“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.”
CHAPTER SIX
ON THE AMERICAN PLATFORM
Chesterton made two extended visits to the United States, in 1920–1, and in 1930–1. Both times he traversed the length and breadth of the country, delivering innumerable lectures, making many addresses, and participating in not a few debates. No matter what the occasion he never forgot his sense of humor. At the Soldiers’ Memorial Hall, Pittsburgh, he was introduced to a large audience by Bishop Hugh C. Boyle. When G. K. stood up there arose a collective audible gasp at the enormous size of the man making his way to the amplifier. His opening words were,
“At the outset I want to reassure you I am not this size, really; dear no, I’m being amplified by the thing.”
He debated with Cosmo Hamilton at the Brooklyn Academy of Music on November 26th, 1930. The subject of debate was presumably unknown to the two authors, and was announced by the Chairman William C. Redfield, Secretary of Commerce under Wilson, “Is Immorality in the Novel Justified.” The audience was composed chiefly of educators, priests, college instructors, and grade teachers; all seemed properly pleased by the title of the evening’s discourse, and settled back to enjoy the action ... Chesterton annihilating his gracious and graceful opponent. They were not denied. Chesterton scored decidedly when he showed that what is moral is justified, and that the contrary, of course, could never be justified.
This Chesterton explained in his introductory remarks, which he took from written notes, as Hamilton also did when he arose. Apparently they were formulated, and used in more than one debate in their tour. Chesterton charmingly denied he was there to make a football of Hamilton, who had protested such, but that he was rather a football in appearance, even if on the side of the angels, and Hamilton more the lithe athlete. After these amenities, Chesterton divided his argument into three sections: immorality in the novel violates ... first, good morals; second, good manners; third, good taste.
“You can’t discuss inflaming the passions without doing it,” Chesterton pointed out. In reply to a query from Hamilton, “On the contrary, I like and admire very much the works of Aldous Huxley, but, (here he showed genuine anger) as for that weak, sniveling, dirty, pacifistic Enrique Maria Remarque, I have nothing but contempt.”
Chesterton made many notes, chuckling to himself as he scribbled something soon to come forth as a sally, pausing now and then to survey the audience or his opponent, and again interrupting his writing to place his pencil between his teeth to applaud some remark of Hamilton’s.