This … philosophical
comedy comes to us from 1913, and is an example of Chesterton at his
mystical, questioning best. The setting
and set-up are simple: Patricia Carleon, daughter of a duke and a girl given to
nature and fancies, meets a man who tells her that he is a fairy. When it is revealed that he is really a
conjurer there for a village entertainment, she is heartbroken.
However … is he really “just” a conjurer? This becomes the subject of much debate
between a clergyman, the Rev. Cyril Smith, the village doctor, Grimthorpe, and
Patricia’s recently-arrived-from America brother, Morris. The action takes place in the Duke’s drawing
room, complete with French windows with a view out into the lawn and
neighboring homes.
As practical, scientific Morris “exposes” the sham
tricks of the conjurer, more and more inexplicable things occur which could
only be the result of magic; Morris has
a fit and needs medical attention. The
following exchange occurs between Rev. Smith and Dr. Grimthorpe:
Doctor.
I have got him into bed in the next room. His sister is looking after him.
Smith. His sister! Oh, then do you believe in fairies?
Doctor.
Believe in fairies? What do you mean?
Smith.
At least you put the person who does believe in them in charge of the person
who doesn't.
Doctor.
Well, I suppose I do.
Smith.
You don't think she'll keep him awake all night with fairy tales?
Doctor. Certainly not.
Smith.
You don't think she'll throw the medicine-bottle out of window and
administer—er—a dewdrop, or anything of that sort? Or a four-leaved clover,
say?
Doctor.
No; of course not.
Smith.
I only ask because you scientific men are a little hard on us clergymen. You
don't believe in a priesthood; but you'll admit I'm more really a priest than
this Conjurer is really a magician. You've been talking a lot about the Bible
and the Higher Criticism. But even by the Higher Criticism the Bible is older
than the language of the elves—which was, as far as I can make out, invented
this afternoon. But Miss Carleon believed in the wizard. Miss Carleon believed
in the language of the elves. And you put her in charge of an invalid without a
flicker of doubt: because you trust women.
Doctor.
[Very seriously.] Yes, I trust women.
Smith.
You trust a woman with the practical issues of life and death, through
sleepless hours when a shaking hand or an extra grain would kill.
Doctor.
Yes.
Smith.
But if the woman gets up to go to early service at my church, you call her
weak-minded and say that nobody but women can believe in religion.
Doctor.
I should never call this woman weak-minded—no, by God, not even if she went to
church.
Smith.
Yet there are many as strong-minded who believe passionately in going to
church.
Doctor. Weren't there as many who believed passionately in Apollo?
Smith.
And what harm came of believing in Apollo? And what a mass of harm may have
come of not believing in Apollo? Does it never strike you that doubt can be a
madness, as well be faith? That asking questions may be a disease, as well as
proclaiming doctrines? You talk of religious mania! Is there no such thing as
irreligious mania? Is there no such thing in the house at this moment?
Doctor.
Then you think no one should question at all.
Smith.
[With passion, pointing to the next room.] I think that is what comes of
questioning! Why can't you leave the universe alone and let it mean what it
likes? Why shouldn't the thunder be Jupiter? More men have made themselves
silly by wondering what the devil it was if it wasn't Jupiter.
Doctor.
[Looking at him.] Do you believe in your own religion?
Smith.
[Returning the look equally steadily.] Suppose I don't: I should still be a
fool to question it. The child who doubts about Santa Claus has insomnia. The
child who believes has a good night's rest.
Doctor.
You are a Pragmatist.
So, of course, we are now in familiar Chestertonian
territory: the question of “reason” vs. “belief.” Like Dickens
before him (and GKC idolized Dickens), Chesterton saw magic in the
everyday. An almost pagan animism is
rampant in the works of Dickens, and while Chesterton sees the mystery inherent
in all the natural and man-made world around us, he, unlike Dickens, tends to
put a more Christian spin on the great mystery.
However, Chesterton also believed that Christianity was merely one prism
through which one could perceive the magic of the ordinary.
The era just before (and immediately after) the Great
War was also the Golden Age of Fairies in England. The little folk were seen everywhere, or perceived
to be seen everywhere, and this is not surprising. That period was perhaps the most dramatic
break between the Old and New Worlds – more so than the Industrial
Revolution. Life had become increasingly
more urban, methods of killing more efficient, and lore and legend that had
survived for generations was becoming lost.
People felt ungrounded, as if the world that they had known for so long
no longer existed, and was replaced with something foreign and profoundly
unhealthy. The cult of nature – and of
natural gods, such as fairies, elves, Pan and assorted wee-folk – had its
powerful last hurrah before being wiped away forever by progress.
Chesterton was, by nature and temperament, a man who
would applaud the return of fairies into everyday life, and one who could
resist what might be an eternal question: do things become real simply through
the power of our believing in them?
3 comments:
a bit off topic, but that is a gorgeous cover you reproduced here? Is it from an early edition?
That is stunning, isn't it? It's from the first edition of the play. At that time, GKC was so well-known that his shadow was familiar to everyone!
I must not be paying attention, can't remember ever being introduced or coming across GKC. Thanks for the introduction.....
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