Vacation

This coming vacation, I'll try to implement all three of  Chesterton's three kinds of leisure (from 'On leisure'):

I think the name of leisure has come to cover three totally different things. The first is being allowed to do something. The second is being allowed to do anything. And the third (and perhaps most rare and precious) is being allowed to do nothing. Of the first we have undoubtedly a vast and a very probably a most profitable increase in recent social arrangements. Undoubtedly there is much more elaborate equipment and opportunity for golfers to play golf, for bridge-players to play bridge, for jazzers to jazz, or for motorists to motor. But those who find themselves in the world where these recreations are provided will find that the modern world is not really a universal provider. He will find it made more and more easy to get some things and impossible to get others. [] The second sort of leisure is certainly not increased, and is on the whole lessened. The sense of having a certain material in hand which a man may mould into _any_ form he chooses, this a sort of pleasure now almost confined to artists. As for the third form of leisure, the most precious, the most consoling, the most pure and holy, the noble habit of doing nothing at all--that is being neglected in a degree which seems to me to threaten the degeneration of the whole race. It is because artists do not practice, patrons do not patronise, crowds do not assemble to worship reverently the great work of Doing Nothing, that the world has lost its philosophy and even failed to create a new religion.

'All things considered'

In 1908, Chesterton published this collection of essays that were previously written in his column for the Illustrated London News. The essays are about various topics; there are quite some very interesting thoughts in them. 
The final essay, about rituals, gives Chesterton's attack on celebrating Christmas in a wrong way: by too early (this is particularly relevant in our time), or with the attempt 'to keep up old forms, but to keep them up informally and feebly'. Either really celebrate, or do not bother, but do not do things half.
Finishing the volume, I was particularly impressed by Chesterton's analysis of the historical method used when trying to understand certain historical figures (eg Joan of Arc and Jesus Christ). He summarizes as follows: 'you explain supernatural stories that have some foundation simply by inventing natural stories that have no foundation'. Chesterton opposes this kind of philosophy: 'Nothing ought to be to big for a brave man to attack; but there are some things too big for a man to patronise.'
All things considered, this is a very readable volume, and it serves as a good introduction to several strands of Chesterton's thought. 

Humanitarianism and strength

Reading 'All things considered', I come upon interesting essays on a multitude of topics. This particular essay shows a interesting line of argument.
First of all, the familiar topic of 'progress' is dealt with: 'Human history is so rich and complicated that you can make out a case for any course of improvement or retrogression. I could make out that the world has been growing more democratic, for the English franchise has certainly grown more democratic. I could also make out that the world has been growing more aristocratic, for the English Public Schools have certainly grown more aristocratic.'
After this introduction, Chesterton discusses the relations between European civilization and 'savages': one of the reasons that the 'ruder or more sluggish races' may respect the civilization of Christendom is 'because it does not use their own coarse and cruel expedients'. This is a reason never to fight these civilizations with their own weapons.
The argument continues that 'the elements that make Europe upon the whole the most humanitarian civilization are precisely the elements that make it upon the whole the strongest.' Imagination has caused the invention of both the machine-gun and the ambulance.
Lastly, Chesterton warns us that the barbaric notions about 'forces outside man', like heredity, or determinism, are gaining strength in his time. He argues that the characteristic of the 'true civilized man' is that he is a 'free man, and is always talking about what he may do'. Another silly modern notion is discussing 'material substances' instead of 'ideas', e.g. 'the problem of drink' versus 'gluttony or excess'. These cases of determinism and 'uncivilized materialism' may be a sign of the 'modern danger' of a 'slow return towards barbarism'.

Leo Tolstoy

In 1903, Chesterton published a little book together with G.H. Perris and Edward Garnett, about Count Tolstoy. The book consists of three essays, the first one written by Chesterton. Furthermore, there are numerous illustrations, mostly copies of old pictures of Tolstoy and his family, and a biographical note about Tolstoy's life.
At the time of publication, Tolstoy was still living. Chesterton had written earlier about Tolstoy, in 'Twelve Types'. In this essay, he explores Tolstoy's simplicity and consistency further, using the illustration of the Doukhabors (see below).
As Chesterton does frequently, he uses the subject of his essay as a starting point on a more general discussion. In this case, he discusses fanaticism, which can be based on every premise (not solely on Christianity), as long as that premise is consistently thought trough and applied to all areas of life.
Chesterton concludes with a paragraph about mysticism (a quality that Tolstoy lacks):

In the main, and from the beginning of time, mysticism has kept men sane. The thing that has driven them mad was logic. [-] The only thing that has kept the race of men from the mad extremes of the convent and the pirate-galley, the night-club and the lethal chamber, has been mysticism - the belief that logic is misleading, and that things are not what they seem.

Impartiality, agnosticism, and ignorance

In 'The error of impartiality', one of the essays in 'All things considered', Chesterton discusses the merits of impartiality. His first example comes from the selection of juries: only those people who have formed no opinion beforehand are qualified to serve in a jury. This may mean, Chesterton argues, that we select the more indifferent people instead of the more mentally alert. Provided that there are not set and definitive opinions formed, and there is no prejudice, a thoughtful man who took the trouble to 'deduce from the police report' may actually be a better juror then someone who did not care.
Another case were we assume impartiality is in agnostics. Chesterton argues that these people may not be impartial, but simply ignorant, or biased in favor of skepticism. He concludes that there is an 'absurd modern principle of regarding every clever man who cannot make up his mind as an impartial judge, and regarding every clever man who can make up his mind as a servile fanatic'.

Doukhabor

I never know what I will learn when I read Chesterton: today I started in the book he wrote with Perris and Garnett about Leo Tolstoy and the main discussion in Chesterton's introduction is about the so-called Doukhabors. This, apparently, was a sect of Russian Christian anarchists living in Canada who turned all their animals loose, 'on the ground that it is immoral to possess them or control them'. This group of people did not start with theology, 'but with the simple doctrine that we ought to love our neighbour and use no force against him, and they end in thinking it wicked to carry a leather handbag, or to ride in a cart.'
Tolstoy's character as a man, not as a writer, can be understood in similar terms of consistency, logic and fanaticism. One idea, in Tolstoy's case the 'utmost possible simplification of life', is logically carried to its extremes. Religion is not the cause, it could as well have been any other kind of theory that forms a consistent and logic basis and can be driven to mad extremes.

H.G. Wells & science

Two days after my post about science and religion, I read the following paragraph in 'Heretics', chapter 5:

Mr. Wells, however, is not quite clear enough of the narrower scientific outlook to see that there are some things which actually ought not to be scientific. He is still slightly affected with the great scientific fallacy; I mean the habit of beginning not with the human soul, which is the first thing a man learns about, but with some such thing as protoplasm, which is about the last. The one defect in his splendid mental equipment is that he does not sufficiently allow for the stuff or material of men. In his new Utopia he says, for instance, that a chief point of the Utopia will be a disbelief in original sin. If he had begun with the human soul - that is, if he had begun on himself - he would have found original sin almost the first thing to be believed in. He would have found, to put the matter shortly, that a permanent possibility of selfishness arises from the mere fact of having a self, and not from any accidents of education or ill-treatment. 

Science and religion

In Chesterton's time, the discussion about science and religion was not new; Darwin's theory, though, was fairly new, and people were thinking about its consequences. Chesterton wrote a short and simple essay, 'Science and religion', in which he discusses the question if science could ever prove religion wrong. First of  all 'To mix science up with philosophy is only to produce a philosophy that has lost all its ideal value and a science that has lost all its practical value'.
He proceeds by quoting from a work called "New Theology and Applied Religion", in which the authors state that, since we have found no scientific evidence for the Fall, Paul's theology in the New Testament, based as it is on the 'total depravity of man', cannot be true.
Chesterton points out that we have two completely different fields here. What kind of evidence could science ever find for the Fall? These modern writers forget the reason why men thought mankind wicked: 'because they felt wicked themselves'. I remember reading a similar argument before (perhaps in C.S.Lewis?); I do find it important to realize that whatever scientists say, they can never give us mere mortals 'primary purity and innocence'.

Superstitions & belief

'The incredulity of Father Brown' was published in 1926; I am not strictly reading Chesterton's works in order. One topic that I did not encounter before to such an extent is black magic: this bundle of stories is teeming with references to the supernatural.
In one particular story, 'The dagger with wings', Father Brown is confronted with some statements he supposedly believes: 'The man who is hounding us all to death is a hell-hound, and his power is from hell.'. Father Brown answers: 'All evil has one origin', but he does not go farther. Later, he confesses to believe in the Devil, but denies belief in some sort of witchcraft. At the end of the story, the confrontation becomes more intense; Father Brown is told 'You ought to stand for all the things these stupid people call superstitions', 'It's your business to believe things', and 'You do believe in everything'. On these assumptions, Father Brown can only say 'No', without further explanation.
The other stories in the bundle have similar cases, in which people tell Father Brown what he believes (or should believe). I can learn some things from the way this priest calmly states what he believes or not, even when people surrounding him suppose him to believe all kinds of nonsense.

Journalism

Chesterton was a journalist; several of his published books are actually collections of his journalistic articles. I am currently reading one of these, 'All things considered'. Interestingly enough, quite some of these articles are not only readable, they are even relevant in our times.
Today, I read two articles about journalism: 'Limericks and counsels of perfection' and 'Anonymity and further counsels'. In these articles, Chesterton gives some advice about how to 'reform the Press', or 'making journalism honest'. Apparently, even then, the papers were not always working with the highest ethical standards.
'First', Chesterton says, 'I would make it a law, if there is none such at the present, by which an editor, proved to have published false news without reasonable verification, should simply go to prison'. Deliberate false information should be legally punishable.
'Secondly', he states, we need 'a distinction, in the matter of reported immorality, between those sins which any healthy man can see in himself and those which he had better not see anywhere'. It should not be permitted to 'terrify and darken the fancy of the young with innumerable details' of 'some obscene insanity'.
The third point is anonymity: in general, unless we are speaking of a leading article representing the opinion of the newspaper itself, we should know who wrote the article. Furthermore, the name of the proprietor of the newspaper should also be 'printed upon every paper'. We should be able to know if 'any obvious interests' are being served.
Finally, Chesterton would like to see the editor's freedom in selecting and refusing letters 'of definite and practical complaint' curtailed: the paper should be 'a mode of the expression of the public', not his personal work of art.

The curse of the golden cross

Once again I started by watching a Father Brown video, and subsequently read the original story from 'The incredulity of Father Brown'. I really liked the story. As with 'The oracle of the dog', the video and text differed somewhat, and not only in the amount of 'direct action' versus conversation.
In the video, the vicar was behaving in a rather conspicuous way, which perhaps gave too much away at too soon a time. On the other hand, the clue about the crucifix was not foreseeable in the original text, which might have impaired the reader's ability to guess as to the cause of the falling lid (it is difficult for me to say, because I saw the video first and knew what the crux was). The dramatization at the end of the video, with a direct confrontation between Father Brown and the criminal, was, in my opinion, unnecessary.
This bundle of Father Brown stories seem to have a common theme (as indicated by the title): there are usually suspicions of something supernatural going on. A quick overview of the titles of the stories gives a 'resurrection', an 'oracle', a 'miracle', a 'curse', a 'doom' and a 'ghost'. So far, Father Brown's explanations are simply natural. As he says in 'The miracle of moon crescent': "By the way, don't think I blame you for jumping to preternatural conclusions. The reason's very simple, really. You all swore you were hard-shelled materialists; and as a matter of fact you were all balanced on the very edge of belief - of belief in almost anything." I have encountered this theme of the credulity of people who do not believe in the supernatural before, I hope to discuss it in more depth one time.

The oracle of the dog

After a slightly disappointing introduction to the Father Brown series earlier this week, I decided to reverse the order: this time I started by watching the movie and read the story later on. It was a better experience; I am surprised, though, by the differences between movie and text.
In the movie, we see a quite classic detective story: a man makes his will and is murdered shortly afterwards. All the suspects and Father Brown himself have been around in the house, no-one seems to have been close to the murder scene when it happened. A detective collects the different testimonies; Father Brown solves the mystery.
The book has a somewhat different set-up: Father Brown is never present in the house of the murder, but only hears about the case from an eye-witness. This witness gives perceptive descriptions, though he also has some perceptions of his own. From the witness's story, Father Brown is able to reconstruct what happened. We are particularly impressed by his insight in the character of man and animal (the dog of the title).
The story did not have much direct action (it consists mainly of dialogue), which is one reason that the whole scene is changed in the movie. The surroundings are quite different too, and there are some differences in the characters (one nephew instead of two, a fidgeting or non-fidgeting lawyer).
Though I did like this movie, I still prefer the stories: the brilliant Chesterton-sentences are one of the chief delights of Father Brown's conversation, and these are not always easily adapted on the screen. His analysis of the behavior of the dog: "A dog is a devil of a ritualist. He is as particular about the precise routine of a game as a child about the precise repetition of a fairy-tale. In this case something had gone wrong with the game. He came back to complain seriously of the conduct of the stick. Never had such a thing happened before. Never had an eminent and distinguished dog been so treated by a rotten old walking-stick."