“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.”