novelist of that time would not have faithfully represented the society
about him had he not allowed himself that license which universally
prevailed. Nor could the coarseness of the eighteenth-century writer be
objected to on moral grounds. Morality is concerned with thoughts, not
with expression. Whether we speak plainly the ideas in our mind,
whether we communicate them by means of some, circumlocution, or
whether we keep them wholly to ourselves, is a matter of fashion, not
of morality.[213] Our great-grandmothers were not less chaste because
they spoke of things regarding which we remain silent in a mixed
society: they were simply less squeamish. Mrs. Behn in her day, and
Fielding in his, described a licentious scene openly and honestly
without a suspicion of evil.

But a great change has come over public taste, and I may even say over
public morality, during the present century. Licentious conduct is no
longer a venial offence; gross and immodest expressions are no longer
allowed in respectable society. The improvement has certainly been
great, although not as great as it seems. Out of our higher morality,
out of our new and boasted refinement, has sprung a vice more ugly than
coarseness, more degrading than sensuality, and that vice is hypocrisy,
which shelters all others behind its deceptive mask. Many a parent now
winks at the hidden vice of a son, the exposure of which would fill him
with shame and indignation. Thousands of young men feel that they can
privately lead a life of dissipation, so long as they keep a
respectable face to the world. It is not the vice that society
punishes, it is the being found out. So when we think of our improved
morality and refinement, we must temper our pride with the reflection
that we may be simply more hypocritical, and not more virtuous than our
ancestors. Still, the fact that licentiousness must now wear a mask of
respectability, that social status is now greatly affected by moral