Chesterton, G. K. (Gilbert Keith), 1874-1936 -- Criticism and interpretation
Then there are the _Ballades Urbane_ which appeared in the early volumes
of The Eye-Witness. They have refrains with the true human note. Such as
"But will you lend me two-and-six?"
ENVOI
Prince, I will not be knighted! No!
Put up your sword and stow your tricks!
Offering the Garter is no go--
BUT WILL YOU LEND ME TWO-AND-SIX?
In prose Chesterton is seldom the mere jester; he will always have a
moral or two, at the very least, at his fingers' ends, or to be quite
exact, at the end of his article. He is never quite irresponsible. He
seldom laughs at a man who is not a reformer.
Or let us take another set of illustrations, this time in prose. (Once
more I protest that I shall not take the reader through all the works of
Chesterton.) I mean the articles "Our Note Book" which he contributed to
The Illustrated London News. They are of a familiar type; a series of
paragraphs on some topical subject, with little spaces between them in
order to encourage the weary reader. Chesterton wrote this class of
article supremely well. He would seize on something apparently trivial,
and exalt it into a symptom. When he had given the disease a name, he
went for the quack doctors who professed to remedy it. He goes to
Letchworth, in which abode of middle-class faddery he finds a teetotal
public-house, pretending to look like the real thing, and calling itself
"The Skittles Inn." He immediately raises the question, Can we
dissociate beer from skittles? Then he widens out his thesis.
Our life to-day is marked by perpetual attempts to
revive old-fashioned things while omitting the
human soul in them that made them more than
fashions.
And he concludes:
I welcome a return to the rudeness of old times;
when Luther attacked Henry VIII for being fat; and
when Milton and his Dutch opponent devoted pages
of their controversy to the discussion of which of
them was the uglier. . . . The new controversialists
. . . call a man a physical degenerate, instead of
calling him an ugly fellow. They say that red hair
is the mark of the Celtic stock, instead of
calling him "Carrots."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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