NOTES

New Zealand Tablet, Volume LII, Issue 11, 25 March 1925, Page 34

NOTES

i* wr /T |_ Tl_ _x_. u.iY.u s rueiFy Most people think of Chesterton as a writer of paradoxes. Shallow people (who. probably never read him) regard his pro-/ . found and helpful philosophy as word-spi ning. And comparatively few recognise him. as a poet. But among those who do read his; poetry,, there are not a few who place him. on a high pedestal among the moderns, and, as for the present scribe, he is ready to break. a lance with anyone who will not give him almost the highest place in English poetry of the last quarter of a century. In one of his least-known books — The Flying Inn—there is, among many boisterous and rollicking rhymes, this spray of song which, as far as we know, has not been surpassed for beauty, poetry, romance, and melody "n the-, present century:

Aquinas ■ Turning over the pages of an old manual of our student years — Sum ma Contra Gentes we came the other day on this wonderful compendium of the proof that Christ' was true God' and true Man. ; Only St. Thomas himself could say so much in so little space: "This wonderful Incarnation of God, made known to us by divine authority, we confess. For (1) it is said: Arid the Word was made flesh, and dwelt amongst us (John, 1, 14); and the Apostle says, speaking of the Son of God: Who being in the form of God, thought it not robbery to be equal with God; but emptied himself, taking the form of a, servant, being made in the likeness of men, and in habit found as man (Phil. 2, 6-7). (2) This also manifestly do the words of Christ Himself shew when He speaks human and humble things concerning Himself, such as: The Father is greater titan J (John 14, 28), and.: My soul is sorrowful even unto death (Matt. xxvi. 33), which things are said concerning His assumed human nature; sometimes, however, He speaks of divine and sublime things concerning Himself, as the' words: / and the Father are one (John x, 30), and: All tilings Whatsoever 'the' Father hath they are mine (John xi, 15), which certainly are attributed to His Divine Natnve. (c) Proofs also are the facts which we read concerning Our Lord. For that He was afraid, was sorrowful, thirsty, and that He died pertain to human nature": that by His own power He healed the sick, raised the dead to life and commanded the elements, expelled demons, forgave sins'- arose 'from the dead when He willed, and finally ascended to Heaven, prove His divine power." The contents of many books, the material for months of meditations, are condensed in those sentences by the master mind of Christendom. In a few words are expressed what not half as clearly writers of spiritual books and catechisms have tried to say in later ; times. ■' "■-:•.■'•■■ :r . ■ -""V 1 ' : >■•'■■■;•>. **& : ' Another example of the marvellous lucidity

order, and compactness of thought- of the Angel of the Schools is his summing up of the proofs of the Resurrection : "That the Resurrection was true He proved in one way with reference to the body; concerning which He shewed three things: (1) that it was a true, solid body, not a phantastic or tenuous body as of air; this He proved by allowing them to touch Him. . . (2) He convinced them that it was a human body, revealing Himself clearly so that they might see Him with their own eyes; (3) He proved by showing them the marks of the wounds that it was the same body which He had suffered in. In another way, and with regard to His human soul again united to His body He demonstrated the truth of the 'Resurrection. This He did through the triple vital operation of the human soul: by eating with the Apostles He manifested the nutritive vital function; in speaking with .them and hearing them the sensitive functions were made clear; in His addresses, and in expositions of the Sacred Scripture the intellectual powers of the soul are shewn. And in order that nothing should be wanting in the fulness of His manifestation He proved also His divine nature by the miraculous taking of the fishes and further by ascending to Heaven in sight of them all." The tendency to-day is to fill books with many words and with little thought. With the old writers — men whose books made them lean, as La Divina Comedia made Dantethought was first and words but its vehicle. Readers of our time have been divorced from thinking, and words that do not require an effort to understand because they convey so little, satisfy them. The old books, too, make people think. And, as we all know, the effect of modern education is to prevent people from doing anything so dangerous to the powers that be. However, there"'are still a few people who can be alone with thought . without becoming insane. To such we commend the old writers.

Lady, the light is dying in the skies, Lady, and let lis die when honor dies; . Your dear, dropped glove was like a gauntlet flung When you and I were young. For something more than splendor sto> J; and ease was not the only good, About the woods of Tvywood, when you and! I were young. Lady, the stars are falling pale and small',, Lady, we will not live if life be all, Forgetting these good stars in heaven hung,. When all the world was young; For more than gold, was in a ring and love was not a little thing, Between the trees in Ivywood when all the world was young. In another poem in the same book, heputs in homely language the kernel of the ■ whole difference between the Orangeman and his Southern countryman : I come from Castlepatrick, and me heart is on me sleeve, And any sword or pistol boy can hit it with me leave. It shines there for an. epaulette, as golden as a flame, As naked as me ancestors, as noble as me name. For I come from Castlepatrick, and me heart is on me sleeve, But a lady stole it from me on St. Galloglass's Eve. The folk that live in Liverpool, their heart is in their boots; They go to hell like lambs, they do, because the hooter hoots. Where men may not be dancin', though the wheels may dance all day; And men may not be smokin', but only chimneys may. But I come from Castlepatrick, and me heart is on me sleeve, But a lady stole it from me on St. Poleander's Eve. V' The folk that live in black Belfast, theiC heart is in their mouth, • '■•'.■■ T They see us making murders in the meadows* in the South; . • \; :/ ' They think a plough's a rack, they do, and cattle-calls are creeds, ' j

And they think we're burning witches when. we're only burning weeds; But I come from Castlepatrick, and me heart is on me sleeve, But a lady stole it from me on St. Barna- ,,' bas's Eve. w' To the superficial reader that looks like • a mere jingle, but there is a world of philosophy beneath it all. That is the trouble with Chesterton : the average reader is too shallow to enjoy him.