A POET DETECTIVE

Press, Volume LXV, Issue 19736, 28 September 1929, Page 13

A POET DETECTIVE

xMR CHESTERTON'S LATEST. PRACTICAL MBN AND MYSTICS. (•rfouu.l warn*" see nu »**sa.)

[By Cmuno.l

The great bulk of Mr Chesterton— I Nifar to hia works, not his figurewhich, by the way, ia not nearly «o vast aa is supposed— may be divided il.to four mam parts—essays, literary criticism, romances, and poems. Assemble four Chestertonians, and you might find that owe preferred tho essays, another tho "Dickens," another ■'The Napoleon of Netting HUP and "Father Brown," and another "Lepanto" and "The Ballad of the White Morse." If I bad to choose one (htsterton book I think it would be the ' JJickrns," the most acute and most readable piece of criticism of our time. All four might agree, however, that though they worshipped G.K.C, they found him slightly wearisome at times, and they would give for this two reasons—that he wrote too much, and that in his eagerness to pour out his idea* he was not sufficiently sell-criti-cal of hi* work, They would agree — certainly, I think—that Mr Chesterton i* always more or lews the same — that ho is always, in a sense, a propagandist, a«d that whether be is writing a weekly essay for the "Illustrated London News, a rollicking drinking song, or a mystery story dark with the flowers of evil and aflame with tho glory of God, he is the eamo preacher preaching the same gospel. It is a curious jumble, this preaehing of his—curious and jumbled enough to mystify M)i»ti and infuriate others. I/Ove of bright colours and romance—"The very colours of her coat aero better than good news"—love of common men and women; a profound distrust of what generally pusses (or progress; ideals rooted in mysticism and ntediievaliam; lore and laughter and good cheer; the imagination of a p°*t allied with tonic simplicity and humours-all this is C'btsUirton, and all of it is in every book ha baa written. Her© i*i bis latest, "The Poet and the LAUtatica," » comjianion to the Father Brown stories. Gabriel Gale, (jie solver ir. these new mystery tales, is simply the round, innocent-eyed little priest transformed into a tall, thin po«*t with a jutting chin and untidy hair- Father Brown is a specialist in e*ploratiop of the human soul, and his stories are studies in sin rather than stories in the sheeting home of guilt.

Father Brown does not whip out tape I measure and magnifying f lafi,as ' + . °f pore over lest tubes; he leaves that to Holmes and Thomdike. He surpass,-, both of them, however in spiritual insight. So does baomi Gule. A* he himself explains, he is not a practi-al man. He cannot investigate a crime' in the orthodox brisk business way by the measuring of footprints; but he can see into minds. 'He does this because he is a poet. We hare here the familiar Chesterton thesis that the poet is superior to the practical man, toe man of business. In the first, story Hurrel poses as a business man in charge of Gale, the unpractical poet. Advance to the edge of tragedy shows that it is Gale who is practical, and Hurrel who is in his care—m tact Hurrel is a lunatic. Mr Chesterton's bias against business must be taken into account, but he is stating in a heighten;-d way what is an important truth. The poet has more insight than the aver.tge man; ehc he would not, be a. poet. The business, mau, the man who prides himself on being practical., is often hopelessly wrong, for one thing becaas« ha had no imagination, and for another because his special bufeine&s in life is to walk along a narrow track with his eves glued to the ground. Voti might as well ask a bloodhound hot on the scent what it thinks of the scenery a.-> ask some business men what they' think of life. They know only one thing—how to make money, and perhaps how to make it in one way. The mistakes made by business men when they are taken off their narrow track and confronted with a new problem are at times appalling. In this book we have the thesis stated agjin with the familiar poetry and gusto. Gale's painting of tb.e inn sign is typical. "After all, one doesn't fancy an English inn on the top of Mount Everest, or somewhere lit the Suez Canal. But one's life would be well spent in waking up lihe dead inns of England and making them English and Christian again." And a little further on. "Is it more dignified to paint an Aeademy portrait of some snobbish mayor in a gold chain, or some swindling millionaire's wife in a diamond tiara, than to paint the heads of great English admiral.*, to be toasted in good ale? Ts it better to paint some nepotistieal olci poodle weaving his George and G«t»'ter than to paint St. George himself in the very act of killing the dragon?'' Then, when the nearly bankrupt innkeeper tries to hang himself on bis pwrt sign, and handing him over to the police is discussed, Gale tells :hcm what they want is an uiir practical man. That is what people always want in life laat resort and the worst conditions. What can practical men <lo here? Waste their practical time in running after the poor fellow and cutting him down from one puh sign alter another? Waste their practical lives watching him day and night, to gee he doesn't get hold or' a rope or a razor? Wo you call that practical? You can only forbid him to die. Can yon persuade him to live? Believe as, that is where we come in. A man must have his head in the clouds an<J his wits wool-gathering in fairyland, before he can do anything so practical as that. To many of mystery story "fans" these tales will be unsatisfactory. Their very mysticism will repel, and, as in some of the Father Brown stories, the outlines of both deed and investigation are sometimes blurred. But as spiritual adventures they have their own plaee in the vast body of detective literature, Several men can write a neater storyj mo one tan make the heavens flame so gloriously or hell gape so menacingly as can G.K.C. Ner ean the plot be separated from the almost riotous humour of the telling, and the flaming reiteration of the Chesterton creed. This is seen in little touches and big strokes. "They say that travel broadens the mind; but you "must have the mind." There have been men and women in this country who, after going reund the world, have illustrated this saying in their conversation. <<l should imagine," says Gale, "that a madhouse would be an esoellent plaee to be sane in. I'd long-sight rather live in a uicc, quiet, secluded madhouse than in intellectual clubs full of unintellectual people, all chattering nonsense about the newest book of philosophy. ..." Mueh of the Chesterton philosophy is in this passage, which is but a repetition of "A Ballade of an Anti-Puritan": Tltey spoke of Progress spiring round, Of Licht and Mrs Humphry Ward— It ia not true to say I frowned, Or ran about the room and roared; I might have simply "at and snored — J rose politely in the club And *aid, "I feel «, little bojred, Will someone take me, to a pub?" A similar plea for the jays of the really simple (and humble) Ufa—for "virtues growing from the ground'*—ia to be found in one of the stories in this collection, that of the famous poetdramatist who suddenly disappeared and was found to have changed places with his obscure shop-keeping brother. Gale's explanation of why this man gave up fame and position in the great world is this; Ha tried it and found that this was what he wanted: the things be had not known since childhood; the silly little lower, raiddle-cktss thirge; to have to da with lolliepops and ginger beer; to fall in love with a girl round the corner and feel awkward •bout it; to be young-. That was the only paradise still left virfrin and unspoilt enough in the imagination of a man who has turned the seven heavens upside down. This passage may help te explain why Borne of us think G. K. Chesterton a better guide to life than Bernard Shaw. If he would only deal faithfully with the Sitwells and others of the intelligentsia! ——'V l ' .""." '" ■'■.'-1 1 .. ■"