Note: If you wish to receive, via e-mail, (1) my weekly newsletter or (2) daily copies of these posts, notify me at [email protected] and indicate which you would like. I promise not to share your e-mail address with anyone. To unsubscribe, send me a follow-up email.
Monday
Two weeks ago, as I was (1) reading the first volume of John Galsworthy’s Forsyte Saga and (2) reflecting upon the first-year anniversary of the anti-abortion Dobbs decision, I noted that Soames Forsyte’s belief that he possesses his first wife (Irene) is characteristic of many so-called right-to-lifers: they are more interested in power over women than in the fate of the unborn. After all, they lose all interest in the children once they are born, at least if those children are poor and require social services.
An episode in In Chancery, the second volume of Forsyte Saga, actually bears out this point by presenting Soames with an abortion decision. Soames by the end of the novel has finally given up his attempts to reassert his control over his “property”—Irene prefers to live in poverty rather than return to him—and, following a divorce, has remarried Anette, a pretty French woman. After all, without a wife he can’t get a son to whom he would pass on his wealth and name. He finds his plans balked a second time, however, when Annette faces a birth crisis: the doctor tells Soames that, if she doesn’t get a late term birth abortion (although he doesn’t use the phrase), she could die.
Compounding the dilemma is the fact that, regardless of what happens, Annette will never be able to have children again. Here’s the doctor:
“This is the position, Mr. Forsyte. I can make pretty certain of her life if I operate, but the baby will be born dead. If I don’t operate, the baby will most probably be born alive, but it’s a great risk for the mother—a great risk. In either case I don’t think she can ever have another child. In her state she obviously can’t decide for herself, and we can’t wait for her mother. It’s for you to make the decision, while I’m getting what’s necessary. I shall be back within the hour.”
Although I’d like to think that most of us would put the mother’s life first, we’re learning from increasing numbers of cases in post-Dobbs America—at least in its red states—that this is no longer case. There are mothers experiencing versions of Annette’s situation, their health sacrificed because doctors are not allowed to perform previously allowed abortions.
And in fact, Soames makes a red state call. We can foresee this in his mental wrestling. Notice the use of the word “perhaps,” which Galsworthy italicizes:
On the one hand life, nearly certain, of his young wife, death quite certain, of his child; and—no more children afterwards! On the other, death perhaps of his wife, nearly certain life for the child; and—no more children afterwards! Which to choose?
Soames’s thoughts on the matter, while they start with what is best for Annette, always circle back to what’s best for himself. He’s even vaguely aware of this:
What would she wish—to take the risk. “I know she wants the child,” he thought. “If it’s born dead, and no more chance afterwards—it’ll upset her terribly. No more chance! All for nothing! Married life with her for years and years without a child. Nothing to steady her! She’s too young. Nothing to look forward to, for her—for me! For me!” He struck his hands against his chest! Why couldn’t he think without bringing himself in—get out of himself and see what he ought to do?
And further on:
He looked at his watch. In half an hour the doctor would be back. He must decide! If against the operation and she died, how face her mother and the doctor afterwards? How face his own conscience? It was his child that she was having. If for the operation—then he condemned them both to childlessness. And for what else had he married her but to have a lawful heir?
In the end, he decides to gamble with his wife’s life, rationalizing, “Annette can’t die; it’s not possible. She’s strong!”
When he communicates this decision to the doctor– “She’s strong, we’ll take the risk”—the doctor replies, “It’s on your shoulders; with my own wife, I couldn’t.”
The tortured rationalizing continues even after the die has been cast. If the situation were reversed, he thinks, Annette wouldn’t hesitate to choose the child over him:
If it were his own life, would he be taking that risk? “But she’d take the risk of losing me,” he thought, “sooner than lose her child! She doesn’t really love me!” What could one expect—a girl and French? The one thing really vital to them both, vital to their marriage and their futures, was a child!
As it turns out, the gamble proves successful and both mother and child survive. Galsworthy adds one further ironic twist, however. Soames desperately wants a boy but the child—the only one he’ll ever have—turns out to be a girl. Furthermore, the doctor informs him that had he gotten what he really wanted, his wife would have died. Which is to say, a boy would have killed her:
“I congratulate you,” he heard the doctor say; “it was touch and go.”
Soames let fall the hand which was covering his face.
“Thanks,” he said; “thanks very much. What is it?”
“Daughter—luckily; a son would have killed her—the head.”
At this point, the only agony that Soames considers is not his wife’s but his own:
Relief unspeakable, and yet—a daughter! It seemed to him unfair. To have taken that risk—to have been through this agony—and what agony!—for a daughter!
I am reminded of those GOP legislators who are angry when confronted with horror stories stemming from their anti-abortion votes. To cite one instance that is back in the news, when a nine-year-old Ohio rape victim had to go to Indiana for an abortion, Ohio legislators (this according to an NBC report) “appeared to be grappling with how to respond — from confusion to blaming the media.” Note their own tortured responses:
Many expressed shock that it was even biologically possible for the 10-year-old child to become pregnant. Some said they were torn “morally” about whether abortions should be allowed in cases of incest or rape, as in the Ohio case. And others tried to turn the conversation to the undocumented immigrant who prosecutors allege raped the girl. [Update: It’s no longer “alleged”—last week the man plead guilty and was sentenced to life in prison.
“I’m amazed a 10-year-old got pregnant. … You really wrestle with that. That’s a tough one,” Rep. Bob Gibbs, R-Ohio, said Thursday.
Rep. Debbie Lesko, R-Ariz., said, “I can’t imagine being 10 years old” and pregnant, adding: “I don’t think I was even able to have children when I was 10 years old. … It’s just awful. It’s awful all the way around.”
Said Rep. Roger Williams, R-Texas: “I’m a pro-life guy, OK? And God’s in charge on this. … We’re all God’s children. This is a tough call, and I don’t know if I know that answer right now, because now you’ve got another baby involved: She’s pregnant. … She’s a baby.”
Ohio Congressman Jim Jordan, head of the House Judiciary Committee, was one of those blaming the media and trying to refocus the story on the rapist’s immigration status.
Notice how none of these legislators took responsibility. Soames, for all his flaws, at least is willing to acknowledge, “I may have her death on my hands,”—although he then spoils the moment by backtracking: “No! it was unfair—monstrous, to put it that way!” So, in the end, the Man of Property arrives at the same point as today’s anti-abortion GOP. It is more important for them to control a woman’s body than to allow her to choose what she judges best for herself. Possession trumps even the prospect of death.
For his part, Galsworthy gives us an alternative vision as to what is possible. Soames’s first cousin Jolyon Forsyte, an admirable man who has fallen in love with Soames’s first wife Irene and who is loved in return, reflects upon the Forsyte obsession to possess:
Could he trust himself? Did Nature permit a Forsyte not to make a slave of what he adored? Could beauty be confided to him?…“We are a breed of spoilers!” thought Jolyon, “close and greedy; the bloom of life is not safe with us.”
He resolves to be a different kind of Forsyte, saying to himself, “Let her come to me as she will, when she will, not at all if she will not. Let me be just her stand-by, her perching-place; never—never her cage!”
And further on:
“Let me,” he thought, “ah! let me only know how not to grasp and destroy!”
America has a choice: to cage these women or respect them. We know where the graspers and destroyers stand.