Full Circle

In a blog that discusses Edith Wharton’s prevalence in the 21st century, in accordance with the ever-popular Downton Abbey, author Pat Ryan writes of Wharton, “She was the ultimate insider, born into the New York upper crust, which she called ‘a group of bourgeois colonials’ transformed into ‘a sort of social aristocracy.’” The discussion and critique of class can be found in nearly all of Edith Wharton’s works and it plays an essential role in many of her novels and short stories, which isn’t at all surprising seeing as she was raised in a similar society as the ones she often writes about. By gaining an extensive understanding of just how class is intertwined in Wharton’s works, students will be able to further their opinions of the texts as well as develop another sense of appreciation for the fact that Wharton’s texts still manage to translate to the 21st century.

In Edith Wharton’s short story Full Circle, one of the main characters affirms that, “Every house is a madhouse at some time or another.” This story follows a man, Betton, who was once lower middle class-- a man who, at one point in his life, had to work for everything that he had. Now, after selling a successful novel titled Diadems and Faggots, Betton can relax in the extravagant 5th Avenue apartment that his novel afforded him. Unsatisfied with his newly acquired life of leisure, he finds himself in an unspoken, entirely passive aggressive battle between himself and his recently appointed secretary, Vyse.

Full Circle is riddled with wordplay; Betton’s first novel, Diadems and Faggots, is representative of what he was attempting to achieve by publishing his novel. Diadems, or crowns, are indicative of wealth; faggots, during Betton’s era of Americana, was a contemptuous woman, according to Dictionary.com. From his title of this novel alone, Betton is describing the very things that make the society that he’s trying to be apart of. His second novel, on the other hand, explains how he feels about his new lifestyle; titled Abundance, Betton describes all that he’s achieved with his wealth. He hasn’t found any more happiness, any more love, any more gratification, only an abundance of money. It’s clear that Betton dislikes and distrusts his old acquaintance turned secretary, and Wharton confirms this overtly implied notion by naming him Vyse. The Oxford Dictionary defines Vice as meaning, “an immoral or wicked behavior.” While Vyse himself doesn’t commit any terribly immoral acts, he’s given a name that can seemingly describe him without any context or explanation other than the fact that he’s dreadfully poor.

Betton clearly resembles the sort of character who wants to have his cake and eat it too. He wants his wealth, but doesn’t like the fact that he no longer has to work for it. He proclaims that things are so hurried and loud, and yet he spends his days lounging around his apartment doing nothing other than complaining about either the success of his first novel, of the lack of success of his second novel. After Diadems and Faggots was well received, Betton “had thought indulgently of the world, as a better place than the failures and the dyspeptics would acknowledge.” Now, which is he? Is he a failure because his second book flopped? Or is he a dyspeptic because he doesn’t appreciate what he has?

The difference of class in no way guarantees any sort of tension between Betton and Vyse, and yet, an obvious tension does indeed exist. Betton, freed from the struggle of the working class, now has everything he’ll ever need and more. Vyse, however, is literally struggling to survive. Vyse has few clothes; he’s working solely to get the money he needs to feed himself and his family. Betton makes several remarks about the type of person Vyse is, saying things like, “One couldn’t tell, with the company Vyse kept!” and “he had always had a disagreeable hand.” As the story progresses, Betton’s insinuations become slightly more extreme, “He looked paler and more shyly truculent than usual, and Betton, from the height of his florid stature, said to himself, with the sudden professional instinct for ‘type’: He might be an agent of something-- a chap who carries deadly secrets” and finishes with, “he was always a tortuous chap.”

Regardless of the fact that Betton and Vyse were of the same “sort” just a year or so before, Betton has become more callous, and yet even more sensitive. This conflicting set of characteristics are exemplified in the way in which Betton continuously compares himself to Vyse. Betton is constantly making statements of false humility, saying things to Vyse like, “You always wrote better than I do.” Wharton later writes, “As [Betton] leaned back he caught sight of his imagine in the mirror between the windows, and reflected uneasily that Vyse would not find him changed.” Betton simultaneously wants to boast to Vyse that he’s more accomplished, more wealthy, more content, and yet, he’s half-earnestly humble and helpful in wanting to ensure that Vyse has a job. This likely comes from the fact that Betton neglected to help get Vyse’s novel published in the past, which may have changed Vyse’s fate altogether.

Wharton explains, “Such false humility was less excusable than the crudest appetite for praise: it was ridiculous to try to do conscientious work if one’s self-esteem were at the mercy of popular judgements.” Whether or not Betton actually understood this sentiment, he surely didn’t do anything to ensure that he didn’t adhere to “crudest appetite for praise.” When the truth was finally revealed-- that Vyse had forged the letters to Betton (after Betton forged letters to himself), Betton selfishly assumed it was because Vyse wanted to keep him happy-- that Vyse was playing to his ego. Betton once again proclaims that Vyse is a better writer by saying, “And so you applied your superior-- your immeasurably superior-- abilities to carrying on the humbug, and deceiving me as I’d tried to deceive you. And you did it so successfully that I don’t see why the devil you haven’t made your fortune writing novels.” He’s exploded with the rage that had been building over the years of living with self doubt and a feigned air of confidence and superiority. In the end, he finds out that Vyse wasn’t even playing to his ego; he wrote the letters solely to keep his job; Betton only imagined the more complicated and “thoughtful” reasons for forging the fan mail.

Wharton writes of two men who were once a part of the same class-- one who’s entirely successful, and the other who’s struggling to make ends meet. The tension between the two classes becomes evident, and by showing how these two men interact with one another, Wharton reveals that jealousy and misunderstanding is often central to the conflict between the two classes. However, it’s not merely the jealousy the poor have for the wealth of the elite, but the jealousy the elite have for the simplicity and honor of working provide for oneself. As much as Vyse despised Betton for the money that he could have possibly had, Betton hated Vyse for his ability to live a life that is his own, not one that was created off of the back of a novel that he now hates.

As students make their way through the chapters of Wharton’s novels understanding the extensive role that class plays within her works they will realize that class is as much of a character as Betton or Vyse. Wharton prompts her readers, students and professors alike, to answer one central question that remains at the end of her works; the question is not if class divides people, but how it segregates people and what that may lead to. Like so many vices, jealousy still exists today; Wharton’s Full Circle transcends the decades, describing a tale not of just Americana elite and the suffering lower class, but of two people whose differences surpass the superficial matter of income, to reveal the real issue of classism.