Tea at Trianon: Anne of Green Gables and the Glorious Sanctity of Life

John Wilson Croker on Marie-Antoinette

"We have followed the history of Marie Antoinette with the greatest diligence and scrupulosity. We have lived in those times. We have talked with some of her friends and some of her enemies; we have read, certainly not all, but hundreds of the libels written against her; and we have, in short, examined her life with– if we may be allowed to say so of ourselves– something of the accuracy of contemporaries, the diligence of inquirers, and the impartiality of historians, all combined; and we feel it our duty to declare, in as a solemn a manner as literature admits of, our well-matured opinion that every reproach against the morals of the queen was a gross calumny– that she was, as we have said, one of the purest of human beings."

~from History of the Guillotine by John Wilson Croker, 1844

Edmund Burke on Marie-Antoinette

"It is now sixteen or seventeen years since I saw the queen of France, then dauphiness, at Versailles; and surely there never lighted on this orb, which she hardly seemed to touch, a more delightful vision. I saw her just above the horizon, decorating and cheering the elevated sphere she had just begun to move in, glittering like a morning star full of life and splendor and joy. Oh, what a revolution....Little did I dream that I should have lived to see such disasters fall upon her, in a nation of gallant men, in a nation of men of honor and of cavaliers! I thought ten thousand swords must have leaped from their scabbards, to avenge even a look which threatened her with insult. But the age of chivalry is gone; that of sophisters, economists, and calculators has succeeded...."

~Edmund Burke, October 1790

Thursday, June 23, 2022

Anne of Green Gables and the Glorious Sanctity of Life

From Well-Read Mom:

When I was a child, sprawled out across my bed, delighting in Anne for the first time, her quaint sense of melodrama (to which I completely related) and her yearning for beauty and love spoke to my very soul. As a teenager, I sought to emulate Anne’s sense of conviction, righteousness, and ambition, desiring to aspire to her lofty ideals of character and empathizing with her very human struggles. Now, as an adult, though I certainly revel in those aspects of the story, I find myself increasingly pondering Matthew and Marilla’s role in this poignant tale.

Last month, our nation observed the ghastly anniversary of Roe v. Wade, through which the “right” to abortion was enshrined across America. Since this legal development, over 62 million lives have been extinguished (and countless souls tragically transfigured and maimed), all under the guise of empowering women. While this catastrophic loss of life is staggering, the grim ramifications extend well beyond the sheer death toll. The callousness with which we regard unborn human life has grossly redefined our views regarding children and motherhood in very tangible ways. We continually demean the vocation of the “mere” stay-at-home mother as “wasting” a woman’s talents and energies, while we simultaneously promote the commodification of pregnancy and our bodies through developments like surrogacy. We lament the realities of sexual and domestic abuse, but we fail to see how our cavalier attitude towards sexual ethics, marital fidelity, and lasting commitment contribute to these ills. In a world where unborn children are regarded as discardable, tantamount to mere medical waste, how can motherhood, family, and the primacy of human relationship and connection be upheld?

With this sobering reality in my mind, I found It hard to dismiss the undeniably pro-life message contained in Anne of Green Gables. While author Lucy Maud Montgomery may never have fathomed a world in which abortion-on-demand was not only touted as a “right,” but even as a “victory” for women, she obviously recognized the difficulty faced in unhesitatingly welcoming children into our lives, particularly when it interferes with our best-laid plans. Marilla’s unreserved consternation upon Anne’s unexpected arrival at Green Gables vividly mirrors the sentiments uttered by countless parents caught unawares: How could this possibly be? Everything had been perfectly calculated and prepared for a specific outcome, yet somehow, instead of the desired boy (the proverbial “perfect” child for to suit Marilla and Matthew’s needs), there was only this waifish “witch of a girl.” In light of her own disappointment and frustration, Marilla unabashedly, and rather hardheartedly asserts, “A girl would be of no use to us,” and further expounds on this sentiment, saying: “I don’t want an orphan girl and if I did she isn’t my style” (page 22 and 25) Though Marilla is hardly a soulless monster, the temptation to view other human beings in a utilitarian light, specifically when facing our own difficulties or challenging circumstances, is an insidious tendency to which even the best of us can fall prey. What use is this person to us? How can an unplanned baby enrich our lives, without hampering our future designs or dreams? How can a sick or elderly person, or an individual with special needs be of value when they demand so much from us? What is the point of enduring the ardors and struggles of marriage, parenthood, family life, or community if we do not receive a tangible benefit or profit?

While we can understand Marilla’s dilemma (I mean, how might we initially respond if an unexpected orphan child ended up on our doorstep?), Matthew’s perspective should give us pause. Instead of speculating, as Marilla does, whether Anne is a “useful little thing,” Matthew remarks that “She’s such an interesting little thing” (40). Though Anne’s appearance in their lives was thoroughly unexpected, and Matthew initially recoils at her small female visage (due to his blinding fear of the fairer sex), Matthew astutely recognizes the vivifying beauty of Anne: a beauty found in the singular brilliance of her soul, and a worth realized, not in her usefulness or the convenience of her presence, but simply in the merit of her irreplaceable existence. (Read more.)