his would be to reduce the human race to a condition of atrocious
moral suicide.

But let it be granted that, in the atmosphere of a drawing-room the most
Jansenistic in the world, appears a young man of twenty-eight who has
scrupulously guarded his robe of innocence and is as truly virginal
as the heath-cock which gourmands enjoy. Do you not see that the most
austere of virtuous women would merely pay him a sarcastic compliment
on his courage; the magistrate, the strictest that ever mounted a
bench, would shake his head and smile, and all the ladies would hide
themselves, so that he might not hear their laughter? When the heroic
and exceptional young victim leaves the drawing-room, what a deluge of
jokes bursts upon his innocent head? What a shower of insults! What is
held to be more shameful in France than impotence, than coldness, than
the absence of all passion, than simplicity?

The only king of France who would not have laughed was perhaps Louis
XIII; but as for his roue of a father, he would perhaps have banished
the young man, either under the accusation that he was no Frenchman or
from a conviction that he was setting a dangerous example.

Strange contradiction! A young man is equally blamed if he passes life
in Holy Land, to use an expression of bachelor life. Could it possibly
be for the benefit of the honest women that the prefects of police, and
mayors of all time have ordained that the passions of the public shall
not manifest themselves until nightfall, and shall cease at eleven
o'clock in the evening?

Where do you wish that our mass of celibates should sow their wild oats?
And who is deceived on this point? as Figaro asks. Is it the governments
or the governed? The social order is like the small boys who stop their
ears at the theatre, so as not to hear the report of the firearms. Is
society afraid to probe its wound or has it recognized the fact that
evil is irremediable and things must be allowed to run their course? But
there crops up here a question of legislation, for it is impossible to
escape the material and social dilemma created by this balance of public
virtue in the matter of marriage. It is not our business to solve this
difficulty; but suppose for a moment that society in order to save a
multitude of families, women and honest girls, found itself compelled to
grant to certain licensed hearts the right of satisfying the desire of
the celibates; ought not our laws then to raise up a profe