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Worse, they were kind of censored - burned by do-gooders to protect the "reputation" of a libertine whose life and ideas were beyond their grasp - a poet who judged 'success' as "Men think highly of those who rise rapidly in the world whereas nothing rises quicker than dust, straw, and feathers." In a way, their vicarious vanity secured a legend, forever casting wonder on what unspeakably shocking secrets they held. Today these cowards live on, proscribing as "unacceptable" or "problematic" whatever we may say, think or feel in the digital world. One day all our memoirs will be burned by the moral descendents Hobhouse and Moore.