Lily is pleased that Selden is regarded as being an intellectual man, especially because she herself carries a book by Omar Khayyám around to demonstrate her appreciation of literature. Wharton makes this allusion satirically, displaying the vanity of this choice:
His reputed cultivation was generally regarded as a slight obstacle to easy intercourse, but Lily, who prided herself on her broad-minded recognition of literature, and always carried an Omar Khayyam in her travelling-bag, was attracted by this attribute, which she felt would have had its distinction in an older society.
In this passage, Wharton alludes to Omar Khayyám, an 11th-century Persian poet and mathematician known for his lyrical poems. Lily “always” carrying a book of his poetry is part of her desire to be known for her “broad-minded recognition of literature.” However, what this demonstrates to the reader isn’t actually Lily’s facility with Persian poetry, but her wish to be seen as sophisticated and cultured. This allusion subtly demonstrates how even supposedly admirable characters like Lily use props to build and maintain a social image.
There's a touch of satire here too. Wharton isn't just making a statement about Lily's taste in literature; she's poking fun at the way high society uses cultural artifacts as accessories. The Khayyám book is depicted as a kind of social currency. The fact that Lily brings it with her is not about personal enrichment or intellectual curiosity. It’s about “being known” a certain way to others. This satirical moment is another comment on the superficiality of the societal elite Lily wants to rejoin, where image almost always trumps moral or intellectual substance.
As Selden observes the performance of the tableaux vivants (people impersonating famous paintings) at a party at Bellomont, Wharton makes several allusions to art and history. As she describes the fabulously costumed and adorned high-society women, she also employs powerful visual and tactile imagery and satirizes the opulence and silliness of such activities:
The scenes were taken from old pictures, and the participators had been cleverly fitted with characters suited to their types. No one, for instance, could have made a more typical Goya than Carry Fisher, with her short dark-skinned face, the exaggerated glow of her eyes, the provocation of her frankly-painted smile. A brilliant Miss Smedden from Brooklyn showed to perfection the sumptuous curves of Titian's Daughter, lifting her gold salver laden with grapes above the harmonizing gold of rippled hair and rich brocade.
This passage is packed with visual imagery. Carry Fisher is described as a "typical Goya," with her "short dark-skinned face" and the "exaggerated glow of her eyes." The imagery emphasizes the intensity of Carry’s eyes and the distinctness of her facial features, especially when placed next to the pale, “frailer Dutch type” of Mrs. Van Alstyne. The "brilliant Miss Smedden" is described as lifting a "gold salver [...] above the harmonizing gold of rippled hair and rich brocade," allowing the reader to “see” the sumptuousness of her costume and the glowing gold of the “painting.” Every painting is a different explosion of color, Miss Smedden's being the "brilliance" of gold.
The tactile imagery of the passage also adds to its sense of realism. For example, the way Wharton describes the same Miss Smedden’s “tableau” suggests a variety of contrasting textures, from the metallic smoothness of the “salver” to the plush softness of her dress’s brocade. In contrast, Mrs. Van Alstyne is described as dark and dramatic, dressed "in black satin," and the girls next to her as being a riot of pale “sheeny textures” like pearl and marble:
[...] Mrs. Van Alstyne [...] with high blue-veined forehead and pale eyes and lashes, made a characteristic Vandyck, in black satin, against a curtained archway. Then there were Kauffmann nymphs garlanding the altar of Love; a Veronese supper, all sheeny textures, pearl-woven heads and marble architecture; and a Watteau group of lute-playing comedians, lounging by a fountain in a sunlit glade.
These tactile descriptions allow the reader to almost feel the textures of the objects and costumes described, enhancing their sense of immersion in the scene. Everything is expensive, elaborate, and ornate.
By alluding to famous paintings and painters such as Goya, Titian, and Vandyck, the author connects the characters to a wider cultural context. Works by these painters were—and still are—considered valuable and important. People who the reader already knows are wealthy are dressing up as priceless objects. The satire is twofold in this passage, and it’s folded into the allusions to the paintings the narrator makes. Firstly, Wharton is lampooning the ridiculous extravagance and shallowness of this brief entertainment—after all, the paintings aren’t being admired or interpreted in these tableaux. The evening’s entertainment is just an opportunity for the young women involved to be put on display in another way.
Wharton also satirizes Selden's academic and idealistic vision here. By focusing on how perfectly the women fit into the famous paintings and demonstrating his knowledge in identifying them, Wharton highlights Selden’s pretentious intellectualism and scholarly, distanced viewpoint. Tellingly, she also highlights his tendency to see women as objects rather than as individuals with their own identities. Even Selden isn't immune to certain upper-class social instincts, it seems.
In Book 1, Chapter 12, Selden reflects on how Lily’s beauty is judged by society, making an allusion to Shakespeare’s The Tempest:
It was not the first time that Selden had heard Lily's beauty lightly remarked on, and hitherto the tone of the comments had imperceptibly coloured his view of her. But now it woke only a motion of indignant contempt. This was the world she lived in, these were the standards by which she was fated to be measured! Does one go to Caliban for a judgment on Miranda?
In this passage, Wharton makes a powerful allusion to Shakespeare’s final play, The Tempest. In this play, the monster Caliban is a crude, monster-like creature. He is ignorant and uncultured, having not been exposed to the world beyond the rather empty island he lives on. Miranda, by contrast, is a foreign princess who embodies innocence, intelligence, and beauty.
By comparing Ned’s judgment of Lily to Caliban’s judgment of Miranda, Selden is making a statement about the other man’s flawed and shallow perspective. Caliban would not be able to judge Miranda by any correct criteria. The narrator implies that, given this, Ned shouldn’t have anything to say about Lily. Selden thinks that the “standards by which [Lily is] fated to be measured” by society are worse than useless. Despite himself, however, he acknowledges that those standards are the ones by which Lily will always be measured.
As Lily unpacks her trunk in the boarding house, Wharton employs an allusion to the artist Joshua Reynolds, a simile evoking the glamorous evening of the Tableaux Vivants, and strong scent imagery to demonstrate Lily’s fall from grace:
Last of all, she drew forth from the bottom of her trunk a heap of white drapery which fell shapelessly across her arm. It was the Reynolds dress she had worn in the Bry TABLEAUX. It had been impossible for her to give it away, but she had never seen it since that night, and the long flexible folds, as she shook them out, gave forth an odour of violets which came to her like a breath from the flower-edged fountain where she had stood with Lawrence Selden and disowned her fate.
In this passage, Wharton invokes the reader's sense of smell with the “odour of violets.” Flower scents would usually be described as appealing, but the word “odour” implies otherwise. The smell is both pleasant and unpleasant because it acts as a trigger for Lily's memories, reminding her of a specific time and place. For Lily, this scent is not just a fragrance; it's a doorway to a past in which she was more hopeful.
Wharton adds more depth to the passage’s smell imagery with the simile she uses here. As Lily inhales the scent of violets, the narrator compares the scent to “a breath from the flower-edged fountain.” This comparison makes her memory of Selden and the moment Lily “disowned” her fate with him more tangible to the reader. The evocative, fresh scent imagery of this "breath" represents an escape from the confines of Lily’s less charming present life. It brings her back to a serene and idyllic moment, contrasting with her present state.
The passage also alludes to Joshua Reynolds’s painting “Mrs. Lloyd.” Lily posed as this painting wearing the violet-scented dress in the tableau vivant at Bellomont. This reference is not just a throwaway detail; it ties Lily to the image of classic beauty and aristocracy represented in Reynolds's painting. By reminding the reader of the grandeur of this moment Lily had in the spotlight, Wharton demonstrates how far she’s fallen from her old position of privilege.
