‘I think so.’
‘Don’t you know?’
‘I’ve skimmed it.’
‘Taken off the cream, eh? Read it sufficiently to form an opinion?’
‘Yes.’
‘Would you agree with the view of it expressed in this letter to a journal? “The book breaks through the British ‘stuffiness’, which condemns any frank work of art – and a good tiling, too !” Is it a good thing?’
‘Yes. I hate Grundyism.’
‘ “It is undoubtedly Literature.” The word is written with a large L. Should you say it was?’
‘Literature – yes. Not great literature, perhaps.’
‘But it ought to be published?’
‘I don’t see why not.’
‘You know that it is not published in England?’
‘Yes.’
‘But it ought to be?’
‘It isn’t everybody’s sort of book, of course.’
‘Don’t evade the question, please. In your opinion ought this novel Canthar to be published in England?… Take your time, Miss Ferrar,’
The brute lost nothing I Just because she had hesitated a moment trying to see where he was leading her.
‘Yes. I think literature should be free.’
‘You wouldn’t sympathize with its suppression if it were published?’
‘No.’
‘You wouldn’t approve of the suppression of any book on the ground of there morals?’
‘I can’t tell you unless I see the book. People aren’t bound to read books, you know.’
‘And you think your opinion generally on this subject is that of public men and ordinary citizens?’
‘No; I suppose it isn’t.’
‘But your view would be shared by most of your own associates?’
‘I should hope so.’
‘A contrary opinion would be “stuffy”, wouldn’t it?’
‘If you like to call it so. It’s not my word.’
‘What is your word, Miss Ferrar?’
‘I think I generally say “ga-ga”.’
‘Do you know, I’m afraid the Court will require a little elaboration of that.’
‘Not for me, Sir James; I’m perfectly familiar with the word; it means “in your dotage”.’
‘The Bench is omniscient, my lord. Then anyone, Miss Ferrar, who didn’t share the opinion of yourself and your associates in the matter of this book would be “ga-ga”, that is to say, in his or her dotage?’
‘Æsthetically.’
‘Ah! I thought we should arrive at that word. You, I suppose, don’t connect art with life?’
‘No.’
‘Don’t think it has any effect on life?’
‘It oughtn’t to.’
‘When a man’s theme in a book is extreme incontinence, depicted with all due emphasis, that wouldn’t have any practical effect on his readers, however young?’
‘I can’t say about other people, it wouldn’t have any effect on me.’
‘You are emancipated, in fact.’
‘I don’t know what you mean by that.’
‘Isn’t what you are saying about the divorce of art from life the merest clap-trap; and don’t you know it.’
‘I certainly don’t.’
‘Let me put it another way: Is it possible for those who believe in current morality to hold your view that art has no effect on life?’
‘Quite possible; if they are cultured.’
‘Cultured! Do you believe in current morality yourself?’
‘I don’t know what you call current morality.’
‘I will tell you, Miss Ferrar. I should say, for instance, it was current morality that women should not have liaisons before they’re married, and should not have them after.’
‘What about men?’
‘Thank you; I was coming to men. And that men should at least not have them after.’
‘I shouldn’t say that was current morality at all.’
In yielding to that satiric impulse she knew at once she had made a mistake – the judge had turned his face towards her. He was speaking.
‘Do I understand you imply that in your view it is moral for women to have liaisons before marriage, and for men and women to have them after?’
‘I think it’s current morality, my lord.’
‘I’m not asking you about current morality; I’m asking whether in your view it is moral?’
‘I think many people think it’s all right who don’t say it, yet.’
She was conscious of movement throughout the jury; and of a little flump in the well of the Court. Sir Alexander had dropped his hat. The sound of a nose being loudly blown broke the stillness, the face of Bullfry, K.C., was lost to her view. She felt the blood mounting in her cheeks.