Whenever he visited Glasgow, Chesterton stayed with Professor Phillimore who occupied the Greek chair at Glasgow University. Phillimore entertained many literary people in Glasgow, Hilaire Belloc, Thomas Hardy, Galsworthy, and so forth. Usually disengaged in the mornings, the visitors were often brought to the Annam Gallery to be entertained by looking at paintings and etchings. Mr. Annam had the opportunity of making photographic portraits of Chesterton in 1912, when the latter was at his bulkiest. He seemed much interested in his striking appearance and in his likeness to Dr. Johnson. He wore a dark grey highland cloak and a tiny Homburg hat. As he was leaving the studio a small boy stopped and stared at the great man. G. K. noticed the youngster’s interest and puffed himself out to his very biggest for his benefit. Nothing was said, of course, but the pose was obvious. In the course of conversation he made various references to his appearance.
Mrs. Hugh C. Riviere remembers Chesterton as a school boy at St. Paul’s, a tall slim youth who even then had the feeling of the romance of weapons that runs through so much of his work. He went to stay with Mr. and Mrs. Riviere after his marriage when his wife was ill in bed and unable to see to his packing. The result was that he arrived with nothing but an old revolver bought on the way, and his favorite sword-stick with an ivory-handle!
The Sunday after the Great War had commenced Riviere was staying the week-end at a house a few miles from Beaconsfield, and walked over to see the Chestertons. They were in a very national state of excitement and emotion, as all were on such a day. His first thought was, what could he do to help his country,
“I couldn’t wield a sword as I can’t lift my right arm above my shoulder. I should be no use in cavalry, no horse could carry me.” Then with a sudden hopefulness and that humor that was so often directed against himself, “I might possibly form part of a barricade.”
The Chestertons, his brother Cecil, and his friend W. C. Worsdell, all belonged to a debating society known as “I. D. K.” (I Don’t Know). In the earlier period G. K. C. attended the meetings pretty regularly but later on rarely, being, as his wife declared, “too busy.” One of the earliest meetings was at the Chiswick house, of his wife’s family, the Bloggs. At the end of the discussion Chesterton remarked in his usual jocular style,
“We’re in a complete fog!”
But more than once he declared that the speeches of the I Don’t Knows were much cleverer than those heard in the House of Commons. At one meeting Chesterton could not find a chair, so he was obliged to squat on the floor, and he dropped down with a thud that shook the whole house!
One year the Chestertons were coming back from Bromley after a delightful afternoon spent at E. W. Fordham’s house where the guests had produced some plays written by their host—one of them an exceedingly clever and amusing take-off of G. K. C. himself which the original had greeted with continuous chuckles and gurgles of laughter. Having returned with them year after year from this show and knowing his habit, Riviere remarked,
“Aren’t you going to have the usual cigar, Gilbert?”
“I was not going to have a cigar and I don’t want a cigar, but if it’s a case of a holy ritual here goes,” he answered characteristically with a chuckle as he took out a cigar and commenced smoking.