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.
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