CHAPTER FIVE

ON THE ENGLISH PLATFORM

In the course of his life, Chesterton accomplished much lecturing and public speaking as did most of the English writers of his generation such as Shaw, Wells, and to a lesser extent Galsworthy and Bennett. Like many Englishmen his success as a speaker was variable and subject to his health and feelings even more than most men. Yet no matter how indifferently Chesterton might have done in the formal part of his address, he always more than redeemed himself in the question-and-answer period that followed. The speed with which he would answer questions was simply incredible. As one listened to him answering one question after another usually of so unrelated a nature, one marvelled at ability and nimbleness so extraordinary.

The distinguished author R. Ellis Roberts, heard a lecture at Oxford:

“I do not, alas! remember what Mr. Chesterton lectured to us about. I remember the manner of his lecture. It seemed to be written on a hundred written pieces of variously shaped paper, written in ink and pencils (of all colors and in chalk). All the papers were in a splendid and startling disorder, and I remember being at first just a little disappointed. Then the papers were abandoned, and G. K. C. talked, and we got more and more interested and pleased. I remember a passage about cathedrals and railway stations which aroused opposition; and with opposition and question the real Chesterton broke loose. He will, I am sure, if he reads this in the next world, forgive me for saying that to myself I whispered ‘Elephant’. All day the image had been present with me of something vast and weighty, incredibly simple, incalculably wise, and unquestionably kindly. Foolishly I mourned a certain sluggishness. Then as I say, came opposition; and suddenly--trunk up, roaring, speeding, faster and faster--the wisest of us was pursuing his trifling opponents through quickset hedge and over ploughed fields of argument. How he raced! I know, because of all the opposition none ran faster than I!”

“My own acquaintance with Chesterton,” Father Francis J. Yealy, S. J., writes “has been gained from his books and from one of his lectures delivered in Cambridge, England, in 1925. Just outside the town of Cambridge is a village called Chesterton, the Anglican vicar of which sat on the stage during the lecture. Afterwards he made a short speech, inviting G. K. to visit the village and, I believe, suggesting that it might have been named after his ancestors. At any rate Chesterton responded gracefully and played most amusingly with this identity of names. It was possible, he said, that the place had been named after one of his ancestors, but it seemed more likely that the family had taken their name from it. Perhaps they had lived there in the remote past under a different name, and one of them, who would no doubt have been a worthless fellow, had eventually been run out of town. The natural place to go was of course Cambridge; and the people there with their great kindliness allowed him to loiter about. In time he became a familiar figure in Cambridge; but, as no one knew his name, they began to refer to him as the fellow from Chesterton and later simply as Chesterton. This he thought was very reasonable theory of the origin of his name.”

“One day in February, 1902,” records Mr. Karl H. Harklander, “I happened to notice on the announcing board of the Leeds University that a G. K. Chesterton would lecture about ‘Man, Great Man, Super-man.’ I was a young textile manufacturer on a business journey and hungered for more than ‘bread alone!’ That night I heard the best and also the shortest lecture of my life; in less than twenty minutes our assembly was quite clear about ‘Man, Great man, Super-man.’ I marked my young ‘man’ who might become super-man,’ but who chose to be ‘great man’ in accordance with the exposition of the 1902 lecture.”

A charming reminiscence comes from Edward Brown:

“In 1927 the great man accepted the Honorary Presidency of the University College of Wales (Aberystwyth) Debates Union. The undergraduates resolved that he should be conveyed from the station to the Queen’s Hotel in a manner worthy of his greatness and of our reputation for hospitality. An old fashioned vehicle of the ‘growler’ variety was dug out from the lumber yard of an inn and some of the dust and signs of neglect were removed therefrom.

“As Secretary of Debates Union I demanded and won, the privilege of driving this state coach. Our Officers Training Corps received permission to act as escort but were refused the privilege of carrying arms. They accordingly armed themselves with hoes, rakes, spades, axes, etcetera.

“It had been arranged that the President of the Union should sit with Chesterton (‘back to the engine’) and the President of Ladies’ Hostel ... fortunately a very small lady ... with Mrs. Chesterton. But as soon as the two guests had taken their seats, the O. T. C. rushed the coach and some half dozen of them secured a seat or footing of some sort. A burly sergeant with battle axe (borrowed from the Art Department) sat beside Mrs. Chesterton facing G. K. C. My stolid steeds were replaced by forty undergraduates, and we tore through the narrow streets at a most reckless pace.”

In reply to the demand for a speech, G. K. C. stood at the top of Queen’s Hotel steps and said,

“You need never be ashamed of the athletic prowess of this College. The Pyramids, we are told, were built by slave labor. But the slaves were not expected to haul the pyramids in one piece!”

In his address that evening he commented on the ancient custom of sending a condemned man to his death in the same coach as the executioner; and described his feelings as he faced the great axe in the coach. Later he presented the “executioner” with an exquisite caricature of them both with the axe between them. The caricature now hangs in the Men’s Union.

An Honorary President of the Debate Union at Aberystwyth is always elected by the D. U. Committee (all students, save for one Lecturer). The name is submitted to the Senate for its approval. The Debate Union was formed from an amalgamation of the Literary and Debating Society and the Political Union in 1925 about a year before G. K. C.’s Presidency. Chesterton was succeeded by John Drinkwater, John van Druten, and Sir Arthur Quiller-Couch.

G. K. C.’s speech was on “Liberty: the Last Phase,” by which he explained he meant the =latest= phase. Just as barons had fought against the tyranny of would-be despots, just as yeoman had fought those same barons for freedom of property and action, just as ... etc. factory-hands; electors ... so ought men today to band in a great crusade to defend the common man’s freedom of the highway, a freedom which was being denied him by the motorist. The cause was obscured by the common man’s desire to join the enemy as soon as his means permitted him to do so. Envy of our enemy inspired a desire to emulate him. His chariots were objects of admiration, instead of loathing and furious hostility ... But the fact remained that our roads, our ancient highways were being wrested from us. “The price of liberty is eternal vigilance.”

The Senior History Lecturer and some others were of the opinion that the whole thesis of the address was a gigantic leg-pull!

The students that evening were a songful crowd, and they had evolved in G. K. C.’s honour a parody of a well-known Salvation Army hymn that went, “I’m H-A-P-P-PY, I know I am, I’m sure I am, I’m H-A-P-P-Y!”

They had already several parodies on that spelling motif, such as “I’m D-R-U-N-K!”

That evening as G. K. C. entered, they all burst into, “I’m G. K. Chester--TON,” with terrific and increasing emphasis on the TON, later varying it “G. K.... Just-a TON.” The great man was delighted and bowed, smiled, and clapped his hands.

Of Chesterton in Liverpool Mr. Clarence Fry recalls, “I was living in Liverpool at the time Mr. Chesterton joined the Roman Catholic Church. Having been charmed with his writings, I went to see and hear him lecture. I remember how disappointed I was with his address (perhaps owing to Protestant prejudices). But I had reckoned without my host. The Chairman said all questions asked on paper would be answered by the Speaker. And then Mr. Chesterton rose and reading out each question, replied in a few pregnant words; immediately sitting down and beaming most angelically all round the hall on the audience, as much as to say, ‘How’s that! Beat that, if you can!’ And in =no= one case could any answer be ventured. I was delighted and overwhelmed with the sense of his masterly dealing with the issues laid before him. The replies were electric in their concise power. Also, as you may believe, I was charmed with his whole personality.”

The chairman was the late Roman Catholic Archbishop of Liverpool, Dr. Keating, supported by the Catholic Bishop of Birmingham and other dignitaries. The occasion aroused great interest, as not long before G. K. C. had joined the Catholic Church. The meeting was arranged so that this new “Defender of the Faith” might help the cause of Catholicism in the city. The speech was largely devoted to an exposition of his newly-found faith.

“Chesterton seldom came to Glasgow,” records George Mortimer, “and the only time I heard him was on his first visit to the city one Sunday evening fully thirty years ago when he lectured in the Berkeley Hall which seats about six hundred people. His subject was ‘Some New Dangers of Oligarchies.’ In those days Sunday evening lectures were not popular in Scotland, and neither are they now. The churches are in most cases meagrely attended in the evening, the majority of people either going for a walk, visiting their friends or remaining at home and listening to the wireless.

“Evidently G. K. Chesterton, whom I had first seen referred to years previously as a new Carlyle, proved a powerful magnet, for instead of going to church I traveled from Paisley to Glasgow--seven miles by tramcar. All I remember about the meeting is that the hall was well filled; that a Scottish author, David Lowe, at present contributing reminiscences which he calls ‘Lowe Life’ to a Glasgow paper, was chairman; that Chesterton, then thirty years of age, was a large and fleshy man with a fine head of luxuriant brown hair; and that he made reference to the Boer War, to Lord Rosebery, and to Mr. Parks, a prominent lawyer, business man, Methodist and Liberal M. P., I have a general impression that he showed himself a democrat.”

“Chesterton was a past master of the art known popularly as ‘pulling your leg,’” according to Mr. William Platt. “With him, this was not merely a manifestation of his exuberant temperament; it was also a matter of principle, a determination to make the other man see that there are two sides to every question.

“I remember well his address to the British Humanitarian League. This body was of excellent principles, and supported by many and able and eminent persons; but it also contained many who had become rabid and fanatical, and so provided targets, for G. K. C.

“‘If’ he said ‘you ask me to extend my sympathy to the poor fox, pursued by savage sportsmen, shall I not also extend it to the poor sportsman, pursued by savage humanitarians?’

“And he proceeded to draw a contrast between the typical elderly colonel, who ought by profession to be a man of blood, but who in point of fact was the kindest and mildest of men, and the typical humanitarian, who ought to be brimming over with human kindness, but who on the contrary was furiously ready to assail any unfortunate who happened in his or her opinion to transgress the code.

“Bernard Shaw was present, and during the debate received a delicious setback from a witty Irishman called Connel. ‘Shaw is out to persuade us to be vegetarians,’ he said; ‘but if we all adopt that creed, what would happen? Rabbits would obey the Scriptural command to increase and multiply until they overran the whole country-side and ate up every vegetable; and where then would Mr. Bernard Shaw get his daily bunch of carrots?’

“Despite Chesterton’s ability to state the other side, and to state it wittily and well, he was no mere arguer for argument’s sake. He would not put forward any viewpoint unless he was convinced that there was ground for his support. He hated that type of politician or publicist who from sheer intellectual dexterity could argue in favor of any cause that it paid him to support, probably with his tongue in his cheek. This is very clearly seen in his brilliant retort to Lord Birkenhead, ending with that overwhelming:--‘Chuck it, Smith!’

“Probably the finest instance of the effective use of slang by a great literary stylist!

“When he spoke to me about my work he used to say:--

“‘What I admire about your idealism, as shown in your writings, is the fact that I know it to be genuine. For writers who merely pay lip-service to ideals, because they think it safest to do so, I have no use whatever. But I know that what you say, you mean.’

“Chesterton, like most artistic persons, had a dislike for officialdom and bureaucracy. It seems so often to lead to a dull and spurious uniformity and standardization. The natural love of the artist is for variety, reaching out to a fullness of life and experience.

“I remember hearing G. K. C. make a very amusing point at a meeting of educationists where he was the chief speaker. He pictured a state of things where the official director of education might be a man with chronic catarrh. Far from realizing this as a deficiency, the official, he supposed, would attempt to impose it on others; to require that all pupils should be told to pronounce English as the director pronounced it. Or, as Chesterton amusingly put it:--

“‘He wadted theb do brodoudce Idglish as he hibself brodoudced it, this bad with the groddig gattarrh. Ibadgidge it for yourselves.’

“To those who never heard G. K. C. speak in public I would say that he stood on the platform as the very essence of good humour. He beamed on all and sundry. He radiated kindliness. He smiled, he laughed, he bubbled over. He was out to enjoy himself and to make every one present enjoy himself. A personification of mirth, good temper and happy humanity.”

“Prof. A. J. Armstrong, head of the English Department of Baylor University, Waco, Texas, heard G. K. C. in England,

“He talked to the members of my group for more than an hour on Browning. He referred to his own life of Browning as an immature work, although he said it was necessary for him to do a great deal of hack work when he was young, about the time of this publication.

“When one of the ladies present interrupted and said,

“‘Mr. Chesterton, the Browning work has some wonderful things in it,’ he only laughed and went on. In his thoughts he stayed close to the things that he had said in his book. His general conversation, of course, was delightful and was filled with the paradoxes for which he was so famous.

“He took dinner with us at the Hotel Victoria, off Trafalgar Square, and Mrs. Chesterton was with him. I sat next Mrs. Chesterton the whole evening and she was a lovely woman, quiet, refined, a poetess, with a great many experiences which she told delightfully.

“Mr. Chesterton had a delightful wit, was a vigorous speaker, and was a man of great power,--although--and I believe that this is not given with what one usually knows of him--he had a shy way of looking under his glasses that was charming.

“A little later we had our symposium in London where Mr. Chesterton addressed a group of friends. I do not know whether you ever heard of Mrs. French-Sheldon or not. Before her death all the “Who’s Who” carried her. She was an American who learned her ‘A B C’s’ from Washington Irving, and from that time until her death her life was one long spectacle. She told me that at one time she was the guest of George Sand, and that Chopin came in, and Victor Hugo later joined them. Just imagine such a coterie!

“Mrs. French-Sheldon was one who did a great deal of exploring in Africa, and was the first white woman to enter one side of the African Continent and come out on the other. Later under the direction of J. B. Pond, she made twenty-three addresses in America and received $23,000 in cash for them, that is, one thousand dollars a night.

“When I was interested in getting Mr. Chesterton to speak in Waco his fee was one thousand dollars. So in London when I introduced Mrs. French-Sheldon in the charming coterie, I said to Mr. Chesterton: ‘Probably when you were a little boy in short trousers this lady was touring American cities at one thousand dollars a night, so you can see that you are not the only one that gets that price, and she got it twenty years before you did.’ Mr. Chesterton answered with a smile. But he seemed tremendously impressed, for in the social hour that followed the symposium, he showed Mrs. French-Sheldon a number of courtesies.”

Mrs. Lillian Curt heard a lecture in London,

“His large body was rather picturesque, but one received a shock when a tiny, high pitched voice emanated from it. I well remember on one occasion before the War that G. K. C. was asked to speak in the large Town Hall of Battersea. The occasion was the Annual Soiree of the West Lambeth Association of Teachers--a large and important local gathering of learned folk and their friends. G. K. C. then in his prime, was the lion of the evening and the lion was expected to roar when his turn came. But no, G. K. C. stood, like a huge cherub, emitting little squeaky phrases. The teachers huddled closer together and craned their necks forward. G. K. C. went on unconcernedly and those who could hear, heard gems of the first (literally) water pour from those curved lips. Not that one sentence had much to do with the last, but each was a superb thought complete in itself and miraculously moulded. I was there, so I know--and enjoyed a delightful tete-a-tete with him and his charming wife afterwards. He was in strange contrast with his brother Cecil--a little man, wee-proportioned, with a charming literary style and good lecture-voice, who fell in the Great European war.”

In 1928 Chesterton spoke before the Summer Course at the Victoria and Albert Museum. Mr. Charles A. Eva recalls that it was a sweltering hot July day, and when Chesterton turned up late owing to a train delay, he began his discourse by remarking,

“This is no sort of weather for lecturing or listening, as the lecturer on this occasion can rely on the weather, and not on himself, to send the audience to sleep.”