[_8 July '09_]
The Rev. Dr. W.F. Barry, himself a novelist, has set about to belabour
novelists, and to enliven the end of a dull season, in a highly explosive
article concerning "the plague of unclean books, and especially of
dangerous fiction." He says: "I never leave my house to journey in any
direction, but I am forced to see, and solicited to buy, works flamingly
advertised of which the gospel is adultery and the apocalypse the right of
suicide." (No! I am not parodying Dr. Barry. I am quoting from his
article, which may be read in the _Bookman_. It ought to have appeared in
_Punch_.) One naturally asks oneself: "What is the geographical situation
of this house of Dr. Barry's, hemmed in by flaming and immoral
advertisements and by soliciting sellers of naughtiness?" Dr. Barry
probably expects to be taken seriously. But he will never be taken
seriously until he descends from purple generalities to the particular
naming of names. If he has the courage of his opinions, if he genuinely is
concerned for the future of this unfortunate island, he might name a dozen
or so of the "myriad volumes which deride self-control, scoff at the
God-like in man, deny the judgment, and by most potent illustration
declare that death ends all." For myself, I am unacquainted with them, and
nobody has ever solicited me to buy them. At least he might state _where_
one is solicited to buy these shockers. I would go thither at once, just
to see. In the course of his article, Dr. Barry lets slip a phrase about
"half-empty churches." Of course, these half-empty churches must be laid
on the back of somebody, and the novelist's back is always convenient.
Hence, no doubt, the article. Dr. Barry seeks for information. He asks:
"Will Christian fathers and mothers go on tolerating...," etc. etc. I can
oblige him. The answer is, "Yes. They will."