utterance,'' a "mission," "a true action of the creative power," but the sordid intervention of a "greasy" impresario refracts these spiritual claims and collapses them. There is no third or mediating way out of the paradox that the apparently romantic aspirations have a sordid reality, while humdrum domestic life is, instead, the real sphere of divine mission. Here, as in Aurora Leigh, class questions subtly shift the ground: the preindustrial farm in which all participate, the family work in unity and interdependence, is clearly better than the protocapitalist exploitation of artist/woman by impresario/man, a relationship all too suggestive of prostitute to pimp. Reunited with family, baby, and husband, Hetty thanks God that she was purged of selfishness, willful dreams, and her delusive claims to talent. "A woman has no better work in life than the one she has taken up: to make herself a visible Providence to her husband and child" (19). God is usefully recruited to bolster the solution. The public sphere is tempting but shallow; the transcendent "Self" without ties is desolate; the private sphere, rather than stultifying and "mawkish," is a cozy and ennobling realm of human love (15, 8). The either/or ending of love versus vocation is created with a newly honed edge in this tale. Although it does offer a pointed vocabulary of critique, the narrative just as pointedly discredits it.
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Kate Chopin's The Awakening (1899) summarizes these nineteenth-century motifs, working them allusively, testing their limits, considering how they might be broken. 12 The way the life of the artist can be mistaken for the life of the demimondaine, the way "the children" come in and are narratively presented, and an allusion to the sacredness of home ties by a woman suffering in childbed are motifs shared with Rebecca Harding Davis. The death of Edna Pontellier as an artist figure is a plain statement that the character rejects the binary, either/or convention of love versus vocation. However, the fact that her rejection of complicity takes the form of suicide attacks the binary division between selves only by the monism of obliteration. Chopin hints that there might be some socially plausible, if marginalized, third way open to Edna, who is too attached to her privileges of class (the dovecote, the smart set) and gender (her beauty) to pursue it. In this narrative the binary choice still has force, but not finality; the
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