A Date with Chesterton
Amanda Platz
The anthology entitled In Defense of Sanity claims to contain some of G.K. Chesterton’s best essays. His essays are, of course, numerous and incredible. Some of the essays are about things that seem trite, such as cheese, while others are about such issues as optimism and pessimism, the repetition of history, the devaluing of goodness, the actual things that are right with the world, and so forth. It is serious essays such as these that I found to be most interesting. I found three of Chesterton’s essays in this anthology that seemed to me to be very unique, interesting, and thought-provoking. In fact, all of them have the uniting theme of being designed to provoke thought of some kind. All of them deal with such themes as optimism versus pessimism, uniqueness, and beauty in the world.
The anthology of Chesterton’s essays entitled In Defense of Sanity begins with a true gem of an essay: an essay titled “Introduction to the Defendant.” He manages to intricately tie so many beautiful ideas into one essay. Primarily, this essay discusses the need for a defendant of the world. Chesterton argues that humanity finds one thing grosser than anything else: the world. Chesterton begins his argument by describing a landscape. He finds himself walking through the countryside, looking at a scene, and imagining how that scene came about. He imagines that the pile of rocks he sees was actually a pile of stones used to stone a giant prophet to death. He then imagines why that giant may have been stoned. He comes to the following conclusion:
If we see what is the real trend of humanity, we shall feel it most probable that he was stoned for saying that the grass was green and that the birds sang in the spring; for the mission of all the prophets from the beginning has not been so much the pointing out of heavens or hells as primarily the pointing out of the earth. (“Introduction” 2)
In essence, he explains that the reason this imaginary prophet was stoned was because of his advocating for the goodness of the world. Chesterton explains that mankind as a whole seems to devalue the importance and beauty of the world, viewing it as less beautiful or less valuable than it actually is. Chesterton argues that while pessimism is viewed often as revolutionary, it is actually the converse that is true: pessimism is the normal, appealing to the weakness of humanity, while optimism is revolutionary and strength in humanity. He says that all the great revolutionists in our world have been optimists. Chesterton says that “They have been indignant, not about the badness of existence, but about the slowness of men in realizing its goodness” (3). Ultimately, Chesterton argues that mankind does not fully value the beauty and goodness of the world, but instead lives in pessimism and devaluation of goodness and beauty.
The second essay is titled “A Much Repeated Repetition.” In this essay, Chesterton argues that history does not, in fact, repeat itself even though many argue that it does. He says that it is actually a blessing that history does not repeat itself, and that history is instead a new adventure, an ever-changing story. He says that “[In] history a thing recurs, but it never recurs quite exactly.” (“A Much Repeated Repetition” 83). He then explains that “Novelty is the one element which we demand of human things. It is the one element we always have. Even the awful blow which awaits us all at last has one great human peculiarity; it is mysterious” (84). He ends the essay by saying that all of this, the concept of the novelty of human history, is where the idea of stories comes from. He says that stories come from this idea of novelty, and that stories are the one “distinctly human thing” (84). Stories, unlike science and mathematics, are keys to humanity. Chesterton says that:
The Christian gospel is literally a story; that is, a thing in which one does not know what is to happen next. This thing, called Fiction, then, is the main fact of our human supremacy. If you want to know what is our human kinship with Nature, with the brutes, and with the stars, you can find cartloads of big philosophical volumes to show it you. You will find our kinship with Nature in books on geology and books on metaphysics. But if you want to find our isolation and divinity, you must pick up a penny novelette. (85)
Essentially, Chesterton is arguing that the uniqueness of mankind comes from the thought of man as a storyteller and a creator.
Finally, the essay entitled “What Is Right With the World.” I need to first acknowledge that Chesterton spends about three paragraphs going on a minor tirade against publishers before continuing with his essay. This is a fact that I find particularly humorous, given that this essay was, in fact, published. Ah, the irony. But Chesterton goes on to explain the concept of what is right with the world, in a seemingly round-a-bout way. Chesterton begins saying “We therefore come back to the primary truth, that what is right with the world has nothing to do with future changes, but is rooted in original realities” (“What is Right” 368). In essence, he argues that what is right with the world is what it was before it was screwed up. He continues to build his argument, saying that things were beautiful in the beginning even if they get worse. He says that:
But I do affirm, with the full weight of sincerity, that trees and flowers are good at the beginning, whatever happens to them at the end; that human lives were good at the beginning, whatever happens to them in the end. The ordinary modern progressive position is that this is a bad universe, but will certainly get better. I say it is certainly a good universe, even if it gets worse. I say that these trees and flowers, stars and sexes, are primarily, not merely ultimately, good. In the Beginning the power beyond words created heaven and earth. In the beginning He looked on them and saw that they were good. (370)
Chesterton essentially says that everything was good at the beginning, and will continue to be so because they were created good. But Chesterton sees something amiss; this is the need for unity in everything. He says that this need to be unified, the same, is what is wrong with the world. Therefore he says that “Division and variety are essential to praise; division and variety are what is right with the world” (372). He says that the uniqueness of humanity, of landscapes, objects—the uniqueness of everything is what gives it its beauty.
This first essay of Chesterton discusses the value of beauty and optimism in a world that does not value beauty and views pessimism as revolutionary. His second essay discusses the concepts of beauty and uniqueness in history, and consequently in stories and literature. The third essay explains that what is right with the world, what is beautiful about the world, is its uniqueness and beauty. The key themes here are the goodness of optimism, defining beauty, and finding uniqueness valuable. According to Chesterton, “Ivory may not be so white as snow, but the whole Arctic continent does not make ivory black” (“Introduction” 4). The world is beautiful, and just because it isn’t what it could be doesn’t mean that it’s not beautiful. Storytelling, as found in history and literature, is beautiful — its novelty and uniqueness is what makes it so; “To man is spared the hideous and frantic and violent farce of repetition” (“A Much Repeated Repetition,” 83). And the final essay states the same: that uniqueness is what is right with the world. Beauty and optimism are in tandem and uniqueness is beautiful and special, not something to be denied and rejected for false senses of unity. The unity of these three essays is not found in their common ideas but in common themes of beauty, uniqueness, and optimism. Chesterton’s essays are, to be quite frank, beautiful, and certainly worth reading. One can learn much from the wisdom of Chesterton in the beauty of his essays.