Bless me Ms. H., I have sinned. It has been several hours since I last read Angela’s Ashes (because I just had to watch the debate), and I must confess that I have only read through page 199. Will the Lord forgive me for not having finished the book while I write this post?
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“Through our sunless lanes creeps Poverty with her hungry eyes, and Sin with his sodden face follows close behind her. Misery wakes us in the morning and Shame sits with us at night.”
-Oscar Wilde
Are we products of our environment?
Or do we hold total responsibility for our actions? (If people were products of their environment, then how could they be held responsible for their actions?) In other words, do we shape our own destiny?
Is there path between these absolutes?
Oscar Wilde, in the above quote, seems to indicate that poverty and “Sin” tread hand-in-hand across the ghettos and blighted expanses of human civilization. Certainly the extremely depressed and poverty-stricken areas of America (Newark, Camden, etc.), or at least New Jersey, seem to be some of the most dangerous places to be; by empirical evidence, it could be argued that poverty induces not only the violent behavior, but also the drug use and other “sinful” practices that seem to be more pervasive in areas of poverty. Yet, such reasoning seems to take away man’s free will and his ability to carve his own destiny. By empirical evidence again, we can see that many men and women have been born and raised in poverty only to become great human beings. The reverse can also be said of the affluent. Thus, are all humans entirely responsible for their actions? Do all humans consciously act morally or immorally regardless of their environment? Sin seemingly pervades with poverty, but then those in poverty and in riches act “out of their class.” Thus, there is free will and independence from environment; yet poverty and sin so often travel together so that it’s still difficult to dismiss their connection.
There are certainly a lot of things wrong with the McCourt family. The father drinks like a fish, regardless of how starving his family is, and he never works either. The mother smokes like a chimney (with the father) and refuses to leave her drunkard husband. The son Malachy is preferred over his brother Francis. Francis himself is a minor thief and is quite selfish and envious; most recently today I read that he has a touch of perversion (the aborted spying of undressed Dooley girls). It’s poverty that’s responsible! The poor McCourt’s! No, wait! It’s their own fault! Demon spawn!
Clearly, I do not find either absolute theory of environmental impact to be comprehensive. Neither extreme seems to be able to completely account for human nature; it seems the middle road might do the trick. To me, the McCourt’s are a perfect subject to study. The “sins” of the children, particularly those of Francis, do not bear the semblance of chronic criminal activity or personality faults. As for the mother, she is a saint as far as I’m concerned. Yes, she may smoke, but it is her only escape from a world of misery. She does her best to fed and clothe the children with the precious little she has; she battles with Malachy, Sr., to get him to work or at least bring home the dole money; and she looks after and cares for her children and their souls. It is a task I am not equipped for, and one that I think that she executes far better than what would usually be expected of her given the enormous stress she’s under. The father is a much more tricky case. Not being a man trained on the human mind, I am no authority on the alcoholism that posses Malachy Sr. Although it does appear that some self-control can be exerted over an alcoholic’s affliction, alcoholism is nonetheless a disease that requires treatment. If such treatment even existed in those days, how could an impoverished man access them? I would not say that the father is completely free of guilt, but yet I cannot consign every night in a saloon to moral weakness. What I tend to have more suspicion of is those days mentioned when the father drinks the dole and that day when the father drinks the money sent to him for his newborn child.
Oscar Wilde mentions poverty and sin together, but he also mentions misery and shame as well. The McCourt’s are just as miserable as any other impoverished family, and in a trait often seen in that generation (particularly in rugged-individualist American society) they can be ashamed of they poverty as well—Mrs. McCourt is just as happy to beg at St. Vincent de Paul Society as any former American businessman was to stand in line at a soup kitchen. Some of what we may see as “sins,” as Oscar Wilde puts it, may be in part due to one’s own free will and in part due to one’s environment, in this case crushing poverty. Perhaps the father drinks so much because he ashamed to be unable to feed his miserable family. The mother and father smoke as much as they do because of how miserable they are. As for Francis, he is young and apt to make immature decisions and to possess similarly immature mindsets; he is also in a family that’s poorer than many other (though not all) families—he may be, as a child can reasonably be expected, somewhat envious of those better off than he. What I see in Angela’s Ashes, and what I believe Oscar Wilde meant by his quote, is that no man, woman, or child should ever be judged solely by his environment or his individual will. When judging the McCourt’s and any poor family, we must be reasonable about their wills and we must be compassionate about their individual circumstances.
