* * * * *
The first story, and the best, in "Actions and Reactions" is entitled "AnHabitation Enforced," and it displays the amused but genuine awe of acouple of decent rich Americans confronted by the saecular wonders of theEnglish land system. It depends for its sharp point on a terrificcoincidence, as do many of Kipling's tales, for instance, "The Man WhoWas"--the mere chance that these Americans should tumble upon the veryground and estate that had belonged to the English ancestors of one ofthem. It is written in a curiously tortured idiom, largely borrowed fromthe Bible, and all the characters are continually given to verbalsmartness or peculiarity of one kind or another. The characters are notindividualized. Each is a type, smoothed out by sentimental handling intosomething meant to be sympathetic. Moreover, the real difficulties of thenarrative are consistently, though I believe unconsciously, shirked. Theresult, if speciously pretty, is not a bit convincing. But the gravest,and the entirely fatal fault, is the painting of the English land system.To read this story one could never guess that the English land system isnot absolutely ideal, that tenants and hereditary owners do not livealways in a delightful patriarchal relation, content. There are no shadowswhatever. The English land system is perfect, and no accusation couldpossibly be breathed against it. And the worst is that for Kipling theEnglish land system probably _is_ perfect. He is incapable of perceivingthat it can be otherwise. He would not desire it to be otherwise. Hissentimentalization of it is gross--there is no other word--and at bottomthe story is as wildly untrue to life as the most arrant Sunday-schoolprize ever published by the Religious Tract Society. Let it be admittedthat the romantic, fine side of the English land system is rendered withdistinction and effectiveness; and that the puzzled, unwilling admirationof the Americans is well done, though less well than in a somewhat similarearlier story, "An Error in the Fourth Dimension."
* * * * *
An example of another familiar aspect of Kipling is "With the Night Mail."This is a story of 2000 A.D., and describes the crossing of the Atlanticby the aerial mail. It is a glittering essay in the sham-technical; andreal imagination, together with a tremendous play of fancy, is shown inthe invention of illustrative detail. But the whole effort is centred onthe mechanics of the affair. Human evolution has stood stock-still save inthe department of engineering. The men are exactly the same semi-divinecivil service men that sit equal with British military and naval officerson the highest throne in the kingdom of Kipling's esteem. Nothinginterests him but the mechanics and the bureaucratic organization and the_esprit de corps_. Nor does he conceive that the current psychology ofruling and managing the earth will ever be modified. His simplicity, hisnaivete, his enthusiasms, his prejudices, his blindness, and his vanitiesare those of Stalky. And, after all, even the effect he aims at is notgot. It is nearly got, but never quite. There is a tireless effort, butthe effort is too plain and fatigues the reader, forcing him to share it.A thin powder of dullness lies everywhere.
* * * * *
When I had read these stories, I took out "Life's Handicap," and tastedagain the flavour of "On Greenhow Hill," which I have always considered tobe among the very best of Kipling's stories. It would be too much to saythat I liked it as well as ever. I did not. Time has staled it. Theauthor's constitutional sentimentality has corroded it in parts. But it isstill a very impressive and a fundamentally true thing. It was done in therich flush of power, long before its creator had even suspected his hiddenweaknesses, long before his implacable limitations had begun to compel himto imitate himself. It was done in the days when he could throw offexquisite jewels like this, to deck the tale:
_To Love's low voice she lent a careless ear;_ _Her band within his rosy fingers lay,_ _A chilling weight. She would, not turn or hear;_ _But with averted, face went on her way._ _But when pale Death, all featureless and grim,_ _Lifted his bony hand, and beckoning_ _Held out his cypress-wreath, she followed him,_ _And Love was left forlorn and wondering,_ _That she who for his bidding would not stay,_ _At Death's first whisper rose and went away_.
CENSORSHIP BY THE LIBRARIES
[_23 Dec '09_]
The immediate origin of the new attempt by the libraries to exercise acensorship over books, and particularly over novels, is quite accidentaland silly. A woman socially prominent in the governing classes of thisrealm has a daughter. The daughter obtained and read a certain book fromthe circulating library. (Naturally the family is one of those that aretoo rich to buy books; it can only hire.) The mother chanced to see thebook, and considered it to be highly improper. (I have not read the book,but I should say that it is probably not improper at all; merely atrivial, foolish book.) The woman went direct to an extremely exaltedmember of the Cabinet, being a friend of his; and she kicked up atremendous storm and dust. The result was that "certain machinery" was setin motion, and "certain representations" were made to the libraries;indeed, the libraries were given to understand that unless they didsomething themselves "certain steps" would be taken. It was all very vagueand impressive, and it brought recent agitations to a head. Hence themanifesto of the libraries, in which they announce that all books must besubmitted in advance to a committee of hiring experts, and that thesubmitted books will be divided into three classes. The first class willbe absolutely banned; the circulation of the second will be prevented sofar as it can be prevented without the ban absolute; and the circulationof the third will be permitted without restrictions.
* * * * *
Of course, that even the suggestion of a censorship should spring fromsuch a personal and trifling cause is very scandalous. But I am fairlysure that it might happen under any Government and under any form ofGovernment. All Governments must consist of individual members, and allindividual members have friends. Most of them are acquainted with women,and with absurd women, who will utilize the acquaintanceship with alltheir might for their own personal ends. And exceedingly few members ofany Government whatsoever would have the courage to tell a well-dressedand arrogant woman to go to the devil, even when that answer happened tobe the sole correct answer to an impertinence. Wellington merely damnedthe portly darlings, but then Wellington, though preposterous as apolitician, was a great man.
* * * * *
The menacing letter from the Libraries was received by the Publishers onthe very day of their Council meeting. This may or may not have beenaccidental, but at any rate it put the Publishers at a disadvantage. TheCouncil meetings of the Publishers' Association, being dominated byknights and other mandarins, are apt to be formal and majestic incharacter. You can't blurt out whatever comes into your head at a Councilmeeting of the Publishers' Association. And nearly everybody is afraid ofeverybody else. No one had had time to think the matter over, much less todecide whether surrender or defiance would pay best or look best.Consequently the reply sent to the Libraries was a masterpiece offutility. The mildly surprising thing is that, in the Council itself,there was a strong pro-Library party. Among this party were Messrs.Hutchinson and Mr. Heinemann. Messrs. Hutchinson, it is well known, haveconsistently for many years tried to publish only novels for "familyreading." It is an ambition, like another. And one may admit that Messrs.Hutchinson have fairly well succeeded in it. Mr. Heinemann issues as muchreally high-class literature as any publisher in London, but if his policyhas had a "family and young lady" tendency, that tendency has escaped me.He has published books (some of them admirable works, and some not) whicha committee of hiring experts would have rejected with unanimousenthusiasm. It is needless to particularize. Why Mr. Heinemann should havesupported the Libraries in the private deliberations of the Publishers Icannot imagine. But that is the fault of my imagination. I have an immenseconfidence in Mr. Heinemann's business acumen and instinct forself-preservation.
* * * * *
The Publishers, if they chose, could kill th
e censorship movement at onceby politely declining to submit their books to the censorship. If only thethree big fiction firms concerted to do this, the Libraries would becompelled to withdraw their project. But the Publishers will not do this;not even three of them will do it. The only argument against a censorshipis that it is extremely harmful to original literature of permanent value;and such an argument does not make any very powerful appeal topublishers. What most publishers want is to earn as much money aspossible with as little fuss as possible. Again, the Authors' Societymight kill the censorship conspiracy by declining to allow its members tosign any agreement with publishers which did not contain a clauseforbidding the publisher to submit the book to the committee of hiringexperts. A dozen leading novelists could command the situation. But theAuthors' Society will do nothing effective. The official reply of theAuthors' Society was as feeble as that of the Publishers. I repeat thatthe only argument against a censorship is that it is extremely harmful tooriginal literature of permanent value; such an argument does not make anyvery powerful appeal to authors. What most authors want is to earn as muchmoney as possible with as little fuss as possible. Besides, the greatmoney-makers among authors--the authors of weight with publishers andlibraries--have nothing to fear from any censorship. They censorthemselves. They take the most particular care not to write anythingoriginal, courageous, or true, because these qualities alienate moresubscribers than they please. I am not a pessimist nor a cynic, but Ienjoy contemplating the real facts of a case.
All the forces would seem to be in favour of the establishment of acensorship. (And by a censorship I mean such a censorship as would judgebooks by a code which, if it was applied to them, would excommunicate theBible, Shakespeare, Defoe, Richardson, Fielding, Sterne, Swift, Shelley,Rossetti, Meredith, Hardy, and George Moore. "The Ordeal of RichardFeverel" would never, as a new work, pass a library censorship. Nor would"Jude the Obscure," nor half a dozen of Hardy's other books; nor wouldmost of George Moore.) Nevertheless I am not very much perturbed. Thereare three tremendous forces against the establishment of a genuinecensorship, and I think that they will triumph. The first is thatmysterious nullifying force by which such movements usually do fizzle out.The second force against it lies in the fact that the movement is notgenuinely based on public opinion. And the third is that there is a greatdeal of money to be made out of merely silly mawkish books which a genuinecensorship would ban with serious, original work. For such books a strongdemand exists among people otherwise strictly respectable, far strongerthan the feeling against such books. The demand will have its way. A fewserious and obstinate authors will perhaps suffer for a while. But then weoften do suffer. We don't seem to mind. No one could guess, for instance,from the sweet Christian kindliness of my general tone towards Mr. JesseBoot's library that Mr. Jesse Boot had been guilty of banning some of mywork which I love most. But it is so. I suppose we don't mind, because inthe end, dead or alive, we come out on top.
* * * * *
[_30 Dec. '09_]
I imagined that I had said the last word on this subject, and hence Iintended to say no more. But it appears that I was mistaken. It appears,from a somewhat truculent letter which I have received from acorrespondent, that I have not yet even touched the fringe of the subject.Parts of this correspondent's letter are fairly printable. He says: "Youlook at the matter from quite the wrong point of view. There is only onepoint of view, and that is the subscribers'. The Libraries don't exist forauthors, but for us (he is a subscriber to Mudie's). We pay, and theLibraries are for our convenience. They are not for the furtherance ofEnglish literature, or whatever you call it. What I say is, if I order abook from a Library I ought to be able to get it, unless it has beenconfiscated by the police. I didn't pay my subscription in order to havemy choice of books limited to such books as some frock-coated personage inOxford Street thought good for me. I've spent about forty years inlearning to know what I like in literature, and I don't want anybody toteach me. I'm not a young girl, I'm a middle-aged man; but I don't see whyI should be handicapped by that. And if I am to be handicapped I'm goingto chuck Mudie's. I've already written them a very rude letter about Mr.de Morgan's "It Never Can Happen Again." I wanted that book. They told methey didn't supply it. And when I made a row they wrote me a soothingletter nearly as long as the Epistle to the Ephesians explaining why theydidn't supply it. Something about two volumes and half a sovereign.... Idon't know, and I don't care. I don't care whether a book's in one volumeor in a hundred volumes. If I want it, and if I've paid for the right tohave it, I've got to have it, or I've got to have my money back. Theymumbled something in their letter about having received many complaintsfrom other subscribers about novels being in two volumes. But what do Icare about other subscribers?"
* * * * *
And he continues, after a deviation into forceful abuse: "I don't want toforce novels in two volumes down the throats of other subscribers. I don'twant to force anything down their throats. They aren't obliged to takewhat they don't want. There are lots of books circulated by Mudie's that Istrongly object to--books that make me furious--as regards both moral andphysical heaviness and tediousness and general tommy-rot. But do I writeand complain, and ask Mudie's to withdraw such books altogether? If Mudiecame along with a pistol and two volumes by Hall Caine, and said to me,'Look here, I'll make you have these,' then perhaps I might begin tomurmur gently. But he doesn't. I'll say this for Mudie; he doesn't forceyou to take particular books. You can always leave what you don't want.All these people who are (alleged to be) crying out for acensorship--they're merely idle! If they really want a censorship theyought to exercise it themselves. Robinson has a daughter, and he isshocked at the idea of her picking up a silly sham-erotic novel by amember of the aristocracy, or a first-rate beautiful thing by GeorgeMoore.... Am I then to be deprived of the chance of studying the inanepsychology of the ruling classes or of enjoying the work of a greatartist? Be d----d to Robinson's daughter! I don't care a bilberry foreither her or her innocence. I'm not going to be responsible forRobinson's daughter. Let Robinson, if he is such a fool as to suppose thatdaughters can be spoiled by bad books or good books--let him look afterher himself! Let him establish his confounded censorship at his frontdoor, or at his drawing-room door. Let him do his own work. Nothing butidleness--that's what's the matter with him! The whole project thatRobinson suggests is simply monstrous. He might just as well say thatbecause his daughter has a weak digestion and an unruly appetite for richcakes, therefore all the cake shops in London must be shut up. Let himkeep her out of cake shops. All I want is freedom. I don't mean to defendmy tastes or to apologize for them. If I wish to hire a certain book,that's enough. I must have it--until the police step in. There can only beone censorship, and that is by the police. A Library is a commercialconcern, and I won't look at it from any other point of view. I have nointerest at the present moment in your notions about the future ofliterature, and the livelihood of serious artists, and so on. All that'sabsolutely beside the point. The sole point is that I am ready to letother people have what they want, and I claim that I've the right to havewhat I want. The whole thing is simple rot, and there's no other word forit."
1910
CENSORSHIP BY THE LIBRARIES
[_13 Jan. '10_]
A number of people have been good enough to explain to me that the projectof the Circulating Libraries Censorship (now partially "in being") did notoriginally concern itself with novels, and that, in the first place, itwas directed against books of more or less scandalous memoirs. Of this Iwas well aware. But in writing about the matter I expressly tried tocentre its interest on the novel, because the novel is the only importantpart of the affair. For a year past I have been inveighing against theincreasing taste for feeble naughtiness concerning king's mistresses andall that sort of tedious person. And I have remarked on the growingfrequency of such words as "fair," "frail," "lover," "enchantress," etc.,in the supposed-to-be-alluring titles of boo
ks of historical immorality.(I presume that these volumes are called for by the respectable, as the_cocotte_ calls for a _creme de menthe_ at a fashionable seaside hotel ona winter Sunday afternoon.) Apparently the circulating libraries also havenoticed the growing frequency of such words in their lists. But what theyhave noticed with more genuine alarm is the growing prices which cleverpublishers have been putting on such books. It has not escaped theobservation of clever publishers that the demand by library subscribersfor such books is a very real demand, and clever publishers thereforethought that they might make a little bit extra in this connexion bycharging high for volumes brief but scandalous. The libraries thoughtotherwise. Hence, in truth, the attempted censorship. The now famous moralcrusade of the libraries would certainly not have occurred had not thelibraries perceived, in the moral pressure which was exercised upon themfrom lofty regions, the chance of effecting economies. And there is not acirculating library that does not feel an authentic need of economies.
* * * * *
I should have objected to a censorship even of scandalized history, for nocensorship ever cured a population of bad taste. But naturally thelibraries could not stop at memoirs. They had, in order to be consistentand to talk big about morality, to include novels in their scheme ofscavenging. At this point the libraries pass from futile foolishness toactive viciousness, and so encounter the opposition of persons likemyself, whose business it is to keep an eye on things.
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