"A Yen For Art"

(Ed. Note-The Crimson does not necessarily endorse opinions expressed in printed communications. No attention will be paid to anonymous letters and only under special conditions, at the request of the writer, will names be withheld.) To the Editor of the CRIMSON:

Your apostrophic editorial of last Friday concerning the crack-down on Sean O'Casey's play, written in understandable indignation at Boston's occasional stupidity in the matter of censorship, runs a little wild in matters of fact. I take it, from your reference to the critics, that you haven't read the play; in any case, I beg to differ with your statement that it has been termed "great" by the "most experienced dramatic critics in the United States." Some of them said that, some said quite the contrary, most were agreed that it was considerably inferior to O'Casey's best work.

But the statement that Boston habitually permits the discouragement of "universality acknowledged art" is getting to be a tiresome bromide, kept popularly alive by hearsay, especially among those whose hunger for art, universally recognized or not, suddenly rises to an incredible high at the exact moment that the censors slash a play, and troubles them little at other times.

No community can dodge the matter of censorship in some form, if only to have someone erase the literary effluvia of small boys and morons from lavatory walls. At what point this zeal must be curbed to avoid interference with genuine art is a difficult problem which Boston has assuredly not successfully solved. They made a real blunder some years ago in the matter of "Strange Interlude," and they attracted some noisy attention in the matter of Droiser's "American Tragedy" (the book, not the movie). Granting the extremely doubtful point that the second was "art," do you know of any other genuinely great offering shut off from a populace which. I take it, is fairly panting for art? And whence the authority for the equally bromidic statement that New England's sterlity in the arts is due to its yen for censorship? How then do you account for the similar sterlity of say, New Orleans, or San Francisco, probably the most libertarian cities in the country?

A rapid reading of most of the play loads one almost to agree with Mr. Mansfield that the play comes pretty close to being "a dirty book" and "full of commonplace smut," but I take it that since the epoch-making decision of Judge Woolsey in New York, this makes little difference if "art" is proven. It certainly has not been proven in the case of this play.

Your suggestion of a clerical visit to the Mayor which changed his mind (making, as it does, a delightful little example of jesuitical method which would honor Eugene Sue) is prefaced by a modest ". . . If reports be true. . ." I offer in exchange on equally good or doubtful authority the report that the Theatre Guild completely rejected this play when the offer came to them, which makes us even in one round of hearsay.

Lastly, do you know of any minor principle of political science on which there is more disagreement than your statement that one of the duties of government is "the positive encouragement of all forms of art"? But granting that it is, a government would have its hands full encouraging even a fraction of the forms of "art" on which there is some general agreement of proven artistry. There is no such agreement on this play, other than in the group of those who naively assume that a book or play need only be banned in Boston to have its greatness guaranteed.

Of course your real objection is based on the report that representatives of the largest religious communion in Boston had something to do with banning the play. I should say after glancing at the play, that they had a perfectly good interest in the matter. But whatever argument you have to the contrary, it is tiresome to have it wrapped in the guise of a yen for art. A. J. Lynd '32.