Knowlton Biography, Chapter 26
Twenty-six: Arrested in Taunton
“The decision is, that Physical Truth is a Moral Evil.” This to the ear of reason is a clap of thunder! and to the degree this peculiar attribute of human nature is possessed by my persecutors it cannot fail to strike them dumb…my case was reported in the newspapers, “A libel on public morals.” But “Fruits of Philosophy” is by no means calculated to excite any passion, except it be that of gratitude, while the design of it is certainly, and obviously that of utility.
Charles Knowlton had a tiger by the tail. Compared to Modern Materialism, his new book was an overnight success. Fruits of Philosophy sold particularly well in New England’s growing industrial cities, where workers were very interested in Knowlton’s claim that families could and should choose how many mouths they had to feed. Charles’s message of self-determination, however, also provoked an immediate response from the people who had traditionally been in charge of both public and private morality.
In the early spring of 1832, Charles was arrested in the manufacturing town of Taunton, Massachusetts, for selling Fruits of Philosophy. The objection to his book, Charles was informed, was that it was obscene. But since Massachusetts had no specific obscenity laws, the charge, he was told, was libel. Charles hired a lawyer and read up on the state’s libel laws. He appeared before the Bristol County Superior Court in April, 1832.
Charles was surprised, when he appeared in Taunton for his trial, that the judge prevented him from using the lawyer he had paid to defend him. Although he was required to speak in his own defense, Charles wasn’t overly alarmed. Before Knowlton’s arrest, the presiding judge had ordered a copy of Fruits of Philosophy, and Charles believed he was as qualified to “defend the character of the work as well as anyone who had not devoted so much attention to the subject matter.” The state’s new libel law put a lot of emphasis on the defendant’s intentions, and Charles thought he’d have no trouble proving that he had intended book to be useful rather than obscene. Not using the lawyer for the trial, Charles thought, would also save him some money. As always, cash was scarce.
An impartial physician testified in Knowlton’s defense, saying that Fruits of Philosophy contained nothing new to him. Charles was pleased when the doctor reassured the court that what he’d written about anatomy and reproduction could be found in any medical textbook. But he was also a bit peeved that the doctor “had given the work but a momentary examination.” Charles’s birth control method, “the idea for which I particularly value it,” was entirely new and groundbreaking. If the public became aware of his solution to the population question, Charles said, “no selfish little soul would again expect to acquire a little popularity by attempting to suppress the circulation of it.”
Charles defended himself, he said, “as well as the agitated state of my mind would permit.” He believed he had convinced the judge and jury that his intentions had been honorable. A leading local attorney who watched the case assured Charles “no one questions but that you believe the work to be useful.” And the judge stated in his decision that Fruits of Philosophy was “no more obscene than other medical books.” But in spite of the court’s acknowledgments, Charles was found guilty and fined for selling the book.
“The chief argument of the state’s attorney against the book,” Charles said, “was that it was too small.” Although Fruits of Philosophy contained only one thing—Knowlton’s birth control method—that couldn’t be found in standard medical texts, it was clearly not a medical text. Fruits of Philosophy had been written in plain language and cheaply printed, to make it accessible to regular people. The real point, Charles understood, was that “our courts have decided that it is illegal to sell a medical book to any one not a member of the profession!” And the one new thing Fruits of Philosophy did contain, a practical way to prevent conception, had been judged obscene and against the public good.
Although he was surprised by the injustice of the Taunton verdict, Charles was able to appreciate the irony when several people who had watched the trial approached him afterwards, asking to buy a copy of Fruits of Philosophy. One of the jurors, “and a steady hard-labor-looking man he was too,” Charles said, “about forty years of age,” came to see Charles the day after the trial. “Well, we brought you in guilty,” he said. “We did not see how we could well get rid of it, still I like your book, and you must let me have one of them.”