the end of the first chapter through the beginning of the second. Lilly Bart, the heroine of the story, is just leaving the residence of Lawrence Selden, a friend and lawyer who attempts to gain the affection of Lilly. She runs into Simon Rosedale, a wealthy Jewish banker and the owner of Selden's apartment complex. Lilly is embarrassed about taking tea alone with Mr. Selden, so she attempts to lie about her reasons for being in the area.
Excerpt 1:
Continued from Book I, Chapter I
"Oh, Mr. Rosedale--how are you?" she said, perceiving that the irrepressible annoyance on her face was reflected in the sudden intimacy of his smile.
Mr. Rosedale stood scanning her with interest and approval. He was a plump rosy man of the blond Jewish type, with smart London clothes fitting him like upholstery, and small sidelong eyes which gave him the air of appraising people as if they were bric-a-brac. He glanced up interrogatively at the porch of the Benedick.
"Been up to town for a little shopping, I suppose?" he said, in a tone which had the familiarity of a touch.
Miss Bart shrank from it slightly, and then flung herself into precipitate explanations.
"Yes--I came up to see my dress-maker. I am just on my way to catch the train to the Trenors'."
"Ah--your dress-maker; just so," he said blandly. "I didn't know there were any dress-makers in the Benedick."
"The Benedick?" She looked gently puzzled. "Is that the name of this building?"
"Yes, that's the name: I believe it's an old word for bachelor, isn't it? I happen to own the building--that's the way I know." His smile deepened as he added with increasing assurance: "But you must let me take you to the station. The Trenors are at Bellomont, of course? You've barely time to catch the five-forty. The dress-maker kept you waiting, I suppose."
Lily stiffened under the pleasantry.
"Oh, thanks," she stammered; and at that moment her eye caught a hansom drifting down Madison Avenue, and she hailed it with a desperate gesture.
"You're very kind; but I couldn't think of troubling you," she said, extending her hand to Mr. Rosedale; and heedless of his protestations, she sprang into the rescuing vehicle, and called out a breathless order to the driver.
Book I, Chapter II
In the hansom she leaned back with a sigh.
Why must a girl pay so dearly for her least escape from routine? Why could one never do a natural thing without having to screen it behind a structure of artifice? She had yielded to a passing impulse in going to Lawrence Selden's rooms, and it was so seldom that she could allow herself the luxury of an impulse! This one, at any rate, was going to cost her rather more than she could afford. She was vexed to see that, in spite of so many years of vigilance, she had blundered twice within five minutes. That stupid story about her dress-maker was bad enough--it would have been so simple to tell Rosedale that she had been taking tea with Selden! The mere statement of the fact would have rendered it innocuous. But, after having let herself be surprised in a falsehood, it was doubly stupid to snub the witness of her discomfiture. If she had had the presence of mind to let Rosedale drive her to the station, the concession might have purchased his silence. He had his race's accuracy in the appraisal of values, and to be seen walking down the platform at the crowded afternoon hour in the company of Miss Lily Bart would have been money in his pocket, as he might himself have phrased it. He knew, of course, that there would be a large house-party at Bellomont, and the possibility of being taken for one of Mrs. Trenor's guests was doubtless included in his calculations. Mr. Rosedale was still at a stage in his social ascent when it was of importance to produce such impressions.
The provoking part was that Lily knew all this--knew how easy it would have been to silence him on the spot, and how difficult it might be to do so afterward. Mr. Simon Rosedale was a man who made it his business to know everything about every one, whose idea of showing himself to be at home in society was to display an inconvenient familiarity with the habits of those with whom he wished to be thought intimate. Lily was sure that within twenty-four hours the story of her visiting her dress-maker at the Benedick would be in active circulation among Mr. Rosedale's acquaintances. The worst of it was that she had always snubbed and ignored him. On his first appearance--when her improvident cousin, Jack Stepney, had obtained for him (in return for favours too easily guessed) a card to one of the vast impersonal Van Osburgh "crushes"--Rosedale, with that mixture of artistic sensibility and business astuteness which characterizes his race, had instantly gravitated toward Miss Bart. She understood his motives, for her own course was guided by as nice calculations. Training and experience had taught her to be hospitable to newcomers, since the most unpromising might be useful later on, and there were plenty of available oubliettes to swallow them if they were not. But some intuitive repugnance, getting the better of years of social discipline, had made her push Mr. Rosedale into his oubliette without a trial. He had left behind only the ripple of amusement which his speedy despatch had caused among her friends; and though later (to shift the metaphor) he reappeared lower down the stream, it was only in fleeting glimpses, with long submergences between.
Hitherto Lily had been undisturbed by scruples. In her little set Mr. Rosedale had been pronounced "impossible," and Jack Stepney roundly snubbed for his attempt to pay his debts in dinner invitations. Even Mrs. Trenor, whose taste for variety had led her into some hazardous experiments, resisted Jack's attempts to disguise Mr. Rosedale as a novelty, and declared that he was the same little Jew who had been served up and rejected at the social board a dozen times within her memory; and while Judy Trenor was obdurate there was small chance of Mr. Rosedale's penetrating beyond the outer limbo of the Van Osburgh crushes. Jack gave up the contest with a laughing "You'll see," and, sticking manfully to his guns, showed himself with Rosedale at the fashionable restaurants, in company with the personally vivid if socially obscure ladies who are available for such purposes. But the attempt had hitherto been vain, and as Rosedale undoubtedly paid for the dinners, the laugh remained with his debtor.
Mr. Rosedale, it will be seen, was thus far not a factor to be feared--unless one put one's self in his power. And this was precisely what Miss Bart had done. Her clumsy fib had let him see that she had something to conceal; and she was sure he had a score to settle with her. Something in his smile told her he had not forgotten. She turned from the thought with a little shiver, but it hung on her all the way to the station, and dogged her down the platform with the persistency of Mr. Rosedale himself.
(Wharton, 48-51)
Analysis of Excerpt 1:
Mr. Rosedale is represented as a rich, socially unacceptable Jew in Lilly Bart's high class New York society. He has been "snubbed" time and again by the people who Lilly associates herself with, simply because of his heritage. He is lacking the fine taste of the upper class men of New York and displays a certain vulgarity commonly associated with his race. Rosedale is described as a "plump rosy man of the blond Jewish type, with smart London clothes fitting him like upholstery, and small sidelong eyes" (Wharton, 48).
The racial stereotypes that commonly characterized a Jew are immediately referred to when introducing Rosedale (Wilson, 465). He shows an unacceptable "intimacy," "pleasantry," and "familiarity" when he addresses Lilly, which she instinctively displays an "intuitive repugnance" toward (Wharton 49, 50). This lack of appropriate manners is a racial stereotype that emphasizes the belief that most characteristics are a product of racial inheritance (Goldman, 30; Wilson, 465). He extends this inappropriate intimacy to others and Lilly explains that he "display[s] an inconvenient familiarity with the habits of those with whom he wished to be thought intimate” and that he "made it his business to know everything about everyone" (Wharton, 50). Mr. Rosedale realizes the power of knowledge in the upper class New York society in which he is attempting to belong. Lilly recognizes this power as well and reveals her unease at the situation when she states that Rosedale “was thus far not a factor to be feared—unless one put one's self in his power. And this was precisely what [she] had done” (Wharton, 51).
Rosedale is also described as having a "mixture of artistic sensibility and business astuteness which characterizes his race" (Wharton, 50). Furthermore, he boasts that he owns the apartment building in which Selden lives, showing yet another assumed characteristic of the Jewish population, their overtaking of the New York real estate (Goldman, 30; Cheyette, 6). His business-like character is again emphasized by Lilly’s assumption that she could “purchase his silence” by allowing herself to be seen in public with him, which is described as being “money in his pocket, as he might himself have phrased it” (Wharton, 51). Rosedale is said to have "his race's accuracy in the appraisal of values" as well, which gives him the constant air of "appraising people as if they were bric-a-brac" (Wharton, 48, 50). Another common Jewish stereotype is their assumed inherent ability to make money and accurately assess values (Goldman, 32; Wilson, 465).
The society in which he is so desperately trying to become a part of despises Rosedale simply because he is a Jew. His character represents many of the stereotypes that are related to the Jewish race making his person that much more despicable. Even though people realize the potential power he might acquire someday, the upper class New York citizens chose to “reject him… a dozen times,” showing that he is not acceptable for their society (Wharton, 51).
Plot Introduction of Excerpt 2:
This excerpt is taken from chapter VII in book II. Rosedale has become a great success in the business world and has become more or less accepted by the upper class New York society. Lilly, however has been rejected by society for claims against her that are not true. Lilly decides to marry Rosedale, but because of the reversal of their social standing, Rosedale no longer desires to have her as his wife. His social standing, just as everyone else’s, is subject to change and having a close relationship with the rejected Lilly Bart could threaten his position.
Excerpt 2:
Continued from Book II, Chapter VII
"I do believe what you say, Mr. Rosedale," she said quietly; "and I am ready to marry you whenever you wish."
Rosedale, reddening to the roots of his glossy hair, received this announcement with a recoil which carried him to his feet, where he halted before her in an attitude of almost comic discomfiture.
"For I suppose that is what you do wish," she continued, in the same quiet tone. "And, though I was unable to consent when you spoke to me in this way before, I am ready, now that I know you so much better, to trust my happiness to your hands."
She spoke with the noble directness which she could command on such occasions, and which was like a large steady light thrown across the tortuous darkness of the situation. In its inconvenient brightness Rosedale seemed to waver a moment, as though conscious that every avenue of escape was unpleasantly illuminated.
Then he gave a short laugh, and drew out a gold cigarette-case, in which, with plump jewelled fingers, he groped for a gold-tipped cigarette. Selecting one, he paused to contemplate it a moment before saying: "My dear Miss Lily, I'm sorry if there's been any little misapprehension between us-but you made me feel my suit was so hopeless that I had really no intention of renewing it."
Lily's blood tingled with the grossness of the rebuff; but she checked the first leap of her anger, and said in a tone of gentle dignity: "I have no one but myself to blame if I gave you the impression that my decision was final."
Her word-play was always too quick for him, and this reply held him in puzzled silence while she extended her hand and added, with the faintest inflection of sadness in her voice: "Before we bid each other goodbye, I want at least to thank you for having once thought of me as you did."
The touch of her hand, the moving softness of her look, thrilled a vulnerable fibre in Rosedale. It was her exquisite inaccessibleness, the sense of distance she could convey without a hint of disdain, that made it most difficult for him to give her up.
"Why do you talk of saying goodbye? Ain't we going to be good friends all the same?" he urged, without releasing her hand.
She drew it away quietly. "What is your idea of being good friends?" she returned with a slight smile. "Making love to me without asking me to marry you?" Rosedale laughed with a recovered sense of ease.
"Well, that's about the size of it, I suppose. I can't help making love to you--I don't see how any man could; but I don't mean to ask you to marry me as long as I can keep out of it."
She continued to smile. "I like your frankness; but I am afraid our friendship can hardly continue on those terms." She turned away, as though to mark that its final term had in fact been reached, and he followed her for a few steps with a baffled sense of her having after all kept the game in her own hands.
"Miss Lily----" he began impulsively; but she walked on without seeming to hear him.
He overtook her in a few quick strides, and laid an entreating hand on her arm. "Miss Lily--don't hurry away like that. You're beastly hard on a fellow; but if you don't mind speaking the truth I don't see why you shouldn't allow me to do the same."
She had paused a moment with raised brows, drawing away instinctively from his touch, though she made no effort to evade his words.
"I was under the impression," she rejoined, "that you had done so without waiting for my permission."
"Well--why shouldn't you hear my reasons for doing it, then? We're neither of us such new hands that a little plain speaking is going to hurt us. I'm all broken up on you: there's nothing new in that. I'm more in love with you than I was this time last year; but I've got to face the fact that the situation is changed."
She continued to confront him with the same air of ironic composure. "You mean to say that I'm not as desirable a match as you thought me?"
"Yes; that's what I do mean," he answered resolutely. "I won't go into what's happened. I don't believe the stories about you--I don't want to believe them. But they're there, and my not believing them ain't going to alter the situation."
She flushed to her temples, but the extremity of her need checked the retort on her lip and she continued to face him composedly. "If they are not true," she said, "doesn't that alter the situation?"
He met this with a steady gaze of his small stock-taking eyes, which made her feel herself no more than some superfine human merchandise. "I believe it does in novels; but I'm certain it don't in real life. You know that as well as I do: if we're speaking the truth, let's speak the whole truth. Last year I was wild to marry you, and you wouldn't look at me: this year--well, you appear to be willing. Now, what has changed in the interval? Your situation, that's all. Then you thought you could do better; now----"
"You think you can?" broke from her ironically.
"Why, yes, I do: in one way, that is." He stood before her, his hands in his pockets, his chest sturdily expanded under its vivid waistcoat. "It's this way, you see: I've had a pretty steady grind of it these last years, working up my social position. Think it's funny I should say that? Why should I mind saying I want to get into society? A man ain't ashamed to say he wants to own a racing stable or a picture gallery. Well, a taste for society's just another kind of hobby. Perhaps I want to get even with some of the people who cold-shouldered me last year--put it that way if it sounds better. Anyhow, I want to have the run of the best houses; and I'm getting it too, little by little. But I know the quickest way to queer yourself with the right people is to be seen with the wrong ones; and that's the reason I want to avoid mistakes."
Miss Bart continued to stand before him in a silence that might have expressed either mockery or a half-reluctant respect for his candour, and after a moment's pause he went on: "There it is, you see. I'm more in love with you than ever, but if I married you now I'd queer myself for good and all, and everything I've worked for all these years would be wasted."
She received this with a look from which all tinge of resentment had faded. After the tissue of social falsehoods in which she had so long moved it was refreshing to step into the open daylight of an avowed expediency.
"I understand you," she said. "A year ago I should have been of use to you, and now I should be an encumbrance; and I like you for telling me so quite honestly." She extended her hand with a smile.
Again the gesture had a disturbing effect upon Mr. Rosedale's self-command. "By George, you're a dead game sport, you are!" he exclaimed; and as she began once more to move away, he broke out suddenly--"Miss Lily--stop. You know I don't believe those stories--I believe they were all got up by a woman who didn't hesitate to sacrifice you to her own convenience----"
Lily drew away with a movement of quick disdain: it was easier to endure his insolence than his commiseration.
"You are very kind; but I don't think we need discuss the matter farther."
But Rosedale's natural imperviousness to hints made it easy for him to brush such resistance aside. "I don't want to discuss anything; I just want to put a plain case before you," he persisted.
She paused in spite of herself, held by the note of a new purpose in his look and tone; and he went on, keeping his eyes firmly upon her: "The wonder to me is that you've waited so long to get square with that woman, when you've had the power in your hands." She continued silent under the rush of astonishment that his words produced, and he moved a step closer to ask with low-toned directness: "Why don't you use those letters of hers you bought last year?"
Lily stood speechless under the shock of the interrogation. In the words preceding it she had conjectured, at most, an allusion to her supposed influence over George Dorset; nor did the astonishing indelicacy of the reference diminish the likelihood of Rosedale's resorting to it. But now she saw how far short of the mark she had fallen; and the surprise of learning that he had discovered the secret of the letters left her, for the moment, unconscious of the special use to which he was in the act of putting his knowledge.
Her temporary loss of self-possession gave him time to press his point; and he went on quickly, as though to secure completer control of the situation: "You see I know where you stand--I know how completely she's in your power. That sounds like stage-talk, don't it?--but there's a lot of truth in some of those old gags; and I don't suppose you bought those letters simply because you're collecting autographs."
She continued to look at him with a deepening bewilderment: her only clear impression resolved itself into a scared sense of his power.
"You're wondering how I found out about 'em?" he went on, answering her look with a note of conscious pride. "Perhaps you've forgotten that I'm the owner of the Benedick-but never mind about that now. Getting on to things is a mighty useful accomplishment in business, and I've simply extended it to my private affairs. For this is partly my affair, you see--at least, it depends on you to make it so. Let's look the situation straight in the eye. Mrs. Dorset, for reasons we needn't go into, did you a beastly bad turn last spring. Everybody knows what Mrs. Dorset is, and her best friends wouldn't believe her on oath where their own interests were concerned; but as long as they're out of the row it's much easier to follow her lead than to set themselves against it, and you've simply been sacrificed to their laziness and selfishness. Isn't that a pretty fair statement of the case?--Well, some people say you've got the neatest kind of an answer in your hands: that George Dorset would marry you tomorrow, if you'd tell him all you know, and give him the chance to show the lady the door. I daresay he would; but you don't seem to care for that particular form of getting even, and, taking a purely business view of the question, I think you're right. In a deal like that, nobody comes out with perfectly clean hands, and the only way for you to start fresh is to get Bertha Dorset to back you up, instead of trying to fight her."
He paused long enough to draw breath, but not to give her time for the expression of her gathering resistance; and as he pressed on, expounding and elucidating his idea with the directness of the man who has no doubts of his cause, she found the indignation gradually freezing on her lip, found herself held fast in the grasp of his argument by the mere cold strength of its presentation. There was no time now to wonder how he had heard of her obtaining the letters: all her world was dark outside the monstrous glare of his scheme for using them. And it was not, after the first moment, the horror of the idea that held her spell-bound, subdued to his will; it was rather its subtle affinity to her own inmost cravings. He would marry her tomorrow if she could regain Bertha Dorset's friendship; and to induce the open resumption of that friendship, and the tacit retractation of all that had caused its withdrawal, she had only to put to the lady the latent menace contained in the packet so miraculously delivered into her hands. Lily saw in a flash the advantage of this course over that which poor Dorset had pressed upon her. The other plan depended for its success on the infliction of an open injury, while this reduced the transaction to a private understanding, of which no third person need have the remotest hint. Put by Rosedale in terms of business-like give-and-take, this understanding took on the harmless air of a mutual accommodation, like a transfer of property or a revision of boundary lines. It certainly simplified life to view it as a perpetual adjustment, a play of party politics, in which every concession had its recognized equivalent: Lily's tired mind was fascinated by this escape from fluctuating ethical estimates into a region of concrete weights and measures.
Rosedale, as she listened, seemed to read in her silence not only a gradual acquiescence in his plan, but a dangerously far-reaching perception of the chances it offered; for as she continued to stand before him without speaking, he broke out, with a quick return upon himself: "You see how simple it is, don't you? Well, don't be carried away by the idea that it's too simple. It isn't exactly as if you'd started in with a clean bill of health. Now we're talking let's call things by their right names, and clear the whole business up. You know well enough that Bertha Dorset couldn't have touched you if there hadn't been--well--questions asked before--little points of interrogation, eh? Bound to happen to a good-looking girl with stingy relatives, I suppose; anyhow, they did happen, and she found the ground prepared for her. Do you see where I'm coming out? You don't want these little questions cropping up again. It's one thing to get Bertha Dorset into line--but what you want is to keep her there. You can frighten her fast enough--but how are you going to keep her frightened? By showing her that you're as powerful as she is. All the letters in the world won't do that for you as you are now; but with a big backing behind you, you'll keep her just where you want her to be. That's my share in the business--that's what I'm offering you. You can't put the thing through without me--don't run away with any idea that you can. In six months you'd be back again among your old worries, or worse ones; and here I am, ready to lift you out of 'em tomorrow if you say so. Do you say so, Miss Lily?" he added, moving suddenly nearer.
The words, and the movement which accompanied them, combined to startle Lily out of the state of tranced subservience into which she had insensibly slipped. Light comes in devious ways to the groping consciousness, and it came to her now through the disgusted perception that her would-be accomplice assumed, as a matter of course, the likelihood of her distrusting him and perhaps trying to cheat him of his share of the spoils. This glimpse of his inner mind seemed to present the whole transaction in a new aspect, and she saw that the essential baseness of the act lay in its freedom from risk.
She drew back with a quick gesture of rejection, saying, in a voice that was a surprise to her own ears: "You are mistaken--quite mistaken--both in the facts and in what you infer from them."
Rosedale stared a moment, puzzled by her sudden dash in a direction so different from that toward which she had appeared to be letting him guide her.
"Now what on earth does that mean? I thought we understood each other!" he exclaimed; and to her murmur of "Ah, we do now," he retorted with a sudden burst of violence: "I suppose it's because the letters are to him, then? Well, I'll be damned if I see what thanks you've got from him!"
(Wharton, 292-299)
Analysis of Excerpt 2:
Lilly Bart has now reversed roles with Simon Rosedale and she has resolved to accept his proposal for marriage. This proposal, however, was given before her fall in society and he no longer desires her as his wife as long as she is a social outcast. Lilly still sees Rosedale as an undesirable Jew and the stereotypical characteristics still disgust her and cause her to move “away instinctively from his touch” and later to draw “away with a movement of quick disdain” (Wharton, 294, 295).
His physical characteristics are representative of the wealthy and power-hungry Jewish stereotype (Goldman, 32; Wilson, 465). He is described as having “glossy hair,” “small stock taking eyes,” and “plump jeweled fingers” and he pulls out a “gold cigarette-case” containing “gold tipped cigarette[s],” which are all stereotypical symbols for his Jewish wealth (Wharton, 293).
Rosedale also continues to present those unpleasant vulgarities, which can be demonstrated by his lack of vocal eloquence and his continued insistence to remain overly familiar with Lilly. Rosedale says to Lilly, “Ain’t we going to be good friends all the same?” revealing his uncouth use of the English language, a sin that Edith Wharton herself despised (Wharton, 293; Goldman, 32). He reaches out and touches Lilly’s arm when he speaks to her, making an inappropriately intimate gesture toward her (Wharton, 293). Being that his race is assumed by many of Wharton’s class to be vulgar, Rosedale would be expected to present these characteristics as a Jewish figure within her novel.
Rosedale is also continuously represented as a successful and intuitive businessman. He recognizes the danger of becoming too close to Lilly and, despite his growing love for her, he explains to Lilly that he “don't mean to ask [her] to marry [him] as long as [he] can keep out of it" (Wharton, 293). While gazing at Lilly, making “her feel herself no more than some superfine human merchandise,” Rosedale announces, “I want to have the run of the best houses; and I'm getting it too, little by little,” which shows a part of his Jewish character that many upper class Americans feared to be the case of his race (Wharton, 294, 295; Goldman, 30; Goldsmith, 377).
Along with his astute business sense, Rosedale also contains a keen knack for perceiving details of private facts and affairs. He admits that “getting on to things is a mighty useful accomplishment in business” and he “simply extended it to [his] private affairs” (Wharton, 296). The fact that Rosedale knows of the letters that Lilly purchased causes her to have “a scared sense of his power” (Wharton, 296). Rosedale gives Lilly a way out of her circumstance by offering her a business deal. He suggests that she uses the letters to blackmail Bertha Dorset, the woman behind Lilly’s dismissal from upper class society. He argues that his “share in the business” is to keep her frightened by showing that Lilly is as “powerful as she is,” implying that by marrying Lilly after she rises from social outcast would bring her to the same level as Mrs. Dorset herself (Wharton, 297). Rosedale offers this devious plan through a simple worded “give-and-take” explanation, which seems to be a harmless and purely business arrangement (Wharton, 297). This brings in the Jewish stereotype that expresses their inherent lack of morality (Goldman, 34). Lilly explains that she “was fascinated by this escape from fluctuating ethical estimates into a region of concrete weights and measures,” but she refuses to accept the immoral actions in the end (Wharton, 298). Wharton writes that “light comes in devious ways to the groping consciousness,” and it came as such for Lilly (Wharton, 298). She “rejects” Rosedale and his immoral plans causing him to react in a “sudden burst of violence” (Wharton, 299).
Despite the many stereotypical roles that Rosedale seems to fill, he is also written with characteristics that seem to transcend these racial expectations. Rosedale is a complex character who is much more than just a "rich and vulgar" Jew (Goldman, 34). The perception that we get of him changes dramatically throughout the book. The first passage illustrates him as a very cut and dry stereotypical Jewish character with all of the abhorred qualities enveloping his existence. By this second excerpt, Rosedale has showed several characteristics that are desirable of any man and that cause Lilly to see him in a better light. He is, at this point in the novel, a "a real person to us" (Goldman, 34).
When Rosedale offers his business plan to Lilly it does bring to question his moral discipline. When comparing his morality with the other characters within the book, however, Simon Rosedale seems to be in perfect moral standing. He recommends that Lilly use the letters to blackmail Bertha Dorset, but as Irene Goldman points out in her analysis of Rosedale in the House of Mirth, "he doesn't carry it out without her"(34). He truly loves Lilly and desires to be with her. The blackmail plan seems to be a way out of the desperate situation Lilly has found herself, allowing for him to marry her as he wishes to do. The other characters in the book, such as Bertha Dorset and Gus Trenor, display selfish manipulation and deceiving qualities that far surpass any immorality that Rosedale shows.This spin on Edith Wharton's semitic character suggests her understanding of the human behind the racial beliefs and stereotypes of the day.
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Works Cited:
Cheyette, Bryan. Constructions of "the Jew" in English Literature and Society: Racial Representations, 1875-1945. Cambridge: Cambridge UP, 1995. Print.
Foner, Nancy. New Immigrants in New York. New York: Columbia UP, 2001. Print.
Goldman, Irene C. "The "Perfect" Jew and "The House of Mirth": A Study in Point of View." Modern Language Studies Summer 23.2 (1993): 25-36. Print.
Goldsmith, Meredith. "The Year of the Rose: Jewish Masculinity in The House of Mirth." Modern Fiction Studies Summer 51.2 (2005): 374-92. Print.
Wharton, Edith. The House of Mirth. Ed. Janet Beer and Elizabeth Nolan. 1st ed. Peterborough, Ont.: Broadview, 2005. Print.
Wilson, Thomas C. "Compliments Will Get You Nowhere: Benign Stereotypes, Prejudice and Anti-Semitism." The Sociological Quarterly Summer 37.3 (1996): 465-79. Print.
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