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.
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