The Ball And The Cross
July 9th 2007 12:26
Well, continuing my series on GK Chesterton we come to the second fiction book of his that I've read. I warn you now, there are a few spoilers in this post, but they aren't huge.
The arguement that he starts with this time (he always started with an arguement, I think he got up every morning and argued with his alarm clock about what time it was) is between a monk and the devil. The arguement itself is probably one of the wittiest piece of writing that I have had the good fortune of reading. It helps to know that they are in the roof of St Paul's Cathedral.
Professor Lucifer slapped his hand twice upon the surface of the
great orb as if he were caressing some enormous animal. "This is
the fellow," he said, "this is the one for my money."
"May I with all respect inquire," asked the old monk, "what on
earth you are talking about?"
"Why this," cried Lucifer, smiting the ball again, "here is the
only symbol, my boy. So fat. So satisfied. Not like that scraggy
individual, stretching his arms in stark weariness." And he
pointed up to the cross, his face dark with a grin. "I was
telling you just now, Michael, that I can prove the best part of
the rationalist case and the Christian humbug from any symbol you
liked to give me, from any instance I came across. Here is an
instance with a vengeance. What could possibly express your
philosophy and my philosophy better than the shape of that cross
and the shape of this ball? This globe is reasonable; that cross
is unreasonable. It is a four-legged animal, with one leg longer
than the others. The globe is inevitable. The cross is arbitrary.
Above all the globe is at unity with itself; the cross is
primarily and above all things at enmity with itself. The cross
is the conflict of two hostile lines, of irreconcilable
direction. That silent thing up there is essentially a collision,
a crash, a struggle in stone. Pah! that sacred symbol of yours
has actually given its name to a description of desperation and
muddle. When we speak of men at once ignorant of each other and
frustrated by each other, we say they are at cross-purposes. Away
with the thing! The very shape of it is a contradiction in
terms."
"What you say is perfectly true," said Michael, with serenity.
"But we like contradictions in terms. Man is a contradiction in
terms; he is a beast whose superiority to other beasts consists
in having fallen. That cross is, as you say, an eternal
collision; so am I. That is a struggle in stone. Every form of
life is a struggle in flesh. The shape of the cross is
irrational, just as the shape of the human animal is irrational.
You say the cross is a quadruped with one limb longer than the
rest. I say man is a quadruped who only uses two of his legs."
The Professor frowned thoughtfully for an instant, and said: "Of
course everything is relative, and I would not deny that the
element of struggle and self-contradiction, represented by that
cross, has a necessary place at a certain evolutionary stage.
But surely the cross is the lower development and the sphere the
higher. After all it is easy enough to see what is really wrong
with Wren's architectural arrangement."
"And what is that, pray?" inquired Michael, meekly.
"The cross is on top of the ball," said Professor Lucifer,
simply. "That is surely wrong. The ball should be on top of the
cross. The cross is a mere barbaric prop; the ball is perfection.
The cross at its best is but the bitter tree of man's history;
the ball is the rounded, the ripe and final fruit. And the fruit
should be at the top of the tree, not at the bottom of it."
"Oh!" said the monk, a wrinkle coming into his forehead, "so you
think that in a rationalistic scheme of symbolism the ball should
be on top of the cross?"
"It sums up my whole allegory," said the professor.
"Well, that is really very interesting," resumed Michael slowly,
"because I think in that case you would see a most singular
effect, an effect that has generally been achieved by all those
able and powerful systems which rationalism, or the religion of
the ball, has produced to lead or teach mankind. You would see, I
think, that thing happen which is always the ultimate embodiment
and logical outcome of your logical scheme."
"What are you talking about?" asked Lucifer. "What would happen?"
"I mean it would fall down," said the monk, looking wistfully
into the void.
Chesterton's brilliance and exuberance in his life and in his writings never overshadowed the fact that he understood the flawed nature of our existence, but knew that it was also part of our existence to live our best despite it.
The two main characters of the book are two scotsmen, Turnbull, an atheist and MacIan, a catholic. Turnbull is the rationalist, the logician. His world is very much run on information, what you know, how the mind works. MacIan is a poet, a romantic. Their arguement starts with MacIan hurling a brick through Turnbull's shop window. The reason he does is because Turnbull has insulted the Virgin Mary, whom McIan describes as being the most important woman in his life. Their arguement becomes a court case and evolves into a duel, which evolves into a chase. It changes from man against man to men against society, and of course, society hopes that the men will win.
From a thematic point of view, Chesterton always had such an arguement in place. The reason for their being such an arguement in his books is because there was the same arguement in his life. Turnbull and MacIan are the two sides of him, the two enemies that would fight, blade to blade or fist to fist, yet never to the death, but to reconcilliation. For him, the choice between christianity and atheism was always there. He could not find poetry in thinking that the universe was so limited, yet he struggled with finding the practical value of religion.
I love this book, not as much as The Man Who Was Thursday, but it gave me some great thoughts and some great laughs. Which is what Mr Chesterton was most gifted at.
JZ
The writing up there is not by me but is by Mr G.K. Chesterton. I got it from the Gutenberg project. They roxxors my soxxors. They also have many many many free books. Go have a look.
The arguement that he starts with this time (he always started with an arguement, I think he got up every morning and argued with his alarm clock about what time it was) is between a monk and the devil. The arguement itself is probably one of the wittiest piece of writing that I have had the good fortune of reading. It helps to know that they are in the roof of St Paul's Cathedral.
Professor Lucifer slapped his hand twice upon the surface of the
the fellow," he said, "this is the one for my money."
"May I with all respect inquire," asked the old monk, "what on
earth you are talking about?"
"Why this," cried Lucifer, smiting the ball again, "here is the
only symbol, my boy. So fat. So satisfied. Not like that scraggy
individual, stretching his arms in stark weariness." And he
pointed up to the cross, his face dark with a grin. "I was
telling you just now, Michael, that I can prove the best part of
the rationalist case and the Christian humbug from any symbol you
liked to give me, from any instance I came across. Here is an
instance with a vengeance. What could possibly express your
philosophy and my philosophy better than the shape of that cross
and the shape of this ball? This globe is reasonable; that cross
is unreasonable. It is a four-legged animal, with one leg longer
than the others. The globe is inevitable. The cross is arbitrary.
Above all the globe is at unity with itself; the cross is
primarily and above all things at enmity with itself. The cross
direction. That silent thing up there is essentially a collision,
a crash, a struggle in stone. Pah! that sacred symbol of yours
has actually given its name to a description of desperation and
muddle. When we speak of men at once ignorant of each other and
frustrated by each other, we say they are at cross-purposes. Away
with the thing! The very shape of it is a contradiction in
terms."
"What you say is perfectly true," said Michael, with serenity.
"But we like contradictions in terms. Man is a contradiction in
terms; he is a beast whose superiority to other beasts consists
in having fallen. That cross is, as you say, an eternal
collision; so am I. That is a struggle in stone. Every form of
life is a struggle in flesh. The shape of the cross is
irrational, just as the shape of the human animal is irrational.
You say the cross is a quadruped with one limb longer than the
rest. I say man is a quadruped who only uses two of his legs."
The Professor frowned thoughtfully for an instant, and said: "Of
course everything is relative, and I would not deny that the
element of struggle and self-contradiction, represented by that
cross, has a necessary place at a certain evolutionary stage.
But surely the cross is the lower development and the sphere the
higher. After all it is easy enough to see what is really wrong
with Wren's architectural arrangement."
"And what is that, pray?" inquired Michael, meekly.
"The cross is on top of the ball," said Professor Lucifer,
simply. "That is surely wrong. The ball should be on top of the
cross. The cross is a mere barbaric prop; the ball is perfection.
The cross at its best is but the bitter tree of man's history;
the ball is the rounded, the ripe and final fruit. And the fruit
should be at the top of the tree, not at the bottom of it."
"Oh!" said the monk, a wrinkle coming into his forehead, "so you
think that in a rationalistic scheme of symbolism the ball should
be on top of the cross?"
"It sums up my whole allegory," said the professor.
"Well, that is really very interesting," resumed Michael slowly,
"because I think in that case you would see a most singular
effect, an effect that has generally been achieved by all those
able and powerful systems which rationalism, or the religion of
the ball, has produced to lead or teach mankind. You would see, I
think, that thing happen which is always the ultimate embodiment
and logical outcome of your logical scheme."
"What are you talking about?" asked Lucifer. "What would happen?"
"I mean it would fall down," said the monk, looking wistfully
into the void.
Chesterton's brilliance and exuberance in his life and in his writings never overshadowed the fact that he understood the flawed nature of our existence, but knew that it was also part of our existence to live our best despite it.
The two main characters of the book are two scotsmen, Turnbull, an atheist and MacIan, a catholic. Turnbull is the rationalist, the logician. His world is very much run on information, what you know, how the mind works. MacIan is a poet, a romantic. Their arguement starts with MacIan hurling a brick through Turnbull's shop window. The reason he does is because Turnbull has insulted the Virgin Mary, whom McIan describes as being the most important woman in his life. Their arguement becomes a court case and evolves into a duel, which evolves into a chase. It changes from man against man to men against society, and of course, society hopes that the men will win.
From a thematic point of view, Chesterton always had such an arguement in place. The reason for their being such an arguement in his books is because there was the same arguement in his life. Turnbull and MacIan are the two sides of him, the two enemies that would fight, blade to blade or fist to fist, yet never to the death, but to reconcilliation. For him, the choice between christianity and atheism was always there. He could not find poetry in thinking that the universe was so limited, yet he struggled with finding the practical value of religion.
I love this book, not as much as The Man Who Was Thursday, but it gave me some great thoughts and some great laughs. Which is what Mr Chesterton was most gifted at.
JZ
The writing up there is not by me but is by Mr G.K. Chesterton. I got it from the Gutenberg project. They roxxors my soxxors. They also have many many many free books. Go have a look.
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Comment by DuskDevi
Rucks and Rolls
Rugby World Cup 2007
much warmth JoshZ...Keeper of the Faith of all things Good.
Dusk
Comment by JoshZ
A Simple Christian
feel free as always to drop around whenever you like.
I didn't think I was THAT amazing, but hey thanks,
JZ