First published in The Saturday Evening Post (September 3, 1910) and then in The Story-Teller magazine (October 1910). Afterward, in The Innocence of Father Brown collection (1911). This edition: The Complete Father Brown Mysteries (Carousel Books, 2021) SPOILERS AHEAD?
A bit of a clumsy opening, the first pair of sentences. What with some nine commas and half-brace of emdashes between them. A policeman, a dinner, guests, a servant and his description, a table, a hall, and its decor. Oh, my.
However, I live in a glass house of comma usage and emdashes--and GK Chesterton, I am not. Although a period anywhere along that second sentence would be almost as welcome as one a month and a half removed from a prom. A bit of what may be influenced Tolkien in style (the text, not my tasteless quip, sorry). I digress.
Also, those guests, and the language around them which displays people as things. A slight use of 'these' instead of 'they' when referring to Valentin's waiting guests dehumanizes a tick perhaps. Look at the thumbnail sketch of the guests as it grows more fleshy throughout. But then there is even a particularly detached view of Father Brown. As the investigation begins, traits and trifles mount but then soon settle-back into the noted "inhuman silence in the room." Humanity seems to start and stop here and there.
This one is all about Astride Valentin, that policeman, that 'Chief of Parisian police' first introduced, if not starring in, The Blue Cross of the previous and first installment. He is, indeed, a troubled and even maybe haunted man. But I do get ahead of myself and this tale. "Strange, gentlemen,' he said as they hurried into the garden, 'that I should have hunted mysteries all over the earth, and now one comes and settles in my own backyard."
That backyard is sealed perfectly off from any exit barring through the sole and front door of his house. A locked room mystery, then. A murder via decapitation. From the guests, springs forth a pair of suspects, each red herrings. One, the swashbuckling heartthrob Commandant O'Brien an "Irish-Algerian n'er-do-well" The other, the Bill-Gates-wealthy progressive Julius K. Brayne, as opposed to soul. (Brain). "the hoary Yankee who believed in all religions" (a pile in which to lump progressivism, perhaps).
As it turns out, Valentin was late to his own affair due to "in truth, making some last arrangements about executions and such ugly things." That, although, "Ruthless in his pursuit of criminals, he was very mild about their punishment." You see, though, as a 'great humanitarian French freethinker' he 'made mercy even colder than justice.' Much to ponder there. Apologies for so many pulled quotes but to paraphrase Chesterton, at times seems vulgar if not sacrilege.
The vying heartthrob O'Brien is cleared, but Brayne is taking seemingly forever, off all alone and smoking his must-be oddly long cigar... and then he is gone! Along the way apparently flinging O'Briens sword, the murder weapon, into the bushes. So Brayne did it! Although "There are five colossal difficulties." Paging Aquinas and his Five Proofs of God from Summa Theologica? It would be a fun exercise to somehow jive the two sets. Another time.
Another murder!? Indeed another beheading. Father Brown subtly takes control "can a man cut off his own head? I don't know." He spies an identifying left ear. Brown had grown familiar with Brayne over the last recent bit as he was considering joining the Latin Church. Father Brown reconstructs the crime upon Valentin's departure from the room. "Let us get this said and done with as quickly as possible." He instructs Dr. Simon to posit once more those five problems.
[Of note, GK Chesterton wouldn't be in full communion with the Catholic Church until 1922 but he was an Anglican at the time and no one group has full rights to Aquinas alone.]
So then and nevertheless, what to make of these unsolved purposefully erroneous jigsaw puzzles of bodies; this whole scene. "He would do anything, anything, to break what he calls the superstition of the cross." Says Brown of Valentin. Brayne was leaning toward Father's flock and with all his wealth in tow. Valentin knew the balance of his previous scatterings would be lost in favor of Rome. He had to die. "I must ask him to confess, and all that."
And away they rush to the Frenchman chief of police, into his private study. Ivan his loyal servant still ready to warn of the mad, mistaken priest. "Valentin was dead in his chair." After judging himself more harshly than perchance any murderer he'd ever nabbed. I gave perhaps undue grief to the onset of this story (and told a lousy joke I'll apologize for again) but the rest of The Secret Garden is subtle, nuanced, and quite lovely, really.
Previously: Thoughts on The Blue Cross from The Innocence of Father Brown by GK Chesterton
Next: Thoughts on The Queer Feet from The Innocence of Father Brown by GK Chesterton
However, I live in a glass house of comma usage and emdashes--and GK Chesterton, I am not. Although a period anywhere along that second sentence would be almost as welcome as one a month and a half removed from a prom. A bit of what may be influenced Tolkien in style (the text, not my tasteless quip, sorry). I digress.
Also, those guests, and the language around them which displays people as things. A slight use of 'these' instead of 'they' when referring to Valentin's waiting guests dehumanizes a tick perhaps. Look at the thumbnail sketch of the guests as it grows more fleshy throughout. But then there is even a particularly detached view of Father Brown. As the investigation begins, traits and trifles mount but then soon settle-back into the noted "inhuman silence in the room." Humanity seems to start and stop here and there.
This one is all about Astride Valentin, that policeman, that 'Chief of Parisian police' first introduced, if not starring in, The Blue Cross of the previous and first installment. He is, indeed, a troubled and even maybe haunted man. But I do get ahead of myself and this tale. "Strange, gentlemen,' he said as they hurried into the garden, 'that I should have hunted mysteries all over the earth, and now one comes and settles in my own backyard."
That backyard is sealed perfectly off from any exit barring through the sole and front door of his house. A locked room mystery, then. A murder via decapitation. From the guests, springs forth a pair of suspects, each red herrings. One, the swashbuckling heartthrob Commandant O'Brien an "Irish-Algerian n'er-do-well" The other, the Bill-Gates-wealthy progressive Julius K. Brayne, as opposed to soul. (Brain). "the hoary Yankee who believed in all religions" (a pile in which to lump progressivism, perhaps).
As it turns out, Valentin was late to his own affair due to "in truth, making some last arrangements about executions and such ugly things." That, although, "Ruthless in his pursuit of criminals, he was very mild about their punishment." You see, though, as a 'great humanitarian French freethinker' he 'made mercy even colder than justice.' Much to ponder there. Apologies for so many pulled quotes but to paraphrase Chesterton, at times seems vulgar if not sacrilege.
The vying heartthrob O'Brien is cleared, but Brayne is taking seemingly forever, off all alone and smoking his must-be oddly long cigar... and then he is gone! Along the way apparently flinging O'Briens sword, the murder weapon, into the bushes. So Brayne did it! Although "There are five colossal difficulties." Paging Aquinas and his Five Proofs of God from Summa Theologica? It would be a fun exercise to somehow jive the two sets. Another time.
Another murder!? Indeed another beheading. Father Brown subtly takes control "can a man cut off his own head? I don't know." He spies an identifying left ear. Brown had grown familiar with Brayne over the last recent bit as he was considering joining the Latin Church. Father Brown reconstructs the crime upon Valentin's departure from the room. "Let us get this said and done with as quickly as possible." He instructs Dr. Simon to posit once more those five problems.
[Of note, GK Chesterton wouldn't be in full communion with the Catholic Church until 1922 but he was an Anglican at the time and no one group has full rights to Aquinas alone.]
So then and nevertheless, what to make of these unsolved purposefully erroneous jigsaw puzzles of bodies; this whole scene. "He would do anything, anything, to break what he calls the superstition of the cross." Says Brown of Valentin. Brayne was leaning toward Father's flock and with all his wealth in tow. Valentin knew the balance of his previous scatterings would be lost in favor of Rome. He had to die. "I must ask him to confess, and all that."
And away they rush to the Frenchman chief of police, into his private study. Ivan his loyal servant still ready to warn of the mad, mistaken priest. "Valentin was dead in his chair." After judging himself more harshly than perchance any murderer he'd ever nabbed. I gave perhaps undue grief to the onset of this story (and told a lousy joke I'll apologize for again) but the rest of The Secret Garden is subtle, nuanced, and quite lovely, really.
Previously: Thoughts on The Blue Cross from The Innocence of Father Brown by GK Chesterton
Next: Thoughts on The Queer Feet from The Innocence of Father Brown by GK Chesterton
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