Introduction

The character of Nora Helmer in Henrik Ibsen’s A Doll’s House is broadly dimensional, despite typical perceptions of her. In relatively recent years, she has been pointed to as exemplary of a delayed feminist sensibility, one rudely shocked into an awareness of her own dependence and demeaning circumstances. Nora’s life is usually perceived to be that of a mindless, feminine, subservient wife and mother, one happy to dance for her husband in order to please him and gain a treat, until a revelation in the third act forces her to reconsider her existence.

This assessment of Nora, however, completely overlooks the spirit and intelligence of the character as depicted from the play’s onset. The Nora Ibsen presents to the audience is, from the beginning, a woman who has adapted to circumstances in order to exercise an authority of her own. She clearly holds to the values of her life with her husband, Torvald, and of the society around them, but she covertly breaks the rules in order to achieve a far more important goal, that of saving her husband’s life. It is only when Torvald reveals how truly small his own nature is that Nora understands the futility of her sacrifice and her existence, and this is by no means a refutation of the values to which she so willingly adhered. In a very real sense, Nora undergoes no change or revelation as a character, because there is a power and capability within her all the while; only Torvald’s revealing of himself as too petty to comprehend the largeness of her actions triggers her abandoning of her life.

Nora as Wife in the Society

There can be no understanding of the depth of Nora without a full sense of what, from the start of the play, she has been concealing for years. Only by negotiating an expensive loan is she able to obtain for her husband the time away needed for him to recover his health, and this can be achieved only through secrecy because Nora must conform to both her husband’s expectations of her role in the home, and of society’s. More importantly, these same expectations are completely accepted by Nora herself. She understands how unacceptable her negotiations are to her world and, if she does not fully respect these values, she is more than willing to comply with them. This is the strength in Nora that is not lying in wait till the climax of the play, because it is evidence of the scope of her mind and of her innate sense of priorities. A “doll” of a wife would never have the courage to lie to her husband for his own sake, or brave the financial dealings and obligations necessary to obtaining the needed result. Nora does not shun the values of her world, but she will not permit them to interfere when a greater purpose is at hand.

It is this hidden current of resolve that defines Nora. The foolishness she engages in to please her husband is not demeaning to her because she both understands that it is no more than silliness, and because her love for him is expansive enough to allow for it. The common notion of Nora as mindless plaything is actually never evident in the play because Ibsen informs his audience early on of what his heroine’s true character is. When Nora explains her recent life to her old friend, Christine, she nearly reveals something that is shameful to her as she relates the work she herself has had to do: “Odds and ends, needlework, crochet-work, embroidery, and that kind of thing. And other things as well” (Ibsen 1269). The shame, as is shortly revealed, is the need to conceal from Torvald the hard work she has to undertake to pay for the trip which saves his life. Unknown to her husband, she has taken on “unfeminine” work of copying to pay the debt. This is unimportant to her, ultimately, even as she complies in the values requiring that the work be concealed. There are legal components to the bargain she has made she does not understand, but even this failure is due to her deep-seated belief in the irrefutable good of her actions. Her values echo those of her society, but they transcend them as well, and Nora takes on her responsibilities in a nearly heroic manner.

When, later in the play, Torvald is shocked and disgusted to learn of Nora’s subterfuge, the real revelation occurs, and it is by no means a feminist rejection of the society in which Nora has lived. Torvald’s reaction does prompt Nora to rethink, or consider for the first time, how her husband has viewed her, as well as her own upbringing: “You and papa have committed a great sin against me. It is your fault that I have made nothing of my life” (Ibsen 1325). All of this, however, is a consequence of the greater impact. The real shock that Nora must confront is that she has been betrayed in love and in the visceral understanding she believed existed between herself and Torvald. For his sake, she had been happy to accommodate the values of their world because the foundation she believed to have united them rendered such considerations unimportant; Torvald’s complete withdrawing of his love and regard show her how there is no substance to the man, and therefore to his love. For Nora, there had been twin sets of values, that of those that truly matter and those dictated by their external world. For Torvald, there was only the latter, and this is so shocking to her that she must recoil even from the children they have: “I won’t see the little ones. I know they are in better hands than mine” (Ibsen 1331). Torvald essentially forces Nora to leave, as he leaves her with nothing to rely on. In removing the foundation upon which she had counted, Torvald renders the surrounding, external values meaningless to her.

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