His praise of the "ancient and universal things" at the expense of the
"modern and specialist things" leads him to say that
If a man found a coil of rope in a desert he could at least think
of all the things that can be done with a coil of rope; and some
of them might be practical. He could tow a boat or lasso a horse.
He could play cat's cradle or pick oakum. He could construct
a rope-ladder for an eloping heiress, or cord her boxes for a
travelling maiden aunt. He could learn to tie a bow, or he could
hang himself. Far otherwise with the unfortunate traveller who
should find a telephone in the desert. You can telephone with a
telephone: you cannot do anything else with it.
He disparages the hot-water pipe in order to exalt the open fire. He
argues that "the ancient and universal things" can be turned to many
uses, but that the "modern and specialist things" are strictly limited
to one purpose.
There may be much in his argument, though his examples hardly support
him, but how much is not apparent. Take the case of the man in the
desert who finds a coil of rope, and compare him with the man in the
desert who finds a telephone. Mr. Chesterton begs us to observe how
happy is the former compared with the latter, but is he one-half so
happy? The absorbing passion of a man's life in a desert would be the
desire to get out of the desert as quickly as possible. How far would a
rope help him to realize his desire? He could not tow a boat or lasso a
horse because there would not be any water on which to tow the boat or
any horse to lasso. If there were a horse to lasso it would either be
wild and unrideable or private property. He could play at cat's cradle
with the rope if it were not a rope at all--if, that is to say it were
twine; and perhaps this would help him to pass away the time before
he died of starvation. He could pick oakum if he wished to un-rope
the rope and had never been to prison to discover what a loathsome
job oakum-picking is. But he could not construct a rope-ladder for
an eloping heiress or cord her boxes for his travelling maiden aunt,
because the eloping heiress would not be eloping in a desert, and his
maiden aunt would hardly be packing her trunk in the Sahara. He might
be able to tie a bow. He might even be able to hang himself, though
that is doubtful, for trees are not prolific in deserts. But I cannot
see what comfort he would derive from either of these accomplishments.
To sum up, a man in a desert with nothing but a coil of rope between
him and civilization would be in as complete a state of isolation
as it would be possible for a man to imagine. How different would
be the case of the man in a desert with the despised "modern and
specialist" telephone! For he, finding a telephone, would instantly
be able to communicate with other people and to direct them to his
rescue. If he were anxious to hang himself, he could more effectively
do so in the neighbourhood of a telephone than in the neighbourhood
of a coil of rope, for where there are telephones there are generally
telegraph-poles!
Even in the case of the open fire and hot-water pipe, as much can be
said for the "modern and specialist thing" as can be said for the
"ancient and universal thing," and in some instances, more can be said
for it. We get a cheerful glow from an open fire that certainly is not
to be got from a hot-water pipe; but Mr. Chesterton must have noticed
on many occasions that whereas one gets tolerably toasted on one side
by an open fire, the other side is usually left cold. Thus a man, on a
wintry night, sitting before the fire, may be too warm in front, and
half-frozen behind. But a hot-water pipe creates an equable temperature
in a room and leaves a man warm on all sides.