the feeble and fated ones

Although James Joyce’s short story “The Dead” may conclude with Gabriel’s sudden epiphany of an all-encompassing fate, Joyce invites the reader to look and read into the entirety of the characters—as well as an unavoidable look into the reader’s own life—to see to what extent this is actually true.  When taking notice of the narrator’s subtle social critiques, attributing the entire plot of the story to fate undercuts the humanistic aspect of the story.  While the final words may produce a sense of hopelessness in the presence of fate, a substantial part of the story chooses to instead focus on the characters’ internal faults induced by their burdening idealism, thus alternatively pushing the blame onto the characters themselves rather than on fate alone. This pushes the story forward with a much cloudier conflict, balancing destiny-ridden fate with human-error-ridden free will.  At the core of this mixture lies mental feebleness—most closely linked with the inability to compromise and think practically—highlighting the weak mind’s propensity to idealize illusory hopes of love and fame that, in the end, yield nothing more than an endless series of disappointments.  The story suggests that a certain degree of practicality is required to overcome a perpetual, panhuman state of dissatisfaction. 

            From the start, “The Dead” rings with a slightly suspicious tone that, in observance of the characters’ interactions and enjoyment of each other’s company, portrays the characters’ actions with a hint of selfishness and conceit.  Across the span of the party, many individuals attempt to set themselves apart through their physical talents or esoteric knowledge, but the narration cynically depicts these attempts as mere methods of boast; one such suspect is Mary Jane who, through a piano performance “full of runs and difficult passages,” attempts to impress her guests but falls short of doing so (Joyce 186).  She lights up the room with her pretentious piano performance, complete with flashy “pauses like those of a priestess in momentary imprecation,” but then quickly “[rolls] up her music nervously and escape[s] the room” afterwards amidst applause from guests who were merely pretending to pay attention to her showy display (Joyce 186-87).  The narration dressing up Mary Jane’s attempts as “priestess”-like movements melodramatically mocks the action, criticizing her futile attempt to distinguish herself among her guests. The narration also quickly points out Mary Jane’s pitiful mood; her exit becomes a nervous “escape” in the narrator’s eyes, in the process both implying that she is in a state of danger and adding gravity to a seemingly harmless situation.  This pitiful episode, consisting of an illusory hope followed by an inevitable disappointment, introduces Joyce’s ongoing theme of mental feebleness, where the characters’ weak minds envision unattainable or unrealistic expectations that consistently end worse than intended.  Mary Jane’s ineffectual display of talent becomes representative of the party as a whole, with this behavior of standing out among the crowd extending to many of the other characters as observed in Gabriel with his ostentatious toast.  In both scenarios, the characters’ idealistic minds fail to connect with their audience as originally intended, resulting in an almost pitiful attempt at glory. 

            However, this form of idealism is not just limited to making boastful toasts and musical performances.  Feebleness, primarily defined as the mind’s propensity to set unattainable expectations, plays out in the story on an intrapersonal level in addition to a social level.  Gabriel falls victim to his own mental weakness, envisioning a relationship with Gretta only to be recounted in the text as a futile attempt to sate his desires.  In the scene where he consoles Gretta, Gabriel is carefully fondling Gretta’s hand, but finds that “it [Gretta’s hand] did not respond to his touch but he continued to caress it” (Joyce 220).  In his attempt to turn their relationship cordial and romantic once more, Gabriel disappointingly finds that Gretta is unresponsive; yet, he hopelessly “[continues] to caress it” even though it yields no result (Joyce 220).  When Gabriel finds that something will not bend to his expectation, he helplessly continues to pursue it at the command of his feeble mind.  Earlier in the scene, Gabriel attempts to rekindle their long lost intimacy by affectionately calling out to Gretta, only to find her unable to reciprocate his attempts.  The narration follows with an insight into Gabriel’s thoughts, as he silently assures himself, “No, it was not the moment yet” (Joyce 216).  The strategic placement of the hopeful word “yet” expresses Gabriel’s unyielding attitude towards his desires; “yet” signifies Gabriel’s hope, as if he believes his desires will eventually be fulfilled, and the reader sees that Gabriel is even willing to wait for as long as he needs to in order to obtain it.  These quotes provide insight into Gabriel’s persona, painting him as a hopeless romantic imprisoned by his impractical mind.  Through these narrative insights into Gabriel’s character, the conflict of the text seems to lie within the characters themselves as they press on through life attempting to pacify their hopeless expectations. 

            However, the characters’ burdensome idealism may not entirely be their fault.  Deep into the final conversation with Gretta, Gabriel experiences a “vague terror” and “when he had hoped to triumph [in winning back Gretta’s love], some impalpable and vindictive being was coming against him, gathering forces against him in its vague world” that he ultimately blames as the reason why he could not relieve Gretta’s sorrow and regain cordiality (Joyce 220).  The narrative choice to depict an ambiguous “being” that was “gathering forces against him” suggests that some unknown, external force is actively altering Gabriel’s fate similar to how an opponent in battle would.  Suggesting that there are “forces” beyond Gabriel’s control makes the story ring with a more fatalistic tone, alleviating blame from human frailty as suggested in other portions of the text.  Other segments suggest similar themes, such as when Gabriel, “Instinctively…turned his back more to the light lest she [Gretta] might see the shame that burned upon his forehead” (Joyce 220).  The choice to use “instinctively,” in this case connoting an unconscious action, paints his metaphorical turning away from the “light” as supposedly involuntary.  The passage, consequently, reads with a hint of predetermination to it, as if this tendency to hide shame and turning away from light is common to all humans; this, conversely, contrasts with previous passages where Gabriel deliberately acts in a conscious effort to win back Gretta’s intimacy and intellectually distinguish himself during the dinner’s toast.  Coincidentally, in his dinner toast, Gabriel asserts the idea that “we were living in a less spacious age” which carries connotations of a constricting, “less spacious” environment that shapes individuals’ lives (Joyce 203).  As a character in the story, he acknowledges that there are forces beyond his control—despite at times being observed to be subject to said forces—yet there are also parts to the story that insist he acts out of his own will.  If both of these are true in the story, it would follow that there are circumstances beyond the characters’ control that only serve to simply induce or worsen the characters’ already feeble minds and accelerate their self-induced conflict.

            Yet, there are still parts of the story asserting that the main conflict of the story is not human feebleness but, rather, the main conflict of the story is that humans are merely too different from one another and are unable to reconcile differences between one another.  During the course of the dinner party, there are numerous shortcomings that create a less-than-jovial experience for the guests—the untimely excusal of Miss Ivors being the most prominent example.  Upon upsetting Gabriel on the matter of his patriotism, Miss Ivors half-jokingly insists on calling him a “West Briton” but reassures him “in a soft friendly tone: Of course, I [she] was only joking” (Joyce 188).  This somewhat playful conflict between the two on the surface seems to be somewhat lighthearted; however, this episode eventually ends with Miss Ivors’ abrupt and slightly rude withdrawal from the party.  Something as small and lighthearted as a joke creates a dramatic divide between the characters that, while seeming quite childish to the audience, is a much more insidious matter in the story.  The night’s small talk and dinner conversations insinuate deeper problems about the human condition, most prominently observed in the uneasy talks about religion.  During dinner, Mr. Browne’s comment supposing that a “comfortable spring bed” would do the monks of Mount Melleray “just as well as a coffin” upsets many of the guests particularly because he is the only protestant in room full of Catholic guests questioning the creed of Catholic monks (Joyce 201).  Offended, Mrs. Malins quickly defends the Catholic tradition by assuring in an “indistinct undertone” that the monks are “very good men” (Joyce 201).  Although both comments on the surface may have been somewhat jovial, they undeniably betray larger divisions between the two people in particular.  Something as small as selling short the traditions of the Catholic church rifts the conversation to the point that “the subject was buried in the silence of the table,” exhibiting the sensitive and fragile nature of humans (Joyce 201).  The particular employment of “buried” connotes death in the conversation, as if small, micro-aggressive comments gradually lead to the death of relationships. That is, this idea is not new to the story.  This idea has been addressed previously when Mr. Browne commented earlier that “when we are thirsty, we are also quarrelsome” (Joyce 195).  The particular use of the word “thirsty” to describe sobriety indicates a larger problem at hand, a problem in which all humans are, by design, made to be “quarrelsome” and, perhaps, not meant to truly get along without the numbing of one’s opinionated mind as achieved through alcohol (Joyce 195).  Perhaps, idealism borne out of a feeble mind is partially the root of the story’s problem, but another part of the problem is that, by design, humans are not intuitively social animals because no one will truly share the same opinions with anyone else. 

Thus—and most readily seen in Gabriel’s situation—the hidden problem with human beings is they are endowed by creation to envision illusory relationships with one another.  Gabriel, for example, wishes for Gretta to “forget the years of their dull existence together and remember only their moments of ecstasy,” by definition setting an unrealistic and unattainable desire as something that must happen in order for him to be happy (Joyce 214).  Simply, Gabriel is asking Gretta to do the impossible.  He adds that their years spent together “had not quenched his soul or hers,” creating a tone of despair and hopelessness in his conception of satisfaction (Joyce 214).  The choice to use “quenched” shows a bodily desire that cannot be sated and paints Gabriel’s world as a perpetual, futile search for something he desperately needs to survive.  A full and complete life in this case is nothing more than a hopeless vision.  As the story resolves, however, he accepts the fact that humans are universally feeble at their core, and any attempt to separate himself from his idealistic faults would be futile in its effort.  He sees love as an imperfect match in a fatedly imperfect world, so he embraces his life with Gretta because he sees his own feeble self in her life, easily corruptible and easily misled, and confidently assures himself that “such a feeling must be love” (Joyce 223).

            “The Dead” is not a story about individualism nor universality, but rather a story about overcoming the personal burdening, instinctive human characteristic of idealism that every human must face.  Gabriel realizes that the mind is, at its core, a feeble instrument corrupted by unattainable hopes—knowing things can be better, but maybe won’t.  This, while not entirely up to fate, is not wholly humans’ fault either.  Although circumstances beyond individual control are constantly working against humans and exacerbating the condition of human beings, such as organized religion and issues of nationalism, attributing the entire story to fate disregards the reading of the story that focuses on the errors of human ways.  This reading of the story is the only interpretation that allows for redemption, where accepting personal weakness and attaining awareness of the feebleness of humans eventually allowed Gabriel to see what others failed to see and finally feel love for what it is.  The universal conflict in the story is that the characters—their fatedly imperfect, fragile selves—may never reach the same realization as Gabriel did.  Had Gabriel or any of the characters realized this prior to the dinner party, they might have been able to set aside their differences and their pitiful attempts to distinguish themselves to truly enjoy the little time they still have left in their lives.  As Gabriel realizes, his only true enemy is also his only true savior. 

            Perhaps, the “impalpable and vindictive being” that Gabriel pictures is, in fact, himself (Joyce 220).