ver, and, either by harrowing their feelings or offending their
good taste, cause them real pain.

It is true that, precisely as in the case of Plays, the Public are
protected by a vigilant and critical Press from works of this
description; that, further, they are protected by the commercial instinct
of the Libraries, who will not stock an article which may offend their
customers--just as, in the case of Plays, the Public are protected by the
common-sense of theatrical Managers; that, finally, they are protected by
the Police and the Common Law of the land. But despite all these
protections, it is no uncommon thing for an average citizen to purchase
one of these disturbing or dubious books. Has he, on discovering its
true nature, the right to call on the bookseller to refund its value? He
has not. And thus he runs a danger obviated in the case of the Drama
which has the protection of a prudential Censorship. For this reason
alone, how much better, then, that there should exist a paternal
authority (some, no doubt, will call it grand-maternal--but sneers must
not be confounded with argument) to suppress these books before
appearance, and safeguard us from the danger of buying and possibly
reading undesirable or painful literature!

A specious reason, however, is advanced for exempting Literature from the
Censorship accorded to Plays. He--it is said--who attends the
performance of a play, attends it in public, where his feelings may be
harrowed and his taste offended, cheek by jowl with boys, or women of all
ages; it may even chance that he has taken to this entertainment his
wife, or the young persons of his household. He--on the other hand--who
reads a book, reads it in privacy. True; but the wielder of this
argument has clasped his fingers round a two-edged blade. The very fact
that the book has no mixed audience removes from Literature an element
which is ever the greatest check on licentiousness in Drama. No manager
of a theatre,--a man of the world engaged in the acquisition of his
livelihood, unless guaranteed by the license of the Censor, dare risk the
presentment before a mixed audience of that which might cause an 'emeute'
among his clients. It has, indeed, always been observed that the
theatrical manager, almost without exception, thoughtfully recoils from
the responsibility that would be thrust on him by the abolition of the
Censorship. The fear of the mixed audience is ever suspended above his
he