15
May 2000
Dehumanization in The
Awakening and A Doll’s House
The main characteristic that
sets human beings apart from the rest of the natural world – and makes their
survival possible – is their ability to transcend their environment. Unlike the animal that is driven and
directed by the instincts and behavioral patterns that it discovers are
necessary for its survival, the human being has the capability to imagine previously
untested reactions to his environment.
This feature enables the human to develop very complex methods of
adaptation to his surroundings (such as clothing and artificial shelter) that
allow him to thrive in almost any earthly environment. It should come as no
surprise then that the most successful human societies have usually been the
ones that give individuals this freedom of creation that is almost a necessity
for human survival. Unfortunately, very
few human civilizations have done this; the propensity of human society is to
restrict individuals into the confines of a static “role” which has been
“proven through tradition” to “produce the greatest good for the greatest
number.” While such generalizations may
generate a more structured, homogenous society, they often come at the cost of
stifled individual innovation and reduce people to the status of animals who
blindly follow the instincts and traditions of their ancestors, never
questioning or seeking to find a better way.
Women have usually been
among the people most frequently consigned to a role since they are ones most
directly responsible for the preservation of the human race. This
tendency was particularly prevalent during the
nineteenth century. During this period,
women were looked upon as the “angels” of society, who were the epitome of
spiritual chastity. Female attributes
of “gentle nurture,” “sweet control,” and “educating power” were seen by many
women and men as morally superior to the lust, brutality, and ambition of the
male sex. Women were encouraged to bear
many children and exert their purifying influence upon them and were also
advised to maintain intimate relationships with other women, presumably to
prevent excessive exposure to the corrupting world of men. They were expected to dedicate their lives
to the upkeep of the home, where they could comfort and stabilize their men and
children (Showalter 169-170). Although
flattering to some, such stereotypes put women in a decidedly non-human
position. In a gross perversion of 2
Corinthians 10:5, they impel women to “take captive every thought” and action
they consider and make it obedient not to Christ, but to the rules the human
society has made for them. This
dehumanization of women is depicted masterfully in two classics of late
nineteenth century literature: A Doll’s House by Henrik Ibsen and The
Awakening by Kate Chopin. In both
works, a female main character is held in bondage by society, becomes aware of
the constraints that are being placed upon her, and attempts to assert her
humanity.
The
conditions of female dehumanization in Chopin and Ibsen’s work seem to differ
greatly – mostly due to the starkly contrasting cultures they originate from –
but retain the same core presumption.
Nora of A Doll’s House has been living the life of a wife and
mother for nearly all of her days; she seems to have accepted it as her
lot. However, she is deceiving her
husband by concealing the debt she obtained to save Torvald’s life, and is
therefore defying her society’s standards of a satisfactory wife and
mother.
Furthermore, her forgery is perhaps the only human choice she has ever
made since it is a response to a moral dilemma, one of the most fundamental
problems rational humans face. However,
she refuses to face these implications; she is too comfortable in her “doll
world” to consider reality and pushes these issues under the rug through
further deceptions, such as her fictitious Christmas ornament project (a front
for the copying she did to pay off the loan).
She considers her independence at that time a minor amusement, but isn’t
overly eager to understand the masculine world of business, instead relying
upon flights of fancy such as the daydream about the “rich old gentleman who
had fallen in love with me (Ibsen 13).” However, when confronted with the
possibility that her scheming has made her an unfit mother during Torvald’s
remarks about Krogstad’s corruption, Nora reacts with genuine horror. If her presence “poisons the whole life of a
house” and if her primary goal in life of enriching the lives of her husband
and children is unattainable, then she has become worthless (Ibsen 27).
Kate
Chopin’s character of Edna in The Awakening possesses much less
enthusiasm for her role than Nora.
Rather than revel in it like Nora does, Edna’s adoption of the maternal
and spousal duties is more of a surrender than an embrace. In her marriage to
Leonce, she is in a sort of perpetual trance.
Her first action is to mechanically hold out her hand to her husband so
he can return her rings, the symbols of her attachment to him (Chopin 21). Later, when he leaves for the club, she
understands without hearing a word that he will be gone as long as he
likes. She is almost like a drugged
woman, high off of the familiar and the mundane, or in the words of critic Elaine
Showalter, the “imaginary narcotics supplied by fantasy, money, and patriarchy,
which
have protected Edna from pain. . .but. . .which have
also kept her from becoming an adult (184).”
Leonce isn’t as patronizing as Torvald, but his general attitude is
basically the same. He views her as his
own personal assistant – much like a biological robot – who manages the trivial
details of his life while he is off on his many adventures. While Torvald would at least express his
opinions and flirt with his wife, Leonce barely has a relationship with
Edna. He only talks to her when there
is no one else around to boast to about his latest exploit or to chide her for
some ineptitude. When Edna’s friend
Adele expresses concern that Leonce goes out so often, Edna replies that they
“wouldn’t have anything to say to each other” if he stayed home (Chopin 89).
In both Edna and Nora’s situation, the women are expected to be biological showpieces for their husbands and a comforting nurse for their children. Torvald’s meticulous rehearsal with Nora for the tarantella, and his rapacious advances upon her after the dance demonstrate his almost fanatical sense of possessing her. Leonce’s first impression of a sunburned Nora (“a damaged piece of property”) deftly illustrates his view of ownership over her body (Chopin 21). In the words of critic Margit Stange,
Sunburned hands, by indicating a performance of outdoor labor, would nullify Edna’s “value” as a sign of Leonce’s wealth. . .Edna is an item of “conspicuous consumption” that brings “reputability” (a degree of status) to Leonce. . .Edna must, then, appear to be surplus – she must appear to perform no useful labor (205).
Although some of the conditions of their repression are similar, the means by which Edna and Nora become aware of their bondage are quite different. One gets the sense that Edna has always sensed the dehumanizing effects of society, yet has remained complacent because it was more comfortable or expedient. As Chopin states in the novel, “she had apprehended instinctively the dual life – that outward existence which conforms and the inward which questions (32).” However, she begins to grow weary of the charade. Gradually, her soul begins to yearn for autonomy. From the time Leonce chides her for “neglecting” the children, Edna begins to crave more and more control over her own life.
Nora, on the other hand, experiences her epiphany harshly and abruptly, with the refusal of Torvald to carry out the “most wonderful thing,” the chivalric assumption of responsibility for Nora’s forgery. When Torvald fails to deliver on his implicit promise, which is reinforced by his soothing statement that he wishes to risk his “life’s blood and everything” to save her, Nora suddenly realizes her true status. If she was truly viewed as a human being, Torvald would understand her predicament and the events leading up to it. He would sympathize with the awful decision she had faced and the arduous struggle between principles and pragmatism that had confronted her during his illness. He would assure her that she had done what she felt was best under the trying circumstances, and of course would take the blame for a simple housewife without any experience in such complicated matters who had bravely taken responsibility the only way she knew how. Instead of doing these things, Torvald demands that she be quarantined from the children, having been forever corrupted (Ibsen 62). He looks upon her as he might look upon a doll that, through no fault of its own, has become permanently stained. He might have given his live for the doll when it was in good condition, but now that it has been stained, it is a piece of trash. To keep such a worthless thing in his possession would be a mockery of himself – guests might notice it while visiting and think of him as a person of poor taste – so he casts it into the street.
Edna’s response to her disenchantment with the confines of her marriage is played out chiefly through the fulfillment of her impulses and whims, most of which defy the traditional order. When she allows herself to become consumed with her painting, her husband reprimands her, imploring that she integrate her hobby into her role as a mother like Adele, whose every action is governed by a concern for her fitness as a child-bearer (she won’t even eat a single piece of chocolate without feeling guilty that it might harm her capacity to bear children). Of course, Edna resists his cajoling and continues in greater earnest. Unwilling to continue defrauding herself, she cuts off sexual relations with her husband (hinted at by Leonce’s comments that Edna meets him at breakfast each morning) (Chopin 85). Her infatuation with Robert and sexual liaison with Alcee replace the feelings she had previously feigned toward her husband. In short, she starts being true to herself in every aspect of her life.
Yet, in spite of her newfound emancipation, Edna is unable to find fulfillment in her pursuits. Despite her rebellion against her husband, she still views a heterosexual relationship as the catalyst for her ultimate release. Even though she views Adele’s “ideal” marriage as a haven of ennui, somehow she thinks it will be different for her. Somehow, she fantasizes, Robert will love her and treat her as a human being; like the two lovers in the tale she tells, they will take on the great void together. Of course, Robert is unable to do this. He is a product of his upbringing, which tells him that Edna is a piece of property who can be bought and sold but has no will of her own. Though he loves Edna, her comment to him about choosing him for herself and belonging to no one frightens him. What if, he thinks, she decides sometime in the future that she doesn’t care for him anymore? He would not be able to bear it and as a result must leave her because he “loves” her so much (Chopin 134). When Edna reads his letter, she feels betrayed and realizes that she can no longer keep having these fantasies of infatuation and expect to become an independent human being. However, she finds herself unable to escape them; they haunt her up until her final thoughts, which focus on the cavalry officer she had a crush on as a child and the masculine hum of bees (Chopin 137). Swimming seems to be the only way she can assert her autonomy, if only for a brief shining moment, since it was her first swim during the summer that gave her the self-confidence she needed to begin aggressively defying tradition and actively pursuing her own interests.
Nora does not go nearly so far, although Ibsen gives her comparatively little time to react. Her abandonment of her family seems to be the only rational thing to do in order to gain some any sort of ability to make her own choices. Before she can choose an action that is right for her, she must first figure out what it is she wants out of life. Although her neglect of her children appears selfish, one could argue that it is actually in their own interest. In her dehumanized state, Nora can’t imagine herself imparting anything of value to her children besides a few cuddles and games of hide-and-seek.
In conclusion, both Edna and Nora experience profound dehumanization through their marriages. Although each one recognizes it in a different way and reacts to it differently, both women seek to find true meaning in their lives outside of artificial societal structures.
Chopin,
Kate. The Awakening. Boston:
Bedford Books, 1993.
Ibsen,
Henrik. A Doll’s House. New York: Dover Productions, 1992.
Showalter,
Elaine. “Tradition and the Female
Talent: The Awakening As a
Solitary Book.” New Essays on The Awakening. Ed.
Wendy Martin. London: Cambridge
University Press, 1988.
Stange,
Margit. “Personal Property: Exchange
Value and the Female Self in The Awakening.” The
Awakening: A Case Study in Contemporary Criticism. Ed. Nancy
A. Walker. Boston: Bedford Books, 1993.