Censorship

Sunday, January 24th., Rue de Grenelle, Paris.

Attempts at censorship in England have been annoying me for some time and I have been waging a small campaign of my own, against censorship, in the New Age. Now the English Review have asked me to do an article on the subject for them. I said I would. To that end I wrote to John Lane because I understood that he had had trouble in connection with publication of "The Song of Songs" and "The New Machiavelli". I have now had his reply.

As I suspected, Lane tells me that Scotland Yard informed him of a complaint alleging obscenity in "the Song of Songs" as translated by Sudermann. I should like to know who inspired the police, not believing that Scotland Yard, in the intervals of its preoccupation with the Sidney Street brigands, had found time to make a study of current fiction in the interests of London morals. No doubt it is some self-appointed moral guardian, probably a fundamentalist Christian; they are the worst in my experience.

Lane has written to several authors to get a view about the alleged obscenity of the work. For myself I read it carefully and could see nothing to censure on grounds of obscenity, though much on grounds of aesthetics. Eden Phillpotts hit the nail on the head by saying that "the only things obscene therein were the Americanisms". Thomas Hardy apparently thought the book should be withdrawn because the translation is so poor. I agree entirely.

As regards "The New Machiavelli", I think it magnificent and in no way obscene. Conrad has called it "a master work". I have seen a review by Hubert Bland in the Daily Chronicle which describes it as "clever, but unpleasant and smug". The fact that they commissioned Bland to write the review shows that they had a preconceived antipathy to the book. Where is the Society of Authors in all this? Keeping quiet, that's where. If the Society of Authors and the Publishers' Association got together they could, in my view, kill library censorship very easily, but neither group seem willing. It seems to me that they are more by way of dining clubs than active literary organisations.

"Hilda" is progressing well. Over 16,000 words in three weeks. Good words too!

Getting ideas

Saturday, January 9th., Hotel Belvedere, Mont Pelerin sur Vevey, Switzerland.

Maiden, aged about 30. Self-conscious. Big nose and eyes, and big features generally. Badly dressed. What is characteristic about her is her pose in an armchair at night, needle-working. Looks intently at her work, with virginal expression, while others are talking. Then at intervals looks up suddenly; you can't see her eyes for the white gleam of her spectacles, and she seems to embrace the whole room, or perhaps the talker alone, in a wide candid, ingenuous glance, as of surprise, as if saying slowly: "What the hell are you talking about?"  I wonder what is going on behind those spectacles? Am I right in my assessment that she remains inviolate? How would she respond if an attempt were made at seduction?

I discussed this with Marguerite later. She too had noticed the woman and had drawn the same conclusion. She said you wouldn't find a Frenchwoman like that. She is right. We got on to talking about how a seduction might be carried out and, one thing leading to another, the evening ended most enjoyably. Naughtily, M. suggested that the seduction might be conducted as well by a woman as by a man. A stimulating idea I found.

A honeymoon pair came the other night. Gave me an idea for my novel. Across the dining room they looked immensely distinguished. He might have been a brother of Rostand. Fine nose. White hands. She seemed mysterious in a da Vinci way. I made sure he was some sort of artist. No, he proved to be in business. When we saw them close to in the little reading room - intense vulgarity of gesture, movement etc. He seemed more like a barber's assistant and she a vendeuse mal elevee. Long time since I have been so taken in. Interesting to watch how gestures effective at a distance (theatrical) grew vulgar close at hand.

I did four sketches and one watercolour today, and found all sorts of ideas for novel quite easily. My recent coorrespondence seems to have been mainly about "The Old Wives' Tale" which is now in a second edition and selling regularly. It has been better received than I expected. In fact things are going very well for me at present. My "Matador" story should be in the English Review alongside Hardy, Conrad, Galsworthy, Wells, and Tolstoy - I shall not feel ashamed of the company. Also I have been informed that my new play is 'simply terrific'.

Winter escape

Saturday, December 30th., Hotel Belvedere, Mont Pelerin sur Vevey, Switzerland.

Well, here we are in Switzerland, about 3,100 feet above civilisation. I intend that we shall stay here for at least two months and I expect to take it just a little easier after a year of very hard work indeed. I think that I have written over 400,000 words.

Today I sent off a copy of "A Matador of the Five Towns" to Ford Madox Ford who asked me for a long story. It is for publication in the English Review and I am pleased with the result. Since I completed "Simon Fugue" I have felt there was more to be wrung from the character Loring - through him I am able to look at, and write about, the Five Towns in a different way. I told Ford, in the accompanying letter that a painter once said to me in handing over a sketch I had bought from him, "I think this will give you pleasure". The story is between 11,000 and 12,000 words, a little shorter than Henry James' story in the first number, but I think Ford will be content. I haven't seen the second number of the English Review yet, but the first gave me great pleasure.