Hope When Everything is Hopeless: Rebuilding Hope in Montgomery's Post-War Novels

 

There are two origin stories to this paper. Origin story #1 takes place in my first year at the Atlantic School of Theology in Halifax (incidentally, Ewan MacDonald’s alma matter). I was sitting in a United Church of Canada Doctrine class, learning about the theological movements in Canada in the first quarter of the 20th century, and as I sat there listening, I was thinking to myself:  “I’ve read these conversations before, but in novel form. I could be listening to a conversation between Mr. Meredith and Norman Douglas right now.” I realized that Montgomery, as the wife of a Presbyterian minister, must have been aware of the theological conversations of her time and place, in order to be able to incorporate them into her novels.

 

The second origin story is more recent. In 2020 in the L. M. Montgomery Readathon Facebook group, we were discussing The Blue Castle, and one of the discussion questions that was posed was around where Valancey drew her hope.  To me, “hope” is a theological word, and this question got me thinking about the time period in which this novel was written. This was a time when the theological world’s understanding of hope had been shattered by the Great War. I then started thinking about how some of Montgomery’s most hope-filled novels, including The Blue Castle, were written in this time period.

 

And so, with this presentation, I plan to bring together some of Montgomery’s novels that were written in this post-war period alongside the North American Protestant theological discourse of that time, looking at them all through the lens of hope. I will be drawing on Montgomery’s journals as well; however we know the layers of self-editing that went into these journals in their final form, so they won’t be my primary source – they will appear primarily on the screen behind me.

 

I’ll begin by painting a picture of the theological movements of the first quarter of the 20th Century, then move on to explore the novels – I’ll look at Rainbow Valley and Rilla of Ingleside together, since they follow the same narrative arc with the same characters, and finish with The Blue Castle. I hope to show connections between Montgomery’s work and the theological world in which she was living and writing.

 

First of all, because I am looking at her work through a lens of hope, I should begin by defining what I mean by hope.  Theological hope is more than simple wishful thinking.

 

 

The Westminster Dictionary of Theological Terms defines Christian Hope as:  “The Christian anticipation of the future as the fulfillment of God’s purposes based on God’s covenant faithfulness and the resurrection of Jesus Christ as known by the work of the Holy Spirit in the church.”  And so hope is a future-oriented virtue – it looks at all of the problems of the present moment, and trusts that God has a better future planned for all of creation.  Hope isn’t needed when everything is going well – hope means acknowledging the pain and suffering of the present moment, and trusting that this current state is only temporary.  It has sometimes been said that hope is only possible when everything is hopeless.

 

In Protestant North America in the years leading up to the Great War, the understanding of hope was tied to the unbridled optimism and positivity of the 19th century.

 

 

Modernity and the Enlightenment meant that many scientific advances were being made. Canadian theologian, Douglas John Hall writes of this era:  “so much of what had come to be by the end of the nineteenth century was sheer illusion:  the illusion of unimpeded progress, of the moral neutrality of science and technology, of the essential goodness of the human spirit, of humanity’s rightful mastery over nature, of the victory of rationality over ignorance and superstition, of the socially beneficial character of individual pursuit of wealth and power, and so on.”  The prevailing belief in this time period was that the world was getting better and better, and that this progress would continue until the Kingdom of God was present here on earth; and that by the efforts of the church, the coming of God’s Kingdom could be sped up.

 

In this time period, you see theologians like Canadian Presbyterian R. G. MacBeth writing in 1912:  “Christians are not really owners; they are stewards and trustees of what they possess, and as such it is their bounden duty to expend it in the way that, in their enlightened and prayerful judgement, will conduce most to the glory of God and the extension of His Kingdom.”

 

You also see hints of this in the Basis of Union of the United Church of Canada, written by the Presbyterian, Methodist, and Congregational Churches and adopted by all three denominations in 1908.  “Article XX. Of Christian Service and the final Triumph.  We believe that it is our duty, as disciples and servants of Christ, to further the extension of His Kingdom… We confidently believe that by His power and grace all His enemies shall finally be overcome, and the kingdoms of this world be made the Kingdom of our God and of His Christ.”

 

And then the Great War started in 1914.  With such a massive conflict on an international scale, the world’s understanding of hope was shattered.  If the world was continually getting better and better until the Kingdom of God is here, then something like the Great War shouldn’t be possible.

 

Between 1914 and 1930, theologians had to re-work their understanding of hope to account for these events of history. Within the Presbyterian Church in Canada, two main strategies for understanding hope emerged.

 

 

Contemporary Presbyterian Theologian, Brian Fraser, writes about how the majority adopted a chastened optimism, with a “providential progress brought about by the gradual spread of moral and spiritual ideas through institutions.”  Events like the war could then be seen “as a continuation of that struggle for justice, purity, and peace” and the response to war could be seen as an opportunity to further progress God’s kingdom.

 

Alongside this majority view, a minority of Canadian Presbyterian theologians moved in the direction of neo-orthodoxy, a movement most associated with German theologian Karl Barth, but there was a Presbyterian in Toronto, Walter Bryden, who was, to quote one of my mentors Laurence DeWolfe, doing Barthian theology before Barth.

 

 

This neo-orthodoxy re-emphasized the divinity and omnipotence of God, while minimizing the ability of humans to change the course of God’s history. By this way of thinking, the war could be seen as absolute tragedy, neither hindering nor progressing the coming of God’s kingdom.

 

And into this milieu we have L. M. Montgomery, wife to a Presbyterian minister in rural Canada, writing books set in this time period in Protestant Canada.

 

 

Even though she denied that being a minister’s wife impacted her writing, she must have been aware of the theological conversations going on around her.  From her journals, we know that much of their social life in this time period, outside of their congregational obligations, revolved around friendships with other Presbyterian ministers and their families. I would love to have a recording of the conversations over dinner when Mr. Fraser was visiting the manse at Leaskdale, or when they were staying with the Stirlings in the manse in Cavendish. As someone who is frequently part of gatherings when clergy are present, as well as clergy spouses, I can attest that our conversation isn’t just about the price of gas or current movies!

 

I also wish that there was a record of what Ewan was reading in this time period. Montgomery writes in her journal about many of the books that she was reading; and we know that Ewan was reading, as she used his ability to read as a measure of his wellness, but as far as I know there is no list of his books. I can only speculate that his reading, alongside the reading of his colleagues and friends, included the books that were shaping the theological discourse at the time.

 

 

Montgomery began writing Rainbow Valley in 1917 when the war was raging and it was published in 1919, shortly following the war. Her next novel, Rilla of Ingleside, published in 1921, was set in the same community with the same cast of characters and takes place during the Great War.

 

In addition to the war and the subsequent influenza pandemic, this was not a peaceful period in Montgomery’s life. In 1919, her husband Ewan began to experience symptoms of the mental illness that he would struggle with for the rest of his life, placing strain on their home life. This was also the time period when Montgomery was involved in a series of lawsuits with her original publishers, L. C. Page, alongside a lawsuit following an automobile accident in June 1921 that would haunt the MacDonalds for many years.  Montgomery’s close friend, Frede Campbell, died in 1919 in the pandemic, as did many family members and neighbours; and Montgomery herself had lingering symptoms following her bout with the Spanish ’Flu.

 

And yet into this seemingly hopeless situation, both in her home life and in the wider world, Montgomery wrote what she hoped would be the last “Anne” books – books that are full of hope.

 

In Rainbow Valley, we see echoes of the pre-War optimistic hopefulness – the idea that the world was going to get better and better until the kingdom of God is here. When commenting on Jem Blythe’s fascination with soldiers, Cornelia Elliott comments, “Well, thank goodness, he’ll never be a soldier. I never approved of our boys going to that South African fracas. But it’s over, and not likely anything of the kind will ever happen again.”  This is especially poignant, given that Montgomery was writing these words in a time when a war even more devastating than the Boer war was raging around her.

 

An interesting thread to follow through both Rainbow Valley and Rilla of Ingleside are the conversations involving Mr. Meredith, a character who is a Presbyterian Minister. These are the parts of the books that jumped into my mind when I was sitting in class learning about the theological movements of this time.

 

 

In Rainbow Valley, set around 1906, we see Mr. Meredith conversing with Ellen West about the German Kaiser. They agree that he is dangerous, but disagree on the damage he could do. Mr. Meredith repeats the pre-war theology of hope, stating that the day for great wars is past, but Ellen rebuts him, saying:  “The day never goes by for men and nations to make asses of themselves and take to the fists. The millennium isn’t that near, Mr. Meredith.”  In her statement, Ellen seems to be anticipating the neo-orthodox theology of hope that would emerge following the war – a belief that human nature can’t be overcome, and that God’s promised future will only be achieved by God Themself.

 

Jumping forward in time, to Rilla of Ingleside and the start of the war in 1914, we see Mr. Meredith already needing to adapt his theology. The war that he thought impossible has come to pass, and he needs to make meaning of it.  He tells Sophia Crawford:  “I don’t think the war has been sent as a punishment for sin. I think it is the price humanity must pay for some blessing – some advance great enough to be worth the price – which we may not live to see but which our children’s children will inherit.”  This is the sort of theology you can find in a 1917 report written by T. B. Kilpatrick for the Presbyterian Church in Canada, titled War and the Christian Church.  Kilpatrick writes of how the war has challenged the faith of the church, and how, in response to this:  “We commend to all our brethren, in the membership, and in the ministry of our Church, the renewed study and the diligent pursuit, of all means and methods, whereby the cause of Christ may be furthered, and the world prepared for the establishment of the Kingdom of God.”

 

 

By 1916, Mr. Meredith seems to have developed this theology even further, maybe even leaning a little bit away from the social gospel perspective where it is by human work that God’s future will unfold, towards neo-orthodoxy where it is all up to God.  He tells Miss Oliver:  “We are witnessing the birth-pangs of a new era – but it will be born a feeble, wailing life like everything else. I am not one of those who expect a new heaven and a new earth as the immediate results of this war. That is not the way God works. But work He does, Miss Oliver, and in the end His purpose will be fulfilled.”

 

At the end of the novel, it is Jem Blythe who speaks the renewed Social Gospel that was the majority Presbyterian understanding of hope in the post-war era.  Upon returning from the war and more than 4 years of fighting, Jem tells Rilla:  “We’re in a new world, and we’ve got to make it a better one than the old. That isn’t done yet, though some folks seem to think it ought to be. The job isn’t finished – it isn’t really begun. The old world is destroyed and we must build up the new one. It will be the task of years. I’ve seen enough of war to realize that we’ve got to make a world where wars can’t happen.”

 

I wish that I could get into more threads of hope from these books – Mary Vance’s journey from despair to a cautious hope; Miss Oliver’s dreams; moments when the characters sway between despair and hope. Unfortunately I only have 20 minutes! Before leaving these books though, I want to say that Dog Monday is the most hopeful character I have ever read in literature. After seeing his human board a train in uniform, Dog Monday stayed at the station, looking for his human to return on every train. For almost 5 years, Dog Monday didn’t give up.  He had no evidence that his human was going to return on which to base his hope, yet he trusted that it was going to happen some day.

 

 

Turning from the world of Anne to the world of Valancy, I want to take a brief look at The Blue Castle.  This is a book about a character with a bleak past and a bleak future who manages to break away from it and discover a future that she had dreamed of but never expected to experience.

 

The theme of hope is introduced in the opening paragraphs of the book. Valancy wakes up early, “in the lifeless, hopeless hour just preceding dawn,” and she is described as having been relegated “to hopeless old maidenhood.” But we are also told that “Valancy herself had never quite relinquished a certain pitiful, shamed, little hope that romance would come her way yet.”  It is a medical diagnosis that shakes Valancy from her hopelessness to live into that tiny flame of hope that she had carried with her through her whole life. The thought that she might never get to experience her Blue Castle gave her the courage to step away from the hopeless situation that she thought she was trapped in, and live her life to the fullest.

 

 

Even though this book is less explicitly theological than Rainbow Valley and Rilla of Ingleside, I see in Valancy’s actions a hint of the renewed social gospel understanding of hope in the post-war period, whereby humans are expected to do the things that are within our grasp to bring about God’s better future. If Valancy hadn’t taken her first step away from her family, nothing would have changed for her.

 

 

I want to conclude today with a quote that is found in both The Blue Castle and Rainbow Valley, as well as twice in Montogmery’s own journals in 1922-1923.  “Despair is a free man; hope is a slave.” Ellen West tells herself this, trying to convince herself not to be enslaved to a hope that she might be able to marry Norman Douglas. Valancy tells herself the same thing at the moment of her decision to change her life, thinking that it is despair over her diagnosis that frees her.  And the context from Montgomery’s journals is once with respect to the Pickering lawsuit, and once with respect to Ewan’s health.

 

As far as I’ve been able to discern, this quote originates with Ali ibn Abi Talib, cousin and son-in-law of the Prophet Muhammed. 18th Century British Orientalist, Simon Ockley, in his commentary on this saying, writes, “So long as a man is in expectation, his thoughts are in suspense and he is in a slavish condition; but as soon as he gives over his pursuit, he is free and at liberty.”

 

I want to push back a little bit on this aphorism. Montgomery would have seen in her own home life how her husband, Ewan, was paralyzed by despair about his own perceived damnation. Despair didn’t free him, rather it enslaved him. And was it Valancy’s despair over not having a future beyond 12 months that allowed her to break free of her family; or was it her hope that her Blue Castle was out there that gave her the courage to break free?  And for the Blythe, Meredith, Douglas, and Elliot families, despair about the war would have sunk them, but instead it was their hope in a better world that gave them the strength to keep on moving from one day into the next; and their hope in God’s coming kingdom that allowed them to start to make sense out of the War.

 

When everything seems hopeless, sometimes hope is all that we have left.

 

 

 

Thank you to some of my mentors, who gave me some initial direction towards what theologians might have been influencing the discourse around hope in the post-war years.

 

 

 

And finally my references: