d me that talking of Virgil,
G.K. said things immensely illuminating for experts on Latin poetry.
In a very different field, Mr. Oldershaw noted after their trip to
Paris that though he could set Gilbert right on many a detail yet his
generalisations were marvellous. He had, said Mr. Eccles, an
intuitive mind. He had, too, read more than was realised, partly
because his carelessness and contempt for scholarship misled. Where
the pedant would have referred and quoted and cross-referred, he went
dashing on, throwing out ideas from his abundance and caring little
if among his wealth were a few faults of fact or interpretation.
"Abundance" was a word much used of his work just now, and in the
field of literary criticism he was placed high, and had an
enthusiastic following. We may assume that the _Browning_ had
something to do with Sir Oliver Lodge's asking him in the next year
(1904) to become a candidate for the Chair of Literature at
Birmingham University. But he had no desire to be a professor.

Frances, in her diary, notes some of their widening contacts and
engagements. The mixture of shrewdness and simplicity in her comments
will be familiar to those who knew her intimately. Meeting her for
the first time I think the main impression was that of the "single
eye." She abounded in Gilbert's sense, as my mother commented after
an early meeting, and ministered to his genius. Yet she never lost an
individual, markedly feminine point of view, which helped him
greatly, as anyone can see who will read all he wrote on marriage. He
shows an insight almost uncanny in the section called, "The Mistake
About Women" in _What's Wrong with the World_. "Some people," he said
in a speech of 1905, "when married gain each other. Some only lose
themselves." The Chestertons gained each other. And by the sort of
paradox he loved, Frances did so by throwing the stream of her own
life unreservedly into the greater river of her husband's. She writes
in her Diary, for 1904:

Gilbert and I meet all sorts of queer, well-known, attractive,
unattractive people and I expect this book will be mostly about
them. . . .

Feb. 17th. We went together to Mr. and Mrs. Sidney Colvin's "At
home." It was rather jolly but too many clever people there to be
really nice. The clever people were Mr. Joseph Conrad, Mr. Henry
James, Mr. Laurence Binyon, Mr. Maurice Hewlett, and a great many
more. Mr. and Mrs. Colvin looked so happy.

F