A Remaining Christmas by Hilaire Belloc

Here's a lovely Christmas essay by Hilaire Belloc, courtesy of the Chesterton and Friends blog: A Remaining Christmas.

Though I must say, the passage exemplifies both the things that I love and the things that I dislike about Belloc's writing. Belloc could be utterly hilarious at times, but he often engages in a kind of heavy-handed, "yes-I'm-an-old-fogey-just-deal-with it" sort of humour. There's nothing wrong with being an old fogey-- I'm an old fogey, too-- but it's not infallible comedy gold in itself.

Similarly, Belloc delights in descriptive writing, which I find excrutiatingly boring. I had to push myself to get through the long descriptive passages in this essay.

But when he's good, he's extremely good. For instance, in his famous lines on friendship, which I think must be one of the most profound passages of poetry (or prose) ever written:

From quiet homes and first beginning,
Out to the undiscovered ends,
There's nothing worth the wear of winning,
But laughter and the love of friends.

Or in the passage which I have included among the passages at the foot of this blog: "One thing in this world is different from all others.  It has a personality and a force.  It is recognised, and (when recognised) most violently loved or hated.  It is the Catholic Church.  Within that household the human spirit has roof and hearth. Outside it is the Night."