By Cosetta Veronese
Written by E. B. White in 1952, Charlotte’s Web continues to rank high in children’s literature. It is a bittersweet story featuring a diverse cast of characters, both human and non-human. It begins at the farm of Mr. Arable, where piglets have just been born. Mr. Arable’s little daughter Fern prevents her father from taking the life of the one runt in the litter, whom she names Wilbur and raises herself. As Wilbur grows, he is transferred from the Arables to the bigger farm of Fern’s uncle, Mr. Zuckerman, where he befriends other animals – geese, sheep, horses, cows, Templeton the rat, and the spider Charlotte. As the Zuckermans and the farmhand Lurvey plan to butcher Wilbur with the coming of the cold season, Charlotte pledges to save his life by spinning words in her web that celebrate Wilbur’s virtues. Her plan is successful. The phrases “some pig”, “terrific”, “radiant” and “humble” that Charlotte weaves into the web persuade the Zuckermans’ of their pig’s exceptional qualities and everybody marvels at the miracle. This earns Wilbur the first prize at the annual county fair, celebrated at the end of summer. Once the festivities are over and everybody prepares to return to the barn, Charlotte announces that she is close to death and will not be going back. Wilbur promises to care for her eggs and, as spring arrives, hundreds of spiders are born. All of them leave, except for three who decide to stay with him at the barn as a token of friendship.
Charlotte’s Web has been considered a story about life and death, about the inexorable passage of time that marks the life stages of all living creatures, human and non-human alike. The emphasis on nature’s cyclical rhythms – the rhythms of life and death – is evident through the strong sensory (and sensual) appeal of the descriptions. Wilbur is a “spring pig” (CW 11). As he grows and the seasons pass, the natural and social landscapes also change. The former are characterised by the metamorphoses in the colours, smells and sounds of nature (leaves, flowers, fruits and birds), while the latter follow the rhythms of human labour, summer festivities, and the end and beginning of school. Significantly, as the story unfolds, we witness Fern maturing from childhood to adolescence, Wilbur growing into a pig that is threatened to be slaughtered, and Charlotte laying her eggs and exhausting her life as a spider. Besides its symbolic value, Charlotte’s Web also offers interesting insights from a zooanthropological perspective: the book criticises anthropocentrism on at least two levels: at the level of the story and at the level of characterization.
Let us begin with the former. As the relationship between Fern, Wilbur and the other animals at Zuckerman’s farm unfolds, we witness the little girl interacting with these characters in at least three of the five relationship domains defined by zooanthropology: the affective, social, and epistemic domains (Marchesini 2015: 105-234; Marchesini 2016: 115-144). When Fern takes care of the piglet like a baby, she is operating within the affective domain – holding Wilbur against her cheek (CW 4), feeding him with a bottle (5-6), worrying about him feeling warm and protected (9), walking him in the pram together with her doll (10). Fern sees no difference between her life and that of the weakest piglet in the litter: “If I had been very small at birth, would you have killed me?” (CW 2) she shouts at her father to defend the runt’s right to life. The affective dimension expresses itself in the dispensation of care (epimelesis) in response to requests of care (et-epimelesis) (Marchesini 2021a: 395-406). A strong motivation in mammals, epimelesis developed because, due to their limited offspring (compared to fish, for example) and their long developmental period (think of us humans!), they require a prolonged period of nurturing. Fern becomes Wilbur’s caregiver, a role that makes her feel fulfilled, satisfied, and empowered. Caring and nurturing open the girl up to the world and prepare her to become an adult, a future mother herself – “Fern was seated on the floor in the corner of the kitchen with her infant between her knees, teaching it to suck from the bottle” (CW 6-7; my emphasis).
Living on a farm makes the animals part of Fern’s social circle. During a Sunday breakfast, while telling her parents about the happenings in the barn, Fern uses the first-person pronoun “us” to describe the animals’ shared antipathy towards Templeton, the rat: “None of us likes him much” (CW 52). When her mother asks “Who’s ‘us’?”, the girl replies: “Oh, everybody in the barn cellar. Wilbur and the sheep and the lambs and the goose and the gander and the goslings and Charlotte and me.” The repetition of the conjunction “and” emphasises the emotional bond that ties Fern to her non-human friends. She eagerly recalls each of them, all individually. She sees them both as persons – hence the conjunction – and as part of her community – as “us”. The little girl considers herself an integral member of this interspecies group. Not only are species-specific differences maintained (sheep, geese, spiders), but, within the species, their gender and developmental stage are also specified (goose and gander, lambs and goslings). At the same time, however, these differences blur into an “us”, a pronoun that underlines an underlying connection. Additionally, the species-specific differences are softened by a certain common dislike for the rat’s temperament.
Ultimately, no matter how hard her squeamish mother attempts to discourage Fern, she is simply happy in the company of animals: «“You’re spending too much time in that barn – it isn’t good for you to be alone so much.” “Alone?” said Fern. “Alone? My best friends are in the barn cellar. It is a very sociable place. Not at all lonely.”» (CW 107; my emphasis). Significantly, Fern is the sole character in the story who can understand what the animals say. She can understand them because she has learnt their language – even the spider’s: “She doesn’t talk very loud, but she talks” (CW 105) she retorts to her mother when the latter argues that spiders don’t tell stories because they can’t talk.
Fern’s relationship with Wilbur and the rest of the animals at her uncle’s barn exemplifies very well what Roberto Marchesini (2022b) calls the animal’s “pedagogic role” (“ruolo magistrale”). Whether consciously or not, in Charlotte’s Web this role is clearly recognized by its author, E. B. White, as he describes Fern attentively observing her uncle Zuckermann’s animals. The interspecies relationship she develops with the non-human animals in the barn allows them to become more and more familiar with each other:
Fern found an old milking stool that had been discarded, and she placed the stool in the sheepfold next to Wilbur’s pen. Here she sat quietly during the long afternoons, thinking and listening and watching Wilbur. The sheep soon got to know her and trust her. So did the geese, who lived with the sheep. All the animals trusted her, she was so quiet and friendly. […] [Mr. Zuckerman] told Fern that she could sit on the stool and watch Wilbur as long as she wanted to. It made her happy just to be near the pig (CW 15-16; my emphasis)
By watching and observing in silence, Fern learns. She learns what the animals do, how they move and behave, and who they are. This description brings to mind Konrad Lorenz’ humorous suggestion that a good ethologist needs to have the temperament of a “patient and lazy person” because much of their work involves quietly observing animals over extended periods (Lorenz 1969: 62). This is what Fern does, and what allows her to recognise all the animals in the barn as individuals. It’s not just Fern who learns about the animals, though – they learn about her too: they understand that they can trust her.
Several times in the book, we notice Fern watching the animals in stillness: she is observed (by her parents, by her uncle, by the reader) as she intently observes her non-human companions. Zooanthropology refers to this attitude as the “epistemic relationship dimension”. Fern recognises herself as both similar to the other animals and different from them. Therefore, she can both empathise with them and admire them: “Don’t you think that’s fascinating?” (CW 105) the bewildered girl asks her mother after describing how a fish was caught in Charlotte’s cousin’s spiderweb.
Fern learns from the animals. She views them not only as subjects but also as referents; she credits them with a pedagogical role. Her understanding and interpretation of the world are mediated by animals; she grows through them. Mr. Arable and Dr. Dorian, Fern’s two human, adult and male pedagogical figures seem to endorse this approach whereas Fern’s mother, Mrs. Arable, does not. We could almost suspect the author of misogyny, as the most important parental figure in the story ostentatiously resists her daughter’s interaction with animals. Undoubtedly, Mrs. Arable displays epimeletic inclinations towards her daughter (she is obviously worried about her); however, she lacks sensitivity towards the non-human world. She betrays greater preoccupation with her young girl fitting a conventional and stereotypical bourgeois female role: finding a good match.
It may be fair to say that the adult human figures in the story are only silhouettes, approximate drafts not devoid of contradictions. For example, at the beginning of the story Mr. Arable speaks in totally utilitarian terms, referring to pigs as objects, commodities that can be disposed of (“[the runt is] very small and weak, and it will never amount to anything” (CW 1); “I only distribute pigs to early risers” he reproachfully replies to his rascal son, as if piglets could be handed out like candy (5)). Later in the story, however, Mr. Arable’s attitude seems to have softened: he enjoys his daughter’s accounts of what is going on at the barn and, like Dr. Dorian, he admits the possibility of animals talking (“Maybe they do talk […] I’ve sometimes wondered […] Maybe our ears aren’t as sharp as Fern’s (CW 54)). Fern’s father ultimately seems to acknowledge that his daughter learns by observing animals, that her knowledge of the world expands through them, and that the world becomes familiar to her because she can also get to know it through the animals.
In essence, if we want to read Fern’s interaction with the animals in Charlotte’s Web in zooanthropological terms, we can observe the following. Care drives Fern to look after the piglet because she recognizes in him a next-of-kin – a fragile creature (epimeletic dimension) as well as a social partner (social dimension). Epimelesis activates observation (Who is the other? What are its needs? How can I fulfil them?), thus paving the way for the epistemic dimension, the observation, interpretation and understanding of the world. Fostered by curiosity and exploration, the epistemic dimension helps the little girl integrate thinking and reflection into her behaviour as she embraces life. Significantly, as Fern’s fondness for Henry Fussy increases towards the end of the story, we can retrospectively interpret Dr. Dorian’s response to Mrs. Arable as an anticipation of Fern’s maturation mediated by her growing up in the company of animals: “Let Fern associate with her friends in the barn if she wants to. I would say, offhand, that spiders and pigs were fully as interesting as Henry Fussy. Yet, I predict that the day will come when even Henry will drop some chance remark that catches Fern’s attention”. (CW 111)
Dr. Dorian is the figure to whom the author entrusts some insightful reflections on the pedagogical value of children’s relationship with animals and nature. When visited by a concerned Mrs. Arable, who is worried about her daughter’s physical and mental health, Dr. Dorian displays both curiosity and calmness. He finds it “enchanting” that Fern is spending so much time observing and listening to animals (CW 108). The choice of the adjective is interesting: it evokes the idea of “enchantment”, which is also a synonym for “miracle”. And a miracle is what everybody believes the words in praise of Wilbur, appearing in the spiderweb, to be. Unlike the rest of the adult humans in the story, however, Dr. Dorian considers the miracle to lie elsewhere:
“Do you understand how there could be any writing in a spider’s web? ”
“Oh, no,” said Dr. Dorian. “I don’t understand it. But for that matter I don’t understand how a spider learned to spin a web in the first place. When the words appeared, everyone said they were a miracle. But nobody pointed out that the web itself is a miracle.” […] “A young spider knows how to spin a web without any instructions from anybody. Don’t you regard that as a miracle?” (CW 108-110; my emphasis)
Dr. Dorian exposes the “anthropomocentric gaze” of Mrs. Arable’s and the rest of the human characters in the story with the exception of Fern. In fact, Mrs. Arable admits that she does not understand how the words came into the spiderweb and confesses “I don’t like what I can’t understand” (CW 110). Caught up in a narcissistic loop, the anthropocentric perspective assumes that, because of attributes such as reason, intellect or cognition (all terms which would deserve a separate analysis), humans can see and know everything; hence, that they are above, better, and more important than the rest of the living world. To this mindset, nature and animals are merely resources available for human use.
Mrs. Arable insists that her daughter’s interest in animals is not natural, because humans should concern themselves with humans and not with animals. The nature-culture dichotomy could not be more explicitly stated. Mrs. Arable, her cousin Zuckerman, their helper Lurvey and the rest of the inhabitants of this agrarian world are incapable of noticing the wonders of animals, except when these deviate from what a long process of habituation has made them take for granted. Mrs. Arable asks: “What’s miraculous about a spider web?”, and insists: “I don’t see why you say a web is a miracle – it’s just a web.”
E. B. White makes a very clear point about human presumption and the gullibility of their notion of “miracle” by bestowing the role of a Deus ex machina on a spider. While contriving a plan to save Wilbur’s life, Charlette muses to herself: “If I can fool a bug […] I can surely fool a man. People are not as smart as bugs” (CW 67). The author of Charlotte’s Web could not have anticipated how true his words would ring more than seventy-years after the release of his book. Between 2020 and 2022, as the Covid-pandemic wreaked havoc worldwide, inducing people and governments to shout almost in unison “Fight the virus!” it became apparent that, as Charlotte says, bugs can indeed be smarter than people – all the more so, when the hidden power of the mass media disseminates ad hoc information, pulling the strings behind the scenes. As Charlotte also says: “People believe almost anything they see in print.” (CW 89).
By disconnecting themselves from the world – Mrs. Arable even calls her daughter’s fascination for animals “unnatural” – humans have made themselves easy preys to bugs. As Roberto Marchesini observes in The Virus Paradigm (2021b: 1), we deliberately turn a blind eye to the fact that we are infecting the planet with overpopulation, we are exploiting every last remaining piece of greenery and forest, and clinging to the illusion that technology will save us! The mottos of our busy times are “rush” and “hurry”. Incapable of sitting still and admiring the natural world like Fern, humans, in their solipsistic and self-directed gaze can only tend to themselves. We view animals either as tools and instruments, or as a projection of ourselves, forgetting that they have played a major role in shaping our species.
Besides being rich in botanical imagery and extraordinarily evocative of the scents, smells and textures of what must have been farm life in the times of yore, Charlotte’s Web gently peers into the dangers of our anthropological biases, especially in our attitude towards animals. It’s a book that invites us to pay attention, keep silent, watch and listen. Only then will we be able to reawaken our senses and heed what they have to say:
“I never heard one [animal] say anything,” he [Dr. Dorian] replied. “But that proves nothing. It is quite possible that an animal has spoken civilly to me and that I didn’t catch the remark because I wasn’t paying attention. Children pay better attention than grownups. If Fern says that the animals in Zuckerman’s barn talk, I’m quite ready to believe her. Perhaps if people talked less, animals would talk more. People are incessant talkers – I can give you my word on that.” (CW 110)
References
Lorenz, K. (1969) L’anello di re Salomone. Milano: Adelphi
Marchesini, R. (2015) Pet Therapy. Manuale pratico. Firenze-Milano: Giunti.
– (2016) Il bambino e l’animale. Fondamenti per una pedagogia zooantropologica. Roma: Anicia.
– (2021a) Le radici del desiderio. Alla ricerca delle motivazioni umane. Bologna: Apeiron.
– (2021b) The Virus Paradigm. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.
– (2022) “Zoomimesis: imparare dalle altre specie”. Animal Performance Studies, edited by Laura Budriesi, Accademia University Press.
https://doi.org/10.4000/books.aaccademia.12310.
White, E. B. (1952) Charlotte’s Web. New York: Harper & Row
