“I have not even tried to put the strongest reasons before you; I should have thought your own mind would have supplied them; but surely you see that the historical argument is against you.  This vice of yours is dropping out of life, like cannibalism:  it is no longer a practice of the highest races.  It may have seemed natural enough to the Greeks, to us it is unnatural.  Even the best Athenians condemned it; Socrates took pride in never having yielded to it; all moderns denounce it disdainfully.  You must see that the whole progress of the world, the current of educated opinion, is against you, that you are now a ‘sport,’ a peculiarity, an abnormality, a man with six fingers:  not a ‘sport’ that is, full of promise for the future, but a ‘sport’ of the dim backward and abysm of time, an arrested development.”

“You are bitter, Frank, almost rude.”

“Forgive me, Oscar, forgive me, please; it is because I want you at long last to open your eyes, and see things as they are.”

“But I thought you were with us, Frank, I thought at least you condemned the punishment, did not believe in the barbarous penalties.”

“I disbelieve in all punishment,” I said; “it is by love and not by hate that men must be redeemed.  I believe, too, that the time is already come when the better law might be put in force, and above all, I condemn punishment which strikes a man, an artist like you, who has done beautiful and charming things as if he had done nothing.  At least the good you have accomplished should be set against the evil.  It has always seemed monstrous to me that you should have been punished like a Taylor.  The French were right in their treatment of Verlaine:  they condemned the sin, while forgiving the sinner because of his genius.  The rigour in England is mere puritanic hypocrisy, shortsightedness and racial self-esteem.”

“All I can say, Frank, is, I would not limit individual desire in any way.  What right has society to punish us unless it can prove we have hurt or injured someone else against his will?  Besides, if you limit passion you impoverish life, you weaken the mainspring of art, and narrow the realm of beauty.”

“All societies,” I replied, “and most individuals, too, punish what they dislike, right or wrong.  There are bad smells which do not injure anyone; yet the manufacturers of them would be indicted for committing a nuisance.  Nor does your plea that by limiting the choice of passion you impoverish life, appeal to me.  On the contrary, I think I could prove that passion, the desire of the man for the woman and the woman for the man, has been enormously strengthened in modern times.  Christianity has created, or at least cultivated, modesty, and modesty has sharpened desire.  Christianity has helped to lift woman to an equality with man, and this modern intellectual development has again intensified passion out of all knowledge.  The woman who is not a slave but an equal, who gives herself according to her own feeling, is infinitely more desirable to a man than any submissive serf who is always waiting on his will.  And this movement intensifying passion is every day gaining force.