Our favourite phrase here is the saying that the family is the foundation of the State. If one patiently considered the matter, one would discover that the divine right of kings was once regarded with equal confidence as the indispensable foundation of the State. It may very well be that the divine duty of the family is no less open to reconsideration. It might be noticed that the change from aristocracy to democracy was at one time hailed with lurid14 prophecy even by distinguished15 moralists and sociologists, yet this change has led to greater efficiency and prosperity. We might perceive that the Christian16 dogmas were once thought vital to our welfare, and it may be that the Christian ethic17 is in some points as disputable as the Christian dogmas. Few reflect on these matters, and the writer who criticises the family is denounced with peculiar18 bitterness. Quite certainly that tomb of dead civilisations yawns ominously20 before us if we lend ear to this kind of rebel. The family is so plainly indispensable an institution that it must be protected from criticism: lest we be tempted21 to dispense22 with it.
I propose, however, to make a critical study of the family. Indeed, I venture to say at once that our ideal of the family is so encrusted with ancient superstitions23 that it pressingly invites the critical attention of our age: that the family is the foundation of the State only in an historical sense, not in the sense that a State cannot be based on any other procreative arrangement: and that the cloak of superstition24 and rhetoric25 that we have put about it has covered for ages, and still covers, an appalling26 amount of vice27, hypocrisy28, and misery29. My point of view has been stated. The affairs of this planet must be run by men for men. The supreme30 aim must be to lighten the burden of suffering which we inherit from a less intelligent and less humane31 past. Any creed32, code, or institution which forbids progress on these lines must be assailed34.
The first and most damnable superstition in regard to the family is the claim that marriage ought to be indissoluble. In its strict form this belief is held only by Roman Catholics, and by a section of the Church of England which was only partially35 reformed in the sixteenth century and has a strange ambition to disavow even that limited reform. But the most insidious36 mischief37 of this old ideal is that it has embedded38 deep in our minds the feeling that, although indissoluble marriage is an intolerable yoke39, we must be very chary40 and niggardly41 in granting relief. This feeling we ascribe to a wise concern for our social welfare, whereas it is due to the subconscious42 tyranny of the old superstition. Recently we have seen the strange spectacle of a non-Christian moralist standing43 amongst our bishops44 to bar the way of reform: seeking to prolong, in the name of humanity, a superstition that darkens the homes of a large part of humanity. The bishops may have smiled.
A distinguished sociological writer, Mr. L. Hobhouse, in classifying forms of marriage, says, with unconscious humour: “Marriage is indissoluble among the Andamanese, some Papuans of New Guinea, at Watubela, at Lampong in Sumatra, among the Igorrotes and Italones of the Philippines, the Veddahs of Ceylon, and in the Romish Church.” One trusts that the Roman (and Anglican) Catholics like the company they keep; the peoples enumerated46 by Mr. Hobhouse are the very lowest and least intelligent savages47 known to science. The Church of Rome has long boasted that its ideal of indissoluble union is the final and culminating point of human wisdom in regard to the family. It now appears that indissoluble marriage was the most primitive48 human tradition, and was discarded by the Roman and all other civilisations when they passed from childhood to manhood.
Sociologists have been accustomed to say that monogamy was gradually developed out of promiscuity49. This was mere50 speculation51, and Professor Westermarck and other recent authorities rightly dissent53. The institution is older than humanity. We find monogamic family life among the anthropoid54 apes and amongst the lowest peoples, which represent early man; and many writers on prehistoric55 man now contend that we find him passing from family to social life, not in the reverse way. When the last Ice Age forced men to live in caves, and the scattered56 families clung together and formed large social groups, the family life was modified, and few of the higher tribes maintained the primitive form. Réclus tells of a Khond who, on hearing of the monogamous life of the wild Veddahs of Ceylon, exclaimed in disgust: “They live like the apes.”
We may assume that little hardship arises from incompatibility57 of temperament58 among the Igorrotes or the Veddahs, and there is no need to describe the eccentric forms of marriage which arose among higher savages. None of the great civilisations of the past entertained the idea of indissoluble marriage. The clergy, of course, know nothing of the real line of evolution, and (as Bishop45 Diggle has done) they represent the Roman system as a comparative refinement59 of early promiscuity, on which Christianity was to make the final advance. The precious testimony60 of Juvenal is invoked61 (against the warning of all modern historians): and we are expected to shudder62 because St. Jerome tells us of a Roman lady who had been married a score of times. It is not stated what harm was done to the lady, or to anybody else, or whether she was a freak in her generation. It is enough, as Mrs. Humphry Ward3 knows, to say that divorce is frequent anywhere, and thousands of hands will rise to heaven: what the precise social consequences are the thousand of heads seem to regard as irrelevant63.
I have read most of the literature of the Roman Imperial period, and have found that the greater part of the statements made about it by clerical moralists are rubbish. Every serious student knows that it was precisely64 the more rigid65 and intolerable earlier form of Roman marriage (the confarreatio) which led to laxity in the early Empire; that the Roman Lawyers of the first and second centuries, who relaxed marriage, were among the most conscientious66 that the legal world has ever produced; and that in the time of St. Jerome—an embittered67 and intensely puritanical68 priest, who says worse things about his sacerdotal colleagues than he does about the pagans—we have the solid testimony of such documents as the Letters of Symmachus and the instructive Saturnalia of Macrobius to show that the family life of the pagans was generally healthy, sober, and harmonious69. There is not a particle of proof that Roman society suffered because of the facility of divorce, or generally abused this facility.
But the misrepresentation of Roman morals is light in comparison with the misrepresentation of later Christian morals. Christianity took its ideal from the Jews. Amongst this partially civilised people marriage had been made easy for the male by the retention70 of polygamy, and it was not customary to consult the feelings of the woman. In the course of time Greek influence entered Judæa, and the Rabbis held learned debates on marriage and divorce. Both the stricter and the laxer view found expression in the New Testament and in early Christian literature, but a celibate71 priesthood obtained supreme power in Europe and the stricter view was enforced. The moral consequences were disastrous72. While the Roman Curia, which could always find a flaw in the marriage of a wealthy man, was enriched, Europe was degraded, and sexual immorality74 became general. It is enough to recall that a tradition of looseness, in strict correspondence with the law of indissoluble marriage, survives from the ages of faith to our own time in the Latin countries. Some have spoken of “the hot southern blood” and cast the blame on the climate. I would invite the informed moralist to run his eye over the map of the earth, and ask himself whether chastity increases, or the sex-organs lose vitality75, in proportion as nations are removed from the Equator. It is a ludicrous effort of Catholics to conceal76 the evils of indissoluble marriage. Until the Reformation sexual laxity was the same all over Europe.
In England the old priest-made law was retained after the Reformation, and laxity of morals was general. Except for a very few wealthy people, divorce was impossible until 1857, when a slender measure of reform was wrested77 from the clergy. This, the present law of England, a miserable78 compromise with religious prejudice and a permanent source of vice and misery, puts English legislation on an important aspect of “the foundation of the State” below that of any other civilised community. Instead of ridding themselves entirely79 of clerical influence, and directing civic80 life on civic grounds, our legislators looked still to ancient Judæa, and substituted the less stringent81 view of the Rabbis for the more stringent. The legendary82 leader of a rude Arab tribe had granted divorce for adultery, and the English nation of the nineteenth century followed his example. The result was the most stupid and mischievous83 law of marriage outside the sphere of the Holy Catholic Church.
English people are proud of their national concern for purity, yet they tolerate, and their priests defend as something sacred, a state of law which is medieval in its crudeness and barbarity. When two people have obeyed our counsel to marry early, and they discover that they have misjudged each other, we tell them that there is no relief for them unless they commit adultery: which, when it is committed, we brand as the darkest sin. To the husband we give the further injunction that he must be cruel to his wife before we will release him. We then, although we take especial pride in the “cleanness” of our press and literature, print whole columns about their conduct in suspicious situations,—sometimes entitling the account, in large type, to attract attention, “A Horrible Case,”—and we ask each other whether England is not in a state of decay and contracting the continental84 spirit. If there are any who do not choose to commit adultery, or do not choose to have their servants bribed85 to describe their conduct for the entertainment of the public, we grant them a legal permit to be happy and vicious, or miserable and virtuous86, for the remainder of their lives: the thing we call a judicial87 separation.
This extraordinary situation is certainly a slight improvement on indissoluble marriage, but the pride of our bishops and puritans in it is peculiar. One may not expect them to take into account the suffering which hundreds of thousands endure under the law, but the adultery to which it leads would seem to be a proper subject for their consideration. As a rule, they entreat88 us to maintain religion, whether it be true or no, in the name of morality: here they ask us to maintain immorality in the name of religion,—in the name of a supposed Christian precept89,—and we obey even more readily. When a Royal Commission recommends that our law be brought into line with the law of other civilised nations, they burn with indignation and inspire a Minority Report: a remarkable90 mixture of contradictions, worthless quotations91, and irrelevant rhetoric. The question of immorality they shirk; and to the unhappiness which large numbers of our people endure under the present law they are so insensitive that they hardly mention it.
Such consequences are to be expected as long as we borrow our social legislation from an ancient polygamous nation with a great disdain92 for women. It is said, however, as usual, that our social interest coincides with the supposed command of Christ. We have here one of the most singular confusions of the whole controversy93. Marriage is held to be the foundation of the State, because it is believed to be the surest way to supply it with citizens. This duty of procreation is, in fact, the only feature which disposes priests to give their blessing94 to so distasteful a thing as sexual union. Yet when a majority of the Commissioners95 recommend that people should be free to remarry if the desertion, cruelty, insanity96, or imprisonment97 of one spouse98 defrauds99 the State of its supply of little citizens, the bishops raise their crosiers. Even so ascetic100 and anti-feminist a divine as St. Augustine could not deny that a man had a right to take a concubine when his wife proved sterile101. Our divines speak much more fervently102 than St. Augustine did of our social interest, yet they forbid us to consult it.
In sum, we have generally rejected the view that marriage ought to be indissoluble, and we pride ourselves on curbing103 the influence of priests; but our whole attitude toward divorce is shaped by the old superstition and the clergy. In the name of that superstition we condemn104 large numbers of our fellow-citizens to live in deep and acute misery. Which of our social interests would be prejudiced by granting relief to the man or woman whose life is embittered by the desertion, incurable105 insanity, cruelty, or criminal conduct of his or her partner? The suggestion is preposterous106; and, if we do not grant this relief, adultery is in their case a venial107 offence, if not a right.
Some explain that they fear “the thin edge of the wedge.” As if wedges had a way of pressing deeper by their own weight, once we have admitted them! If England chooses to grant these reforms, and no others, she need not be deterred108 by empty phrases. But I believe that the alert and resolute109 race which is coming will go much further than this. Before many generations, if not in ours, there will be divorce for incompatibility of temperament in every civilised country. Men and women will be divorced, after due delay, because they wish, or when one of them can show grave cause to separate from the other. Ill-informed people express a concern about the children or the social consequences. They do not take the trouble to inquire what happens in some of the American States, or in Denmark, Norway, Sweden, and Switzerland, where there is long and ample experience of divorce by mutual110 consent. The social consequences are just what any unprejudiced person would expect: happier homes, and more healthily engendered111 and reared children. But the puritan does not want to inquire: he is not sincere. Would he agree to divorce by mutual consent where there are no children or where either or both parents make adequate provision for them? He would not. I will, however, return later to the question of children.
Europe will be far happier when some such humane law as the Danish is generally adopted, and, after a few years’ separation, the discontented are free to remarry. But no one who is acquainted with the tendency and influence of modern literature can fancy that this will be the last state of the old ideal of the family. From the first years when men were free to declare their opinions without fear of the stake, writers of great power have claimed the right of what has come to be called “free love.” Some would abolish marriage, but the normal shape of the demand is that men and women shall be free to love and beget112 children whether or no they ask the blessing of Church or State. By the latter part of the eighteenth century, when Goethe took a concubine on the pagan model, many of the first literary men in Europe pressed this demand, and it is sustained by some of the most brilliant writers in every country to-day. The movement exhibits the slow and steady growth characteristic of reforms which eventually triumph. It is no mere bubble on the surface of our effervescent life; it is the new intelligence of the race examining the old traditions.
Moralists, lay and clerical, have a preposterous way of representing this as a surging of selfish passion against the barriers which human experience or superhuman wisdom has erected114. There is, it is true, much in our rebellious115 literature itself which misrepresents the movement. You get the impression that, as the eighteenth century questioned the divine right of kings and the nineteenth century that of priests, the twentieth century is challenging the divine right of moralists. But this is due to the common practice of giving a narrow meaning to the word “immorality.” Goethe and Swinburne became zealous116 for “morality,” but they never altered their opinions on “free love.” Sudermann and Anatole France and Pérez Galdós and d’Annunzio, G. B. Shaw and T. Hardy118 and E. Carpenter and H. G. Wells, are sincere moralists: they inculcate honour, truthfulness120, kindliness121, and justice as firmly as our bishops, and more effectively than most of our clergy. It is not morality that stands at the bar. The real question is whether any sound moral principle implies that marriage alone sanctions sex-union: whether social good or social evil would result from an alteration122 of our standards.
This is a quite natural and legitimate123 question, and any healthy-minded person ought to be able to discuss it without hysteria or vituperation. Christian moralists have made some very grave mistakes during the last thousand years. Humility124 and disdain of the flesh were for centuries extolled125 by them as the supreme virtues126: cruelty was classified as a venial offence. Already the bulk of our divines reject the virtue127 of asceticism128, and they forbear to press on the modern world the kind of humility which turns the other cheek, or the other pocket, to the hooligan. They discover that social justice has been singularly neglected by their predecessors129, and they begin to suspect that war or sweating may be worse than unbelief or Sabbath-breaking. It is not at all unnatural130 to inquire whether there may not also be some element of error in their sex-ethic.
We do not go far in such an inquiry131 before our suspicion is confirmed. The evolution of the virtue of chastity may some day be traced by a cold scientific investigator132, and in its earlier stages it will prove extremely interesting. It is primarily connected with an ancient superstition or “tabu” in regard to sex-life: the kind of primitive and unreasoning feeling which once drove women to the temples of Ishtar in parts of the East, and still survives, baldly and ludicrously, in the “purification” process to which a recent mother must submit in the Roman and Anglican Churches. This old idea that there was something “unclean” or mysterious about sex-life, was more or less discarded when men passed out of the barbaric stage, but it quite evidently survived in part in the virtue of purity. A man or woman, it was thought, had a certain mystic superiority if he or she did not use the organs of sex. Hence the widespread veneration133 of Vestal Virgins134, Pythagorean and Serapean recluses135, priestesses of Isis, Aztec and Christian nuns136. I call attention particularly to the notion that these celibates137 were in some sense superior to their fellows, because it shows clearly the connection with the older idea of a mystic uncleanness about sex. There is, of course, no rational ground for this superstition, though even philosophers have entertained it. There is a large and elegant literature about it, from the Enneads of Plotinus to Bulwer Lytton’s Zanoni or the works of Miss Corelli.
Most of us see quite clearly the barbaric strain lingering in this admiration138 of virginity, but we do not perceive how far our virtue of purity is a compromise with this ancient superstition. I mean that, together with sound elements which I will discuss presently, the sentiment of purity or chastity retained a good deal of the old irrational139 view of sex. Luther boldly attacked the theoretical asceticism of the medieval Church, but in the end Protestantism compromised with the old tradition. This again is quite plainly seen when we reflect on the way in which Church people, and many of our modern mystics and feminists140, breathe the word “lust.” It means merely pleasure in sexual intercourse141, but it has to be mentioned as rarely as possible, and with downcast eyes and an air of very distinct disapproval142. The impression is conveyed that it is a thing invented by the devil, but reluctantly permitted by the Almighty143 because the race had to be maintained. The blessing of the Church made it a barely permissible144 luxury. We have only to reflect that “lust” does not mean unwedded love, but sexual pleasure or desire under any conditions, to recognise the trail of the old tabu over the whole range of these sentiments.
In the nineteenth century the evolution of morals took a strange turn. Neither clergy nor laity145 had before that time, speaking generally, observed chastity in practice, but the rise of non-Christian critics in the eighteenth century had compelled the clergy to be more faithful to their own precepts146. This (and the growth of such movements as Wesleyanism) led to more concern about virtue, and when the English Agnostic school arose its leaders were taunted147 by the clergy with a wish to rationalise or alter morality. By a natural reaction they cultivated a particular zeal117 for virtue, and accepted the old code in its entirety. Those moralists who appealed to a “categorical imperative” or an “intuition” had no difficulty in doing this. Indeed, any man who to-day accepts the Stoic148 idea of morality, or the æsthetic idea (that virtue is so beautiful that we must cultivate it), has as much right as the Christian to profess52 a regard for chastity. There ensued a kind of rivalry149 of virtue between the clergy and the new pagans. It has ended in the curious spectacle of our modern clergy, whose historical knowledge is both slender and peculiar, claiming that their Churches are the most faithful preachers of purity the world has ever known, while Agnostic moralists indignantly dispute their supposed monopoly.
The extreme complexity150 of this evolution, and the fact that few of us reflect critically at all on our moral sentiments, must excuse me for making this lengthy151 analysis. It shows that our conception of chastity still contains a large amount of the old non-rational tradition, and that any man or woman who declines (as so many do to-day) to bow to mystic and obscure commands has a right to examine it closely. In one of my works (Life of G. J. Holyoake, ii. 65) I have shown that so sensitive a moralist as J. S. Mill admitted this. Obviously, the precept of purity or chastity has a totally different basis from all the other recognised moral precepts. These others are invariably social laws, and the transgression152 of them is invariably a social hurt. Life itself furnishes the reply if a man asks why he ought to be just, kind, and truthful119: the answer is not so obvious when he asks why he ought to be chaste153.
This will become very much clearer if we examine our resentment154 of “immoral73” actions. In the majority of cases we condemn them on moral principles quite apart from chastity. Europe has in this respect been lamentably155 misled by its professional moralists, and we can hardly be surprised that in practice it so largely ignored them. It is quite plain that a man or woman who has married on the usual terms—mutual fidelity—and they remain unaltered, is bound by honour and justice to observe the contract. Adultery is in such a case (the usual case) condemned156 by moral principles which have a very much clearer basis than chastity. Again, justice sternly forbids a man to inflict157, or run the risk of inflicting158, grave injury on a woman by causing her to have a child in a social order which will heavily punish her for doing so. Here also there is a firm reason, apart from chastity, for moral resentment. When we eliminate these other moral sentiments from our condemnation159 of immoral acts, there is certainly no social ground of resentment left; and, as I said, I am not arguing against a Stoic or æsthetic or theological view. Socially, it would be an enormous improvement if we kept this analysis in mind. If moralists talked less about “vice,” which has an academic sound, and more about “crime” and honour, there would be less suffering in the world. The experience of two thousand years has not commended the Church’s practice of denouncing vice when it ought to have appealed to a man’s sense of honour or justice. It put the accent on the wrong syllable160. Many a man will shrink from an act which is unjust, or may involve cruelty, if he is accustomed to regard it as such. He is not so effectively intimidated161 by terms like virtue and vice, which require a whole moral philosophy or theology to invalidate them.
But I am not for a moment contending that this removal of the accent from one syllable to another leaves the law as it was. It is, on the contrary, the very essence of my contention163 that the law must, in the real interest of men and women, be altered and that a large amount of ethical164 tyranny, which has no justification165, must be abandoned. Let me first put, with entire candour, what seems to me to be the only rational reconstruction of sex-morality on a social basis, and then we may regard the reasons for advocating it.
It is, as I said, clear that if a man or woman marries on a strict monogamous contract, and holds his or her partner to that contract, there is a plain obligation of justice to adhere to it. If, on the other hand, a man and woman choose to marry on any other understanding, or choose to grant each other (as is now frequently done) a greater liberty than the contract implies, their behaviour is entirely their own concern, and no moralist who takes his stand on purely167 social grounds has anything to say to it. In regard to unmarried intercourse, it is further plain that a man commits an immoral or anti-social act who entails168 on an unmarried woman the grave injury which child-bearing does entail169 in our social order generally. It must, however, be recognised that guilt170 is in this case entirely relative to circumstances. Where public opinion does not make a pariah171 of such a woman, where no risk of suffering is involved, such an act of “free love” is no concern of the social moralist. Hence, if two people of mature intelligence, making a just provision for possible children, choose to live together without marriage, it is entirely their own concern; and if any woman, strong and judicious172 enough to take the responsibility of her acts, chooses love without marriage, it is her own concern.
If there seems to be an unfamiliar173 coldness and deliberation about this defence of “licence,” it is enough to recall the familiar circumstances. One cannot, as a rule, inquire dispassionately into this subject without raising an hysterical174 storm. The clergy and other puritans accuse a man of the basest and most selfish motives175; they seem, indeed, so incapable176 of understanding that a man may plead for this moral reconstruction on motives at least as unselfish and elevated as their own that their obtuseness177 does little credit to their own moral physiognomy. They make fanatical appeals to undiscriminating prejudice, repeat silly phrases about “passion” and “farmyard morals,” and rely on intimidation178. The consequence is, that ordinary folk openly bow to their rhetoric and secretly ignore it. Any properly observant person can find out in a week to what extent London observes the virtue of purity. It is then left to rebellious poets and novelists and other artists to make fiery179 onslaughts on the tyranny: to speak of virtue as “the ash of a burnt-out fire,” to chant “the roses and raptures180 of vice,” or to say scornfully with Blake:
“And priests in black gowns were walking their rounds,
Therefore I have chosen to apply to the issue the cold deductive processes with which experience as a professor of moral philosophy has made me familiar. As I said, the Christian is free to observe his supposed divine command, the Stoic may bow to a mystic and inscrutable law, the moral æsthete may enthuse over the charm of virtue; but I maintain that the sociological or utilitarian182 view of morals, which is now generally accepted by the vast number of people who have ceased to be Christian, cannot control sex-relations in any other sense than this. A man must avoid injustice183 and hardship: a woman must use her discretion184. Indeed, as the clergy and the puritans now take their stand commonly on social grounds, these social considerations are effective against them.
But the question is not merely academic. These cold and severe deductions185 are very properly opposed to the heated phraseology and sentimentality of Conservatives, who profess to be concerned about our social welfare, but I am really pleading for the greater happiness of the race, the lessening186 of hypocrisy, the curtailment188 of a system of prostitution which makes the lives of so many women end in horror. With all their talk about our “social welfare,” the clergy and their puritan supporters are in this respect the gravest disturbers and restricters of our social welfare; and the insolence190 with which they assail33 every attempt at reform is ludicrous in view of their own record and gravely prejudicial to the advance of human happiness. It is not a question of abolishing marriage, or of interfering191 with the liberty of any. At one moment the clergy represent marriage as so beneficent, so solidly established in the hearts of our people, that only a morbid192 sensualist ever assails193 it; and the next moment they suggest, in effect, that if we relax our coercion194, people will abandon marriage in such numbers that the social order will be overwhelmed. Let us have sincerity195 and liberty.
But neither is it a question of spreading a gospel of “free love,” in the perverse196 sense in which the clergy conceive such a gospel. The considerations I have given above should make this plain enough. It is a question of securing freedom and love for the hundreds of thousands of mature women who cannot marry, or who do not choose to enter upon the very precarious197 experiment of surrendering their privacy and independence: a question of breaking the tyranny of an old superstition which, by means of public opinion, forbids so many women to have the child they desire to have, or the share of happiness from which they are excluded: a question of putting an end to a vast amount of needless suffering and privation and hypocrisy. The State would gain rather than lose by this freedom: it is the Church only that would suffer. Thousands of women already hold these views, as the open circulation of the Freewoman (a few years ago) and of our bolder novelists shows. The feeling gains ground yearly, and the time is approaching when that seal of ignominy which our priest-made law puts on the “illegitimate” child will be removed, and men and women will cease to speak of “lust.” Sex-pleasure has no more taint199 than any other, and the notion that it is justified200 only as an accompaniment to the begetting201 of children, or to lessen187 the risk of adultery, is childishly irrational and generally insincere. Laws there must be: but the laws must be made for men, not men for the laws. It is time that Europe shook off the conceptions of conduct which were imposed on it by impotent monks202 like Gregory VII., and framed its own rules in accordance with the new and healthier attitude toward life. Asceticism is a commercial speculation—the sacrifice of earth for a double share of heaven—which we have no longer reason to appreciate.
The progress of this view will be assisted by two contemporary reforms of received opinion. One regards the economic dependence198 of woman on man, which I will discuss later. I need only recall here that some of the worst evils of our marriage-system—the scheming and bartering203 and linking for life—are due to this dependence. The other reform is the widespread and increasing rejection204 of the old idea that a woman must bear as many children as nature will permit her to have.
There is amongst us a disgusting amount of hypocrisy in regard to this question. The majority of educated people of all classes, even many of the clergy, now practise artificial limitation of the family, yet we proceed on the fiction that this is a disreputable practice. We turn into pornographic dépôts the shops which sell contraceptives, and we allow an antiquated205 law to be drastically enforced against men who would be decent purveyors of the things we use in secret. We have talked, and read journalistic articles, about “the dwindling206 population of France” for twenty years, though it is only within the last year or so that it has even slightly decreased; and the birth-rate alone shows that London and Berlin and every other great city are rapidly approaching the condition of Paris. We listen without protest to the lamentations of half-informed faddists on the limitation of the birth-rate in ancient Rome (where the practice was confined to a few, and proved an excellent means of saving the State by ridding it of a worn-out nobility) or the medieval republics of Italy. And while we perpetrate these and a hundred other follies207, we know that the majority of us who are educated and unprejudiced find the practice humane and commendable208. We would, it seems, rather leave frail209 girls to the mercy of quacks210 and dangerous operators than tell them openly what better-educated ladies do to avoid conception.
Yet we have not here even the excuse of an antique religious command. The Catholic Church, it is true, severely condemns211 the use of contraceptives, but one finds that its prohibition212 is based merely on the reasoning of medieval celibates. With those who argue that the practice is “against nature” one hardly needs to discuss. Half the distinctive213 things of civilisation19 are “against nature,” nor is there any reason why we should not depart from the ways of that ancient and unintelligent dame214. Hardly less foolish is the alarm about our dwindling birth-rate. With every industry and profession already much overcrowded, we do not act very intelligently in censuring215 the modern restriction216 of production. But these are, to a great extent, either wholly insincere expressions or confused repetitions of ancient prejudices. In France, where a society arose for the checking of the practice, it was found that the members had an average of one child and a half in each family. A similar census217 among the writers and associations which attack Malthusianism in England might yield an instructive result.
One can understand the hostility218 to Malthusianism—or, rather, Neo-Malthusianism, since Malthus’s idea of restricting population by avoiding intercourse is unnecessarily heroic—in a country like Australia, which urgently requires population; though even in Australia the opposition219 is futile220. One can understand such hostility in a land which has universal conscription, and neighbours with a superior army; though I have elsewhere pointed221 out the sensible and natural way to settle this difficulty. But it is quite irrational in such a city as London. Five-sixths of us, it has been demonstrated, do not attend church or take our code of life meekly222 from the clergy, as our fathers did; our labour-market is, in every division, enormously overcrowded; and our army is not affected223 by the dwindling birth-rate. Why, in these circumstances, should the women of England be asked to undergo the pain and sickness and weariness of a yearly birth, and wear out their lives in the rearing of a large family? Men have, as a rule, too little appreciation224 of the terrible burden they lay on their wives, but their own interest at least ought to weigh with them. Why be constrained225 to find the resources for rearing and educating a large family when a smaller family will give better chances to the children and conduce to the happiness of the home?
To these questions the only answer is an irrational outpouring of antique rhetoric. It is mere “lust” to have commerce without children: it is “selfish” to wish to live in greater comfort by restricting the family: it is “unnatural.” The man who would lessen the suffering of his companion in life, and obtain greater advantages and more loving care for his children by restricting their number, may smile at the futility226 of this kind of rhetoric. But it is surely time, in the second decade of the twentieth century, to meet it with a frank and curt189 declaration that we have, and will use, a right to any pleasure which this life affords, provided it hurt no one. The last trace of asceticism should be trodden underfoot. The medieval clergy were a body of a few fanatics227 leading an army of hypocrites. Their ideas have no place in our life. Love and joy and comradeship are in themselves as much ours as the scent113 of the rose or the flavour of wine. It is time that we echoed defiantly228 the sneering229 words of the apostle, and said: Yes, let us eat and drink, for tomorrow we die. We are not likely to forget that life has other pleasures, of culture and art, besides those of the palate or of love. The supreme commandment is, as old Egypt said: “Thou shalt make no man weep.” The supreme virtue is to quicken the hearts of men with joy and fill their minds with truth. And the time will come when the clergy, reading aright for the first time the life of the ages of faith, will say: “We never insisted on our theoretical asceticism until those dour166 sceptics of the nineteenth century compelled us: the Middle Ages were the ages of liberty.”
The clergy are, in fact, in a dilemma230. The cry of the hour is “social consequences.” There is a vast amount of doleful recalling of dead civilisations and prediction of coming woe231; though England was never before so prosperous, solid, and free from crime. But dogmas have worn so thin that we must be pressed to maintain them, even if they are false, on social grounds. The answer is quite simple. If any social quality or rule of conduct is necessary for our welfare and happiness in this world, we need no dogmatic foundation for it. Men will see that virtue is its own reward. And if any rule of conduct in the Christian code is not based upon the actual exigencies232 of life, there will be no social consequences if we disregard it. The superstitions I have assailed belong to this latter category.
But a campaign against the artificial restriction of the birth-rate has recently been inaugurated on what are thought to be serious social grounds, and this leads me to a third and last reform which the family will undergo. I refer to the Eugenic233 movement. Let me first explain why this hostility of Eugenists to the restriction of the birth-rate seems a needless and illogical complication of their aims.
This hostility is usually expressed in the form of a fear that the restriction of births among the “better class” and unrestricted increase of the “lower class” must lead to deterioration234. One would think that the proper remedy of this would be to recommend prudential restriction to the mass of the workers, as the Malthusian League endeavours to do. It is a strange social idealism which would urge over-production all round, with its train of domestic and industrial evils, instead of urging restriction all round. It would also be interesting to learn the average number of children to a family among these zealous Eugenists, and whether they do not find middle-class professions as overcrowded as the manual industries are. At all events, since it is now impossible to induce educated mothers to return to the virtuous and exacting235 industry of their Victorian predecessors, the best thing would be to educate the masses in a common-sense view of maternity236 and of their own interest.
It will suffice here, however, to deal with the saner237 side of the Eugenic movement. It proposes to eliminate bad human stock and promote the mating of good stocks. These are those who find it a degradation238 to introduce “the methods of the breeder” into human affairs, but the objection is merely silly. The methods of the modern breeder are an expression of intelligence, improving on nature; these old-fashioned folk would have us disregard the persuasion239 of intelligence and retain the crude methods of unintelligent nature. The serious question is: Is the Eugenic proposal sound and practicable?
As far as positive Eugenics, or the selection of good human stocks for breeding, is concerned, the recent evolution of the movement seems to show that no firm and practicable proposal can yet be formulated240. The truth is that the movement is greatly enfeebled by a general reliance on disputed theories of heredity. Some Eugenists rely on Weismann’s theory: some on the Mendelist theory. They do not realise that scientific men are by no means agreed upon these theories, and it is a serious mistake to build on either. In England most of our biologists are Weismannists (in a broad sense), but there is more hostility to the theory in Germany and the United States, and both theories have lately had to confront grave difficulties. Any Eugenic proposal which is based on a theory of heredity must be regarded with reserve. The dogmatic statements of Professor Karl Pearson, for instance, in regard to the impossibility of altering by education the innate241 qualities of a child are entirely unwarranted. Heredity is still a mystery: and the relative importance of heredity and environment (or nature and nurture) is not yet determined242.
Detaching the element of theory, we have a plain proposal to eradicate243 tainted244 stocks from the human garden and promote the growth of the sounder. As I have said, the positive proposal to breed has not yet been put before us in a practicable or discussable form. This is largely because Eugenists fear to alarm the public by pointing out how it affects the position of marriage. There are, however, many other difficulties. The extraordinary diversity among children of the same parents warns us that we cannot count on the result of mating human beings, with their infinitely245 more complex nervous systems, as we can count on the issue of mating sheep or dogs. The mediocrity of the living children of our ablest men of the last generation, even when the mother was an excellent mate, is another circumstance to be considered. We do not yet know the points to breed for, and there is no constancy of result. Eugenists sometimes refer to the physical or mental superiority of one class of children over another, but in this they do not attempt to distinguish between the effect of environment and the natural endowment. Positive Eugenics is not yet beyond the stage of research. Such research, if conducted without academic prejudice (which is too apparent in many Eugenic papers), is of very great service; and, if ever a firm proposal lies before us, we may trust that rhetorical phrases and clerical prejudices will not be allowed to bar the way.
In the case of negative Eugenics we are nearer agreement. Here again, however, research is not always candid246. Inquiries247 have been made into the lineage of American criminals, and the large percentage of criminals in one family is held to indicate a tainted stock: it is not sufficiently248 noticed that they all lived in the same crime-breeding environment. Other Eugenists try to intimidate162 us with the cry that lunacy and crime are increasing rapidly: whereas (as I showed in the Hibbert Journal, April 1912) there is no proved increase of lunacy and no increase of crime, in proportion to the growth of population. These methods bring discredit249 on the Eugenic proposals. It is, however, now agreed that certain diseases, including certain forms of mental disease, are transmissible, and common-sense suggests that we should prevent their transmission. It is well to bear in mind, however, that these things affect only a fraction of the community. As is the case with every new social proposal, Eugenics is being pressed as a panacea250; and it appeals to many as a fascinating method of healing our social maladies without touching251 the present distribution of wealth. It is one subsidiary remedy among the hundred which modern civilisation needs to apply. By all means let us discover what “tainted stocks,” if any, there are amongst us; and let us have the elementary courage and intelligence to extinguish them, by the isolation252, painless destruction, or sterilisation of their representatives.
The future of the family seems not obscure. Malthusian and Eugenic proposals will alter much of the crudeness and stupidity of the old family ideal, and ease of divorce will remove the blight253 it has put on many a home. Hundreds of thousands bless marriage with gratitude254 and sincerity: tens of thousands curse it with equal sincerity. Let there be liberty and life for all. For a modern legislature to ignore a vast amount of vice and misery, and be guided by the ancient formula of a celibate priesthood, is one of the most lamentable255 features of our civilisation. And the unbiased social student may look without concern on the growth of extra-matrimonial love. There is no interest of the State which forbids it, nor any sound principle of morals. The woman of the future will be her own mistress, responsible neither to priest nor moralist in this respect. If she chooses, she will marry; but she will not sacrifice half the joy of life because she cannot, or does not choose to, venture upon the experiment of domestic intimacy256.
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1
reconstruction
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| n.重建，再现，复原 | |
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insurgent
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| adj.叛乱的，起事的；n.叛乱分子 | |
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ward
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| n.守卫，监护，病房，行政区，由监护人或法院保护的人（尤指儿童）；vt.守护，躲开 | |
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inflames
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| v.（使）变红，发怒，过热( inflame的第三人称单数 ) | |
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severely
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| adv.严格地；严厉地；非常恶劣地 | |
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slanderously
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| 造谣中伤地，诽谤地 | |
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impersonal
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| adj.无个人感情的，与个人无关的，非人称的 | |
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inoculating
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| v.给…做预防注射( inoculate的现在分词 ) | |
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testament
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| n.遗嘱；证明 | |
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reverently
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| adv.虔诚地 | |
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hearths
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| 壁炉前的地板，炉床，壁炉边( hearth的名词复数 ) | |
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exultation
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| n.狂喜，得意 | |
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clergy
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| n.[总称]牧师，神职人员 | |
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lurid
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| adj.可怕的；血红的；苍白的 | |
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distinguished
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| adj.卓越的，杰出的，著名的 | |
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Christian
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| adj.基督教徒的；n.基督教徒 | |
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ethic
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| n.道德标准，行为准则 | |
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peculiar
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| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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civilisation
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| n.文明，文化，开化，教化 | |
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ominously
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| adv.恶兆地，不吉利地；预示地 | |
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tempted
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| v.怂恿（某人）干不正当的事；冒…的险（tempt的过去分词） | |
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dispense
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| vt.分配，分发；配(药)，发(药)；实施 | |
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superstitions
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| 迷信，迷信行为( superstition的名词复数 ) | |
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superstition
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| n.迷信，迷信行为 | |
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rhetoric
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| n.修辞学，浮夸之言语 | |
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appalling
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| adj.骇人听闻的，令人震惊的，可怕的 | |
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vice
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| n.坏事；恶习；[pl.]台钳，老虎钳；adj.副的 | |
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hypocrisy
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| n.伪善，虚伪 | |
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misery
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| n.痛苦，苦恼，苦难；悲惨的境遇，贫苦 | |
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supreme
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| adj.极度的，最重要的；至高的，最高的 | |
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humane
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| adj.人道的，富有同情心的 | |
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creed
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| n.信条；信念，纲领 | |
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assail
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| v.猛烈攻击，抨击，痛斥 | |
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assailed
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| v.攻击( assail的过去式和过去分词 )；困扰；质问；毅然应对 | |
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partially
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| adv.部分地，从某些方面讲 | |
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insidious
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| adj.阴险的，隐匿的，暗中为害的，（疾病）不知不觉之间加剧 | |
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mischief
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| n.损害，伤害，危害；恶作剧，捣蛋，胡闹 | |
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embedded
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| a.扎牢的 | |
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yoke
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| n.轭；支配；v.给...上轭，连接，使成配偶 | |
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chary
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| adj.谨慎的，细心的 | |
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niggardly
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| adj.吝啬的，很少的 | |
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subconscious
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| n./adj.潜意识(的)，下意识(的) | |
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standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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bishops
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| （基督教某些教派管辖大教区的）主教( bishop的名词复数 )； （国际象棋的）象 | |
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bishop
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| n.主教，（国际象棋）象 | |
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enumerated
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| v.列举，枚举，数( enumerate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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47
savages
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| 未开化的人，野蛮人( savage的名词复数 ) | |
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primitive
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| adj.原始的；简单的；n.原(始)人，原始事物 | |
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promiscuity
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| n.混杂，混乱；（男女的）乱交 | |
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mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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speculation
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| n.思索，沉思；猜测；投机 | |
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profess
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| v.声称，冒称，以...为业，正式接受入教，表明信仰 | |
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dissent
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| n./v.不同意，持异议 | |
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anthropoid
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| adj.像人类的，类人猿的；n.类人猿；像猿的人 | |
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prehistoric
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| adj.（有记载的）历史以前的，史前的，古老的 | |
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scattered
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| adj.分散的，稀疏的；散步的；疏疏落落的 | |
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incompatibility
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| n.不兼容 | |
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temperament
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| n.气质，性格，性情 | |
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refinement
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| n.文雅；高尚；精美；精制；精炼 | |
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testimony
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| n.证词；见证，证明 | |
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invoked
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| v.援引( invoke的过去式和过去分词 )；行使（权利等）；祈求救助；恳求 | |
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shudder
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| v.战粟，震动，剧烈地摇晃；n.战粟，抖动 | |
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irrelevant
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| adj.不恰当的，无关系的，不相干的 | |
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precisely
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| adv.恰好，正好，精确地，细致地 | |
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rigid
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| adj.严格的，死板的；刚硬的，僵硬的 | |
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conscientious
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| adj.审慎正直的，认真的，本着良心的 | |
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embittered
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| v.使怨恨，激怒( embitter的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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puritanical
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| adj.极端拘谨的；道德严格的 | |
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harmonious
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| adj.和睦的，调和的，和谐的，协调的 | |
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retention
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| n.保留，保持，保持力，记忆力 | |
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celibate
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| adj.独身的，独身主义的；n.独身者 | |
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disastrous
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| adj.灾难性的，造成灾害的；极坏的，很糟的 | |
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immoral
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| adj.不道德的，淫荡的，荒淫的，有伤风化的 | |
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immorality
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| n. 不道德, 无道义 | |
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vitality
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| n.活力，生命力，效力 | |
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conceal
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| v.隐藏，隐瞒，隐蔽 | |
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wrested
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| （用力）拧( wrest的过去式和过去分词 )； 费力取得； （从…）攫取； （ 从… ） 强行取去… | |
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miserable
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| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
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entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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civic
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| adj.城市的，都市的，市民的，公民的 | |
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stringent
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| adj.严厉的；令人信服的；银根紧的 | |
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legendary
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| adj.传奇（中）的，闻名遐迩的；n.传奇（文学） | |
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mischievous
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| adj.调皮的，恶作剧的，有害的，伤人的 | |
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continental
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| adj.大陆的，大陆性的，欧洲大陆的 | |
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bribed
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| v.贿赂( bribe的过去式和过去分词 )；向（某人）行贿，贿赂 | |
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virtuous
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| adj.有品德的，善良的，贞洁的，有效力的 | |
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judicial
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| adj.司法的，法庭的，审判的，明断的，公正的 | |
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entreat
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| v.恳求，恳请 | |
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precept
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| n.戒律；格言 | |
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remarkable
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| adj.显著的，异常的，非凡的，值得注意的 | |
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91
quotations
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| n.引用( quotation的名词复数 )；[商业]行情（报告）；（货物或股票的）市价；时价 | |
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92
disdain
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| n.鄙视，轻视；v.轻视，鄙视，不屑 | |
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93
controversy
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| n.争论，辩论，争吵 | |
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94
blessing
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| n.祈神赐福；祷告；祝福，祝愿 | |
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95
commissioners
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| n.专员( commissioner的名词复数 )；长官；委员；政府部门的长官 | |
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96
insanity
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| n.疯狂，精神错乱；极端的愚蠢，荒唐 | |
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97
imprisonment
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| n.关押，监禁，坐牢 | |
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98
spouse
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| n.配偶(指夫或妻) | |
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99
defrauds
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| v.诈取，骗取( defraud的第三人称单数 ) | |
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100
ascetic
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| adj.禁欲的；严肃的 | |
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101
sterile
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| adj.不毛的，不孕的，无菌的，枯燥的，贫瘠的 | |
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102
fervently
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| adv.热烈地，热情地，强烈地 | |
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103
curbing
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| n.边石，边石的材料v.限制，克制，抑制( curb的现在分词 ) | |
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104
condemn
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| vt.谴责，指责；宣判(罪犯)，判刑 | |
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105
incurable
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| adj.不能医治的，不能矫正的，无救的；n.不治的病人，无救的人 | |
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106
preposterous
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| adj.荒谬的，可笑的 | |
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107
venial
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| adj.可宽恕的；轻微的 | |
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108
deterred
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| v.阻止，制止( deter的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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109
resolute
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| adj.坚决的，果敢的 | |
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110
mutual
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| adj.相互的，彼此的；共同的，共有的 | |
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111
engendered
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| v.产生（某形势或状况），造成，引起( engender的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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112
beget
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| v.引起；产生 | |
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113
scent
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| n.气味，香味，香水，线索，嗅觉；v.嗅，发觉 | |
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114
ERECTED
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| adj. 直立的，竖立的，笔直的 vt. 使 ... 直立，建立 | |
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115
rebellious
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| adj.造反的，反抗的，难控制的 | |
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116
zealous
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| adj.狂热的，热心的 | |
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117
zeal
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| n.热心，热情，热忱 | |
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118
hardy
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| adj.勇敢的，果断的，吃苦的；耐寒的 | |
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119
truthful
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| adj.真实的，说实话的，诚实的 | |
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120
truthfulness
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| n. 符合实际 | |
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121
kindliness
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| n.厚道，亲切，友好的行为 | |
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122
alteration
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| n.变更，改变；蚀变 | |
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123
legitimate
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| adj.合法的，合理的，合乎逻辑的；v.使合法 | |
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124
humility
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| n.谦逊，谦恭 | |
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125
extolled
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| v.赞颂，赞扬，赞美( extol的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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126
virtues
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| 美德( virtue的名词复数 )； 德行； 优点； 长处 | |
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127
virtue
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| n.德行，美德；贞操；优点；功效，效力 | |
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128
asceticism
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| n.禁欲主义 | |
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129
predecessors
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| n.前任( predecessor的名词复数 )；前辈；（被取代的）原有事物；前身 | |
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130
unnatural
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| adj.不自然的；反常的 | |
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131
inquiry
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| n.打听，询问，调查，查问 | |
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132
investigator
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| n.研究者，调查者，审查者 | |
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133
veneration
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| n.尊敬，崇拜 | |
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134
virgins
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| 处女，童男( virgin的名词复数 )； 童贞玛利亚（耶稣之母） | |
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135
recluses
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| n.隐居者，遁世者，隐士( recluse的名词复数 ) | |
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136
nuns
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| n.（通常指基督教的）修女， （佛教的）尼姑( nun的名词复数 ) | |
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137
celibates
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| n.独身者( celibate的名词复数 ) | |
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138
admiration
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| n.钦佩，赞美，羡慕 | |
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139
irrational
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| adj.无理性的，失去理性的 | |
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140
feminists
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| n.男女平等主义者，女权扩张论者( feminist的名词复数 ) | |
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141
intercourse
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| n.性交；交流，交往，交际 | |
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142
disapproval
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| n.反对，不赞成 | |
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143
almighty
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| adj.全能的，万能的；很大的，很强的 | |
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144
permissible
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| adj.可允许的，许可的 | |
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145
laity
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| n.俗人；门外汉 | |
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146
precepts
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| n.规诫，戒律，箴言( precept的名词复数 ) | |
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147
taunted
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| 嘲讽( taunt的过去式和过去分词 )； 嘲弄； 辱骂； 奚落 | |
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148
stoic
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| n.坚忍克己之人，禁欲主义者 | |
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149
rivalry
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| n.竞争，竞赛，对抗 | |
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150
complexity
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| n.复杂(性)，复杂的事物 | |
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151
lengthy
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| adj.漫长的，冗长的 | |
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152
transgression
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| n.违背；犯规；罪过 | |
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153
chaste
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| adj.贞洁的；有道德的；善良的；简朴的 | |
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154
resentment
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| n.怨愤，忿恨 | |
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155
lamentably
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| adv.哀伤地，拙劣地 | |
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156
condemned
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|
| adj. 被责难的, 被宣告有罪的 动词condemn的过去式和过去分词 | |
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157
inflict
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| vt.(on)把…强加给，使遭受，使承担 | |
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158
inflicting
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| 把…强加给，使承受，遭受( inflict的现在分词 ) | |
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159
condemnation
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| n.谴责; 定罪 | |
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160
syllable
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| n.音节；vt.分音节 | |
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161
intimidated
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| v.恐吓；威胁adj.害怕的；受到威胁的 | |
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162
intimidate
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| vt.恐吓，威胁 | |
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163
contention
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| n.争论，争辩，论战；论点，主张 | |
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164
ethical
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| adj.伦理的，道德的，合乎道德的 | |
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165
justification
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| n.正当的理由；辩解的理由 | |
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166
dour
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| adj.冷酷的，严厉的；（岩石）嶙峋的；顽强不屈 | |
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167
purely
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| adv.纯粹地，完全地 | |
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168
entails
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| 使…成为必要( entail的第三人称单数 )； 需要； 限定继承； 使必需 | |
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169
entail
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| vt.使承担，使成为必要，需要 | |
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170
guilt
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| n.犯罪；内疚；过失，罪责 | |
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171
pariah
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| n.被社会抛弃者 | |
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172
judicious
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| adj.明智的，明断的，能作出明智决定的 | |
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173
unfamiliar
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| adj.陌生的，不熟悉的 | |
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174
hysterical
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| adj.情绪异常激动的，歇斯底里般的 | |
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175
motives
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| n.动机，目的( motive的名词复数 ) | |
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176
incapable
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| adj.无能力的，不能做某事的 | |
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177
obtuseness
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| 感觉迟钝 | |
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178
intimidation
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| n.恐吓，威胁 | |
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179
fiery
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| adj.燃烧着的，火红的；暴躁的；激烈的 | |
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180
raptures
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| 极度欢喜( rapture的名词复数 ) | |
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181
binding
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| 有约束力的，有效的，应遵守的 | |
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182
utilitarian
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| adj.实用的，功利的 | |
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183
injustice
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| n.非正义，不公正，不公平，侵犯（别人的）权利 | |
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184
discretion
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| n.谨慎；随意处理 | |
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185
deductions
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| 扣除( deduction的名词复数 )； 结论； 扣除的量； 推演 | |
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186
lessening
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| 减轻，减少，变小 | |
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187
lessen
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| vt.减少，减轻；缩小 | |
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188
curtailment
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| n.缩减，缩短 | |
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189
curt
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| adj.简短的，草率的 | |
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190
insolence
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| n.傲慢；无礼；厚颜；傲慢的态度 | |
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191
interfering
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| adj. 妨碍的 动词interfere的现在分词 | |
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192
morbid
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| adj.病的；致病的；病态的；可怕的 | |
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193
assails
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| v.攻击( assail的第三人称单数 )；困扰；质问；毅然应对 | |
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194
coercion
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| n.强制，高压统治 | |
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195
sincerity
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| n.真诚，诚意；真实 | |
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196
perverse
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| adj.刚愎的；坚持错误的，行为反常的 | |
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197
precarious
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| adj.不安定的，靠不住的；根据不足的 | |
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198
dependence
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| n.依靠，依赖；信任，信赖；隶属 | |
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199
taint
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| n.污点；感染；腐坏；v.使感染；污染 | |
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200
justified
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| a.正当的，有理的 | |
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201
begetting
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| v.为…之生父( beget的现在分词 )；产生，引起 | |
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202
monks
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| n.修道士，僧侣( monk的名词复数 ) | |
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203
bartering
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| v.作物物交换，以货换货( barter的现在分词 ) | |
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204
rejection
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| n.拒绝，被拒，抛弃，被弃 | |
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205
antiquated
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| adj.陈旧的，过时的 | |
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206
dwindling
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| adj.逐渐减少的v.逐渐变少或变小( dwindle的现在分词 ) | |
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207
follies
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| 罪恶，时事讽刺剧； 愚蠢，蠢笨，愚蠢的行为、思想或做法( folly的名词复数 ) | |
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208
commendable
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| adj.值得称赞的 | |
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209
frail
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| adj.身体虚弱的；易损坏的 | |
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210
quacks
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| abbr.quacksalvers 庸医，骗子(16世纪习惯用水银或汞治疗梅毒的人)n.江湖医生( quack的名词复数 )；江湖郎中；（鸭子的）呱呱声v.（鸭子）发出嘎嘎声( quack的第三人称单数 ) | |
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211
condemns
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| v.（通常因道义上的原因而）谴责( condemn的第三人称单数 )；宣判；宣布…不能使用；迫使…陷于不幸的境地 | |
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212
prohibition
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| n.禁止；禁令，禁律 | |
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213
distinctive
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| adj.特别的，有特色的，与众不同的 | |
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214
dame
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| n.女士 | |
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215
censuring
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| v.指责，非难，谴责( censure的现在分词 ) | |
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216
restriction
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| n.限制，约束 | |
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217
census
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| n.(官方的)人口调查，人口普查 | |
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218
hostility
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| n.敌对，敌意；抵制［pl.］交战，战争 | |
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219
opposition
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| n.反对，敌对 | |
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220
futile
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| adj.无效的，无用的，无希望的 | |
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221
pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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222
meekly
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| adv.温顺地，逆来顺受地 | |
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223
affected
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| adj.不自然的，假装的 | |
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appreciation
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| n.评价；欣赏；感谢；领会，理解；价格上涨 | |
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constrained
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| adj.束缚的,节制的 | |
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226
futility
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| n.无用 | |
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fanatics
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| 狂热者，入迷者( fanatic的名词复数 ) | |
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defiantly
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| adv.挑战地，大胆对抗地 | |
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sneering
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| 嘲笑的，轻蔑的 | |
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dilemma
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| n.困境，进退两难的局面 | |
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woe
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| n.悲哀，苦痛，不幸，困难；int.用来表达悲伤或惊慌 | |
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232
exigencies
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| n.急切需要 | |
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233
eugenic
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| adj.优生的 | |
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234
deterioration
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| n.退化；恶化；变坏 | |
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235
exacting
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| adj.苛求的，要求严格的 | |
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236
maternity
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| n.母性，母道，妇产科病房；adj.孕妇的，母性的 | |
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saner
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| adj.心智健全的( sane的比较级 )；神志正常的；明智的；稳健的 | |
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238
degradation
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| n.降级；低落；退化；陵削；降解；衰变 | |
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239
persuasion
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| n.劝说；说服；持有某种信仰的宗派 | |
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240
formulated
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| v.构想出( formulate的过去式和过去分词 )；规划；确切地阐述；用公式表示 | |
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innate
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| adj.天生的，固有的，天赋的 | |
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determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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243
eradicate
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| v.根除，消灭，杜绝 | |
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244
tainted
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| adj.腐坏的；污染的；沾污的；感染的v.使变质( taint的过去式和过去分词 )；使污染；败坏；被污染，腐坏，败坏 | |
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245
infinitely
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| adv.无限地，无穷地 | |
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246
candid
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| adj.公正的，正直的；坦率的 | |
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inquiries
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| n.调查( inquiry的名词复数 )；疑问；探究；打听 | |
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sufficiently
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| adv.足够地，充分地 | |
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249
discredit
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| vt.使不可置信；n.丧失信义；不信，怀疑 | |
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panacea
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| n.万灵药；治百病的灵药 | |
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251
touching
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| adj.动人的，使人感伤的 | |
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252
isolation
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| n.隔离，孤立，分解，分离 | |
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253
blight
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| n.枯萎病；造成破坏的因素；vt.破坏，摧残 | |
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254
gratitude
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| adj.感激，感谢 | |
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255
lamentable
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| adj.令人惋惜的，悔恨的 | |
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256
intimacy
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| n.熟悉，亲密，密切关系，亲昵的言行 | |
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