y are ready to call him a saint--Simon Stylites, for
example. And it is not suggested that the author of the remark, "There
are only three things that women do not understand. They are Liberty,
Equality, Fraternity," is not a prig, for a demonstration that he is a
complete gentleman would obviously leave other matters of importance
inconveniently crowded out. We are confronted with a figure of some
significance in these times. He represents what has been called in other
spheres than his "the anti-intellectualist reaction." We must answer the
questions; to what extent does he represent mere unqualified reaction?
What are his qualifications as a craftsman? What, after all, has he
done?

And we begin with his romances.

II

THE ROMANCER

In spite of Chesterton's liberal production of books, it is not
altogether simple to classify them into "periods," in the manner beloved
of the critic, nor even to sort them out according to subjects. G.K.C.
can (and generally does) inscribe an Essay on the Nature of Religion
into his novels, together with other confusing ingredients to such an
extent that most readers would consider it pure pedantry on the part of
anybody to insist that a Chestertonian romance need differ appreciably
from a Chestertonian essay, poem, or criticism. That a book by G.K.C.
should describe itself as a novel means little more than that its
original purchasing price was four shillings and sixpence. It might also
contain passages of love, hate, and other human emotions, but then
again, it might not. But one thing it would contain, and that is war.
G.K.C. would be pugnacious, even when there was nothing to fight. His
characters would wage their wars, even when the bone of contention
mattered as little as the handle of an old toothbrush. That, we should
say, is the first factor in the formula of the Chestertonian
romance--and all the rest are the inventor's secret. Imprimis, a body of
men and an idea, and the rest must follow, if only the idea be big
enough for a man to fight about, or if need be, even to make himself
ridiculous about.

In _The Napoleon of Notting Hill_ we have this view of romance stated in
a manner entirely typical of its author. King Auberon and the Provost of
Notting Hill, Adam Wayne, are speaking. The latter says:

"I know of a magic wand, but it is a wand that
only one or two may rightly use, and only seldom.
It is a fairy wand of great fear, stro