ionalities;
who were in danger only from their own follies and uncertainties, while
we are in danger from the follies and uncertainties of every past
century from which we have inherited. And you will see, if you look,
that that sceptical eighteenth century, which was very much more
credulous and conservative than ours, was very little divided and upset
in its ideas; certain things were universally admitted, and certain
other things universally rejected; in that day there was always the
master of the ceremonies--Propriety. He knew exactly what could be
permitted: in the dining-room, drunkards yelling filthy jests; in the
drawing-room, polite gentlemen stalking or tripping through their
minuets. It is different now-a-days."

Cyril nodded. "I understand what you mean," he said; "but I don't see
the application yet."

"Well," answered Baldwin, "I will show you one instance of the
application. Have you ever thought over the question of--how shall I
call it?--the ethics of the indecent?"

Cyril stared. "No, it never struck me that there were any. I don't write
indecent things, it doesn't amuse me. I feel not the smallest desire to
do so; if anything, I feel rather sick at such things; that is all."

"That is all for you, but not all for other people. You don't feel
attracted to write on some subjects; well, other people not only feel
attracted, but imagine that it is their duty even if they are not."

"They are swine; I have nothing to do with them." And Cyril looked as if
he had settled the matter.

"But they are not swine; at least, not all of them; or they are not
entirely swine, by any means," insisted Baldwin. "You are not going to
tell me that a man like Walt Whitman is a mere pig. Still there are
things of his which to you are simply piggish. Either Whitman is a beast
or you are a prude."

"That depends upon difference of nature," said Cyril quickly, vaguely
desirous of putting an end to a discussion which brought forward an
anomaly.

"That is merely repeating what I said," replied Baldwin. "But in reality
I think it is _not_ a difference of nature. I think it depends on a
difference of reasoned opinion; in short, upon a sophistication of ideas
on the part of Whitman. I think it depends in him and the really pure
men who uphold his abominations upon a simple logical misconception; a
confusion of the fact that certain phenomena have been inevitable, with
the supposition that those same certain phenomena are t