The Father Brown Mysteries

The first books I read by G.K. Chesterton were the Father  Brown Mysteries.  When I read them, 30 - 40 years ago, I didn't really realize that he had written anything else.  Being an avid classic mystery reader, the Father Brown stories were right up there with Agatha Christie and Dorothy L. Sayers.  In fact, I think I saw the stories on PBS Mystery Theater before I read them.

Father Brown is a fictional character based on a real friend of Chesterton's -  Father John O'Connor who was a parish priest in Bradford, England.  At one time G.K. was writing an article about an upswing in crime and showed it to the priest.  Father O'Connor said that he thought that the article was going in the wrong direction, and proceeded to tell Chesterton about how real evil was.  G.K. was shocked by what the priest told him and was surprised that someone as unworldly as Father O'Connor would have that knowledge.  This eventually appealed to Chesterton's love of paradox and, even though he himself was an Anglican, he decided to write mysteries about a priest/detective who was quiet, humble, and probably the last person who would be thought knowledgeable about crime.  In "The Blue Cross", when asked by the criminal Flambeau, who has been masquerading as a priest, how he knew of all sorts of criminal "horrors," Father Brown responds: "Has it never struck you that a man who does next to nothing but hear men's real sins is not likely to be wholly unaware of human evil?"

Father Brown is a short and stumpy , "formerly of Cobhole in Essex, and now working in London", with shapeless clothes and a large umbrella, and an uncanny insight into human evil. He makes his first appearance in the story "The Blue Corss" and continues through the five volumes of short stories, often assisted by the reformed criminal M. Hercule Flambeau.   He was something new and intriguing at the time of his literary appearance. The mystery genre was then dominated by Sherlock Holmes and many, many, imitations. Unlike Sherlock, Father Brown's methods tend to be intuitive rather than deductive.. He explains his method in 'The Secret of Father Brown': "You see, I had murdered them all myself... I had planned out each of the crimes very carefully. I had thought out exactly how a thing like that could be done, and in what style or state of mind a man could really do it. And when I was quite sure that I felt exactly like the murderer myself, of course I knew who he was."

The stories normally contain a rational explanation of who the murderer was and how Brown worked it out. He always emphasizes rationality: some stories, such as "The Miracle of Moon Crescent", "The Oracle of the Dog", "The Blast of the Book" and "The Dagger With Wings", poke fun at initially skeptical characters who become convinced of a supernatural explanation for some strange occurrence, while Father Brown easily sees the perfectly ordinary, natural explanation. In fact, he seems to represent an ideal of a devout, yet considerably educated and "civilized" clergyman.

The stories were originally compiled into five volumes with 8-12 stories each:

• The Innocence of Father Brown  (1911)
• The Wisdom of Father Brown  (1914)
• The Incredulity of Father Brown  (1926)
• The Secret of Father Brown  (1927)
• The Scandal of Father Brown  (1935)

There are now several one-volume books containing all the stories.  A two volume set adapted for younger readers is also available.

"Things are not always what they seem to be" is a favorite theme of G.K. Chesterton.  We owe the creation of favorites such as Hercule Poirot, Miss Marple, and Columbo to those who caught onto that theme.  In 1930, Agatha Christie, Dorothy L. Sayers, G.K. Chesterton, Edmund C. (Clerihew) Bentley, and many others,  formed the 'Detection Club'.  GKC was it's first president  (1930-1936).  They had a fanciful initiation oath made by either Dorothy Sayers or GK  and held regular dinner meetings in London. 

In addition to meeting for dinners and helping each other with technical aspects in their individual writings, the members of the club agreed to adhere to a code of ethics in their writing ( The Rules of Fair Play) to give the reader a fair chance at guessing the guilty party.  The club still meets, but the 'rules' have been relaxed.

Alec Guiness as Father Brown

A Woman at Prayer - "Perfection"

A Woman at Prayer is  a book from the Cenacle Retreat House in Rosharon, Texas.  It was published in 1962 by The Rev. Conleth Overman.  The book came into my possession about 1973 and was a real help to me then and through the years since.   The sub-title,  Suggestions for Holiness, sets it apart from most modern books for women in that it is quite plain spoken.  But even though it isn't for the faint of heart and is somewhat dated,  I decided that from time to time (Fridays?) I will  publish some of  Rev. Overman's essays just as he wrote them.

PERFECTION FOR LAYFOLK

To be upward-reaching is  a sign of life.

    When Our Divine Saviour said, "Be ye perfect," He was addressing Himself to all.  It was a very high perfection that He urged upon His followers.  "Be ye perfect as your heavenly Father is perfect" (Mat 5:48).   Consequently each Christian is bound to two things:  First to strive for perfection, and, second, to try to scale the heights without ever being content wit a second-best sort of holiness.

     Since the model of our personal perfection is the infinite perfection of God, the question naturally suggests itself, how is God perfect?  God is perfect in his boundless life of knowledge and love.  God the Father loves Himself and expresses His love in the Word, His divine Son;  God loves Himself and breathes forth this love in the Holy Spirit.  This is God's limitless perfect life.

     Our perfection, then, consists in knowing and loving God with all the power of our being.  Knowledge alone won't sanctify us; we must prefer God above all things and cleave to Him. But an ever increasing  knowledge of God is essential if we are to grow in love to the perfec­tion expected of us by Christ.

     Two things we must avoid if we would be per­fect:  One, we must cease to know the world; and  we must refrain from loving the passing things of time. The life of multitudes today con­sists in knowing creatures* to the exclusion of a knowledge of God.  Many people have their minds so filled with creatures* of all descriptions-cocktails, cigarettes, TV, movies, food, best-sellers, sex, headlines, gossip, clothing,  ads, business, etc.--that there is no room in their heads  for the truths of God. And the same goes for their wills. They have so attached themselves to things, both animate and inanimate, real and imaginary, that their wills are bound down to earth. "Where your treasure is," said Christ with great psychological insight, "there is your heart also." (Mat 6:21)

    So, break your bonds! Practice recollection to clear your mind of the mirage of creatures; practice detachment to open your wills to the attraction of Divine goodness.   Are we asking so much? Well, child, you'll have to make these two renunciations ultimately anyhow. The angel of death will forcibly tear you away from your toys and gewgaws; and your false loves will be revealed.   It is much wiser to set. yourself to this painful process of recollection and detachment now.

     Know God! Put aside the slop that goes into your mind through the multiple channels of mod­ern communication. Take up your New Testa­ment, your Imitation of Christ, one of the good books about the Saints or God's revealed truth. Pull the shades of your bedroom windows, get down on your knees and ponder the great truths of the Faith. Fill your mind with God.

     Love God! To love means to prefer, to cleave to.   Stop trying to possess all the unnecessary creatures that your eyes see; be content with simple things. Turn to God.  Love to be in His presence at Church.  Love to remember his spiritual presence within you: "Know you not that you are the temple of God?" (I Cor: 3:16)


*  'Creature' means material things, esp. the all-pervasive materialism of our culture.  

P.S.  Phil. 3:13-14

Editor's note: What popped out at me the first time I read this, was how to love God.  This had puzzled me for some time.  But I could easily understand how to prefer Him to all others, and to hang on to Him when the world seemed to be turned upside down. 

A Proper Introduction

How can I describe my friend, Gilbert Keith Chesterton?

First of all he is quite a presence:  six foot four  and weighing in at 300 pounds, he is hard to miss!  A Goliath, you might say, but he is more like a jolly giant or an overgrown elf.  He is full of joy and laughter.  As he says, "I suppose I enjoy myself more than most other people, because there's such a lot of me having a good time."

He wears a crumpled hat and a heavy cape and carries a walking stick with a sword concealed inside.  A swordstick?  He says he carries it because he likes things that come to a point.  But that is not the only weapon he carries....he carries a gun!  "I bought it on the day of my wedding", he explains...and then adds, "to defend my bride".  He says it also has proved to be quite useful on other occasions.  For instance, whenever he hears a man say that life is not worth living, he takes out the gun and offers to shoot him.  "Always with the most satisfactory results", he laughs.

But wait!  Is this how I really want to introduce him?  I could go on and on about the contents of his pockets (he wrote about it) and his way of life.  But I really need to tell you that he is a genius and a prolific writer.  He wrote millions of words - as a journalist with a daily newspaper column; in a monthly magazine he produced with his friends; as a novelist, essayist, poet, mystery story writer.

But wait!  I need to mention that he is a Christian apologist and wrote works that influenced Tolkien and C.S. Lewis such as Orthodoxy and The Everlasting Man.  He debated the atheists and Progressives of his day and was famous for it.  Now I am getting closer to telling you what is important about G.K. Chesterton.

EVERYTHING he wrote was a defense of  what he called the permanent things:  Orthodoxy in religion, the home, the family, Christian Culture.  He defended it against the same Progressivist agenda that is steam rolling us today and he did it with grace, clarity and good humor.  When you read  his books it seems as though they were written just yesterday.

He was endowed with a considerable intellect and used it with all his might in the service of our Lord.  In the poem the Wild Knight we get a glimpse of his motivation:

The wasting thistle whitens on my crest,
The barren grasses blow upon my spear,
A green, pale pennon:  blazon of wild faith
And love of fruitless things:  yea, of my love,
Among the golden loves of all the knights, 
Alone:  most hopeless, sweet, and blasphemous,
The love of God:
I hear the crumbling creeds
Like cliffs washed down by water, change, and pass,
I hear a noise of words, age after age,
A new cold wind that blows across the plains, 
 And all the shrines stand empty;and to me
All these are nothing: priests and schools may doubt
Who never have believed;  but I have loved.

The poem goes on with all the reasons his enemies tell him that he should not seek after God, but no matter how reasonable they sound, all he can respond is that he loves Him and desires nothing more than to see His face, because God had spoken to him once... The last few lines are:

But the grey clouds come down
In hail upon the icy plains:  I ride,
burning for ever in consuming fire.

I have been reading G.K. Chesterton for a while - some poetry, some novels, some apologetics, some essays, and many mystery stories.  Eventually I would like to review them here.

New Beginning

The beginning of Spring, a few days after the celebration of the Resurrection of our Lord - this is the perfect moment for a new beginning.  So, begin I will.

For the past 6 weeks, I have been studying Common Sense 101 - Lessons from G.K. Chesterton.  G.K. was an old acquaintance of  mine that has turned into a great friend.  I was going to spend some time introducing him, but since he is here today I have decided to do a quick interview with him.

Mrs. Bill:  "Mr. Chesterton, the name of my blog is Hearth and Home.  I have tried to present the home as the center of life.  Do you have anything to say to that?"

GKC:  "The place where babies are born, where men die, where the daily drama of mortal life is acted, is not an office or shop or a bureau.  It is something much smaller in size, yet much larger in scope.  And while nobody would be such a fool as to pretend that the home is the only place where people should work, or even the only place where women should work, it has a character of unity and universality that is not found in any of the fragmentary experiences of the office or the shop or the bureau."

Mrs. Bill:  "I know from experience that this is true, but I seem to be in the minority.  Our culture  is in disarray and now the government is stepping in with all kinds of assistance and programs that don't really seem to do any good."

GKC: "Human culture is handed down in the customs of countless households;  it is the only way in which human culture can remain fully human.  The households are right to confess a common loyalty to some  king or republic.  But the king cannot be the nurse in every nursery, and the government cannot be come the governess in every schoolroom."

Mrs. Bill:  "You mention the schoolroom.  In our society, we hear endless talk about the importance of education - public education, that is.   But I think we somehow manage to forget that the primary place of education is the home.  What do you think?

GKC:  "If education is the largest thing in the world, what is the sense of talking about a woman being liberated from the largest thing in the world?"

Mrs. Bill:  Thank you Mr. Chesterton.

Spring: Are We There Yet?

Rain, rain, go away;

Come again some other day;

Mrs. Bill would like to play!

After a few sunny days last week, we are back to cold drizzly rain.  We started our new vegetable garden last week and I really, really, want to go out and play in the dirt!    Of course, as a gardener, I realize that

It isn't raining rain, you know,

It's raining violets......

However, that never was any conslolation to me.  As a child, I always longed for the promise of the freedom and fun of being outdoors in the sunshine after being pent-up in the house all winter.  I still do.

It's not that we didn't play outdoors in the winter. We did, but compared to spring and summer, it was quite limiting. Even though we had heavy snowsuits and boots, the weather in our area was often too harsh for any living thing to venture out.

I recently ran accross some paintings that brought back a few memories of that outdoor fun.  Just change the clothes from early 1900's to 1940's - we still did the same things.



Painting by John Walter

I was ten years old before I ever saw a television.  To be truthful, there wasn't  much programming of interest to children on it then.  It's only use was when we were stuck inside.

Painting by Frances Hook (d. 1983)

 Even if companions were in short supply, I still preferred to be out with the flowers, birds, and squirrels. And I still do.

Painting by Frances Hook

Pantry Cakes

Time, money, energy - three things that always need to be kept in balance.  Not an easy thing to do at any stage of life.  Anything that helps to save on all three levels is a real treasure. 

When I was a young mom we had one car like most people did back then.  Mr. Bill was in sales and used that car all week - in fact, he was often traveling out of town.  It was a mile walk to the nearest store, which we enjoyed in good weather. But let's face it, good weather is in short supply in our area most of the year.  So, I learned to keep a pantry.


NOT my pantry - but I wish it were!

I converted a hall closet off the kitchen and kept plenty of baking stuff in it.  We didn't have the big plastic storage containers of today, so I used two small metal garbage cans with handles that clamped shut to store 20 pounds of flour and 20 pounds of sugar.  The shelves were filled with basic baking supplies - baking powder, baking soda, cocoa, brown and 10x sugar, powdered and canned milk, oil, etc.

I was always cautious about using up fresh milk and eggs too soon in the week, so I turned to OLD, tried and true, 'everyday' cake recipes.  These two take just a few minutes to mix, use a minimum of equipment, and are GOOD.  They were family favorites then and still are now. Both recipes can be doubled for a 9 x 13 pan.

COCKEYED CAKE  (This one mixes right in the pan and is a rich, dark, and moist cake).
1 1/2 cups flour
3 Tbsp cocoa
1 tsp. soda
1 cup sugar
1/2 tsp. salt

• Sift the above ingredients into a greased 9" sq. pan - if you have a sifter. ( I did for years until Mr. Bill broke it, so now I spoon the flour lightly into the measuring cups, dump it into the pan and add the other dry ingredients and stir them up).
• Next you make 3 grooves or holes in the dry ingredients. 
• In the first groove you put: 5 Tbsp. vegetable oil
• In the second: 1 Tbsp vinegar.
• In the third: 1 tsp vanilla.

Now comes the fun:  Pour 1 cup cold water over it all and mix with a spoon until nearly smooth and you can't see the flour. (I use a fork). Kind of like making mud pies.  Bake at 350 for 1/2 hour.
We usually serve it sprinkled with powdered sugar.

JOHNNY APPLESEED CAKE (This one mixes in a saucepan)
1/2 cup butter (stick margarine works just fine in this recipe)
1 3/4 cups applesauce  (They used to sell applesauce in 1 lb cans which was perfect amount)
2 cups flour
1 cup sugar
1 tsp. salt
1 tsp. soda
1 tsp. cinnamon
1/2 tsp. nutmeg
1/4 tsp. ground cloves
1 cup raisins or chopped nuts if you want.
Grease bottom only of 9" sq or 11 x 7" pan.  In a large saucepan, melt margarine with applesauce. Remove from heat and blend in the remaining ingredients, stirring until well combined.  Bake at 350 degrees 30-35 minutes.
We usually serve this one with a glaze:  1 cup powdered sugar mixed with enough water to make a thin glaze.

A note about frosting:  Everyday cakes in the past were heavy and moist and didn't really need frosting.  (Think pound cake).  Birthday cakes were light and fluffy and had rich icings and were really only made for the special occasion.  That made them a real treat.

Sunday Dinner: A Tradition

Painting by John Walter, Illustrator

This nostalgic picture brings to mind the countless dinners from grandmothers' kitchens served for generations across this land. 

Usually it was pot roast with potatoes and carrots cooked with it.  Sometimes it was pork roast, turkey or ham;  then mashed potatoes would be featured.  A layer cake or a pie was the expected dessert.  Nothing fancy, just good plain cooking and plenty of it.

What a boon for young mothers.  Getting babies, toddlers and older children fed breakfast and dressed for church was no small task (ask me how I know!).  Arriving at grandma's after church and smelling the feast prepared for her family was a blessing.  Babies would be whisked away by aunts and cousins, giving mom a chance to rest a little before dinner.

After dessert the cousins would play together and maybe grandpa would challenge them to a checker game. The grown-ups would linger over coffee and relish some grown-up conversation. Then it was home to nap, carrying a bag with leftovers in it.  Grandma always had plenty of leftovers to share "so mom wouldn't have to bother cooking later".

Dinner at my Grandparent's 1945*.  Child in left corner is moi.

Those grandmas had a mission to serve their young daughters and sons who were going through the labors of raising a growing family. Those grandmas knew that young mothers are often sleep-deprived and worn out at the end of the week.  Of course it was work for grandma, too, but she didn't have to prepare dinner with a baby on her hip and a toddler hanging on her leg.  And, when everyone left, grandma could put her feet up and relax without anybody pestering her.

I personally was a recipient of that wonderful mission.  God bless those ladies! Hopefully the tradition is alive and well today.

*For those of you who would like to know, my Grandpa is the gentleman on the right with the shirtsleeves.  Grandma is next to him and an aunt is next to her. (Don't you love those aprons!). I have no idea who the other people are.  I know it is 1945 because grandpa is still alive.  He died in 1946. In the ensuing years, I attended many meals at that table and countless more at the breakfast nook in the kitchen.