Years ago, I remember hearing Joseph Stowell III, then president of Moody Bible Institute, talk about how one can read a passage of the Bible a hundred times, and not get anything out of it; then, during some life experience, it blazes with meaning. He described that experience as being situationally relevant. About a month ago, I had that experience with an old novel. As some of you know, I have low vision, so I have come to depend on audiobooks. Thanks to that wonderful (free!) service Librivox.org, I’ve fostered a fascination with the works of Gilbert Keith Chesterton: journalist, social commentator, philosopher, luminous storyteller; and an inspirer of C.S. Lewis. I had enjoyed listening to this novel a couple of times, when, of a sudden, it hit me that the situation it described was eerily familiar, and, since 1977, has been currently relevant!
The novel was The Napoleon of Notting Hill, published in 1904. Opening in the year 1984 (believe it or not), it tells the story of a fantastic London , in which the general public had grown as complaisant as sheep (Chesterton describes it as having lost all faith in revolution), and the ruling class equally contented with the comfortable futility of their lives. Now, I often precede suggestions for social improvement by saying, "When you get to be king…" In this London, that possibility was not unthinkable. The king was selected much like a jury member, when the need arose. The action of the story commences when the newly-selected king (who we infer is not contented with futility, and rebels against social convention with a torrent of mocking humor) the king decides to make all the boroughs of London behave like medieval city-states. He enjoys the spectacle of self-conscious politicians decked out like escapees from a comic opera or pantomime.
However, something happens that he never counted on. The provost of one borough doesn’t see the joke of sober civic leaders dressed in plumes, capes, and swords. He likes it. What’s more, he, unlike the others, is actually fond of his borough, Notting Hill, and, in repudiating an attempted eminent domain confiscation of part of it, declares war on the rest of London.
Even he recognizes the lunacy of his extreme loyalty. But, as this provost, Adam Wayne, explains, "If, as your rich friends say, there are no gods, and the skies are dark above us, what should a man fight for, but the place where he had the Eden of childhood and the short heaven of first love? If no temples and no scriptures are sacred, what is sacred if a man's own youth is not sacred?" This crazy young man is so loyal to Notting Hill, that he convinces it citizens to defend their territory with several days of urban warfare. To everyone’s amazement, they are the victors. In the process, the passion of the Notting Hill-ers inspires a similar loyalty among the citizens of the other boroughs. By the last chapters of the novel, all of London has embraced the romantic trappings and attitudes that sanctified what had begun as a royal practical joke.
The first, second, and third times through the book, I didn’t see it. But on the fourth time, instead of hearing the reader say "Notting Hill",I found myself hearing "Star Wars." Star Wars (now Star Wars: A New Hope) is that low-budget adventure-comedy, that joke of a film that held out every promise of being little better than a minor camp cult movie, yet became the joke that conquered the world. From Austria to Zimbabwe, from Moscow to Tunisia, everyone recognizes Darth Vader and Artoo-Detoo, everyone alludes to characters and situations from the films, and they do these things even if they have never seen, or don’t like, the films. To see a live stormtrooper on the street, ore at the hospital, is hardly startling any more. Star Wars was a joke that resonated with essential truth, and gave the audience an excuse for heroic living. After all, what is heroic living but acting fearlessly on one’s principles, because one recognizes that those principles are worth living for? Star Wars has the added benefit of being a treasured emblem of youth. How many current fans first saw the films with beloved family members who have since left this world? How many still reminisce of playing Star Wars with friends who, though now separated by time and space, are still linked by those memories? How many have vigorously defended the saga against even valid criticism, because of their loyalty to those fond associations? They all do! Star Wars Patriotism is a loyalty to that part of our lives that laid the foundation for our destiny: the Eden of Childhood.
The story of the Empire of Notting Hill, as Chesterton tells it, was glorious, but, sadly, it was also short. Within the twenty years that followed its conquest of London, Notting Hill influenced the outward tastes and loyalties of every other borough of the city, but it failed to protect its own heart. In a way, the Notting Hill-ers mistook their early success and their heroic trappings for the heroic spirit: that of respect for adversaries, mercy for the defeated, obedience to the dictates of rightness. Within a generation, the Notting Hill-ers had become arrogant and autocratic. As a consequence, in the last great battle of the city, the are utterly crushed. And the Empire of Notting Hill became only a memory.
A sequel to the Original Trilogy is the fulfillment of one of their fondest hopes of Star Wars Fans, and I wish them joy. As Adam Wayne observes, "Whatever makes men feel young is great--a great war or a love-story." At the same time, I have fears that Star Wars’ new management will repeat the tragic flaw of The Empire of Notting Hill: that it will impose its vision of Star Wars on fans, rather than letting them enjoy it according to their own tastes. Already, great portions of the saga’s "history" have been dismissed, presumably because they were inconvenient to the story its new maters want to tell. Must the contributions of Biggs Darklighter, Porkins, Miss Ackmena, Saun Dann, and Mungo Baobab, all of whom may be considered mere legends, be forgotten? More importantly, will the characters of the future inspire heroic living, or merely inspire clever merchandise? The idea of a Star Wars teemed park is eagerly anticipated, but it will be someone else’s vision of that galaxy far, far away. It can never be -- or surpass -- the world that lives in fans’ imaginations. What made Star Wars thrilling was the amount of their own souls fans contributed to the characters. On the screen, and in the playsets, fans did not merely watch the caharacters’ adventures, they helped them live them. If Star Wars’ current management replaces too much of the fans’ vision with its own, the fans will revolt. Happily, that revolution will be more of the Mayan than the Notting Hill variety: the fans will abandon the franchise. And the Empire of Star Wars, like that of Notting Hill, will end.
But it will not "be no more." Like good friends, happy moments, and worthy aspirations, Star Wars will always warm the hearts of its patriots. After all, in spite of its fantastic trappings, The Empire of Star Wars isn’t "space ships and monsters," it is the good friends, happy moments, and worthy aspirations. Whatever Star Wars’ official future may be, its patriots will treasure the joy that was rooted in that practical joke they laughed with, not at.
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Librivox.org has links to both and audio version of The Napoleon of Notting Hill, and an online text version, vial Project Gutenberg: https://librivox.org/napoleon-of-notting-hill-by-chesterton/
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