But the question cannot be argued upon the basis of morality. It must be regarded, as has already been intimated, purely from a practical point of view. It is a fact not be disputed, that if houses of this character were compelled to pay a license, the money thus received would amount to a very considerable sum, especially in the larger cities. This revenue might, if desirable, be devoted to the erection of Magdalen houses, or even to the foundation of Young Men’s Christian Associations.
Then, again, if the houses were licensed, it would tend to make them more orderly. As it is at present, they are outlaws at best, and therefore there is no incentive to keep them within the bounds of decency. But if their existence depended upon their conduct—that is, if the license was to be revoked in case of any disorderly outbreak—then the proprietors would see to it that order was maintained.
To recapitulate, the license system would secure freedom from sexual diseases, a rich source of revenue to city governments, and comparative freedom from scenes of violence and disorder.
Such are Ben Hogan’s views with regard to the manner of conducting sporting houses. Another, and perhaps more interesting phase of the case, deals with the treatment of women who have gone astray.
In nine cases out of ten the fault lies not with the girl who follows the downward path, but with the world. Without indulging in any of the stale and sickly sentimentality respecting the guilt of the man who seduces a woman, it may be said that society makes prostitutes by its method of dealing with the erring. Take the example of a girl who has fallen from the strict paths of virtue. Her offence, we may say, is the result of thoughtlessness, of temptation, of passion. She finds herself robbed of that priceless jewel which she has been taught, or should have been taught, to regard as more sacred than anything else in life. Still she has not become hardened or criminal by her one misstep. She might, at this stage in her career, easily be reclaimed. But what is the treatment which she receives? Her friends cast her off, her home is shut against her. Even those nearest and dearest to her steel their hearts and regard her as a stranger. What possible alternative is there left but to follow in the path which she has already entered?
Let us suppose that this girl is young, innocent, and ignorant of the ways of the world. She finds herself an outcast, wholly unfitted to fight the stern battle of life single-handed. She has been taught nothing that will avail her in this hour of extremity. Perhaps she is able to play on the piano, to crochet, and to speak a few words of doubtful French. These accomplishments afford but a sorry means for gaining an honest livelihood.
In sharp contrast to the misery and privation which present themselves on the side of virtue, is the luxurious ease of a life of vice. Is it any wonder that the weak girl chooses this latter path? It seems broad and smooth and tempting to the feet. The other is dark and narrow, with sharp thorns in the way and no sunshine ahead.
So the girl enters upon the course which a thousand have trod before her, only to bring up at the inevitable goal of wretchedness and despair. She cannot see the end at the beginning of her career. For a time she finds all rosy and delightful. She lives in a whirl of excitement. If, now and then, memories of the past—thoughts of home and friends thrust themselves before her mind, she resolutely crushes them out with the bitter reflection that those who should have been her protectors have cast her aside. She follows the gay life for a brief time, drinks in the intoxicating pleasures of the moment, and awakens, sooner or later, to find herself stripped of her beauty, forsaken, and without a refuge except that offered by gracious death. This picture is no exaggeration. It finds its counterpart in nature every hour of every day of every year. Now, think for a moment how differently this girl’s life might have been shaped had her first offense been forgiven. Suppose the parents of the girl had said to her upon the discovery of her first wayward step:
“You have been tempted, and the temptation has proved greater than you can bear. But we will forgive and forget. Let the past be wiped out forever. Your life is still before you, and you may redeem yourself yet. Our love shall cover your sin, and you shall still be to us a beloved and loving child.”
Words like these would save many a woman from a life of shame, but words like these are too rarely spoken. Are those Christians who are so ready to hurl the first stone? Have they forgotten the words of Him who bade Magdalen of old to “Go, sin no more?”