Somehow it is hard to imagine Arthur Conan Doyle writing a book called The Wisdom of Sherlock Holmes. Admittedly Dr Watson does call Holmes ‘the best and the wisest man whom I have ever known’, but this is on the occasion of Holmes’ apparent death, and some sentimentality can be forgiven.
For the main part Conan Doyle makes humbler claims about his detective hero. Sherlock Holmes may have a towering intellect, but Conan Doyle makes him a flawed human being. He has vices. His methods are sometimes unethical. Most important of all, he makes serious and even fatal mistakes in his deductions, not all of which can be remedied at the end.
Father Brown by contrast has something of the infallibility of the head of his church, or even of his god. The priest may sometimes be puzzled when the facts have not yet all been presented to him, but his final judgements and his actions are never wrong.
Perhaps that is the reason why we learn almost nothing at all about Father Brown’s personality. We know that he is a priest with an amiable and deceptively insignificant appearance. G K Chesterton tells us that Brown rarely gets to take a holiday, and yet we rarely see him do anything else.
Father Brown is often accompanied by his friend, the thief-turned-detective Flambeau, who is supposedly intelligent but who is always wrong, since Father Brown is the hero. As for Brown’s manner of speaking, it is often in long speeches that employ paradoxes, witticisms and a semi-philosophical style. This might seem more like cleverness than wisdom were it not for the fact that Father Brown is always right.
In this collection of stories, Father Brown solves the mysteries of an unseen thief called Mr Glass, a bandit attack, a man who backs out of a duel, a murderer whose description changes depending on which witness describes him, an escaped convict, a blackmailer with a crooked nose, a man who obstinately refuses to remove his purple wig, a doomed family of aristocrats, a voodoo cult, a man who is cursed while abroad, a man who is killed by a sword, and a crime that took place in the past.
In working out these enigmas, Brown barely falters, and we may well ask why Chesterton is so keen that his hero should be flawless. The reason is not a modest one. It is that Brown is the repository of all of Chesterton’s views of life. So when Father Brown is always right in his investigations, we are supposed to infer that his worldview is similarly unerring.
G K Chesterton’s world is an insular one in which he stands for Catholicism, conservatism and Little England nationalism at a time when the world was moving on. New ideas and new people were coming in from abroad and disrupting the old views. Perhaps they always had been, but in an age where travel, media and communication were improving, the threat may have seemed all that much greater to Chesterton.
Here in the safety of a work of fiction, Chesterton can luxuriate in a world where his hero can make as many sweeping statements, strawman fallacies and anti-rational speeches as he likes, and yet he will be always right, and there will be no intellectual heavyweight to challenge those views. Given how old-fashioned Chesterton’s views are, it is hardly surprising that the murder weapon is more likely to be a sword than a gun in these stories.
Two stories are of especial interest here. One is ‘The Mistake of the Machine’. The title immediately indicates Chesterton’s distrust of science. The machine in question is the lie detector, and Father Brown is eloquent in his criticism of the new innovation:
‘“What sentimentalists men of science are!” exclaimed Father Brown, “and how much sentimental must American men of science be! Who but a Yankee would think of proving anything from heart throbs? Why, they must be as sentimental as a man who thinks a woman is in love with him if she blushes.”’
It is a neatly worded statement, and it is not entirely untrue. Nowadays it is agreed that measuring someone’s heartbeat via a lie detector is an unreliable way to measure a person’s guilt, and for the reasons Father Brown identifies in the story. There may well be other reasons that cause a person’s heart to beat faster.
Where Brown fails is that he cannot resist making generalisations. The assumptions made by inventors of the lie test were not sentimental, and they were not universally held. Chesterton behaves as if good old instinctive wisdom is worth more than science. It has a place too, but what discredited the lie detector in the end was not intuition but further scientific tests.
Similarly in ‘The Strange Crime of John Boulnois’, Father Brown explains his ability to solve crimes in the following way: “I attach a great deal of importance to vague ideas. All those things that ‘aren’t evidence’ are what convinces me.” This is all very well, but that is not the evidence that proves the innocence or guilt of someone in the real world. Indeed the real deciding factor in this case turns out to be the evidence that Brown is so dismissive about – an alibi, and fingerprints on a sword.
However that was not the second story I was talking about as being of especial interest. For this I would choose ‘The God of the Gongs’. The kindest thing we can say about the story is that it has not aged well. Here the enemy that we are up against involves black immigrants and a murderous voodoo cult.
Once again, Chesterton spends a good deal of time despising that which comes from outside his English and Christian worldview, and the story now seems deeply offensive. It is not just the use of the n-word. While this word was beginning to sound offensive when Joseph Conrad used it in a book title in 1897, it continued to be casually used in respectable society until as late as the 1940s.
No, the real objection has to be with the portrayal of black people in the story. Brown and Flambeau encounter a black man working in a hotel whose manner is insolent to them. Flambeau makes the jawdropping observation, “Sometimes…I’m not surprised that they lynch them.”
Sure enough the threat comes from black members of a voodoo cult, and the story ends with the authorities having a crackdown on black people living in Britain. This is described with no apparent disapproval by Chesterton.
Most of the stories are not as awful as this one however, and Chesterton does a better job of ensuring that his worldview does not intrude into the stories as often as it did in The Innocence of Father Brown. Whatever their flaws, the stories are amusing and clever, and make a good read.