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A doll in the doll-maker's house
Looks at the cradle and balls:
'That is an insult to us.'
But the oldest of all the dolls
Who had seen, being kept for show,
Generations of his sort,
Out-screams the whole shelf: 'Although
There's not a man can report
Evil of this place,
The man and the woman bring
Hither to our disgrace,
A noisy and filthy thing.'
Hearing him groan and stretch
The doll-maker's wife is aware
Her husband has heard the wretch,
And crouched by the arm of his chair,
She murmurs into his ear,
Head upon shoulder leant:
'My dear, my dear, oh dear,
It was an accident.'
W.B. Yeats’ The Dolls is a deceptively simple poem that, upon closer examination, reveals profound anxieties about creativity, domesticity, and the intrusion of life into art. Written in 1914 and included in his collection Responsibilities, the poem operates on multiple levels—as a darkly humorous fable, a meditation on artistic creation, and a reflection on the tensions between perfection and messiness, artifice and reality. Through its eerie personification of dolls and its unsettling domestic scene, Yeats crafts a work that is both whimsical and deeply unsettling, inviting interpretations that range from the biographical to the philosophical.
This essay will explore The Dolls through several lenses: its historical and cultural context, its use of literary devices, its central themes, and its emotional impact. Additionally, we will consider how the poem fits within Yeats’ broader body of work, examining possible autobiographical influences and philosophical underpinnings.
Yeats wrote The Dolls during a period of significant personal and artistic transition. By 1914, he had moved away from the romantic mysticism of his early work (such as The Celtic Twilight) toward a more austere, modernist sensibility. Responsibilities, the collection in which The Dolls appears, is marked by a preoccupation with artistic integrity, public responsibility, and the artist’s role in society.
The early 20th century was also a time of immense social change—industrialization, the rise of feminism, and the looming specter of World War I all contributed to a sense of instability. In this context, The Dolls can be read as a response to anxieties about creativity in an increasingly mechanized world. The dolls, static and preserved, represent an older order of art—controlled, beautiful, and lifeless—while the crying baby embodies chaotic, uncontrollable life.
Moreover, the poem engages with Victorian and Edwardian attitudes toward domesticity. The doll-maker’s house is a microcosm of artistic creation, where the crafted objects (the dolls) resent the intrusion of something organic and unrefined (the baby). This tension mirrors broader cultural debates about the role of art: Should it remain pure and idealized, or should it engage with the raw, unfiltered realities of human existence?
Yeats employs several key literary devices to create the poem’s unsettling effect:
The dolls are given voices and emotions, transforming them from inanimate objects into characters with agency. The oldest doll, who has "seen generations of his sort," serves as a kind of elder statesman, decrying the "noisy and filthy thing" (the baby) that disrupts their ordered world. This personification blurs the line between the living and the artificial, raising questions about what constitutes true life.
The poem also functions as a miniature dramatic monologue, akin to Robert Browning’s work, where inanimate objects express human-like grievances. This technique amplifies the uncanny effect, making the dolls’ resentment palpable.
There is a biting irony in the dolls’ outrage. They, who are mere imitations of life, protest against a real, living child—an inversion that underscores the absurdity of their position. The oldest doll’s complaint—"Although / There's not a man can report / Evil of this place"—suggests that the doll-maker’s house is a realm of sterile perfection, yet the introduction of life is seen as a "disgrace." This irony critiques artistic elitism, suggesting that art divorced from life becomes hollow.
The Dolls: Represent art as artifice—controlled, unchanging, and detached from life.
The Cradle and Baby: Symbolize organic life, with all its noise, mess, and unpredictability.
The Doll-Maker and His Wife: Embody the artist and domesticity. The wife’s whispered apology—"It was an accident"—suggests that the intrusion of life into art is both inevitable and disruptive.
Yeats uses harsh, grating sounds to convey the dolls’ indignation ("Out-screams," "groan and stretch"), contrasting with the wife’s soft, conciliatory murmurs. This auditory tension reinforces the clash between rigidity (the dolls) and fluidity (the human world).
The central conflict in The Dolls is between artistic perfection and the messy reality of existence. The dolls, carefully crafted and preserved, resent the baby because it introduces disorder. This tension reflects Yeats’ own struggles as an artist—his desire to create enduring, idealized works while grappling with the chaotic demands of life, love, and politics.
The doll-maker’s house is a sterile environment where art is "kept for show," unchanging and lifeless. The baby’s arrival disrupts this stasis, forcing a confrontation between creation as preservation and creation as procreation. The poem suggests that true artistry must engage with life, even if it means embracing imperfection.
The wife’s whispered apology—"My dear, my dear, oh dear, / It was an accident"—hints at deeper domestic tensions. Is the baby truly an "accident," or does it represent an unplanned, perhaps unwelcome, intrusion into the artist’s controlled world? This moment subtly critiques traditional gender roles, where the wife must soothe her husband’s displeasure.
The oldest doll, having witnessed "generations of his sort," seems aware of his own replaceability. His outrage may stem from a fear that the baby—a new, living creation—renders the dolls obsolete. This mirrors Yeats’ anxieties about aging and artistic relevance, themes he explores more explicitly in poems like The Circus Animals’ Desertion.
The Dolls is unsettling precisely because it balances whimsy with horror. The idea of dolls resenting a baby is darkly comic, yet their indignation carries a genuine pathos. The wife’s anxious whispering adds a layer of domestic tension, making the poem feel intimate and claustrophobic.
The emotional core lies in the contrast between the dolls’ sterile world and the baby’s vitality. The reader is left to ponder: Is the dolls’ outrage justified, or are they merely pitiable, trapped in their own lifeless perfection? This ambiguity creates a lingering unease, inviting multiple interpretations.
Sailing to Byzantium: Like The Dolls, this poem explores the tension between the artificial and the organic, though it idealizes the "artifice of eternity" rather than critiquing it.
The Stolen Child: Both poems depict a conflict between an idealized, static world and the messy reality of human life.
Yeats’ personal life may inform the poem’s domestic tensions. His fraught relationship with Maud Gonne, who rejected his marriage proposals, and his eventual marriage to Georgie Hyde-Lees (with whom he had children late in life) suggest a man grappling with the interplay of artistic solitude and domestic responsibility. The doll-maker’s wife’s anxious apology might reflect societal expectations of women to mediate between male creativity and domestic reality.
The poem aligns with modernist anxieties about art’s role in an industrialized world. Like Walter Benjamin’s The Work of Art in the Age of Mechanical Reproduction, The Dolls questions whether mass-produced art loses its soul. The dolls, mass-produced and identical, lack vitality—unlike the singular, messy baby.
The Dolls is a masterful exploration of art, life, and domestic unease. Through its eerie personification, ironic humor, and rich symbolism, Yeats crafts a poem that is both playful and profound. It challenges the reader to consider whether art should aspire to lifeless perfection or embrace the chaotic beauty of existence.
Ultimately, the poem’s power lies in its ambiguity—we are left unsure whether to side with the outraged dolls or the disruptive baby. In this tension, Yeats captures a fundamental artistic dilemma: the struggle between control and spontaneity, between the museum and the cradle. The Dolls remains a haunting, thought-provoking work, as relevant today as it was in 1914.
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