But perhaps the best evidence on this subject is in the popular lending libraries instituted by the Government. The books for these libraries are specially examined by a commission appointed for the purpose, which excludes indecent publications. There are also the _bibliothèques scolaires_ or lending libraries in the schools, and regimental libraries in the barracks, besides the older town libraries, often extensive and valuable, which are open to all. With regard to the providing of literature in a form suitable for readers of limited education, I may add that this class of literature, simple in expression, yet neither deficient in intelligence nor behind the age in knowledge, scarcely existed in France twenty-five years ago, but is now produced in constantly increasing quantity. Even in former times, however, when facilities were so few, men of the humbler classes frequently rose in the world, and they could not have done that without self-education, nor without better reading than the “obscenity” of the _Saturday Review_. I have known several such Frenchmen, and have always found their minds preoccupied with creditable pursuits, generally of a scientific character.[51] [Sidenote: Matthew Arnold.] [Sidenote: The Great Goddess Lubricity.] The wild statements of anonymous and irresponsible writers are hardly deserving of serious attention, but I have always deeply regretted that several English writers of note, and especially Matthew Arnold, should have allowed their patriotism to express itself in similar accusations. In 1885 Arnold wrote an article on America for the _Nineteenth Century_, and went out of his way to say that “the French” are “at present vowed to the worship of the great goddess Lubricity.” [Sidenote: English Satisfaction in French Immorality.] [Sidenote: Examples.] This is one of those statements about France which obtain ready currency in England, because they gratify the patriotic desire to feel better than the neighbours across the water. The ordinary Englishman, learning on the authority of a distinguished writer that the French are vowed to the worship of such a goddess, can think to himself, “Well, we have our faults, perhaps we worship money too much, but at any rate we do not bow down to such a filthy idol as that,” and he has a sense of inward satisfaction. I, for my part, have never understood how anybody can derive satisfaction from anything but well-tested truth, and when I hear a comprehensive statement of this kind, my way is always to think of living examples known to me. I invite the reader to follow me, from a settled conviction that my method is a good one. [Sidenote: Two Extreme Cases of Vicious Lives.]