The Third Sex

5. Varied Opinions

5 Varied Opinions V mores of yesteryear “So our era is thus infamous!” exclaimed one of my friends, a virtuous man, who makes eloquent speeches at the Ligue des Pères de Famille, singing vespers every Sunday in his parish; he canceled his subscription to L’Illustration because the issue devoted to the Salon had a nude by Calbet—and places all his investments in foreign capital when the parties of the Left hold the reins of power.1 He had found several leaves of the manuscript of the present pages on my table, and, although he had the habit of deploring the license of my pen, this time, he was obliged to undo his necktie, he was so filled with indignation. Truly, no, I would not have believed that such turpitude exist(ed)2 around me, possibly even in my neighborhood! I regret saying this to you, old chap; but your book, alas, is quite the product of an era without God. The only passage that I shall enjoy seeing printed is the beautiful quotation from your friend, the Niçois editor Georges Maurevert, “Under the Moral order, when France was still a healthy country, people spoke of such filth only in hushed tones or behind closed doors. . . . When France has once more become what she must be—with the help of a Man and a cudgel—such bad behavior will disappear on its own.”3 A Mephistophelian smile flickered at the corner of my mouth. “Do you believe that, dear friend?” I asked. —Lord, yes! —In your opinion, was Louis XIV the Man with the cudgel of whom you would have dreamed to purify our muddy, nauseating era? —In this matter, he would have been the Super-man, yes!4 —Well, then, listen to this little chronicle from his time, written by a worthy curé of Versailles, named Hébert:5 . . . But, what is the most horrible, and what even causes a lot of pain to write, is that, disorder having no limits, the most abominable crimes and most opposed to nature and to the welfare of society; these crimes, I say, formerly punished by a bolt from above and worthy, according to the law, of being punished by flames, had become widespread. One spoke of those sorts of execrable engagements among those who were libertines by profession as one would have spoken6 of some polite bantering between men and women; one knew about this horrible dissolution as one knew about the most public affairs; one hid it only to the extent that one could have some apprehension that it could reach the King’s ears, for one knew he was horrified by this infamous sin. I was sometimes obliged to stop it in its path and to cure some flagrant disorders of this sort, to use the name of His Majesty to intimidate the guilty. It is true, for it is necessary to say all, that I would have quite desired that the King act with firmness to oppose these detestable vices; I had the chance of having quite a long conversation with Mme de Maintenon, who was perfectly aware of what was happening about this matter. As formally as was possible for me to do, I represented to her the obligation I thought she had to speak about it to the King and to lead him efficiently to exert all his authority to prevent such horrible corruption . She told me of having done so more than once. “But Madame,” I answered her, “the King was not touched by your reasons? Can His Majesty not foresee that such crimes are capable of bringing vengeance on his kingdom by a God who never leaves them unpunished?” “I told him that,” this lady answered, “and, one day that I was urging him to set matters straight, he answered me: ‘It will be necessary for me to start with my brother.’”7 . . . Now let us look at the Correspondance of Madame the Duchess of Orléans: . . . When the Great Condé8 was in love with Mlle d’Epernon, he went into the army and got used to young horsemen; when he returned, he could no longer stand women. As an excuse he said that he had fallen ill and that so much blood had been let from him that all force and all love had been taken away. The lady who sincerely loved the prince was not taken in by that answer; she sought to know what was what, and...