is a bit of everything, and, what is more, these bits
are very big and make a large kaleidoscope. He is a theological
professor who is so entirely sensible that the public hardly discovers
the fact; he does not wear a cap and gown, and quote quite easily from
all the Fathers of the ancient Church. He does not apologize for
Christianity by reading Christian books. Rather to learn the Christian
standpoint he discovers the tenets of Rationalism; he writes a
theological philosophy that might be a discussion between Satan and
Christ and puts it into a novel; he writes a dissertation on
Transubstantiation and puts it into a tale of anarchy that is so
untheological that it mentions Leicester Square and lobster mayonnaise;
he is a historian who not only writes history but understands it; he
does not consider that William conquered England, but that England
conquered William; he says the best way to read history is to read it
backwards; he is a historian who does not consider the most important
facts are the dates of kings who lived and died.

It has been said that Chesterton is the finest essayist of the day. It
would be perhaps fairer to say he is like no living essayist; if he is
not a finer essayist than Dean Inge, he is at least as good; he may not
be so academic, but he is as learned; if he has not quite the charm of
Mr. Lucas he is at least more versatile. His essays sparkle with
epigrams, they are full of paradox. He has said that Plato said silly
things and yet was the wonder of the ancient world. He can lament that
H.G. Wells has come to the awful conclusion that two and two are four,
and at the same time be thankful that not even in fairyland can two and
two make five; he can state quite calmly that the weakness of Feminism
is that it drives the woman from the freedom of the home to the slavery
of the world; he can make priggish clergymen, who accuse him of joking
and taking the name of the Lord in vain, bite their words by explaining
that to make a joke of anything is not to take it in vain. As an
essayist, Chesterton stands apart from his contemporaries. Of older
essayists I can think of none who could in any way be said to have a
similarity to Chesterton.

One of the most interesting things about Chesterton is his position as a
poet. I have said, in an earlier chapter, that he might have been the
Poet Laureate. I have ventured to say that if posterity did not place
him among great poets it would be because he had