he was an admirer of Cardinal Gibbon,nprelate of Maryland. Was there somethingnin his personal constitution, andneven in his writing, that suggested hendid not mean what he said—at leastnwhen he sounded malicious? He wasnnever spiteful or small-minded or deliberatelyncruel. Carl Bode, a contributornto On Mencken and founder of thenMencken Society, calls him an Aristotelian:nhe admired moderation and dislikednchange, abruptness, chaos. Hisnsplashy broadsides at establishmentnvalpes and institutions to the contrary,nhe believed that values and institutionsnwere necessary. He did not go to church,nbut he did not object to others going.niVlencken was a man of principlednjudgment and personal rectitude whichnsprang from his belief in rationality andnmoderation. His legacy, however, hasnbeen something else. He is not esteemednfor his principles, but for his prose stylenand the controversy he stirred. If hisnpersonal discretion did not come fromnan historically spurious ideology, itncame from his intellectual consistency.nBut the virtues of consistency and discretionnare not what H.L. Mencken isnknown for. If he had written like CottonnMather, with whom he shared thosenqualities, no one today would know henexisted. Instead, unfortunately, Menckennis idolized for his mischievous style,nhis brazenness and his iconoclasm,nwhich have been thoroughly filteredninto contemporary literature and journalism.nThat he said outrageous thingsnabout religious faith and the middleclassngrind is remembered; that he livednquietly and in accord with a moral coden—honor, he called it—is not. His wisecracksnabout the “booboisie” and politiciansnas “scoundrels and swine” arenrehashed, but his pohtical thinking,nrooted in Aristotle, is not. This is playednout in the essays of On Mencken: hisnjokes, his gimmicks of language, hisnstyle are conspicuous. That he livednnearly all his life in the same house andnthat he was essentially a man of moderationnare looked on by all as a curiosity.n141nChronicles of CulturenThis said, it remains that all men arenresponsible for what they leave of themselvesnfor history. Mencken enthronednartistic freedom as a principle, althoughnhe was disgusted by Dreiser’s pornographicnplay. The Hand of the Potter,nand told him so. Like other polemicistsnof his day, he did not foresee the spectacularnmetamorphosis of journahsmnfrom the profession of precise writersnwho loved language, like himself, to anvisceral force in the nation’s life withnthe power to fashion and manipulatenideas. Mencken was of the generationnof newspapermen who confined the editorialsnto the editorial page, and in themnpaid homage to orthodoxy, albeit withnmeasured irreverence. No matter whatnhas been said about his irreverence, henwas not a radical social critic. But thosenwho discuss ideas are responsible ifntheir language is misunderstood or misused.nMencken today is considered thenfather of everything from journalisticnname-calling to upper-class smugness.nHis name is usurped by the name-callersnand is pinned on the noisy rich. Butnwhile Mencken indulged in namecallingnand never apologized for who henwas, his writing and his life had decisivenessnand substance that is unknownnto many of his admirers. This is notnsaid to criticize the essayists ofnOn Mencken. But in their adulation ofnthe man, they said nothing about thenimpact on his legacy of a less-hardynbreed of journalists, who picked it cleannof its tongue-in-cheek iconoclasm, leavingnthe substance to be forgotten ornscorned. DnIn the forthcoming issue of Chronicles of Culture:nThe Haves, Have-Nots and Have-Littlesn”Before I had read even the first word of George Gilder’snWealth and Poverty I knew it possessed at least one greatnmerit: it drives leftists into a frenzied dance of rage ….nLeftists will have their hands full with this gentleman,nfor with wit, grace and erudition Gilder provides capitalismnwith a metaphysical and moral foundation and infuses thatnmuch-maligned economic system with a high sense of dramanthat will amaze even the most ardent devotees of the freenmarket. Over one hundred years after Karl Marx tollednthe bells of capitalism’s demise, George Gilder insists thatnthe old girl still thrives—or at least will, if friend and foenalike will stop trying to hurry her into the grave.”nfrom “Wait a Moment, George …”nby James J. Thompson, Jr.nAlso:nOpinions & Views—Commendables—In FocusnWaste of Money—PerceptiblesnThe American ProsceniumnStage—Screen—Art—MusicnCorrespondence—Liberal CulturenJournalismnnn