Euphemistic Eugenists

Before Chesterton tackles Eugenics itself in 'Eugenics and other evils', he spends a few sections discussing superficial proponents of the theory. Foremost are the 'euphemists': 'short words startle them, while long words soothe them. And they are utterly incapable of translating the one into the other, however obviously they mean the same thing'.
In Orthodoxy, years before, Chesterton already remarked: "It is a good exercise to try for once in a way to express any opinion one holds in words of one syllable."  

Pre-emptive action

The wisest thing in the world is to cry out before you are hurt. It is no good to cry out after you are hurt; especially after you are mortally hurt. People talk about the impatience of the populace; but sound historians know that most tyrannies have been possible because men moved too late. It is often essential to resist a tyranny before it exists. It is no answer to say, with a distant optimism, that the scheme is only in the air. A blow from a hatchet can only be parried while it is in the air.

This is how Chesterton begins his work on Eugenics in 1922. No comments needed.

St Thomas Aquinas

Chestertons's book about the 'dumb ox' or the 'angelic doctor' is very interesting: it does not pretend to be more than an introduction (or a 'plan'), but in these 250 pages there is enough information to have quite some idea about Thomas' life, his character, his philosophy and his impact. Chesterton heralds him as the defender of 'common sense' (a title later applied to himself); he insists that Thomas' philosophy was the perfect middle that corresponds to what the common man thinks (even though the syllogisms are quite technical). Affirming the world as being created good (opposed to the overly platonistic thinkers), but letting it find its final goal in God. Affirming the importance of Aristotle's philosophy, but rather by 'baptizing Aristotle' than by compromising Christianity.

The character

After a chapter on the Aristotelian revolution and a chapter on Thomas' thought about the Manichees, Chesterton suddenly inserts a chapter on St. Thomas' character. In some ways this chapter V is a continuation of chapter II, when we were told how St. Thomas became a Dominican. Why then the two other chapters inbetween, I wondered.
I think that the answer is that we will appreciate Thomas' character more after we know a little bit about his thinking. His absent-mindedness is more understandable, his humility more amazing, his faith more touching.

Finding common ground

At the end of chapter III of his book about St. Thomas Aquinas, Chesterton takes one Thomist sentence and tries to convey its importance for modern apologetics. His argument reminds me somewhat of a book that I once read: 'Finding common ground'. The general point: when talking with people of other convictions, one has to speak the same language. Or, in Chesterton's words:

If there is one phrase that stands before history as typical of Thomas Aquinas, it is that phrase about his own argument: "It is not based on documents of faith, but on the reasons and statements of the philosophers themselves." Would that all Orthodox doctors in deliberation were as reasonable as Aquinas in anger! Would that all Christian apologists would remember that maxim; and write it up in large letters on the wall, before they nail any theses there. At the top of his fury, Thomas Aquinas understands, what so many defenders of orthodoxy will not understand. It is no good to tell an atheist that he is an atheist; or to charge a denier of immortality with the infamy of denying it; or to imagine that one can force an opponent to admit he is wrong, by proving that he is wrong on somebody else's principles, but not on his own. After the great example of St. Thomas, the principle stands, or ought always to have stood established; that we must either not argue with a man at all, or we must argue on his grounds and not ours. 

Revolution

Both in his books on St. Francis of Assisi and on St. Thomas Aquinas, Chesterton frequently spends quite some pages explaining some Medieval ideas to his contemporaries. I loved this analysis about rebellion and revolution in chapter III of his book on St. Thomas:

Perhaps there is really no such thing as a Revolution recorded in history. What happened was always a Counter-Revolution. Men were always rebelling against the last rebels; or even repenting of the last rebellion. This could be seen in the most casual contemporary fashion, if the fashionable mind had not fallen into the habit of seeing the very latest rebel as rebelling against all ages at once. The Modern Girl with the lipstick and the cocktail is as much a rebel against the Woman's Rights Woman of the '80's, with her stiff stick-up collars and strict teetotalism, as the latter was a rebel against the Early Victorian lady of the languid waltz tunes and the album full of quotations from Byron; or as the last, again, was a rebel against a Puritan mother to whom the waltz was a wild orgy and Byron the Bolshevist of his age. Trace even the Puritan mother back through history and she represents the rebellion against the Cavalier laxity of the English Church, which was at first a rebel against the Catholic civilisation, which had been a rebel against the Pagan civilisation. 

Nobody but a lunatic could pretend that these things were a progress; for they obviously go first one way and then the other. But whichever is right, one thing is certainly wrong; and that is the modern habit of looking at them only from the modern end. For that is only to see the end of the tale; they rebel against they know not what, because it arose they know not when; intent only on its ending, they are ignorant of its beginning; and therefore of its very being. 

In some ways it reminds me of Hegel, but better :).

St. Francis of Assisi

Chesterton did not so much write a biography of, but more of an introduction to St. Francis of Assisi. The book is specifically written for the modern reader, who may have a distorted view of this medieval saint. Miracles, for example, are only discussed towards the end of the book; before that we read about the character of the man.
From the hundreds of stories about St. Francis' life, Chesterton only chooses a few. With these stories, he illustrates the character of the founder of the Franciscan Order. Chesterton also spends quite some time explaining the difference in times between now (or rather, Chesterton's time, around 1923) and the thirteenth century.
The purpose of the book is to interest people to read more of St. Francis, and I have to admit that Chesterton does succeed in this object.

Gutenberg

A few weeks ago, I finally decided to buy a Kindle. I had hesitated for years about e-books, but the time seems to have come. And after some reading, I have to say that I do not regret the decision: the Kindle reads well and it appears that there are quite some classic works available over the internet. For example: I could not find Chesterton's book on St. Francis in the local library, but now I read it on the Kindle.
The website that I found most impressive was gutenberg.org: a list of hundreds of classical authors, with numerous of their books. There are 49 books by Chesterton on this site (BTW: listed on popularity, Chesterton is number 33 on the list). There is much more to read...

The running Saint

Chesterton's little book about St. Francis of Assisi proves to be fascinating. I was especially impressed by the picture we get of St. Francis' rashness and impetuousness. Not characteristics I expected in a Saint, but very fitting for the founder of the Franciscan order.
Even as a young man St. Francis ran through the streets after a beggar to give him some money. Then he did something characteristic: "[He] swore before God that he would never all his life refuse to help a poor man. The sweeping simplicity of this undertaking is extremely characteristic. Never was any man so little afraid of his own promises. His life was one riot of rash vows; of rash vows that turned out right.".
St. Francis wanted to be a French poet (troubadour), or a soldier. But after "his vision of dependence on the divine love, he flung himself into fasting and vigil exactly as he had flung himself furiously into battle. Het had wheeled his charger clean round, but there was no halt or check in the thundering impetuosity of his charge.".

Context

Chesterton's work on St. Francis of Assisi starts with some good introductory remarks. I was especially impressed by chapter 2. Chesterton starts by explaining why the context of St. Francis' life is important. Then he provides a wonderful view of the early Middle Ages (the 'dark ages') as a time when nature had to be 'purged' from paganism.
Paganism started very 'natural' by worshiping nature, but this had become a very unnatural thing over the centuries. 'Pagans were wiser than paganism; that is why pagans became Christians.'. These early Christians, however, still had tainted views of nature: everything still had references to the old idolatry. So in the dark ages, Christians detached themselves from nature. Just before the time of St. Francis (and St. Thomas), people began to realize that nature was pure. They could again see nature as a creation by God. This new-found innocence provides part of the context of St. Francis' live.

Medieval philosophy

I would never have thought that I would ever refer back to my old 'medieval philosophy class' that I took years ago in college. Reading Chesterton's 'St Thomas Aquinas', however, the whole discussion about platonism and Aristotle's philosophy came back. The interesting thing is that I never before even asked myself the question if Aquinas was right with his view of Aristotle; I just took the information for granted. Chesterton, however, makes a compelling argument that St. Thomas brought Christianity back to itself by his adaptation of Aristotle.
Platonism, he argues, is focused too much on the spirit. In the dark ages, this caused Christians to overlook the fact that the central issue of the Incarnation connects body and spirit. With a healthy dose of Aristotle, St Thomas brought back this idea to the foreground.

Dated

In a whim, I just took up Chesterton's 'The crimes of England'. For most of Chesterton's books, it was difficult to make out when they were written: the content is still applicable. Not so for the first chapter of this book: it is a serious discussion about England en Germany, with the sinking of the Lusitania in WO1 as an example.
In connection with this tragedy, Chesterton had the brilliantly simple argument that if you want to make an excuse, you should stick to one. If you make multiple excuses, each contradicting the other, your plausibility will suffer.