tly what they
like? May they not compete in taste one against the other?

This introduction of the question of dramatic censorship invites a
slight digression. Chesterton has a decided regard for a dramatic
censorship. A book need not be censored, because it need not be
finished by its reader, but it may be difficult to get out of a theatre
in the course of a performance. And there are performances of plays,
written by "irresponsible modern philosophers," which, to Chesterton,
seem to deserve suppression. A suggestive French farce may be a dirty
joke, but it is at least a joke; but a play which raises the question Is
marriage a failure? and answers it in the affirmative, is a pernicious
philosophy. The answer to this last contention is that, in point of
strict fact, modern philosophers do not regard happy marriages as
failures, and opinion is divided on the others, which are generally the
subjects of their plays. But there is no doubt that a jury is better
qualified than a single Censor. A French jury decided that Madame Bovary
was not immoral. An English jury decided that a certain book by Zola was
immoral and sent the publisher to prison. Another English jury, for all
practical purposes, decided that Dorian Gray was not immoral, and so on.
The verdicts may be accepted. Twelve men, picked from an alphabetical
list, may not be judges of art, but they will not debase morality.

Chesterton's personal contribution to the political thought of his day
lies in his criticism of the humaneness of legislative proposals. A
thing that is human is commonly a very different matter from a thing
that is merely humanitarian. G.K.C. is hotly human and almost bitterly
anti-humanitarian.

The difference between the two is illustrated by the institution of the
gallows, which is human, but not humanitarian. In its essentials it
consists of a rope and a branch, which is precisely the apparatus that
an angry man might employ in order to rid himself of his captured enemy.
Herbert Spencer, seeking in his old age for means whereby to increase
the happiness of mankind, invented a humanitarian apparatus for the
infliction of capital punishment. It consisted of a glorified
roundabout, on which the victim was laid for his last journey. As it
revolved, the blood-pressure on his head gradually increased (or
decreased, I forget which) until he fell asleep and died painlessly.
This is humanitarianism. The process is safe and sure (so long as the
mach