ABSTRACT
Eves, Angels or Human Beings: G.K. Chesterton’s Female Characters
Rachel A. Schultz
Director: Ralph C. Wood, Ph.D.
G.K. Chesterton remains one of the most heralded authors of the twentieth century. However, his views on “The Woman Question,” as outlined in his polemical essays, invite skepticism at best. In order to provide a more complete understanding of Chesterton’s perception of muliebrity, this thesis analyzes major female characters within Chesterton’s fiction: specifically the epic poem, The Ballad of the White Horse, the sweeping farce The Flying Inn, and the allegorically charged The Ball and the Cross. To achieve this purpose, the thesis works from principles of feminist criticism, testing whether each female character is portrayed with their own irreducible integrity or is flattened into a prop, whose sole purpose is to advance the development of male leads. Such lines of inquiry involve questioning whether females are portrayed as angelic, guiding figures or tempting eve figures instead of fully developed human beings with strengths, faults and their own significant storyline. An exploration of Chesterton’s fictional female characters complicates our understanding of his views on womanhood as held thus far.
APPROVED BY DIRECTOR OF HONORS THESIS:
Dr. Ralph Wood, Department of Religion, Great Texts and English
APPROVED BY THE HONORS PROGRAM:
Dr. Elizabeth Corey, Director
DATE:
EVES, ANGELS OR HUMAN BEINGS: G.K. CHESTERTON’S FEMALE
CHARACTERS
A Thesis Submitted to the Faculty of
Baylor University
In Partial Fulfillment of the Requirements for the
Honors Program
By
Rachel A. Schultz
Waco, Texas
May, 2016 TABLE OF CONTENTS
Acknowledgments . . . . . iii
Chapter One: Introduction . . . . 1
Chapter Two: The Female and the Family . . . 10
Chapter Three: The Ballad of the White Horse . . 26
Chapter Four: The Flying Inn . . . . 41
Chapter Five: The Ball and the Cross . . . 53
Chapter Six: Conclusions . . . . . 66
Bibliography . . . . . 70
ii ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
My deepest thanks to Dr. Ralph Wood, my thesis director and mentor, for continual guidance, inspiration and friendship. Additionally, I would like to acknowledge Dr. Lynne Hinojosa for providing a solid foundation of feminist criticism upon which to build the lens for this thesis; also, thanks are due to Dr. Lynne Hinojosa for serving as a reader on my oral defense committee. Finally, I am extremely grateful for the generosity of Dr. Sarah Ford, whose classes have changed my approach to literature and who gave freely of her time in joining my thesis oral defense committee. Without these people and many more, I would not have succeeded as a thesis writer or have developed substantially during my time at Baylor University.
iii CHAPTER ONE
Feminist Criticism: A Lens
To claim that anyone has conclusively summarized the legacy of G.K. Chesterton would be a daring assertion. Despite the multitude of essays, lectures, sermons and conversations surrounding his writings, this enduring author’s multi-faceted work calls readers continually to reconsider their perception of him. It is fitting that many should remember Chesterton by his pithy aphorisms, which present a complete idea by way of paradox, as his life was marked by a similar unusual quality. He challenged his friends when they were intellectual enemies, and befriended his enemies as his equals. He penned everything from allegorical fantasies to biting essays, while putting forth the
Catholic hope in all venues. He treated the questions of the world as significant, but addressed them with a sense of humor that hinted at an abiding humility.1 Chesterton was a man who united seemingly contradictory qualities into a cohesive pursuit of what he believed to be true, good and beautiful. This, perhaps, is why his work inspired and informed his contemporaries and remains compelling to present-day thinkers.
However, such an individual is bound to spur not only fervent admiration, but also serious criticism. Chesterton believed that each person had a responsibility to uphold their convictions and detested the all-accommodating tolerance he saw present in
1 The most succinct evidence of this aspect of Chesterton’s character may be a photograph of him in full cowboy garb, which he donned to act in a short film titled How Men Love, directed by J.M. Barrie. Motorcycles were involved. Whitebrook, Peter. William Archer: A Biography. London: Methuen, 1993.
1 many modern ideologies.2 He did not feel compelled to apologize for holding a firm opinion, and his proactive rebuttal of what, in his view, were problems in the world necessarily incited controversy.
Chesterton’s critique of these modern issues often aroused critical concern, especially regarding “The Woman Question.” This phrase is used to describe the discussions surrounding the role of women in society that surfaced with new vigor in the late nineteenth and early twentieth century, and continue to play a prominent role in current political, religious and cultural dialogue.3 Chesterton’s stance on this matter rested on an understanding that men and women were “absolutely equal” and “very different.”4 He wrote extensive critiques of the suffragettes, whom he saw as not working toward freedom from male hegemony, but enslavement to capitalism. He directly opposed women’s right to vote through a number of arguments, claiming, for example, that half of society should remain untouched by the dark realities of politics and commercial specialism.5 While Chesterton viewed his statements as a defense of women’s rights to be what they were created to be, commentators often claim his arguments seek to rationalize morally the subordination of the opposite sex.6 For
2 This attitude is expressed in a good deal of Chesterton’s work, most directly in Heretics. Chesterton, G. K. Heretics. Champaign, Ill.: Project Gutenberg, 199.
3 Utell, Janine. "The Woman Question." The Modernist Journals Project. Accessed September 1, 2015.
4 Lauer, Joseph Quentin. G. K. Chesterton: Philosopher without Portfolio. New York, New York: Fordham University Press, 1988. 144.
5 Chesterton, G.K. "Part Three: Feminism, or the Mistake about Woman." In What's Wrong With the World, 78-86. Seven Treasures Publications, 2009.
6 Ibid., 29.
2 example, Maurice Evans claimed that “in order to convince woman that she is very fortunate in having the protection of marriage, [Chesterton] paints a rather erroneous picture of masculine values.”7 In addition, many critics assert that Chesterton’s descriptions of early feminists were unnecessarily harsh. He did, in fact, describe a bevy of suffragettes as bringing to his mind legends of “a Bacchic orgie, a Witches Sabbath.”8
Another famous remark was his quip that in the feminist movement “twenty million young women rose to their feet with the cry ‘We will not be dictated to’ and proceeded to become stenographers.”9 These statements were provocative in his day and have hardly gained endorsement since.
Chesterton’s expository works outlining his position on multiple aspects of “The
Woman Question” are indispensable. However, literary analysis of Chesterton’s female characters is sparse— indeed, nearly nonexistent. This is clearly problematic, since
Chesterton crafted his fiction to embody his leading convictions, which he outlined more directly in his essays. To leave these texts, as they bear upon “The Woman Question,” unexamined is to neglect Chesterton at his depths, and possibly misunderstand his conception of what makes women unique. In the words of Emily Dickinson, to “tell the truth but tell it slant” sometimes allows an author to achieve a greater deal of nuance
7 Evans, Maurice. "Political Beliefs." In G. K. Chesterton, 66. London: Cambridge University Press, 1939.
8 Chesterton, G.K. "The Queen and The Suffragettes." In What's Wrong With the World, 84. Seven Treasures Publications, 2009.
9 Ward, Maisie. "Clearing the Ground for Orthodoxy." In Gilbert Keith Chesterton, 205. New York, New York: Sheed & Ward, 1943.
3 through the fullness of character, plot, scene and image.10 When dealing with the complexity of human life, a story not only epitomizes an idea, but also makes it unforgettable. Therefore, without a concentrated study of Chesterton’s major female characters, we are unlikely to grasp the entirety of his standing on “The Woman
Question.” Such an exploration may also blunt the charge that Chesterton is a mere chauvinistic bigot, easily dismissed.
To complete this inquiry, it is important first to consider the legitimate questions raised by the tradition of feminist criticism. One of the concerns of feminist criticism directly relevant to a study of Chesterton’s work is the tendency of authors to use female characters as mere plot devices constructed to further the development of rounded male characters. In Elizabeth Barrett Browning’s poem Aurora Leigh, the fictional character
Leigh effectively voices this difficulty, telling her suitor:
You misconceive the question like a man Who sees the woman as the complement Of his sex merely. You forget too much That every creature, female as the male, Stands single in responsible act and thought… I too have my vocation—work to do, The heavens and earth have set me.
(Book II, 460-466)11
Through Leigh, Browning expresses the unsatisfying result that ensues when the female sex is portrayed as a mere accompaniment to a male counterpart. In this paradigm, female characters are constructed only as a mechanism to help a male character complete
10 Dickinson, Emily. "Tell All the Truth but Tell It Slant." In The Poems of Emily Dickinson. Reading ed. Cambridge, Mass.: Belknap Press, 1999.
11 Showalter, Elaine. "The Female Tradition." In A Literature of Their Own, 22- 23. Princeton, New Jersey: Princeton University Press, 1977.
4 his journey.12 Such depictions of women are, in a word, flat. They stand like cardboard cutouts, backdrops to the intended action of the story—the maturation of the male.
Female characters wielded in this manner usually remain static. Any change they undergo is designed to profit the evolution of the male character. In its most extreme form, this type of flat characterization can purport the idea that “women exist only to be acted on by men,” as literary objects and in reality.13
Within such a male-oriented narrative, questionable female archetypes emerge.
Two images are strikingly common. The first is the “Victorian phantom” which has become known as the “Angel in the House.”14 The second is a monstrous “Eve” figure, which illustrates a frightening depiction of what William Blake called the “Female
Will.”15
The term “Angel in the House” was coined by Coventry Patmore as the title of a collection of works celebrating his marriage, which he published in 1838.16 Within this compilation, he extolled his wife’s “feminine” virtues, such as a proclivity for self- sacrifice and nurturing; Patmore viewed his spouse as the ideal of Victorian womanhood.
Eventually, Patmore’s “Angel” came to represent the problematic depiction of women as
12 Needless to say, this approach can also translate into the perception of gender in reality.
13 Gilbert, Sandra M., and Susan Gubar. "The Queen's Looking Glass." In The Madwoman in the Attic, 8. London: Yale University Press, 1979.
14 Woolf, Virginia. "Professions for Women." Accessed September 2, 2015.
15 Gilbert, Sandra M., and Susan Gubar. "The Queen's Looking Glass." In The Madwoman in the Attic, 28. London: Yale University Press, 1979.
16 Patmore, Coventry. The Angel in the House. 2nd ed. London: John W. Parker and Son, 1838.
5 endlessly devoted, submissive creatures, fashioned to shine light into the male world, but not do much else. Females in this model are to act as muses and foils—no story of their own is necessary, as they exist only as a solid point of reference for the male adventurer.
In 1931, Victoria Woolf delivered a speech to a branch of the National Society for
Women’s Service in which she demanded the “Angel” be killed.17 She detailed this unrealistic figurine of womanhood as “immensely charming… never [having] a mind or wish of her own… pure.”18 Woolf’s summary of the “Angel” prototype emphasizes the uniformity of this paradigm’s conception of womanly obligations; females are to excel in areas of life deemed appropriate by men. There is little reason for them to possess defining characteristics or interests, as their purpose is unvaryingly to support and satisfy male development. Further, as ethereal moral beings, women in this frame regularly act as intermediaries between the male character and the divine, while their own humanity is ignored or rejected.
Opposite the “Angel” stands another two-dimensional illustration of muliebrity.
The grotesque “Eve” is the apex of an overblown female resolve, meant to illicit disgust and fear in the male. This character is composed to serve a male-oriented narrative, just as much as the domestic spirit at the other end of the spectrum. While the “Angel” inspires the male through transcendent otherness, the “Eve” provokes revulsion through
17 Woolf, Virginia. Killing the Angel in the House: Seven Essays. London: Penguin, 1995.
18 Hartnell, Elaine. ""Nothing but Sweet and Womanly": A Hagiography of Patmore's Angel." Victorian Poetry 34, no. 4 (1996): 457-76.
6 the “damning otherness of the flesh.”19 She is aggressive and all consuming. By stepping outside of the male-dominated sphere, she becomes overwhelmingly hideous and malevolent. Instead of encouraging the male toward holiness, this character often functions as a temptress or conduit of desecration. Spenser’s Errour, Milton’s Sin, and
Swift’s “Goddess Criticism” are all excellent examples of this archetype.20 These devouring figures challenge knowledge and virtue, acting as an obstacle the male character must overcome.
Although the aforementioned sketches of womanhood are hollow in different ways, they are similar in that they do not represent women as fully human. One errs on the side of heavenly perfection, while the other presents women as a sensuous stumbling block for men. Neither allows female characters to exist as individuals with strengths and weaknesses, whose fictional progress holds any significance apart from helping male counterparts achieve their destinies.
These diametric archetypes are related to another focal point of feminist criticism: whether it is appropriate to assign specific traits to a character based on gender alone. In her essay “Feminist, Female, Feminine” Toril Moi claims that “patriarchal oppression consists of imposing certain social standards of femininity on all biological women, in order to make [women] believe that the chosen standards for ‘femininity’ are natural.”21
While the sexes are physically different, many feminist critics worry that labeling virtues
19 Gilbert, Sandra M., and Susan Gubar. "The Queen's Looking Glass." In The Madwoman in the Attic, 28. London: Yale University Press, 1979.
20 Ibid., 33. Another possible example is Tolkein’s Shelob.
21 Moi, Toril, and Jane Moore. "Feminist, Female, Feminine: Toril Moi." In The Feminist Reader, edited by Catherine Belsey, 116-132. New York, New York: Basil Blackwell, 1989.
7 or traits as distinctly feminine or masculine fails to portray the uniqueness of persons, especially within literature. This type of extreme divergence may also encourage what
Woolf described as “the pitting of sex against sex, of quality against quality…
[belonging] to the private-school stage of human existence where there are ‘sides’ and it is necessary for one side to beat another side.”22 What some argue is a complementary relationship can exaggerate any realistic dichotomy between the sexes, restraining both; for example, it would hinder characterization if an author believed only men could be rational, and only women could be kind.
However, it is possible to take a reluctance to acknowledge any contrast between genders too far. In A Literature of Their Own, Elaine Showalter claims some critics have
“evaded the issue of sexual identity entirely, or dismissed it as irrelevant and subjective.
Finding it difficult to think intelligently about [women], academic criticism has often overcompensated by desexing them.”23 Historically speaking, men and women have had radically different experiences of the world. To ignore gender as a part of cultural identity is to do characters a great disservice; it is possible to take gender into account without expecting all women or all men to appear the same.
22 Woolf, Virginia. A Room of One's Own. San Diego: Harcourt Brace Jovanovich, 1989. It’s important to note that in Woolf’s England, “private-school” refers to primary educational institutions in which the sexes were usually separated.
23 Showalter, Elaine. "The Female Tradition." In A Literature of Their Own, 8. Princeton, New Jersey: Princeton University Press, 1977.
8 The attention that feminist criticism pays to these aspects of a literary work offers a particular lens through which to evaluate Chesterton’s female characters. The following study must inquire whether Chesterton’s women are presented as authentic humans or as two-dimensional props for male development. It is important to consider whether the female characters serve as conduits through which men achieve enlightenment, seductive figures that men must overcome, or persons with their own irreducible integrity. The differences, or lack thereof, among them are also necessary to assess. Does Chesterton present an ideal woman? Do all of his female characters adhere to a specific set of virtues? Do they have distinct personalities and desires, strengths and faults?
The following chapter will offer a brief summary of Chesterton’s views on women and their human role as conveyed in his polemical essays, especially in reference to the framework of the family and society. Three chapters making an extensive literary analysis of Chesterton’s most consequential female characters in The Ballad of the White
Horse, The Flying Inn and The Ball and the Cross will follow this precursory material.
The aim of this thesis is to obtain a more complete understanding of Chesterton’s position upon the nature of woman through an examination of his female characters, as they have been almost completely unaddressed. To complete this endeavor, the following discourse proceeds with the understanding that fiction can sometimes represent an idea more completely than exegetic argument.
9 CHAPTER TWO
The Female and the Family
Before discussing Chesterton’s female characters and what their representations imply, it is necessary to acknowledge his views on womanhood as defined in his numerous essays. These works provide a blueprint for comprehending Chesterton’s treatment of gender, which is made manifest and given subtleties in his female fictional characters. To Chesterton, questions of male and female nature are nonsensical without accounting for the covenant of Christian marriage and the social, moral and political purposes of the home. Any attempt to separate his perception of gender from his understanding of the family would be futile, for he believed the domestic sphere to be the
“land of giants,” where the distinct sexes find significant union and where humanity’s most essential adventures take place.1 For these purposes, this thesis must examine
Chesterton’s interpretation of sexual complementarity and conflict, especially within the context of marriage. Only within this frame is it possible to grasp the distinctive role
Chesterton allocates to women.
The belief that human beings are, by nature, social creatures, is fundamental to
Chesterton’s perception of gender. Chesterton found the whole of Western Christian tradition to be marked by radical community and believed that because humankind was created in the image of God, persons are intended for fellowship, mirroring the communal relation of the Holy Trinity. In The Flight From Woman, Karl Stern describes
1 Chesterton, G.K. "The Poetry of the Home." In Brave New Family, edited by Alvaro De Silva, 64. San Francisco, California: Ignatius Press, 1990.
10 the nature of the Godhead as expressing the fullness of being through “polarity in union.”2 Such a conception of the Trinity and human nature greatly influences
Chesterton’s understanding of marriage as a sacramental union of distinct individuals and not a reversible, contractual agreement. He contends that the genders are equally important and fundamentally different, and that their complementarity becomes the very communality of the marital bond.
Because Chesterton claims there is an essential contrast between the sexes, he holds that tension is an inevitable part of marriage, and that the covenant’s success does not lie in unbroken delight. Rather, he asserts that grievances will come as a result of the chasm between sexes, but that this pain can be spiritually refining and lead to a joy greater than temporal satisfaction. This view is reflected in his description of the relationship between spouses as “the theatre of the spiritual drama, the place where things happen, especially the things that matter.”3 Within the voluntary and sacramental promise of marriage, a man and a woman give themselves to life within a continuous paradox, as parts with often opposing inclinations are made one flesh. For Chesterton, the wild romance of Christian marriage, as well as the value of all worthy things, relies upon fruitful limitation. In his mind, all noble endeavors require “drawing the line somewhere.”4 In Chesterton’s vision, the sacramental marriage bond can only approach the fullness of its purpose if both spouses are permanently committed. Two people vow
2 Stern, Karl. The Flight From Woman. New York: Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 1965. 10.
3 Chesterton, G.K. "The Poetry of the Home." In Brave New Family, edited by Alvaro De Silva, 24. San Francisco, California: Ignatius Press, 1990.
4 Clarkson, Carrol. Drawing the Line toward an Aesthetics of Transitional Justice. New York: Fordham University Press, 2013. 1-22.
11 to be joined, and so they are; there is no leaving in the face of conflict. This irrevocable covenant lays the foundation for “transfiguring self-discipline”.5 As Chesterton states in
Orthodoxy, “love is not blind… love is bound; and the more it is bound, the less it is blind.”6
The sacramental bond of marriage is crucial to Chesterton, since he believed “a man and a woman, as such, are incompatible.”7 He claimed to have never known a compatible marriage, although he’d witnessed many a happy one.8 The vow itself acts as encouragement, inspiring patience and forbearance when one spouse is bored, dissatisfied or wounded. It tethers them to their counterpart, reminding man and woman to strive as one through quarrelsome times. In all circumstances, “whether the two people are for the moment friendly or angry... the Thing marches on… the quadruped of the home.”9
Chesterton does not portray marital hardships as mere inconveniences; he recognizes them as extremely difficult, yet central to human growth. In his words, persons “must suffer to be beautiful, and even suffer a considerable interval of being ugly.”10 With the goal of moral maturation and not stagnant comfort, Chesterton claims “two people must
5 Chesterton, G.K. "The Poetry of the Home." In Brave New Family, edited by Alvaro De Silva, 52. San Francisco, California: Ignatius Press, 1990.
6 Chesterton, G. K. Orthodoxy. Grand Rapids, Mich.: Christian Classics Ethereal Library, 199.
7 Chesterton, G.K. "Part One: The Homelessness of Man." In What's Wrong With the World, 30. Seven Treasures Publications, 2009.
8 Ibid., 47.
9 Ibid., 92-93.
10 Chesterton, G.K. "The Superstition of Divorce." In Brave New Family, edited by Alvaro De Silva, 229. San Francisco, California: Ignatius Press, 1990.
12 be tied together in order to do themselves justice; for twenty minutes at a dance, or for twenty years in a marriage.”11 The sacramental covenant, when given its proper weight, provides incentive to work toward lasting joys instead of fleeting satisfaction. A fruitful marriage “plumbs the deep-sea riches of the differences between [persons],” and makes them both better for it.12 For Chesterton, tension is endemic to marriage, and this inherent limitation is necessary for legitimate development.
Throughout his work, Chesterton expresses concern about the dangers of individualism. For Chesterton, this way of viewing the human life may make a man fear allegedly becoming, in essence, “another man”— throwing off his prior vows when they no longer seem appealing and thus traveling through life unburdened by any lasting marital responsibility.13 In contrast, Chesterton claims the relationship between the sexes within Christian marriage is a grand adventure precisely because it does not have this option of possible emergency exit. A vow is binding; a promise is permanent. When a spouse comes into conflict with his or her companion, or even simply does not find the other perennially agreeable, the couple is called to endure through the trial because of their irrevocable covenant. Chesterton asserts that to “be taking oaths which we know cannot bind us” is not true freedom, but is to live life on an insufficient scale, reducing
11 Chesterton, G.K. "Part One: The Homelessness of Man." In What's Wrong With the World, 30. Seven Treasures Publications, 2009.
12 Sheridan, Gilley. "Chesterton, Catholicism and the Family." The Chesterton Review 23, no. 4 (1997): 427.
13 Ibid., 49.
13 the largest promises to mere temporary choices and never give meaning to one’s own word.14
Chesterton believed that it is precisely a person’s inability to recognize the necessary suffering within the marriage union that allows them to rationalize divorce.
Charles Williams articulated this view in The Forgiveness of Sins, saying divorce is simply “bad metaphysics.”15 A marriage vow, when viewed as a sacrament, is irreversible; if two spouses are truly made one flesh, a document of divorce cannot sever them. Chesterton understands that unhappy marriages surely exist, and that dangerous marriages sometimes necessitate some sort of release—for example, if one spouse is unbearably abusive.16 However, Chesterton asserts that the vast majority of divorces have no such base but assume that the marital bond morphs “with certain changing moods.”17
He claims the reality of the commitment is not dependent on varying emotions or circumstances. In his opinion, the consequences of the marital covenant must be real, or
“the adventure is only a shiftless and heartless nightmare.”18 Further, Chesterton asserts that those who justify divorce attempt to lessen the significance of the marriage covenant even as they argue for the right to participate in it again through remarriage.19 He claims proponents of divorce are “bitter because a Christian who wishes to have several wives
14 Ibid., 50.
15 Williams, Charles. The Forgiveness of Sins. Grand Rapids, Mich.: W.B. Eerdmans Pub., 1984.
16 Ibid., 223.
17 Ibid., 236.
18 Ibid., 246.
19 Ibid., 228.
14 when his own promise bound him to one is not allowed to violate his vow at the same altar at which he made it.”20 Such divorced men and women, in Chesterton’s view, are ironically superstitious in believing that “it is the veil that makes the bride.”21 He finds it deeply disturbing that individuals would dismiss one marriage vow as unfulfilling only to take up another.22 For Chesterton, the sacrament of Christian marriage requires men and women to uphold their vows even as their understanding of themselves and their partner changes. In his mind, “there are in life certain immortal moments, moments that have authority” and to betray past covenants is to diminish one’s word and forfeit joy.23
The fruitfulness of the marriage bond involves the interaction of contrasting and conjoined forces within the home. Such a dichotomy gains even greater significance when, as Chesterton advocates, the familial sphere is the primary territory where marital partners are required to grow. He notes how in the public arena, unattached persons may continually join themselves with other like-minded individuals. Men and women may choose to engage primarily with those who share their concerns or make them feel like an ideal version of themselves.24 In public society, people are allowed to be narrow—they spend their time with those that have similar souls. However, such relations built on likeness may indeed create an environment of “spiritual coherence and contentment, like
20 Chesterton, G.K. "The Superstition of Divorce." In Brave New Family, edited by Alvaro De Silva, 226. San Francisco, California: Ignatius Press, 1990.
21 Ibid., 228.
22 Ibid., 223.
23 Ibid., 245.
24 Chesterton, G.K. "The Wildest of Adventures." In Brave New Family, edited by Alvaro De Silva, 38. San Francisco, California: Ignatius Press, 1990.
15 that which exists in hell.”25 In contrast, the home makes its inhabitants more “sociable” and attuned to the realities of humankind by requiring them to work alongside those supremely unlike themselves.26 As we have seen, for Chesterton difference is necessary for “great passions and great problems to arise,” as they usually do within the home.27
Chesterton claims the variations between male and female nature within the marriage bond exemplify this process of creative complementarity. But to what extent, in
Chesterton’s understanding, are women fundamentally distinct from men?
In his early articles for The New Witness, Chesterton claims that human equality demands that “a man and a woman should alike have social dignity and social power.”28
However, this equality does not involve denying that gender affects more than biological function. Chesterton asserts that both sexes are meant to demonstrate virtue, but that these virtues are often differently evinced between men and women. This is because, in
Chesterton’s understanding, men and women have distinct ways of operating and differences in inclination. Within the family, Chesterton views men as the “head of the house” and women as the “heart of the house.”29 For Chesterton, this view does not entitle the man to lord over the woman as a dominating husband, but demands he respect her as absolutely vital to the wellbeing of the family. Such complementarities, for
Chesterton, do not justify tyrannical hegemony, but involve an exchange between distinct
25 Ibid., 38.
26 Ibid., 38.
27 Ibid., 132.
28 Ibid., 92.
29 Ibid, 143.
16 powers. When one sex is glorified above another, human nature becomes skewed, even within the individual.
Chesterton associates the male nature with specialization and the “expression of passion,” often basing this upon cultural demands instead of man’s innate predelictions.30
Throughout his writings, Chesterton challenges the entire capitalist enterprise as destructive of the family and community in a general sense. Chesterton claims the industrial and business economies drive men from the private sphere into the public, where they must occupy a limited and definite role. They are called to fulfill a singular duty within that world of money-making, and are thus required to operate within a confined function. Chesterton claims “men must “not only learn one trade, but… learn it so well as to uphold [themselves] in a more or less ruthless society.”31 Therefore, they are to be characterized by expertise, not multi-purposed intuition. In his essays, Chesterton illustrates this idea by asserting “a man must be partly a one-idead man, because he is a one-weaponed man—and he is flung naked into the fight.”32 He adds that this narrow way of existence translates into pointed male community in the way men handle ideas.
Chesterton describes the comradeship of men as professional in its orientation; male discussion is likely to be concerned with “speaking to the question” more often than speaking to one another.33
30 Chesterton, G.K. "Part Three: Feminism, or the Mistake about Women." In What's Wrong With the World, 70. Seven Treasures Publications, 2009.
31 Ibid., 61.
32 Ibid., 61.
33 Ibid., 47.
17 Chesterton also claims that men are inextricably linked to the civic forum because they are, by nature, rooted in such abstractions as “Liberty, Equality and Fraternity.”34
Relatedly, Chesterton purports that the male notions of justice are rarely tailored to a person or situation; instead, they operate from a set of general values and are fitting chiefly for the governance of the state. Such comradeship is, for Chesterton, an integral quality of male nature. In his understanding, such a force is essential but often lessens valuable distinctions amongst men. At its heart, comradeship is based upon a “resistance to the superciliousness of the individual.”35
If male nature is characterized by a focused pursuit of abstract goals, it follows that Chesterton would assert female nature safeguards “sanity” and “common-sense.”36
Whereas men are marked by a concern for transcendent ideas, women feature a concrete concern for the truth; any excess in the male pursuit of ideal is tempered by the grounded sensibility of women.37 Chesterton’s male is correlated with cleverness, while his female is correlated with wisdom.38
Similarly, the male tendency toward solemn specialization within work is balanced by the female ability to “preserve in the world that high levity… which fulfills the old vision of universalism.”39 Such an existence entails the mastery not of one thing,
34 Ibid., 46-48.
35 Ibid., 47.
36 Ibid., 63.
37 Ibid., 70.
38 Ibid., 61.
39 Ibid., 62.
18 but of many. Where one half of humanity is forced to specialize, the other must remain widely competent. In Chesterton’s mind, woman “does not ‘give her best” as the man must in order to make a living, “but gives her all.”40 The man is required to excel in one facet of life to satisfy capitalist competition, but the woman is conserved to strive for the many things necessary for the general sanity of the family. She alleviates the male narrowness by acting as a “highly chivalrous person who always goes over to the weaker side; like one who trims a boat by sitting where there are few people seated.”41
Further, where male justice for Chesterton is associated with abstract equality, female justice is directed toward the unique needs of individual persons. The male comradeship, which seeks to lessen the distinctions between men, is defied by the female love, which focuses on unique human beings and their good.42 Chesterton claims “any kind of concentrated passion, maternal love, or even the fiercer kinds of friendship are in their nature alien to pure comradeship.”43 He goes on to state that comradeship and love, while equally necessary, are present in all persons in different degrees; however, he finds the first central to male nature and the second to female nature.44
In order to comprehend Chesterton’s assertions regarding marital responsibility, it is important to understand his concern with the education of children, in which the sacramental bond comes to a keen focus. Chesterton views the domestic endeavor of
40 Ibid., 62.
41 Ibid., 64.
42 Ibid.
43 Ibid.
44 Ibid.
19 developing children physically, intellectually and spiritually not as an inferior task, but one of the utmost importance.45 He describes the “science that is studied in the home” as
“the greatest and most glorious of all sciences, very inadequately indicated by the word education… nothing less, at least, than the mystery of the making of men.”46 These statements are consistent with Chesterton’s opinion that behind a person’s front door lies the space in which foundational and complicated spiritual growth takes place. For
Chesterton the “place where babies are born, where men die, where the drama of mortal life is acted” is anything but limited, while the public sphere is constrained indeed.47 The greatest adventure lies in another actor being born into the family.48
Chesterton allocates the role of educating children chiefly to women for multiple reasons. As previously stated, he claims that humanity has been historically cleaved by gender, associating male nature with “special talent” and female nature with “common sense.”49 He asserts that biologically, women have been forced to refrain from exploration and experiment as they bear and nurture children.50 Unlike the male monetary provider, this action surrounds them with maturing human beings— humans who
45 Chesterton, G.K. "Fathers and Mothers." In Brave New Family, edited by Alvaro De Silva, 150-151. San Francisco, California: Ignatius Press, 1990.
46 Ibid., 152.
47 Ibid., 148.
48 Chesterton, G. K. Heretics. Champaign, Ill.: Project Gutenberg, 199.
49 Chesterton, G.K. "Fathers and Mothers." In Brave New Family, edited by Alvaro De Silva, 64. San Francisco, California: Ignatius Press, 1990.
50 Ibid., 64.
20 “require to be taught not so much anything as everything.”51 The woman becomes the children’s point of introduction to the world; she must be prepared to guide them as they approach the universe. For this reason, Chesterton claims she naturally is suited for the representation of overall truth, while the male is emblematic of expertise.
Holding to this view, he challenged the insistence that women needed to be
“freed” from the domestic sphere.52 Chesterton posed the question, “If education is the highest function in the State, why should anybody want to be emancipated from the highest function in the State?”53 He was unsatisfied with the solution of public education, claiming it would necessarily involve dividing one instructor’s attention amongst many children and give no student a complete experience.54 Even in the case of wealthy families who can afford an instructor to focus only on their child, Chesterton argues that the instructor cannot possibly hold the “spiritual authority” of a parent.55 He outlines the paradoxical claim of modernity that education is important, yet neither parent ought to be held responsible for the task, saying:
We cannot insist that every trick of nerves or train of thought is important enough to be searched for in libraries and laboratories, and not important enough for anybody to watch by simply staying at home. We cannot insist that the first years of infancy are of supreme importance, and that mothers are not of supreme importance; or that motherhood is a topic of sufficient interest for men, but not of sufficient interest for mothers. Every word that is said about the tremendous
51 Ibid., 64.
52 Ibid., 154.
53 Ibid., 154.
54 Ibid., 154.
55 Ibid., 154.
21 importance of trivial nursery habits goes to prove that being a nurse is not trivial.56
Many of Chesterton’s central arguments against the feminist movement were based upon the representation of parenthood as an inferior business, contested not for its hardship but for its supposed mediocrity. In Chesterton’s mind, a woman’s function is
“laborious” not for its smallness, but for its largeness.57 She must watch “out on all sides of the windows of the soul” as she oversees the development of human beings; her task is not limited but almost unimaginably broad.58
Under these premises, Chesterton argued women were not confined to motherhood out of weakness, but were given the task based on their immense ability. He regarded them with near veneration, for in his mind they guarded the right of humanity to resist specialization even as they directed the development of children. Chesterton respected women’s capability to pursue other goals than motherhood, but disliked some feminist’s portrayal of parenting as an unworthy task. He finds assertions that women
“are the best guardians of children because they are themselves children, ‘puerile, futile, limited” to be ridiculous, and directly challenges proponents of this worldview, as in the case of Schopenhauer.59
56 Ibid., 154.
57 Chesterton, G.K. "Part Three: Feminism, or the Mistake about Women." In What's Wrong With the World, 65. Seven Treasures Publications, 2009.
58 Ibid., 67.
59 Chesterton, G.K. "Fathers and Mothers." In Brave New Family, edited by Alvaro De Silva, 118. San Francisco, California: Ignatius Press, 1990.
22 In addition, Chesterton argues that the modern feminist movement was fighting not for the freedom of women, but the enslavement of womankind to male values and societal duties. The feminist cause, in Chesterton’s mind, did not correct faulty, male- designed systems but sought fallaciously to imitate them. This concern was displayed in his admiration for the irony and honesty of Jane Austen and Louisa Alcott, but discomfort with George Eliot working under the pretense of being a male author and subverting her cultural experience as a woman.60 Chesterton asserts that feminist concerns are based on a misrepresentation of professional work as “noble” and domestic as “degrading”.61 In his understanding, feminists were not fighting for the right of women to achieve admirable pursuits but trivial ones, in order to gain financial independence from males. The willingness to undergo servile tasks for the sake of self-sufficiency he found problematic, since it placed a negative connotation on dependence between spouses (who were meant to be united) while transferring female loyalty to an employer.62 In Chesterton’s words, “modern women fight for desk and typewriter as for hearth and home, and develop a sort of wolfish wifehood on behalf of the invisible head of the firm.”63 For this author, women in this structure gained independence from their husbands, but became slavishly dedicated to an economic entity.
60 Chesterton, G.K. "Fathers and Mothers." In Brave New Family, edited by Alvaro De Silva, 135-137. San Francisco, California: Ignatius Press, 1990.
61 Ibid., 121.
62Chesterton, G.K. "Part Three: Feminism, or the Mistake about Women." In What's Wrong With the World, 65. Seven Treasures Publications, 2009.
63 Ibid., 65.
23 If the right to participate directly in capitalist competition is contradictory to
Chesterton’s idea that half of humanity should remain protected from specialization, the right to vote is similarly complicated. Chesterton believed half of humanity should remain unsoiled by the unfortunate aspects of public governance, such as condemning criminals. He claims the responsibility of the state to inflict justice is an “ugly, humiliating business” and that the whole of humankind ought to not participate in it. In fact, he viewed direct suffrage not as a freedom gained, but a burden. He argues that denying women the right to vote keeps them out of “the collective act of coercion; the act of punishment by a mob.”64 For Chesterton, it is reasonable that “a woman, like a priest, must not be a shedder of blood.”65 In the female sex, some moral dignity is preserved from a flawed human system.
Clearly, many aspects of Chesterton’s treatment of gender invite critique. For example, his desire that the female sex be protected from brutal governmental requirements seems inconsistent with his claims that women ought to understand all facets of life in order to educate children. In many cases, he may soften the gravity of male responsibilities and privileges, failing adequately to consider the imprisoning limits of defining women as unlikely passionately to pursue expertise in a subject. Further, critics may argue that Chesterton’s deep respect for women translates into unrealistic standards of purity and spiritual fruitfulness which he does not place upon men as well.
Despite these problematic aspects of Chesterton’s critique of female liberation, his position on female nature remains extensively developed. His critical approach to
64 Ibid., 78.
65 Ibid., 80.
24 complementary sexual roles provides useful matter for discussions of womanhood. Thus do we now proceed to examine Chesterton’s female characters and discover what they embody regarding his perception of muliebrity.
25 CHAPTER THREE
The Ballad of the White Horse
Chesterton’s narrative poem, The Ballad of the White Horse, explores themes of
Christian faith, stewardship and joy by repurposing the legends surrounding King Alfred through a driving ballad.1 The plot centers on Alfred and his followers’ attempts to defend their Anglo-Saxon civilization against invading Danish Vikings and culminates in the historic Battle of Ethandune. Near Uffington, the figure of a mysterious “White
Horse” lies etched into a hillside, formed when unknown peoples pulled back thick turf to reveal limestone, hidden underneath. This geoglyph was created prior to the Anglo-
Saxon invasion and the Roman conquest, making it a “pre-historic” and “pre-Christian” landmark.2 However, the “White Horse” requires consistent scouring to retain its permanent presence. Throughout the work, Chesterton uses this man-made monument to symbolize the responsibility of Christians to participate in the safekeeping of cultural artifacts, which are valuable as sources of moral and spiritual nourishment. By preserving elements of the historical narrative, Chesterton believes Christians honor tradition and engage in “the democracy of the dead,” respecting the humanity of bygone civilizations.3 In The Ballad of the White Horse, Chesterton characterizes the Danes as a destructive force, hopeless though mighty. In contrast, the Anglo-Saxons, as Chesterton
1 Chesterton, G.K. The Ballad of the White Horse. Front Royal, Virginia: Seton Home Study School, 2011. VIII.
2 Ibid., XI.
3 Chesterton, G. K. Orthodoxy. Grand Rapids, Mich.: Christian Classics Ethereal Library, 199.
26 presents them, fight not only to protect Christendom but pre-Christian culture. Their desire to “preserve even pagan things” is a sacred undertaking.4 Because of their
Christian understanding of all human beings as bearers of the Imago Dei, the Anglo-
Saxons strive to protect the cultural monuments of nonbelievers as the indirect product of
God’s creative nature. The Anglo-Saxons protect what is honorable even in pagan places, while the Danes, as Chesterton envisions them, work toward the annihilation of entire cultures.
To protect and rightly govern his kingdom, Alfred must mature in the Christ-like virtues of “humility, self-sacrifice and service.”5 Just as the “White Horse” requires diligent upkeep to maintain its integrity, traces of pride and arrogance must be cleansed from the king’s soul before he can understand how to truly lead. Alfred’s moral and spiritual development is achieved as he learns not to hope chiefly in any earthly gain, but to discern divine purpose and his role within it its design. Only within this frame is he able to recognize hardship’s role in the pursuit of joy, learning “that kinship with Christ begins in despair, blindness and failure—at least failure in the eyes of the world.”6 Alfred grows to accept the hiddenness of God’s plan even when the situation seems unendurably bleak.
Throughout the ballad, Chesterton’s female characters act as means of divine disclosure. Repeatedly, encounters with the opposite sex spur Alfred to new understandings of himself and his world. By allocating such a role to women, Chesterton
4 Chesterton, G.K. The Ballad of the White Horse. Front Royal, Virginia: Seton Home Study School, 2011. XIII.
5 Ibid.
6 Ibid., X.
27 exalts female characters within the ballad. However, because these women have little storyline of their own, it may seem that they are two-dimensional. Hence the charge that
Chesterton’s heroines fulfill the “Angel in the House” stereotype, where women exist merely to illuminate and encourage the development of men. Such a reading of the text, however, ignores Chesterton’s commitment to allegory; almost all the male, as well as the female characters, exist primarily to embody larger virtues and vices. In addition,
Chesterton does not present these women as demure or identical —attributes usually present in the “Angel of the House” prototype. It is worth noting that Chesterton’s female characters do not affirm Alfred’s ego or impart wisdom which will do him, and him alone, good. Rather, they awaken him to the realities of Christian life, the gifts and duties of which affect not only Alfred’s authentic heroism, but the fate of his entire community.
Chesterton begins The Ballad of the White Horse by dedicating it to his wife,
Frances Blogg, whom he often claimed revealed to him the strength of Christian belief personally expressed.7 Frances bore many physical and emotional hardships, including infertility. However, in sadness or happiness, Frances fought for an “asceticism of cheerfulness, not the easier asceticism of melancholy.”8 Frances’s life was marked by a concern for the poor, sick and elderly—not to mention her devotion to her forgetful husband. Her determination to put faith into action led Chesterton himself to embrace a
7 Carpentier Brown, Nancy. The Woman Who Was Chesterton. Charlotte, North Carolina: American Chesterton Society, 2015. 59.
8 Ibid., 31.
28 vigorous kind of Christianity.9 Eventually, just as Chesterton was inspired to reconsider
Christianity through Frances, she, in turn, followed her husband’s conversion from
Anglicanism to Catholicism10 Many letters, poems and accounts reveal the lively exchange between the minds of Frances and Gilbert Chesterton, which encouraged and challenged both of them in their pursuit of truth.
Chesterton’s relationship with Frances resounds throughout the dedication of the ballad and sets the tone for many of Chesterton’s female characters. After discussing the difficulty of seeking meaning in legend, Chesterton explains that “by one light only” may he look from Alfred’s eyes—the cross of Christ, which “hangs about [Frances’s] neck.”11
This assertion reflects Chesterton’s understanding that only the revelation of Christian faith enables him to poetically embody his firmest convictions in the legend of Alfred .
He continues to remark that he brings “these rhymes to [Frances] who brought the cross to [him], since on [Frances] flaming without flaw [he] saw the sign that Guthrum saw.”12
By comparing himself to Guthrum, who is baptized after the Danes are defeated,
Chesterton emphasizes Frances’s role as a conduit for divine revelation.13 Frances, by being “what heart [she] is” and “carrying the firelight on [her] face,” has brought new understanding to Chesterton.14 By repeatedly associating the faith of Frances with fire,
9 Ibid., 59.
10 Ibid., 146.
11 Chesterton, G.K. The Ballad of the White Horse. Front Royal, Virginia: Seton Home Study School, 2011. 3.
12 Ibid.
13 Ibid., 103.
29 Chesterton characterizes his wife not as a passive example of feminine naiveté, but rather a woman of burning conviction.
Further, Chesterton underscores Frances’s agency throughout the dedication. He does not present her as a character whose only purpose is to lead him toward a fuller faith, but a woman who, by pursuing her own sanctification, inspires him to do the same.
For example, Chesterton describes her as a “wandering home” to him, and as “God’s winged pavilion free to roam.”15 Although they are linked in sacramental marriage, her
Christian identity is not dependent upon his. He urges her to go onward, and desires to accompany her, “[wandering] with a wandering star.”16 Frances demonstrates that pilgrimage is essential to the Christian faith. Gilbert’s perception of Christendom is influenced as he observes her; however, the validity of her journey is not measured by its effects on him.
In addition, the dedication is interspersed with imagery that reflects the equality and companionship between Chesterton and Frances. He asks her to “remember when
[they] went under a dragon moon… [walking] where they fought the unknown fight…
[of] Ethandune.”17 Again, Chesterton entreats her to remember “the hour [they] strayed a space from home and saw the smoke-hued hamlets, quaint with Westland king and
Westland saint,” namely, King Alfred himself.18 These tranquil scenes complement the
14 Ibid., 4.
15 Ibid.
16 Ibid.
17 Ibid., 3.
18 Ibid., 5.
30 depiction of Frances as a catalyst for new understanding, as they detail the spouses imagining together. Any presentation of her as an unearthly figure is negated by these intimate recollections, in which Gilbert and Frances are full-fledged partners.
Frances’s actions awaken Chesterton to a more complete understanding of
Christian faith and adventure, especially in its female dimension. In a somewhat more humorous manner, an encounter with a peasant woman drastically alters King Alfred’s grasp of how to act as a leader and serve the poor. Before Alfred meets the woman, he goes “full of all thoughts,” thinking upon the advance of the Danes.19 As he contemplates the dire situation of the Anglo-Saxons, Alfred comes upon a river-hut, owned by a “great grey woman with scarred face and strong and humbled eyes.”20 Here, Chesterton does not present an idealized idea of femininity, but a person of endurance and hard-earned character. The woman tells Alfred that she is baking “a cake for any man if he will watch the fire,” asking him to monitor bread to keep it from burning while she is otherwise occupied.21 Alfred consents with a bow.22 The woman pities him for his destitute appearance, even as the king pities her for being impoverished.23
However, Alfred’s compassion soon transforms into a reverie that at times approaches patronization. Again, he loses himself in abstract thought, thinking “no kind
19 Ibid., 49.
20 Ibid., 51.
21 Ibid., 53.
22 Ibid.
23 Ibid.
31 thing shall come” to the “great heart” before him until God rights the world.24 He continues, likening those in poverty to God, who works “[silently] like a slave” and
“patient and unpaid,” leaving no signs of his labor but “mercy and mystery.”25 Alfred speaks in elaborate imagery; for example, he describes “God like a good giant, that, labouring, lifts the world.”26 He admires the peasant woman’s ability to go “powerfully in pain” before describing effusively the “nameless star” in which Christians may hope.27
Alfred concludes that until the “kingdom of the poor on earth [comes] as it is in heaven,” women like the one before him shall “go groaning to the grave.”28 The profound question concerning the fate of the world’s nameless souls, who fade into the background of history without thanks or honor, is not negative in and of itself. However, as he withdraws into a meditation about the plight of the poor, Alfred fails to serve the peasant woman right before him.
While Alfred weeps for the impoverished woman, her bread falls into the ashes of the hearth and blackens, like “his royal oath.”29 Alfred has made a kingly promise to monitor the peasant woman’s baking bread, yet fails to uphold this tangible duty as he considers the path of the poor. It is then that the peasant woman uptakes the role repeatedly given to female characters by Chesterton—that of a herald of radical
24 Ibid., 53.
25 Ibid., 53.
26 Ibid., 54.
27 Ibid., 54, 55.
28 Ibid., 55.
29 Ibid., 56.
32 illumination. Screaming, she pulls a burning cake from the hearth and strikes Alfred on the face, “leaving a scarlet scar.”30 She shakes him violently from his thought, forcing him to engage the immediate reality before him.
Alfred rises, “dead with surprise” thinking of torture and “the evil things that are in the childish hearts of kings.”31 This tense moment emphasizes the brashness of the woman’s action; she has harmed her king. However, rather than responding in rage,
Alfred laughs suddenly at himself, claiming “he that is struck for an ill servant should be a kind lord.”32 Here, Alfred acknowledges his human weakness, and in doing so becomes a better leader. He goes on to announce that “the firm feet of humility… grip the ground like trees” and that “the red print on [his] forehead” shall motivate him to lead his army into battle, under the banner of Christ.33 By striking Alfred, the peasant woman pulls
Alfred from high-minded notions of impoverished people’s experiences and forces him to acknowledge that his role as a king must involve practical, self-sacrificing service—not only idealistic reflection. This episode also challenges the pride of Alfred, encouraging him to rule from a service-oriented heart.
While the peasant woman acts as an agent of changed understanding for a male character, she does not do so by being an ethereal version of femininity or a temptress which must be overcome. Rather, she is fully human; the image of the elderly, impoverished woman smacking the king with a burnt piece of bread is far from idealistic.
30 Ibid., 56.
31 Ibid., 56.
32 Ibid., 59.
33 Ibid., 60, 61.
33 Therefore this female character, while limited to represent the poor as a people, avoids becoming a two-dimensional “Angel” or “Eve.”
Two Marian visions frame the ballad; however, while the Virgin Mary incites altered understanding, her role significantly differs from that of Chesterton’s other female characters. The Christian church honors the Virgin Mary as the Theotokos, or “God- bearer,” through whom God chose to introduce the ultimate revelation of himself into the world—Christ, the fully divine and fully human Savior.34 Chesterton, drawing on this theological context, appropriately relies upon the character of the Virgin Mary to act as a conduit for pivotal divine knowledge. Indeed, Chesterton’s female characters within the allegorical narrative of the ballad seem to draw their authority partly as agents of revelation from the example of the Virgin Mary.
The first Marian vision occurs when Alfred has little left “but shameful tears of rage.”35 He falls to his knee, “broken” desperately against the harsh forces of the Danes, and assumes God has deserted his people.36 In this moment of despair, Alfred remembers a “little and terrible” picture of Mary, shown to him by his mother in childhood.37 After
Alfred recalls this image, the world suddenly appears vivid; Alfred notices that “all things
[spring] at him, sun and weed, / till the grass grew to be grass indeed.”38 Powerful
34 Herringer, Carol Engelhardt. Victorians and the Virgin Mary Religion and Gender in England, 1830-1885. Manchester: Manchester University Press, 2008. 1-34.
35 Chesterton, G.K. The Ballad of the White Horse. Front Royal, Virginia: Seton Home Study School, 2011. 13.
36 Ibid.
37 Ibid.
38 Ibid., 14.
34 imagery of creative rebirth continues as flowers grow “fearfully … like the child’s book to read.”39 These illustrations prepare the reader for the intervention of the Marian visions. Within this passage, Alfred’s surroundings are described as being renewed and righted. In remembering the Virgin Mary, through whom hope was given by God in the person of Christ, Alfred finds enough hope to engage with the world around him, instead of continuing to immerse himself in anguish.
Only when Alfred seeks something past his lonely misery is he able to experience the Virgin Mary. He looks, and sees “Our lady… [standing] and [stroking] the tall live grass as a man strokes his steed.”40 The text’s description of Mary as tending the world as a man cares for his horse introduces her as a figure worthy of respect; her affection does not stem from weakness, but compassionate authority. In addition, this phrase reflects the equality of male and female characters within the text. Like Frances, Mary offers hope not by catering to Alfred, but by retaining her otherness. The “very colours of her coat [are] better than good news… [and] she [stands] up straight and free between the flowers in Athelney.”41 As if ignoring Alfred, she does not speak, turn or make a sign; rather, her very majesty spurs Alfred to throw his ancestral jewel at her feet in a gesture of supplication.42
39 Ibid.
40 Ibid.
41 Ibid.
42 Ibid.
35 Alfred asks the Virgin whether his people will defeat the Danes, while humbly confessing “the gates of heaven are fearful gates, worse than the gates of hell.”43 Thus, he understands the necessary mystery of not knowing “the thing they guard, which is too good to tell.”44 However, the Virgin counters Alfred’s fear by declaring “the gates of heaven are lightly locked.”45 She goes on to explain that blundering peasants, little maids and poor men may “see the dear and dreadful things [hidden] within [her] heart.”46 Here, the Virgin counters Alfred’s assumption by claiming that divine knowledge is not awarded to the strong or worthy, but also given freely to humble men and women who perform small acts of courage.
According to the Virgin, unlike those who try to ascertain the future through sorcery or fortune telling, those “signed of the cross of Christ go gaily in the dark.”47
Christians may face the grim unknown with joy because their ultimate victory lies in
Christ; all quandaries, however painful, can work toward sanctification. Mary goes on to state that others may desire “sure fates and fame,” but those “that drink the blood of God go singing to their shame.”48 Again, the Virgin points Alfred’s attention to the seemingly paradoxical virtue of the Catholic faith. Christians are able gladly to face worldly defeat as they follow God’s commands, as their dignity and worth do not depend upon earthly
43 Ibid., 16.
44 Ibid. Alfred does not wish to be a figure like Orpheus in Dante’s Inferno, who views paradise only to be punished, as he is not worthy.
45 Ibid., 16.
46 Ibid., 17.
47 Ibid.
48 Ibid, 18.
36 reward, but on the value Christ places upon them. Those who find their value in knowledge or worldly achievement are depicted as “forgotten… perverse… [and] weary.”49 By contrast, Mary describes Christians as “ignorant and brave… [with] wars
[they] hardly win and souls [they] hardly save.”50 Neither victory on earth nor salvation beyond it comes in full measure with ease. This phrase foreshadows the great effort
Alfred and his people will have to make, all the while relying on a grace beyond their comprehension.
The imparts wisdom toward the end of the vision that sums up the central themes of the entire ballad. She asserts:
“I tell you naught for your comfort, Yea, naught for your desire, Save that the sky grows darker yet And the sea rises higher. Night shall be thrice over you, And heaven an iron cope. Do you have joy without a cause, Yea, faith without a hope?”51
These unsettling lines reflect the truth Mary encourages Alfred to understand. Faith is far from comfortable. It expects the world to grow darker, without hope of divine rescue.
Therefore, Christians must find joy where there is no worldly cause for joy, and hope when all seems hopeless, as their spiritual safety is not contingent upon material circumstance. The Virgin Mary leaves Alfred not with soothing images but a seemingly
49 Ibid.
50 Ibid.
51 Ibid.
37 cryptic question. The phrase “faith without a hope” invokes Paul’s claim in Romans that
Christians must “against all hope… hope” as Abraham did.52
Alfred’s changed perspective after his first Marian vision is evident as he seeks men to contest the Danes. When he tries to convince Eldred, a simple Saxon farmer, to defend the land, Alfred repeatedly claims his cause comes “out of the mouth of the
Mother of God.”53 After his vision of Mary, Alfred recognizes a spiritual dimension to the physical battle the Anglo-Saxons must undertake. He goes on to say he calls men “to break and be broken,/ God knows when, but [he has] seen for whom,” and “to die in a battle, God knows when,/ by God, but [he knows] why.”54 This passage emphasizes
Alfred’s altered understanding of victory; whereas previously he was requesting the
Virgin Mary tell him if he would fail against the Danes, Alfred now eagerly voices the radical suffering he and his army are divinely called to make. As a result, Eldred rises to unhook his sword from a cobwebbed nail.55 The king similarly motivates Mark and
Colan, repeating to all that “the sky grows darker yet and the sea rises higher.”56 The king’s changed perspective, through his startling Marian vision, encourages him to bravely face the Danes and incite courage in others, instead of giving in to despair.
Although Mary has prophesized coming horrors, Alfred is now able to grasp, on a deep
52 Romans 4:16-22 NIV.
53 Chesterton, G.K. The Ballad of the White Horse. Front Royal, Virginia: Seton Home Study School, 2011. 23.
54 Ibid.
55 Ibid., 24.
56 Ibid., 26, 31.
38 level, the role struggle without the assurance of a positive outcome plays in the pursuit of spiritual triumph.
The second Marian vision occurs under similarly dire circumstances. When the
Anglo-Saxons undertake a final charge against the Danes, they have already faced grave losses; the chiefs Eldred, Mark and Colan have fallen in battle.57As the men prepare to stand one last time, the “hopeless horn [is] blown,” echoing the darkness of the situation.
Truly, as Mary originally promised, there is no assurance of earthly success. It is at this moment that Alfred “[looks] up [to see] a great light like death.”58 Again, only once
Alfred looks past himself can he perceive a Marian vision, as the light is Mary. The
Virgin is described as a “queen most womanly—/ but… a queen of men.”59 Chesterton portrays Mary as fully female, but does not characterize her as passive or subdued.
Alfred notes her sorrowful eyes, as well as “seven swords… in her heart” and “one… in her hand.”60 As the mother of the Christ crucified, Mary knows well the weight of suffering in Christianity, reflected by the seven swords in her heart. However, Chesterton unites this representation of Mary with the fierceness of her faith, evinced by the sword held in her hand. The final Marian vision affirms Alfred’s changed understanding of earthly loss as sometimes necessary in the pursuit of Christian joy; immediately after
Mary appears, Alfred leads his men into battle. Later, Alfred reclaims the land in Mary’s
57 Ibid., 80, 85, 88.
58 Ibid., 96.
59 Ibid., 96.
60 Ibid., 97.
39 name, while asserting that “weeds shall grow in it faster than men can burn.”61 This comment reflects Alfred’s altered perception of what truly matters, since he acknowledges the spiritual victory as primarily valuable, while the safety of his kingdom is temporal.
Throughout the ballad, Chesterton consistently allows female characters to inspire males toward a more complete knowledge of faith. However, Frances, the peasant woman and the Virgin Mary do not conform to stereotypes of feminine passivity, but are presented as challenging, fiery figures. The female characters within the ballad do not coddle male characters, although they are given a limited storyline in order to embody larger concepts, in true allegorical fashion. Rather, they influence the understanding of male characters by operating with their own dignity. Truly, without the crucial intervention of women within this storyline, all would have been lost to the Danes.
61 Ibid., 114.
40 CHAPTER FOUR
The Flying Inn
While women hold a significant role throughout The Ballad of the White
Horse, Chesterton presents a more diverse range of female characters in his farcical works. The hyperbolic action of The Flying Inn, for example, necessitates a sweeping cast of women and men. Chesterton gives characters of both sexes the capacity for wisdom, courage, stupidity and disgrace. In doing so, he allows members of both genders to be depicted as full-fledged human beings, although he exaggerates many of their individual traits to make a point—or a joke. Further, the maturation of the central female character, Joan Brett, as well as her activity within the plot, defies a simplistic portrayal of women as angelic guides or fallen temptresses.
The fantastic narrative of The Flying Inn centers on the experiences of a hero,
Patrick Dalroy, and a heroine, Joan Brett. The story’s primary conflicts involves, among others, a man named Lord Ivywood, who wishes to merge Christianity and
Islam while simultaneously abolishing the public-houses, or inns, of England.
Dalroy and his companions strive to preserve the heritage and traditions of the
English working class by exploiting a loophole in Lord Ivywood’s law, which includes a grandfather clause allowing any previously existing inn whose sign has not been removed to continue operations. It thus follows that alcohol may be sold and imbibed upon any premises before which an inn sign stands. Therefore, Dalroy, an inn owner named Humphrey Pump, and miscellaneous acquaintances trapeze
41 across England, planting the sign of “The Old Ship” wherever they please in order to provide locals with rum, cheese and camaraderie.
Simultaneously, the novel’s leading female character Joan Brett challenges the growing influence of Lord Ivywood and his allies, attempting to discern the truth in an increasingly conflicted moral and religious environment. As a member of Lord
Ivywood’s community, Joan is exposed to the man and his colleagues’ increasingly radical ideas. She must decide whether an alcohol-free England is something sane or mad, good or evil with little support or guidance. Joan must combat the irrationality of Lord Ivywood’s vision, although everyone around her is quite taken with it. Throughout the novel, Chesterton emphasizes Joan and Patrick’s mutual attachment; the childhood friends share a strong sense of being bound to one another. However, their storylines only occasionally cross until the conclusion of the novel. By treating Joan’s storyline as more than a mere aside to the adventures of Dalroy, Chesterton presents her as a character with her own crucial and meaningful development.
Before analyzing the character of Joan, it is necessary to address briefly the religious conflict within the novel, especially as it pertains to women. To simplify the novel’s struggle into a battle between Islam and Christianity would be to misstate the situation. There are Muslim characters within the novel whom
Chesterton treats with respect, such as Oman Pasha, whereas the actual enemy is the secular compromise of Lord Ivywood and those who join him. In Ivywood’s opinion, Christianity and Islam should be merged into one religion; he speaks of
“Peace, Perfect Peace, and Utter Peace, and Universal Joy and souls that beat as
42 one.”1 However, by dissolving all distinctions between religions and individual people, Chesterton argues that their decisive differences, even their conflicts of radical religious particularity are ignored. Joan states this idea toward the conclusion of the novel, saying “perhaps the breaking of barriers might be the breaking of everything.”2 Chesterton reflects this idea’s implications for gender throughout the novel by having Ivywood and his followers advance polygamy in the name of Islam. These men, unable to see the value of unique individuals, argue women are given more power in such a structure than in a monogamous marriage, and are blind to the paradoxical liberties of limitation.
The novel opens not upon Ivywood or Dalroy, but Joan. She walks along the seashore, listening to the various intellectuals and entertainers pressing their opinions upon passerby. Chesterton introduces Joan as a complex character, saying she is “one of those people in whom a real sense of humour is always at issue with a certain temperamental tendency to boredom or melancholia.”3 From the beginning,
Chesterton presents Joan as fully human; she is thoughtful, but prone to depression—discerning, but sometimes listless. By giving her these complementary traits, Chesterton refuses to characterize Joan as a two-dimensional representation of femininity, much less a romantic or naïve womanly ideal.
During this initial scene, the narrator hints at Joan’s affection for her childhood friend Patrick Dalroy, saying “she had a reason for looking instinctively
1 Chesterton, G.K. The Flying Inn. Mineola, New York: Dover Publications, 2001. 65.
2 Ibid., 256.
3 Ibid., 44.
43 out at the sea-line; a reason that many young women have had in the history of the world.”4 However, while Joan misses Dalroy, her ability to be mentally and morally active does not depend upon him. This is evident in her intellectual engagement as she notes and weighs the speeches of “orators of the seaside.”5 Furthermore,
Chesterton her keen mind is set in contrast with other images of muliebrity, such as a “very small wife… [standing] silently beside” a man with a “very big Bible.”6
Chesterton again embodies Joan’s agency shortly after when she pays a visit to the owner of an inn called “The Old Ship,” Humphrey Pump.7 While Joan delights in this visit because she shares Humphrey’s concerns about England’s impending trouble, she largely appears to question him about Patrick Dalroy, her childhood friend whom she has recently heard news of.8 Thus, Joan takes the initial action within her and Patrick’s relationship; she does not wait passively for him to return from sea. Joan’s conversation with Humphrey also emphasizes her perceptive abilities and sharp intellect. Humphrey and Joan discuss the rise of Lord Ivywood, of whom Joan coldly remarks “has a great career before him, evidently.”9 Joan also writes Humphrey to warn him that Lord Ivywood plans to close “The Old Ship.”10 By
4 Ibid., 11.
5 Ibid.
6 Ibid.
7 Ibid., 32.
8 Ibid., 34.
9 Ibid., 35.
10 Ibid., 41.
44 allocating this mission to Joan within the text, Chesterton involves her in the fight for the English people before Dalroy has even returned from his international endeavors.
From this point forward, Joan becomes immersed in the social conflicts that drive the action of The Flying Inn. While Dalroy takes an exaggerated stand against
Lord Ivywood and his fellows, Joan walks among them, evaluating the validity of their ideas and their followers. Repeatedly, Joan recognizes the attractive qualities of Lord Ivywood’s scheme. At the same time, she does not follow the tide of public opinion in favor of his programs, even when it becomes increasingly difficult to do so and she is offered great rewards as an incentive to submit.
Joan’s characterization as a seeker of truth and judge becomes intensified as the story progresses. For example, when Joan encounters “The Prophet of the
Moon,” a man who begins a lonely lecturer upon the beach walk and eventually influences a great deal of the English aristocracy, she consistently challenges his ideas. The Prophet, acting as a Muslim imposter, acquires the respect of quite a few women by lecturing at “ethical societies.”11 A Miss Browning, for example, describes him as “perfectly thrilling,” although she only seems to have a vague idea of what he believes.12 When Joan tries to ask the Prophet a question, he continues to speak over her, “deaf to all distractions.”13 However, Joan eventually gains enough of his attention to inquire what he thinks about a local legend involving Dalroy. When the
11 Ibid., 38.
12 Ibid.
13 Ibid.
45 Prophet insists that the story Joan recounts is “a fable,” Joan calmly replies that legends are rooted in reality.14
Similarly, Joan considers the beliefs of Lord Ivywood and the Prophet during a society meeting to which Lady Enid Wimpole effectively drags her.15 Like the majority of the women at the meeting, Lady Enid’s character flaws highlight the impressive attributes of Joan.16 Lest Joan begin to seem like an oversimplified, ideal picture of womanhood, however, Chesterton constructs the scene so that Lady Enid interrupts Joan’s moody drifting, or “habit of restlessly pacing the place…
[satisfying] some subconscious hunger in her rather mixed psychology.”17 Again,
Chesterton emphasizes Joan’s complex identity, which is unlike Lady Enid’s simplemindedness.
The text describes Lady Enid as “a tall and graceful lady who unbalanced her own elegance by a fashionable costume that was at once funereal and fantastic.”18
This sketch of Lady Enid sets the tone for the coming society meeting, which
Chesterton presents as decidedly foolish. Enid explains to Joan that the Prophet’s impact has led to the establishment of the “Simple Souls,” where Lord Ivywood and other men proclaim, with great eloquence and little reason, their principles to the
14 Ibid., 40.
15 Ibid., 75.
16 Ibid.
17 Ibid.
18 Ibid.
46 women of Pebblewick.19 The very term “Simple Souls” is farcical; Joan, herself, remarks she should “be interested in them, if [she] could meet any… [she] had never met but one simple soul in [her] life.”20 As previously established, Joan herself is far from a “simple soul;” her unique intelligence often leads to inner conflict.
At the meeting of the Simple Souls, Joan finds the absurd arguments of the
Prophet for the institution of Polygamy exceedingly amusing.21 When the Prophet recounts an occasion where, against his custom, he was asked to remove his hat instead of his boots upon entering a house, Lady Joan begins “choking with laughter.”22 The Prophet argues that the Muslim religion treats women with greater respect than Christianity by asking men to remove their boots, as it is with their feet that they “kick” their wives.23 The seriousness with which the Prophet assumes that it is more appropriate to require men remove their boots than not abuse their wives makes Joan “almost as speechless for sympathy as she was for amusement.”24
However, the majority of the Simple Souls “[seem] very simple indeed, helpless looking people with limp hair and gowns like green curtains, and… dry faces.”25 The fact that Joan questions the premises of the Prophet’s argument at all seems quite
19 Ibid., 77.
20 Ibid.
21 Ibid., 80.
22 Ibid.
23 Ibid., 81.
24 Ibid.
25 Ibid., 80.
47 exceptional among the crowd. When the antics of Dalroy and Humphrey disturb the
Simple Souls meeting, all of the “artistic ladies… [get] on their wraps, with faces varying from bewilderment to blank terror” but Joan lingers, “trembling with unexplained excitement.”26 Here, Chesterton again emphasizes Joan’s uniqueness; she fears little except boredom.
Later, while listening to the Prophet speak at a dinner, Joan mentally challenges all of his assumptions, drawing from her reading, knowledge and pure common sense. When the lecturer surpasses her in education, she continues to detect flaws in his reasoning—for example, Joan observes that “in every case what he knew was a fragmentary fact.”27 In this instance and in others, Joan does not consider herself mistaken when she disagrees with public opinion, but remains earnest in her attempts to learn what is true. Rather than take the Prophet’s explanations as inarguable, she imagines how “imagine how a man could be so connected and so convinced and yet so wildly wide of the mark.”28 When the
Prophet, Lord Ivywood and their admirers go so far as to claim that eventually, human beings will become enlightened enough to live on light alone, Joan is rightly and comically enraged at such insanity. Chesterton describes her reaction, saying:
“Lady Joan moved sharply in her chair, as if gripped by sudden pain. And, indeed, she had suddenly felt the chronic and recurrent pain of her life. She was brave about bodily pain, as are most women, even luxurious women: but the torment that from time to time returned and tore her was one to which
26 Ibid., 89, 90.
27 Ibid., 127.
28 Ibid.
48 many philosophical names have been given, but no name so philosophical as Boredom.”29
During the speech, Chesterton depicts Joan as either the only sane person or the only person willing to admit how illogical the claims being made are, despite the judgment of Lord Ivywood, their leader.
Within the novel, both Lord Ivywood and Dalroy profess their feelings for
Lady Joan. The agency to choose one or neither of them, however, Chesterton places entirely in her hands. As Joan considers the men’s suits, she learns a great deal about what matters most to her. In many instances, Joan admires the resolution of
Lord Ivywood, who believes completely in his cause. For example, when Lord
Ivywood decides to go to London despite being shot in the leg, Joan respects “God’s wind from nowhere which is called the Will” in his determination.30 Lord Ivywood also offers Joan an ambitious future, and Joan is encouraged by her sick mother to develop an affection for him.31 However, Joan begins to feel as if her “existence [is] closing round her with an incomprehensible quietude.”32 As she stays as a guest at
Ivywood’s mansion, she cannot escape a suspicion that she is trapped; “whenever she looked at the old yew hedges of the garden they seemed to be higher than when she saw them last; as if those living walls could still grow to shut her in.”33
29 Ibid., 134.
30 Ibid., 210.
31 Ibid., 303, 304.
32 Ibid., 302.
33 Ibid.
49 Ivywood’s proposal begins to hint at the reason behind Joan’s discomfort. He claims that the Turks “do not look at the individual, as at Womanhood and the power of Nature.”34 The young man goes on to claim that the love of destiny is greater than the love of a person, and that he wishes her to wed him since, as he desires to be “the greatest man in the world,” he must marry the “most beautiful woman in the world.”35Ivywood’s declaration unsettles Joan because he sees her not as a person, but as a prize—not as a woman with faults and strengths, but as an emblem of her entire sex.
Later, Joan discovers that Ivywood has made an almost identical speech to many other women also staying at his mansion. In an attempt to make sense of this,
Joan asks Enid “why do all these rooms and gardens seem to be shutting me in and in and in?”36 She begins to claim that Lord Ivywood’s home “stinks of polygamy as certainly as it smells of tube-roses.”37 He treats all of the women as one unified body, instead of as distinctive individuals. Joan exclaims that she “will not develop into something that is not [herself],” and says that she has learned she likes “heroism
[but not] hero worship.”38 By rejecting Lord Ivywood’s proposal and the conditions on which it rests, Joan claims her place as a human being, unable to be made into a simplified icon of womankind.
34 Ibid., 305.
35 Ibid., 305, 306.
36 Ibid., 310.
37 Ibid., 313.
38 Ibid., 311-313.
50 Dalroy’s commitment to Joan, in contrast, is based not on her universality, but her distinctness. He remembers her from childhood as “a very badly brought up girl… [losing] a ribbon off a plait of black hair.”39 When he first encounters her after their long separation, it was “not her strangeness but her familiarity that made his big feet suddenly stop.”40 Dalroy is not drawn to Joan because she is Woman, but because she is the woman. If anything, Dalroy leans toward idealizing Joan as a uniquely good picture of woman—however, she shuts this tendency down immediately. He kisses her hand, saying he knows “at least that [she] will pray for
[his] soul.”41 However, when this is hinted at, Joan reminds him of her distinct humanness. Dalroy kisses her hand, saying he knows “at least that [she] will pray for [his] soul.”42 Joan responds, saying that he “had better pray for [hers], if [she has] one.”43 While Joan chooses to love Dalroy, she does not allow even him to categorize her as a holy, flawless idol, but insists he recognize her in her full humanity. In this way, Joan may be seen as awakening Dalroy to a greater understanding, and checking his romantic nature.
Throughout The Flying Inn, Chesterton presents many unpleasant female and male characters, as well as admirable ones. By portraying members of each sex as having positive and negative characteristics, Chesterton avoids constructing a
39 Ibid., 64.
40 Ibid., 145.
41 Ibid., 316.
42 Ibid.
43 Ibid.
51 narrow image of womanhood. Rather, he portrays women and men as human beings, defined not by their gender, but by their individual attributes. Joan, particularly, avoids being categorized as a perfect or fatally flawed individual. Her storyline does not merely supplement the fictional destinies of male characters, but is an adventure in itself. Because of this, the farcical novel resists an oversimplified portrayal of women.
52 CHAPTER FIVE
The Ball and the Cross
The Ball and the Cross, one of Chesterton’s most allegorically charged novels, combines farce, theology and elements of the epic within an imaginative storyline. The work involves a multitude of characters who represent different ideas; however, the primary action centers around a passionate disagreement between an atheist, James
Turnbull, and a devout Catholic, Evan MacIan. Near the start of the novel, we meet
Turnbull, the editor of a paper deemed “The Atheist.”1 Turnbull wages “holy war” upon the tenements of Christianity, and is bewildered by the fact that he can say the “worst things that could be said” without anyone seeming to care.2 This quickly changes when
Turnbull encounters MacIan, the one person who treats his claims “with a real respect and seriousness.”3 MacIan begins idly to read an essay that Turnbull has plastered on his shopfront. When he realizes that the article questions the existence and purity of the
Virgin Mary, MacIan shatters the glass of the paper’s editorial office and challenges
Turnbull to fight before being interrupted by the police.4 Evan, “brought up in some loneliness and seclusion as a strict Roman Catholic” from the Western Highlands,
1 Chesterton, G. K. The Ball and the Cross. (New York: Dover Publications, 2013), 13.
2 Ibid., 13.
3 Ibid., 14.
4 Ibid., 14-16.
53 believes fiercely in the Church and in the reinstatement of the Stuarts.5 After their initial encounter, the two men traverse England attempting to complete their duel, but are interrupted by a myriad of individuals and forces. Turnbull summarizes the endeavor, saying of MacIan:
This man and I are alone in the modern world in that we think that God is essentially important. I think He does not exist; that is where the importance comes in for me. But this man thinks that He does exist, and thinking that very properly thinks Him more important than anything else. Now we wish to make a great demonstration and assertion—something that will set the world on fire like the first Christian persecutions.6
Chesterton pulls the perspectives on either side of the duel into focus by the use of
“ball” and “cross” imagery within the novel, referring to the cross standing atop a sphere on St. Paul’s cathedral. This symbolism is reflected in the apocalyptic dreams of MacIan in Turnbull, where the Catholic observes a disturbing society with no “round earth to plant the cross upon” and Turnbull sees of “the cross struck crooked and the ball secure,” with rationality circling round and round into horrific conclusions.7
By the end of the novel, the men’s mutual respect has lead to steadfast friendship and they encounter the devil himself, who is presented as “Professor Lucifer.”8 A curious monk-figure also plays a significant role within the text, alarming Lucifer, who cannot dominate the man. Turnbull eventually converts to Christianity, while MacIan begins to recognize the problems with a society in which religion and politics are completely
5 Ibid., 14, 15, 121.
6 Ibid., 49.
7 Ibid., 168.
8 Ibid., 1.
53 wedded. Within the novel Providence itself acts as a character, leading Turbull and
MacIan to a changed understanding by way of their relationship and the experiences they accumulate.
As in The Flying Inn, Chesterton introduces complex female characters into the work, specifically a dignified but troubled agnostic named Beatrice Drake and an enigmatic Catholic, Madeleine Durand. While these women are supplementary characters, their traits, choices and individual spiritual conditions are treated as critical to the movement and conclusion of the novel. By presenting two unalike and honorable depictions of womanhood, Chesterton does not pigeonhole the sex into a specific embodiment, despite the fact that encounters with Beatrice and Madeleine greatly alter the perspectives of MacIan and Turnbull. The two sets of women and men form what
Martin Gardner refers to as “asymmetrical romances,” without which the novel’s progression and resolution would be lacking or unsuccessful.9
Beatrice Drake first appears midway through the story. On a moonlit night,
MacIan and Turnbull’s attempts to escape from the authorities lead them to a dramatic scene; a chauffeur and lady in a motor car are accosted by a group of rich, drunken idiots over a road dispute.10 The men threaten violence and exude disrespect—one young man claims threateningly that they will “take care of the lady.”11 Turnbull and MacIan rush to defend the innocent chauffeur and woman, engaging in a physical fight that Chesterton
9 Gardner, Martin. Introduction to the Dover Edition of The Ball and the Cross. (New York: Dover Publications, 2013), iii.
10 Chesterton, G. K. The Ball and the Cross. (New York: Dover Publications, 2013), 70.
11 Ibid., 71.
54 portrays as simultaneously admirable and ridiculous.12 At one point, a member of the inebriated party actually begins engaging with himself, “kicking his legs in helpless rotation on the back of the car.”13 Beatrice does not cower in the vehicle, although she shouts; rather, she rises “to her feet and [leans] forward to stare at the fighters.”14
Although Beatrice does not engage in the bodily (and somewhat absurd) dispute,
Chesterton does not present her as a helpless or fainthearted figure.
When the rowdy young men sullenly retreat, MacIan and Turnbull approach the car. Turnbull treats Beatrice as he would any other person; MacIan, on the other hand, is profoundly affected by her presence. Chesterton describes the encounter, saying:
And he whose whole soul was with the swords and stately manners of the eighteenth century, he who was a Jacobite risen from the dead, had an overwhelming sense of being once more in the picture, when he had so long been out of the picture.15
The author goes on to claim that MacIan “had never really looked at a human being before in his life.”16 From their first meeting, Beatrice furthers the change in MacIan which has been spurred by his association with Turnbull. While Evan’s eccentric understanding of the world is grounded in what Chesterton believed to be true, he often evinces a misguided idealism, reflected in his ardent desire to reestablish the reign of the
Stuarts. Beatrice’s presence immediately grounds MacIan within a human context,
12 Ibid., 71-72.
13 Ibid., 72.
14 Ibid., 70-72.
15 Ibid., 72.
16 Ibid.
55 forcing him to place his Christian faith in a frame of realistic humanity which encompasses more than his secluded home. Chesterton continues to develop MacIan’s reaction to Beatrice in such a manner, claiming he felt he “had been hurled into some new incarnation.”17 Beatrice’s ability to anchor MacIan within an increasing understanding of the “real” is highlighted by his strong connection to the material elements of the scene. He finds the physical details of her particular person “certain and incredible, like sacraments.”18
Further, Beatrice challenges MacIan to consider his beliefs in a new perspective not only by her physical existence, but through her mind and speech. When MacIan explains that his contest with Turnbull concerns the honor of the Virgin Mary, Beatrice does not show him “a reverent or a patient face.”19 She tells MacIan that she thought others were supposed to respect each other’s religions, and that he ought to be more
“broadminded.”20 Chesterton describes MacIan as feeling “as if his eccentric attitude were rebuked by the innocence of a child,” a “superior simplicity.”21 Again, Beatrice checks MacIan’s tendency toward grandeur; she keeps him from taking himself too seriously, as he occasionally tends to do.22 Evan sees “his great world drama grow
17 Ibid., 74.
18 Ibid.
19 Ibid., 76.
20 Ibid.
21 Ibid.
22 Ibid., 45, 54. Sometimes, MacIan is referred to as having never joked or being unable to laugh.
56 smaller and smaller before his eyes till it was no bigger than a toy theatre.”23 Through
Beatrice, Chesterton does not disprove Evan’s perception of truth; he places it in a new context, forcing him to see his role in the overarching narrative of humanity with humility.
After challenging MacIan, Beatrice becomes a little sad, saying “you can’t find out the truth in that way.”24 Here, Chesterton begins to develop Beatrice’s identity as a seeker of what is true, whose spiritual development is important to the themes of the novel, although it is not the work’s primary concern.
Throughout her first encounter with the duelists and the following episode in which she allows them to accompany her, Chesterton asserts the complexity of Beatrice
Drake. She expresses sympathetic concern for the driver, but insists she can drive the car
“with stony practicability.”25 She is depicted as kind, but not intellectually or emotionally weak. Beatrice drives Turnbull, MacIan and the chauffeur “with a steely coolness,” at times driving so quickly that valleys along which the car drives seem “to ripple under the wheels like mere waves.”26 Here and elsewhere, Chesterton portrays Beatrice as having powerful agency; she does not rely upon the male characters to take control of the situation, and she treats them with consideration, but not flattery. Indeed, as police attempt to stop the vehicle and Evan gravely informs Beatrice that he and Turnbull are
23 Ibid., 76.
24 Ibid.
25 Ibid., 73.
26 Ibid., 74-75.
57 fugitives, the motorist retains the utmost dignity, not even turning her head.27 While the scene with the drunkards may be read as Beatrice being “rescued” by male figures, she fully repays their assistance by bravely defying the police. If they save her, she too saves them, at a police barricade driving “down a handle that [makes] the machine plunge forward like a buffalo and [fly] over the landscape like a greyhound.”28 This fiery imagery does not characterize Beatrice as a damsel in distress, but as figure with powerful choice and resolve.
When they reach her home, Beatrice continues to act with an “almost cruel coolness,” treating MacIan and Turnbull with distance. After MacIan repeatedly asks her why she bothered to rescue them, Beatrice responds, her eyes “lit up with a flash that was at once final desperation and the loosening of some private and passionate reserve.”29 She begins to speak about her inner struggle for truth, saying:
God knows that if there is a God He has turned His big back on everything… people come and tell me that I ought to do things and I do them and it’s all drivel. They want you to work among the poor; which means reading Ruskin and feeling self-righteous in the best room in a poor tenement. Or to help some cause or other, which always means bundling people out of crooked houses, in which they’ve always lived, into straight houses, in which they quite as often die… I am to teach, when I believe nothing of all that I was taught. I am to save the children from death, and I am not even certain that I should not be better dead... I may be wrong; there may be a way out…30
In this passage, Chesterton’s portrayal of Beatrice as a conflicted and complex being again becomes apparent. Beatrice voices her disillusionment with the inconsistent values
27 Ibid., 75.
28 Ibid., 78.
29 Ibid., 81.
30 Ibid.
58 of society, revealing her intelligence and independent perspective. She particularly asserts that true charity is not always pretty; Beatrice herself seems to find an “Angel in the House” approach to goodness unsatisfying. Further, she honestly expresses her current spiritual state. Instead of participating in Evan’s maturation as an image of undiluted happiness, what strikes him about her is her realness, her indisputable humanity. Lest we begin to imagine even slightly that Beatrice exists only to encourage
MacIan, Chesterton concludes their interaction partly with her telling the Catholic duelist he shouldn’t “be killed looking like that.”31
Turnbull and MacIan continue roaming England in search of a place where their duel might be uninterrupted. This enterprise brings them, in disguise, to the small hamlet of Haroc.32 The two men construct a situation in which a duel is more socially acceptable than over religious dispute; this plan backfires, particularly upon Turnbull. MacIan poses as a “gentleman” threatening to accost a young woman, and Turnbull poses as her defender. The duelists, however, do not account for the agency of the woman, whom
Chesterton endows with unique and robust qualities. This young woman is Madeleine
Durand, a practicing Catholic who, while physically being “a sleepy young woman,” possesses an interior strength springing from a burning belief.33 Madeleine, although extremely different than Beatrice, also resists being stereotyped as either an angel or a temptress. Chesterton describes her as treading “firmly as if going somewhere; [flinging] her face back as if defying something; [hardly speaking] a cross word, [but often having]
31 Ibid., 82.
32 Ibid., 93.
33 Ibid., 94.
59 battle in her eyes.”34 Although both male and female characters within The Ball and the
Cross are often condensed in order to portray an allegorical idea, Madeleine, as the illustration of religious womanhood in the text, resists oversimplification. There is nothing weak about the young woman’s faith, nothing picturesque; rather, her conviction is grounded in the hard realities of daily existence.
In preparation for their scheme (and also, it seems, out of a growing draw toward
Madeleine) Turnbull follows the Catholic woman to and from Mass each day.
Madeleine, one evening, walks alone, “not in the least afraid… because she was not afraid of devils. [The narrator thinks] they were afraid of her.”35 MacIan, in costume, approaches her and acts threateningly. Turnbull, as they have planned, rushes onto the scene, challenging MacIan to a duel at a later time.36 Not long after, the men are repaid for their offensive folly; Madeleine begins a conversation with Turnbull as he follows her to Mass a few days afterward that greatly disturbs him and forces the duelists to leave town.
The young woman pauses, turns around and walks back to Turnbull, saying “it is not wrong of me to speak to you, because your soul, or anybody’s soul, matters so much more than what the world says about anybody.”37 Turnbull immediately feels physically jarred, as he feels that “in all the novels he had ever read she would have begun: ‘it is
34 Ibid., 95.
35 Ibid., 96.
36 Ibid., 97.
37 Ibid., 98.
60 wrong of men to speak to you.’”38 Madeleine does not conform to images of passive or demure femininity. She places more value on right and wrong than decorum, and does not approach Turnbull abashedly or apologetically, but in full confidence. Further,
Madeleine is not upset, as Turnbull assumes, by the possibility of bloodshed, but at the fact that Turnbull, who she believes is a Catholic, has not taken Communion beforehand.39 At her concern, Turnbull retreats “as if from the jaws of a dragon,” feeling guilt for his deceptive manipulations.40 Madeleine continues “with a sort of business eagerness and energy,” informing him when he can take Communion.41 Turnbull asks how she knows he is a Catholic, and she replies simply that “the Mass is very long and tiresome unless one loves God.”42 Like Beatrice, Madeleine does not put on a false image of perfection or unceasing bliss; rather, she allows that if one did not believe as she did, the disciplines of her faith would be quite unpleasant. The duelist cannot handle her honesty—in great distress, he flings off his costume and admits he is the infamous
Turnbull, to which the Catholic merely replies, “I saw something about you in a newspaper.”43 Similarly to how Beatrice operates in the case of Evan, Madeleine tempers
Turnbull’s proclivity to think of himself as a grand defender, upon whom the world of rationality depends.
38 Ibid.
39 Ibid., 98-99.
40 Ibid., 99.
41 Ibid.
42 Ibid.
43 Ibid., 100.
61 The cataclysmic moment for Turnbull, however, comes when Turnbull claims he
“[knows the sacrament] is only a bit of bread.”44 Madeleine smiles, asking “then why did you refuse to eat it?”45 At her response, Turnbull’s head is set afire with new and unknown thoughts.46 Madeleine continues, crying out he has “wrecked [his] whole business because [he] would not commit blasphemy.”47 When she claims he says he knows there is nothing on the altar he runs away from, Turnbull literally plunges away from her, grabbing MacIan and rushing out of town.48 Like Beatrice, Madeleine forces her male complement to reassess his own beliefs and defend them in a new context, revealing inconsistencies and insecurities. While both women alter the men’s understanding, they do so by expressing their own beliefs and existing as complex individuals, not by affirming the duelists’ pride or acting as flat, guiding beacons of delight.
The novel’s plot becomes increasingly fantastic before MacIan and Turnbull encounter Beatrice and Madeleine again. When the pairs are reunited, it is in the lunatic asylum run by Professor Lucifer, who has begun to attempt control over all individuals by deeming them insane and restricting their freedom. Essentially, Lucifer attempts to control reality. In this environment, the romantic pairings become increasingly important, as these close relationships anchor each individual to what is actually true in
44 Ibid.
45Ibid.
46 Ibid.
47 Ibid., 101.
48 Ibid., 101, 102.
62 an increasingly misleading world. When MacIan and Beatrice find each other in the gardens of the asylum and touch hands, MacIan knows “he [is] sane even if the solar system was crazy.”49 Once again, Beatrice is tied to MacIan’s ability to orient himself within reality. As he questions how she arrived there, she cynically jokes, asking if he hasn’t heard that she’s a “lunatic” for helping him.50 At the knowledge that he is the cause of her imprisonment, Evan promptly bursts into tears.51 In this episode, Chesterton again refuses to confine men and women to flat characterizations because of their sex; it is not the woman that is overcome with emotion, but the man. The two privately stroll and speak together, before deciding they “belong to each other… are sort of sold to each other” because of what they have undergone for one another—Evan attempting to duel and honor the sacrifice of Beatrice, and she being locked away in the asylum.52 By structuring the romance of Beatrice and Evan in such a way, Chesterton presents each sex as fully equal, although distinct. Both individuals sacrifice for one another, and have an equal choice in choosing to be bound fully together.
In the final scenes of the novel, every circumstance, character and mishap culminate in what MacIan calls “the point.”53 Lucifer gathers everyone within the mental asylum in order to claim that just like the Cruxifiction, the duel which set England into dispute never really happened. Indeed, the devil claims MacIan never existed at all, even
49 Ibid., 162.
50 Ibid.
51 Ibid., 163.
52 Ibid.
53 Ibid., 166.
63 as he stands at the assembly.54 At this apocalyptic meeting, Madeleine Durand looks
“straight at [Turnbull] with a steady smile… [with] her square face and throat… thrown back, as her habit was, and… something almost sleepy in the geniality of her eyes.”55
Madeleine stands, dignified, not an image of angelic otherness but of welcoming, realistic humanness. MacIan and Turnbull stand by Beatrice and Madeleine as Lucifer makes his mad (and maddening) speech.56 This is a physical representation of what their unions offer; a sense of being secured in reality, despite what insanity their surroundings may bombard them with.
When Madeleine’s father, another member of the assembly, sets the asylum ablaze, Lucifer escapes in his flying ship.57 The men and women he has oppressed stand by the act of rebellion; Turnbull claims they “hate dying… [but] hate [him] even more.”58
MacIan and Turnbull set off into the convoluted building in an attempt to save a strange monk, whom Lucifer has trapped out of fear.59 However, the sounds they assume are cries of pain are actually the man singing.60 Turnbull cries, “fool, come out and save yourself!,” but is stopped by MacIan, who shouts “that is not the way… Father… come
54 Ibid., 171-172.
55 Ibid., 170.
56 Ibid., 170-171.
57 Ibid., 174.
58 Ibid.
59 Ibid., 175.
60 Ibid.
64 out and save us all!”61 They watch in awe as the flames cleave in two on either side of the monk, who walks peacefully between them, “singing as if he were alone in a wood in spring.”62 At this miracle, the climactic moment of the novel occurs, in which the dispute of the duelers finds its ultimate resolution. Chesterton describes the scene as follows:
As the little singing figure came nearer and nearer, Evan fell on his knees, and after an instant Beatrice followed; then Madeleine fell on her knees, and after a longer instant Turnbull followed.63
In this moment, the individuals forming two unions utterly accept the reality within the novel. Beatrice follows Evan in awe, and Turnbull follows Madeleine; it is not men drawing women into a new understanding, but human matching human in reverence. The novel closes upon the image of Turnbull and MacIan’s swords “fallen haphazard in the pattern of a cross.”64 The adventure of the duelists concludes with what Chesterton saw as the ultimate emblem of truth.
61 Ibid., 176.
62 Ibid., 177.
63 Ibid.
64 Ibid., 178.
65 CHAPTER SIX
Conclusions
While The Ballad of the White Horse, The Flying Inn, and The Ball and the Cross comprise a small fraction of Chesterton’s extensive canon, they present an image of womanhood consistent with many of the writer’s other fictional works. If we accept the premise that a story can narratively embody an idea in a more nuanced, complete sense than analytic argument alone, by analyzing Chesterton’s most consequential female characters, we may arrive at a greater understanding of his position upon the nature of woman. After tracing females within the aforementioned narratives, we must now consider the picture Chesterton has developed of muliebrity, deciding where it fits into our view of this prolific writer as an author and commentator.
Before concluding, it is important to acknowledge the feminist criticism influencing these interpretations. As noted at the beginning of this thesis, authors sometimes portray female characters as “A ngels,” otherworldly in their perfection, or, alternatively, “Eve” archetypes, animalistic and base challenges to male characters. Such flat portrayals of womanhood neglect the humanity of women, using members of the female sex as plot devices whose only purpose is to further male development. Usually, these two-dimensional characters have no complexities or narrative arcs of their own, but are stagnant and over-simplified.
Chesterton’s female characters may appear to operate as mere complements to male characters, as they sometimes occupy peripheral roles. However, Chesterton complicates matters by offering a diverse cast of women, whose traits escape
66 categorization as “angel” or “Eve” prototypes. In the dedication to The Ballad of the
White Horse, Chesterton describes his wife, Frances, as changing his perspective by demonstrating to him her own spiritual journey and humanity, as well as inviting him to participate as she seeks truth— not by being an ethereal, ideal woman or else a temptress constructed for his development. While the elderly peasant woman’s role within the ballad is partly to humble Alfred and awaken him to the realities of leadership, she too is irreducible into a flat characterization. Her allegorical function as the physical representation of the enduring poor carries importance, yet her role as a brave woman who slaps the king himself with a burnt cake to remind him of his responsibility guards against transcendence or abstraction. Just as Frances influences Chesterton, the peasant woman does not change Alfred by being a romantic, picturesque vision of womanhood but by her unavoidable humanness. While she appears only once, she demonstrates that even an impoverished peasant woman understands that a king’s neglect is a serious thing indeed.
The Flying Inn, less bound by allegory, includes an even more varied cast of female characters, ranging from simpleminded dilettantes like Lady Enid to complex, complicated characters like Lady Joan. Chesterton resists oversimplifying the female sex, allowing the traits and virtue of women to vary just as that of men within the text.
The author does not define all women as virtuous, seductive or silly—nor does he define all men as admirable, courageous or cruel. Rather, he treats individuals as human beings before men or women, with differing tendencies and levels of integrity.
A considerable portion of the narrative centers upon Joan’s efforts to discern truth and meaning; as we have seen, her progression as a character works as one of the pivotal
66 tensions of the farce. Further, in an even greater sense than the females within The
Ballad of the White Horse, Joan Brett shatters hollow stereotypes. Chesterton describes her as intensely intelligent but often heavyhearted, brave but sometimes indecisive. In doing so, the author illustrates her as an authentic human being, combining strengths and weaknesses. Joan Brett is an even more mature character than many of the males within the text, including the so-called “Prophet of the Moon.” The affection between the hero and heroine directly contrasts with the attention of Lord Ivywood, who desires Joan to fulfill a role of abstract, female idealism within his master plan. Like Chesterton’s other female characters, she does not inspire Dalroy by being a perfect guide or, alternatively, a siren. It is her distinct identity which binds him to her in childhood and encourages their relationship in adulthood. She is special to Dalroy not because she is a beautiful, perfected figure of womanhood, but because she is Joan Brett, his childhood friend who once lost her ribbon.
While The Ball and the Cross does not include as great a number of female characters as The Flying Inn, Madeline Durand and Beatrice Drake are perhaps the most memorable women within Chesterton’s tales. The writer presents both Madeline and
Beatrice as commendable figures of womanhood, and both females alter the understanding of male characters. However, the two women differ greatly and, as in the case of Chesterton’s other fictional women, they do not shift the path of men by existing for this purpose alone, but by their singular qualities and personal journeys. Madeline’s burning Catholicism and compassionate frankness affect Turnbull. She repeatedly surprises him, unknowingly eluding his expectations of how she will act. MacIan is similarly struck not by Beatrice’s conformity to idealized versions of womanhood, but
67 her complex identity, as she is full of virtues and flaws. She is rightfully dissatisfied with an empty, hypocritical life but is also often melancholy and listless. She bravely defies the police and laughs at her lot in the garden of lunacy, but does not arrive to the fullness of truth, as Chesterton understands it, in Catholicism until the end of the novel.
There is one female character that stands out above all others within Chesterton’s fiction—namely, the Virgin Mary. She acts as a guide to male characters, and like other females within the author’s work does not do so by existing merely to comfort or assure men. Rather, by seeing her in her own integrity and holiness, Alfred finds hope to oppose the Danes. By knowing her as the Mother of God, MacIan passionately defies
Turnbull’s careening atheism. In both texts, the Virgin Mary does not enter into the fray of battle because she is weak, but because she is set apart as a divinely marked figure, worthy of reverence. The text does not detail the Virgin Mary as a combination of flaws and merits because it does not intend to emphasize her as a human still fallen. Rather, the
Virgin’s presence reminds characters within the text of the sacred concerns at stake behind the material ones. Further, she represents the necessity and beauty of suffering and faith within the journey of the Christian soul. Throughout the ballad and The Ball and the Cross, Chesterton suggests that an earthly understanding can never arrive at a right estimation of women, possibly because of the essential and powerful role the Virgin plays within the Catholic tradition.
Chesterton’s position on female nature as expressed in his essays may be accused of oversimplifying concerns of gender and rationalizing the subordination of women.
However, the complexity and individuality of his female characters may reframe our understanding of his views. The women of Chesterton’s fiction refuse to be defined as
68 props for a male-oriented storyline. The author does not offer an idealized, unified image of womanhood but an assortment of women, containing as much variation amongst themselves as the host of male characters. These females can be silly, smart, violent, graceful, knowing or lost, just as males can. They also often take agency into their own hands, irrevocably altering the course of the narrative. While we may question many of
Chesterton’s conclusions about the “Woman Question,” we may rightfully assume that his female characters might have challenged him as well.
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