d the
Christian churches in Middle Ages, the deikterion was inviolable: it
stood under the protection of the Government. Until about a hundred and
fifty years before our reckoning, the Temple of Jerusalem also was the
usual place of gathering for the _filles de joie_.

For the benefit that Solon bestowed upon the Athenian male population,
in founding the deikterion, he was praised in song by one of his
contemporaries in these words: "Hail to you, Solon! You bought public
women for the benefit of the city, for the benefit of the morality of a
city that is full of vigorous young men, who, in the absence of your
wise institution, would give themselves over to the disturbing annoyance
of the better women." We shall see that, at the close of the nineteenth
century, justification is sought for the regulation of houses of
prostitution by Government, and for the necessity of prostitution
itself, upon the identical grounds. Thus, actions, committed by men,
were recognized by legislation as a natural right, while, committed by
women, were held to be shameful, and a serious crime. As is well known,
even to-day not few are the men who prefer the company of a pretty
female sinner to that of their own wives, and who not infrequently
belong to the "Props of the State," the "Pillars of Order," and are
"guardians of the sanctity of marriage and the family."

True enough, it seems, that the Greek women often revenged themselves
upon their marital-lords for the yoke placed upon them. If prostitution
is the supplement of monogamy, on the one side, adultery among women and
the cuckoldry of men is its supplement, on the other. Among the Greek
dramatic poets, Euripides is the woman-hater: he loved to make women the
object of attacks in his dramas. What all he twitted them with appears
best from the speech that a Greek woman flings at him in the
"Thesmophoria" of Aristophanes. She says among other things:

With what slanderous dirt does not he (Euripides) besmirch us?
When does the slanderer's tongue hold its peace? In short:
Wherever there is an audience, tragedies or choruses,
There we are called corner-loafers, anglers for men,
Fond of the wine-cup, treasonable arch-gossips,
Not a good hair is left us; we are the plague of men.
Therefore, soon as our husbands return to us home from the
benches,[10]
Eyes of suspicion upon us they cast, and look about
Whether a place of concealment conceal not