The Ball and The Cross

The Ball and The Cross

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Title: The Ball and The Cross
Author: G.K. Chesterton
Release Date: March, 2004 [EBook #5265] [Yes, we are more than one year ahead of
schedule] [This file was first posted on June 19, 2002] [Date last updated: July 10th,
2002]
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Language: English
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CROSS ***

Produced by Ben Crowder

THE BALL AND THE CROSS
G.K. Chesterton

CONTENTS
I. A Discussion Somewhat in the Air II. The Religion of the Stipendiary Magistrate III.
Some Old Curiosities IV. A Discussion at Dawn V. The Peacemaker VI. The Other
Philosopher VII. The Village of Grassley-in-the-Hole VIII. An Interlude of Argument IX.
The Strange Lady X. The Swords Rejoined XI. A Scandal in the Village XII. The Desert
Island XIII. The Garden of Peace XIV. A Museum of Souls XV. The Dream of MacIan
XVI. The Dream of Turnbull XVII. The Idiot XVIII. A Riddle of Faces XIX. The Last
Parley XX. Dies Irae

I. A DISCUSSION SOMEWHAT IN THE AIR
The flying ship of Professor Lucifer sang through the skies like a silver arrow; the bleak
white steel of it, gleaming in the bleak blue emptiness of the evening. That it was far
above the earth was no expression for it; to the two men in it, it seemed to be far above
the stars. The professor had himself invented the flying machine, and had also invented
nearly everything in it. Every sort of tool or apparatus had, in consequence, to the full,
that fantastic and distorted look which belongs to the miracles of science. For the world
of science and evolution is far more nameless and elusive and like a dream than the world
of poetry and religion; since in the latter images and ideas remain themselves eternally,
while it is the whole idea of evolution that identities melt into each other as they do in a
nightmare.
All the tools of Professor Lucifer were the ancient human tools gone mad, grown into
unrecognizable shapes, forgetful of their origin, forgetful of their names. That thing
which looked like an enormous key with three wheels was really a patent and very deadly
revolver. That object which seemed to be created by the entanglement of two corkscrews
was really the key. The thing which might have been mistaken for a tricycle turned
upside-down was the inexpressibly important instrument to which the corkscrew was the
key. All these things, as I say, the professor had invented; he had invented everything in
the flying ship, with the exception, perhaps, of himself. This he had been born too late
actually to inaugurate, but he believed at least, that he had considerably improved it.
There was, however, another man on board, so to speak, at the time. Him, also, by a
curious coincidence, the professor had not invented, and him he had not even very greatly
improved, though he had fished him up with a lasso out of his own back garden, in
Western Bulgaria, with the pure object of improving him. He was an exceedingly holy
man, almost entirely covered with white hair. You could see nothing but his eyes, and he
seemed to talk with them. A monk of immense learning and acute intellect he had made
himself happy in a little stone hut and a little stony garden in the Balkans, chiefly by
writing the most crushing refutations of exposures of certain heresies, the last professors
of which had been burnt (generally by each other) precisely 1,119 years previously. They
were really very plausible and thoughtful heresies, and it was really a creditable or even
glorious circumstance, that the old monk had been intellectual enough to detect their
fallacy; the only misfortune was that nobody in the