this be accounted for solely by the fact that
formerly it seemed hardly worth while to take steps to obtain the
qualified freedom of separation? I think not. For when a yoke is
unbearable, efforts to relax it would naturally be quite as strenuous
and as unremitting as efforts to get rid of it altogether.

The truth is, I think, that when both civil and ecclesiastical law
agreed in prohibiting divorce, people held a different view of marriage;
it was looked upon as something sacred, as a tie that it was shameful to
break, and that could not be broken except as a last resource and then
almost under pain of death. The law permitting divorce was what our
forefathers would have called a "legal indiscretion." It has abolished
the feeling of shame. Except where there is strong religious feeling,
there is now no scruple nor shame in seeking divorce. The old order has
passed away; modesty has been superseded by a desire for liberty, or for
another union. This change has been brought about by a law which was the
result of a new moral code; but the law itself has helped to enlarge and
expand the code.

Thus democracy extends that love of incompetence which is its most
imperious characteristic. Greek philosophers used to delight in
imagining what morals, especially domestic morals, would be like under a
democracy. They all vied with Aristophanes. One of Xenophon's characters
says: "I am pleased with myself, because I am poor. When I was rich I
had to pay court to my calumniators, who knew full well that they could
harm me more than I could them. Then the Republic was always imposing
fresh taxes and I could not escape. Now that I am poor, I am invested
with authority; no one threatens me. I threaten others. I am free to
come and go as I choose. The rich rise at my approach and give me place.
I was a slave, now I am a king; I used to pay tribute, now the State
feeds me. I no longer fear misfortunes, and I hope to acquire wealth."

Plato too is quietly humorous at democracy's expense. "This form of
government certainly seems the most beautiful of all, and the great
variety of types has an excellent effect. At first sight does it not
appear a privilege most delightful and convenient that we cannot be
forced to accept any public office however eligible we may be, that we
need not submit to authority and that every one of us can become a judge
or magistrate as our fancy dictates? Is there not something delightful
in the benevolence sho