Thursday, December 21st., 12B George Street, London.I am not at all happy with the drama critic of the London Mercury, and have written to the editor to express my dissatisfaction.
In a review of my play "Sacred and Profane Love" the drama critic writes:
"A writer of Mr. Arnold Bennett's eminence and great sagacity would be the last person to expect us to take this play seriously as a contribution to dramatic literature."
Only a certain ingenuousness prevents this remark from being outrageous. Of course I expect the play to be taken seriously. The critic is perfectly entitled to condemn the play, but he is not entitled, on the strength of his opinion, to attribute to me an attitiude which is not mine., and which, if it were mine, would render me odious in the sight of artists. Why in the name of my alleged great sagacity should I publish a play which I did not expect to be taken seriously? I wonder if the critic imagined that he was being charitable? One does not expect such ineptitude from the critics of the London Mercury.
I despatched my letter yesterday, rather in the heat of the moment. There is certainly a principle involved but I am starting to wonder if there has not been a failure of dignity on my part? Possibly I should just have ignored it completely. I must admit to myself that I am rather thin-skinned when it comes to my work.
I met a Captain Griffin (a fellow Staffordshire man, from Walsall) a couple of days ago. During the war he had been wounded I think nine times and had been a prisoner in Germany. He had been reported dead. After his unexpected return to life his solicitor, among other bills, forwarded the following:
"To memorial service (fully choral) 3 guineas."
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