Daily Book Excerpt: Memoirs:
Next book on the Memoir/Letters/Journals shelf is The Years Before Anne
Francis W.P. Bolger has put together a wonderful mini-biography of the life of Lucy Maud Montgomery up until the publication of Anne of Green Gables in 1908. Using not only snippets from Montgomery’s journals, she also incorporates her correspondence (which, as I mentioned in another post about LMM, is another piece of the puzzle yet to be published – what must have been a voluminous correspondence). Much of her girlish rambling is just that … rambling … but it’s really interesting to read, especially in light of who Lucy Maud would become. You can already see the passionately interested and susceptible girl who would create such an indelible character as Anne Shirley.
This small volume includes many of Lucy Maud Montgomery’s early poems (some are dreadful, but some are lovely: you can watch her progression), and her published essays. She was like Sylvia Plath: driven and ambitious from the start. Lucy Maud Montgomery was getting things published as a teenager. She was precocious, but not only that, driven to find out about the writing business, and what magazines would be receptive to her work. She studied the other writers, and often wrote in imitation of them. You need only read some of her swirling Harlequin romance short stories to see that. Lucy Maud Montgomery was an artist with a burning NEED to tell stories, which also meant that she was practical and would publish wherever they would take her. There are so many writers like that, although more so in that day and age, when literary and genre magazines flourished. Writers had way more outlets to get their stuff seen than they do now. LMM went after them all, writing poetry, ghost stories, charming fishing stories, moralistic Sunday School stories, torrid romances … until finally, 1906 or so, she wrote her first novel.
The details of Lucy Maud Montgomery’s early life are rather sad, if you look at the surface details. Her mother died when she was a baby, and her father left her in the care of her maternal grandparents and moved out West to start a new family. He kept saying he’d send for her, only he never did. Through her own begging and pleading, she did spend a season out on the prairies of Saskatchewan with her father and his new wife and baby, going to high school out there and making friends she would maintain her whole life. But it must have been a little bit tense, if I can read between the lines. Did her father’s new wife resent the presence of the high school girl who was demanding to be a part of her new family? Whatever happened (and I haven’t read Mary Rubio’s biography yet, although I definitely will), Lucy Maud Montgomery did not stay with her father, but returned to Prince Edward Island.
She was top of her class in high school and then went on to Prince of Wales college (an experience that she would call upon later in one of my favorites of the entire Anne series, Anne of the Island). The picture above shows Lucy Maud (she’s the one sitting in front) with some of her college friends. It was a carefree and independent time. Even in college, with all her hard work, she kept plugging away at her writing, getting things published in local magazines. She was chosen to read an essay she had written at the graduation ceremony, due to her prominence and accomplishments at the college. Her essay was on Portia from Merchant of Venice and had garnered much praise from her teachers and anyone who read it. That’s the excerpt below.
I suppose only diehard Lucy Maud fans would care about her college essay, but that’s why this little book is so special. Her “Portia” essay really pours on the purple prose, it’s a “bit much”, I think, and yet I can still feel Lucy Maud’s sincerity behind the flowery words.
Excerpt from The Years Before Anne
Realizing that a substantial increase of knowledge would contribute immeasurably to her literary success, Lucy maud applied herself assiduously to her studies. She achieved noteworthy results. She obtained an honor certificate and led her year in English drama, English literature, Agriculture and School management. In addition. Lucy Maud delivered the graduation essay at the Commencement Exercises held at the Opera House in Charlottetown on June 9, 1894. Each year the best essay written in the English drama course was read at the Convocation Exercises. It seemed fitting that the essay of the future international author should have been chosen.
The editor of the Charlottetown Examiner commented quite glowingly on both the quality of Lucy Maud’s essay on “Portia”, the heroine of William Shakespeare’s play, The Merchant of Venice, and on her eloquent reading of it at the Prince of Wales College Convocation:
The program was unique among the bills of fare served at functions such as this. True, it followed the hoary, orthodox custom of reserving the greatest names for the finale, but it placed the best and most attractive features first. There is no room to doubt that the piece de resistance of the evening was Lucy Maud Montgomery’s essay on “Portia”. It was a character-sketch such as might have come from George Eliot in her ‘teens. It was not only a subtle, analytical study; it was a literary gem. Miss Montgomery began with the girl Portia in meditation but not free; bound by the mystery of the caskets of lead and silver and gold, “the stately graceful heiress of a long past age.”
In phrases of almost perfect art, Miss Montgomery praised the beauty of the Portian type of heart and mind and soul. Especially heart; for that was where the humanity lay, was it not? And Portia, by a little touch of human frailty, now and then, endeared herself to every heart. In fine, this sweet, strong heroine of Shakespeare’s greatest thought was, toward the suitor of her choice, “a perfect marvel of maidenly delicacy and womanly love.” But it was in her capacity as the “possessor of a magnificent intellect” that Portia won the young essayist’s most enthusiastic words of praise. To say that Miss Montgomery in this analysis did justice to Portia’s intellectual worth may seem a strong statement and undue praise, but it is simple truth.
This tribute by the editor of the Examiner must have been especially gratifying to Lucy Maud who had had most of her earlier poems and short stories coldly rejected by that newspaper.
Lucy Maud Montgomery’s descriptive powers, which would later establish her as one of the world’s greatest creators of childrens’ fiction, is already evident in the portrait of “Portia” that she depicts in her graduation essay:
“PORTIA” – A STUDY
Of all Shakespeare’s many delightful plays surely the “Merchant of Venice” is the most delightful. The scenes of this charming comedy are for the most part laid in that fairy city of romance, Venice, the queen of the Adriatic; and some of its characters are ranked among the great dramatist’s master pieces. Of these characters, Portia the beautiful heroine is, perhaps the one who appeals most strongly to our sympathies, and, from first to last, fascinates us by her beauty, grace, and intellect.
There are three female characters in this play, all perfect portraits after their mind, but there is a great difference in the kind. Jessica, the pretty, dark-eyed Jewess, is, indeed, piquant and sprightly, but too heartless and deceitful to win our love; and Nerissa, the confidential waiting maid has all of an indulged servant’s garrulity in her sharp tongue. But who will find a fault with Portia – this stately, graceful heiress of a long-past age? An age far removed from us now, in customs and in manners as in time and yet here brought vividly near to us in these pictured passions of the human heart, which is the same to-day as it was when Venice was in her glory’s prime.
And yet Portia is not absolutely without a flaw, — a little touch of human frailty now and then endears her still more to our hearts. For one thing, she is somewhat sarcastic and does not at all spare the weaknesses of the suitors, whom her golden tresses, and no less her golden ducats, have brought to her feet. When we first see her in the play, she is gaily discussing with Nerissa the faults and virtues of her unfortunate admirers, with a sportive carelessness which tells us that her heart is as yet untouched. But withal, her sparkling wit is without malice or bitterness – it is merely that of a light-hearted, joyous girl, with no cares to trouble her, except, perhaps, those same lovers whom she may neither accept nor refuse, being bound by the terms of her father’s will, to marry whoever chooses from three caskets the one containing her picture.
But Portia, though quick to see their foibles, is never anything but perfectly considerate and thoughtful of them. In her interviews with her princely suitors we are always impressed by her delicate tact and graceful courtesy. Affection for any she never simulates – there is no affectation of an interest she does not feel, but never, by word or look, does she wound the feelings or hurt the vanity of any aspirant for her hand. And even if after they fail in their choice and depart, she expresses her relief in some laughing jest with Nerissa, who shall blame her?
But still in time to Portia comes the true fairy prince – he who, alone of all others, has the power to awaken in her heart a woman’s tenderest love. No titled lover with princely retinue or haughty lineage only a handsome young Venetian, with no fortune and nothing save his noble birth, courtly manners and manly spirit to recommend him. But Portia’s wayward heart has found its master, and her speech to Bassanio in the casket scene is a marvel of mingled maidenly delicacy and womanly love. Our hearts thrill with sympathetic joy when Bassanio chooses the right casket and wins both the picture and the beautiful original.
But over their bridal happiness comes a sudden chill – ill tidings for Bassanio. Antonio, his dearest friend, is in danger, and his presence is requested at once. Portia nobly rises to meet the occasion. With gentle firmness she tells Bassanio that he must go at once – with no word or look does she seek to keep him by her side, when duty calls him away. With true thoughtfulness, she conceals her own sorrow at the parting and strives to encourage him with her hopeful assurance and sympathy.
Then comes the grand climax of the play – the famous trial scene where all the tragic issues find their centre. And here we see Portia in a new light. We have beheld and loved her as the happy maiden, the loving woman and the gentle bride, now she claims our admiration as the possessor of a magnificent intellect. The friend to whom her husband owes most is in danger of his life at the hands of relentless Shylock. All efforts to save him have been fruitless. Never was woman’s quick wit more sorely needed and never did it come more promptly to the rescue. Disguised as a doctor of laws, Portia enters the court. Her pleading for mercy is unrivalled – grandly eloquent, tenderly sublime. And when it is of no avail, her subtle logic and keen judgment succeeds where all the learned heads in Venice have failed, and Antonio is saved.
Then comes the last beautiful scene, where, in the moonlit gardens of her home, Portia welcomes back her husband. A charming picture she presents in truth, this sweet bride of long ago, than whom no nineteenth century maiden can find a higher ideal of womanhood to emulate.
And as we turn away from the fairy scene of light and music with which the play concludes, we feel that Bassanio has indeed, won for his bride a woman worthy of his love. For as long as the English language is spoken or read, as long as genius is admired and womanly sweetness praised, the character of Portia will be regarded as one of the truest, noblest, fairest creations of Shakespeare’s master genius.
Lucy Maud Montgomery
The editor of the Patriot remarked that “Miss Lucy Maud Montgomery’s analysis of ‘Portia’ was of the highest order and the essay was read with good effect”. Lucy Maud certainly received heady commendations for her award-winning piece de resistance.
I so wish that Anne of the Island had been dramatized – I’d have loved to have seen Phil Gordon come to life on the screen.
Desirae – yes! Phil is the best – she’s one of my favorites of all of LMM’s characters.
I don’t how big a fan you are of the “royals” – but Princess Kate has requested that their first visit to Canada (this week), include a day on Prince Edward Island so that she might see some of the places about which LMM has written. Stay tuned!