[_13 Jan. '10_]
A number of people have been good enough to explain to me that the project
of the Circulating Libraries Censorship (now partially "in being") did not
originally concern itself with novels, and that, in the first place, it
was directed against books of more or less scandalous memoirs. Of this I
was well aware. But in writing about the matter I expressly tried to
centre its interest on the novel, because the novel is the only important
part of the affair. For a year past I have been inveighing against the
increasing taste for feeble naughtiness concerning king's mistresses and
all that sort of tedious person. And I have remarked on the growing
frequency of such words as "fair," "frail," "lover," "enchantress," etc.,
in the supposed-to-be-alluring titles of books of historical immorality.
(I presume that these volumes are called for by the respectable, as the
_cocotte_ calls for a _crème de menthe_ at a fashionable seaside hotel on
a winter Sunday afternoon.) Apparently the circulating libraries also have
noticed the growing frequency of such words in their lists. But what they
have noticed with more genuine alarm is the growing prices which clever
publishers have been putting on such books. It has not escaped the
observation of clever publishers that the demand by library subscribers
for such books is a very real demand, and clever publishers therefore
thought that they might make a little bit extra in this connexion by
charging high for volumes brief but scandalous. The libraries thought
otherwise. Hence, in truth, the attempted censorship. The now famous moral
crusade of the libraries would certainly not have occurred had not the
libraries perceived, in the moral pressure which was exercised upon them
from lofty regions, the chance of effecting economies. And there is not a
circulating library that does not feel an authentic need of economies.
* * * * *
I should have objected to a censorship even of scandalized history, for no
censorship ever cured a population of bad taste. But naturally the
libraries could not stop at memoirs. They had, in order to be consistent
and to talk big about morality, to include novels in their scheme of
scavenging. At this point the libraries pass from futile foolishness to
active viciousness, and so encounter the opposition of persons like
myself, whose business it is to keep an eye on things.
* * * * *
I can tell a true tale about one of the three great circulating libraries.
A certain man of taste was directing the education in literature of a
certain woman. The time came when the woman had to study Balzac. The man
gave her a list of titles of novels by Balzac which she was to read. She
went to her library, but could not find, in the list of Balzac's complete
"Comédie Humaine" furnished by the library, one of the works which she had
been instructed to peruse. Hearing of this, the man, whose curiosity was
aroused, called at the library to conduct an inquiry. He had an interview
with one of the managers, and the manager at once admitted that their
complete list was not complete. "We cannot supply a work with such a
title," the manager explained. The book was one of the most famous and one
of the finest of nineteenth-century novels, "Splendeurs et Misères des
Courtisanes," issued by Messrs. Dent and Co. (surely a respectable firm),
with a preface by Professor George Saintsbury (surely a respectable
mandarin), under the title, "The Harlot's Progress." The man of taste
asked, "Have you read the book?" "No," said the manager. "Have you read
any of Balzac's novels?" "No," said the manager. "Do you prohibit
Galsworthy's 'Man of Property'?" "No," said the manager. "Have you read
it?" "No," said the manager. "Do you prohibit Jacob Tonson's last novel?"
"No," said the manager. "Have you read it?" "No," said the manager.
"Well," said the man of taste, "you'd better read one or two of these
later writers, and then think over the Balzac question." The manager
discreetly replied that he would consult the principal proprietor. The
next morning "The Harlot's Progress," in two volumes, was sent round from
the library.
* * * * *
But imagine it! Imagine one of the largest circulating libraries in the
world, in the year 1909, refusing to supply an established, world-admired,
classical work of genius because its title contains the word "harlot"! In
no other European capital, nor in any American capital, could such a
monstrously idiotic and disgusting thing happen. It is so preposterous
that one cannot realize it all at once. I am a tremendous admirer of
England. I have lived too long in foreign parts not to see the fineness
of England. But in matters of hypocrisy there is really something very
wrong with this island, and the atmosphere of this island is thick enough
to choke all artists dead. You can walk up and down the Strand and see
photographs of celebrated living harlots all over the place. You can buy
them on picture post cards for your daughter. You can see their names even
on the posters of high-class weekly papers. You can entertain them at the
most select fashionable restaurants. Indeed, the shareholders of
fashionable restaurants would look very blue without the said harlots.
(Only they aren't called harlots.) But if you desire to read a masterpiece
of social fiction, some mirror of crass stupidity in a circulating library
will try to save you from yourself.
* * * * *
[_24 Feb. '10_]
Up Yorkshire way the opponents of freedom have been dealing some effective
blows at the Libraries Censorship. They doubtless imagine that they have
been supporting the Libraries Censorship; but they are mistaken. Hull has
distinguished itself. It is a strange, interesting place. I only set foot
in it once; the day was Sunday, and I arrived by sea. I was informed that
a man could not get a shave in Hull on Sunday. But I got one. At the last
meeting of the Hull Libraries Committee, when "Ann Veronica" was under
discussion, Canon Lambert procured for the name of Lambert a free
advertisement throughout the length and breadth of the country by saying:
"I would just as soon send a daughter of mine to a house infected with
diphtheria or typhoid fever as put that book into her hands." I doubt it.
I can conceive that, if it came to the point, Canon Lambert's fear of
infection and regard for his own canonical skin might move him to offer
his daughter "Ann Veronica" in preference to diphtheria and typhoid fever.
Canons who give expression to this kind of babblement must expect what
they get in the way of responses. Let the Canon now turn the other cheek,
in a Christian spirit, and I will see what I can do for him.
* * * * *
Needless to say, "Ann Veronica" was banned from the Free Public Libraries
of free Hull. But I cull the following from the _Hull Daily Mail_: "A
local bookseller had thirteen orders for 'Ann Veronica' on Monday, thirty
on Tuesday, and scores since. Previously he had no demand." A Canon
Lambert in every town would demolish the censorship in less time than it
took the Hebrew deity to create the world and the fig-tree.
* * * * *
Canon Lambert, doubtless unconsciously, went wide of the point. The point
was not a code for the parental treatment of canons' daughters. England
was not waiting for information as to what Canon Lambert would do to a
Miss Lambert in a given dilemma. H.G. Wells did not turn up in Hull with a
Gatling gun and, turning it on the Canon's abode, threaten to blow the
ecclesiastical wigwam to pieces if the canon did not immediately buy a
copy of "Ann Veronica" for his daughter to read. Nobody wants to interfere
between the Canon and a Miss Lambert. All that quiet people want is to be
left alone to treat their daughters according to their lights. Does Canon
Lambert hold that the Hull libraries are to contain no volumes which he
would not care for his daughter to read?
* * * * *
The _Hull Daily Mail_ has, I regret to say, taken the side of the Canon.
This is a pity. The Hull paper should be a little more careful about the
letters it prints. In a recent issue it allowed a correspondent to call
"Ann Veronica" "pornographic," which is most distinctly libellous. But
possibly the correspondent and the newspaper felt themselves secure in Mr.
Wells's disdain. "Ann Veronica" is not pornographic. It is not even
indecent. It is utterly decent from end to end. It is also utterly honest.
It is not one of Mr. Wells's major productions. But if a work of an
honourable and honoured artist is to be damned because it happens to be
inferior to other works of the same artist, Hull ought to consider the
awful case of "Measure for Measure." By the way, would Canon Lambert as
soon send a Miss Lambert to a house infected with mumps as put "Measure
for Measure" into her hands? The _Hull Daily Mail_, taken to task,
sheltered itself behind Mr. Clement Shorter and the _Sphere_. I will not
discuss Mr. Shorter's singular pronouncement upon "Ann Veronica," because
I am in a very good humour with him just now for his excellently acid
remarks upon the "success" literature of Mr. Peter Keary. But I may remark
that Mr. Shorter did not advocate the censoring of the book, nor did he
come within seven Irish miles of describing it as pornographic.
Canonical people have tried to make capital out of the fact that "Ann
Veronica" is not to be found in the public libraries of sundry large
towns. But the reason may not be connected with the iconoclasm of "Ann
Veronica." In an interview, Mr. T.W. Hand, the librarian at Leeds, said:
"I haven't read the book through (Why not?), though I have seen it, and we
haven't got it in any of our libraries in Leeds. The reason for this is
not the character of the book, but the fact that we never purchase our
novels until they have become cheaper." Charming confession! A
subscription ought to be opened for poverty-stricken Leeds, which must
wait to buy an English book that is or will be translated into every
European language, until it has become cheaper! A few weeks ago the
country was laughing at little Beverley because its Fathers publicly
decided to purchase no fiction less than a year old. But are the great
towns any better off?
* * * * *
[_3 Mar. '10_]
Literary censorship in the intellectual centre of the world: I need hardly
say that I mean Boston, Mass. Boston is the city of Harvard University.
It is also the city of the _Atlantic Monthly_. It is also the city of
Emerson, Lowell, Longfellow, and Holmes. Boston has a Public Library. It
is supposed to be one of the finest public libraries in this world or any
other. Great artists, such as Puvis de Chavannes and John Sargent, have
helped to decorate the Boston Library. In brief, Boston and its Library
are not to be sneezed at. A certain woman asked for George Moore's "Esther
Waters," recognized, I believe, as one of the most serious and superb of
modern novels. The work was included in the catalogue of the Library. In
reply to her request she was informed that she could not have "Esther
Waters" unless she obtained from the Chief Mandarin or Librarian special
permission to read it, on the ground that she was a "student of
literature." I doubt whether the imagination of nincompoops and boards of
management has ever devised anything more beautiful than this.
* * * * *
But the lady had a husband, and the husband, being a prominent journalist,
had the editorial use of a newspaper in Boston. He began to make
inquiries, and he discovered that many of the catalog cards were marked
with red stars, and that a star signified that the work described on the
card was not morally fit for general circulation. He further discovered
that works rankly and frankly pornographic and works of distinguished art
were starred with the same star. Lastly, he discovered that the Chief
Mandarin or Librarian, all out of his own head and off his own bat, had
appointed a reading committee for the dividing of modern fiction into
sheep and goats, and that the said committee consisted exclusively of
Boston dames mature in years. He exposed the entire affair in his
newspapers and made a very pleasing sensation. The first result was that
his wife was afterwards received at the Library with imperial honours and
given to understand by kotowing sub-mandarins that she might have the
whole red-star library sent home to her house if she so desired. There was
no other result. The rest of reading Boston remained under the motherly
but autocratic care of _ces dames_. Those skilled in the artistic records
of Boston may remember that the management of the same Library once
refused the offered gift of a statue of a woman holding a baby, on the
sole ground that the woman was not attired.
[_26 May '10_]
More interesting information has accrued to me concerning literary
censorship in the British provinces. Glasgow has about a dozen lending
libraries, chiefly, I believe, of the Carnegie species. In none of these
are the works of Richardson, Fielding, and Smollett allowed a place.
Further, "Anna Karenina," "Resurrection," "Tess," "Jude the Obscure," and
"Tono-Bungay" are banned. Further, and still more droll, in the words of a
correspondent who has been good enough to send me all sorts of
particulars: "A few days ago I applied at the Mitchell Library (a
reference library in the centre of the town) for Whitman's poems. The
attendant procured the volume, but, before handing it to me, consulted one
of the senior librarians. This official scrutinized me from a distance of
about eight yards and finally nodded his head in acquiescence. The book
was then given to me. On the back of it a little red label was affixed. I
made inquiry and discovered that books with these labels are only given
out to persons of (what shall I say?) good moral appearance."
Nevertheless, we ought to be thankful that we live in Britain. The case
of the United States is in some respects far worse than ours. The
egregious Sir Robert Anderson has just explained in _Blackwood_ how he
established a sort of unofficial censorship of morals at the English Post
Office. In the United States an official censorship of mailed matter
exists, and the United States Post Office can and does regularly examine
the literature entrusted to it, and can and does reject what it deems
inimical to the morals of the native land of Jay Gould, James Gordon
Bennett, J.D. Rockefeller, and the regretted Harriman. Among other matter
which the United States Post Office censorship has recently excluded are
the following items:
An extract from an article in the _Fortnightly Review_.