The poor, poor victims. Imagine the pain, the indignity, the suffering, brought on by being told to leave your guns at home. How have so many survived all these years?
Damn, if I were looking to "maltreat" somebody, telling them they may not promenade around with guns in the public places of my community just isn't the first thing that would come to my mind, I fear. I can think of a whole lot of other "bad behaviours" that might come higher on my list. Like, thousands.
You know, the obnoxious thing is that I'd like to know what Huxley might have said before and after that passage -- whether it was maybe à propos of something in particular. But because, I'm sure, that passage appears on half the gunhead sites on the internet, I would have to go find a book and check. Page by page. And I don't think I have that particular Huxley on my shelves. Brave New World, of course, and Doors of Perception ...
Oh, whoops, I see how I might do it. Kind of like that
your/you're error I used for tracing the sources of another quotation recently. It's Crome Yellow, not Chrome Yellow. I could follow the breadcrumbs ...
But anyhow, it's available on line.
http://www.online-literature.com/aldous_huxley/crome_yellow/And the problem I'm having is that a search for the phrase "moral treats" comes up empty every time. Ditto for "psychological luxury", "maltreating" ... both within Crome Yellow and for Aldous Huxley generally. The search function seems to work, since it finds me 14 instances of "bank" in works by Stephen Leacock. And two results for "moral" in Aldous Huxley, one being "morality" in Crome Yellow.
Shall I do a chapter by chapter find in the book?
Nah. You should give an actual citation, as in chapter even if not page.
But what the hell. I did it. All 30 Chapters. Nary a "moral treats" to be found.
I did find this, though, in chapter 16, for "maltreat":
"And which of the Caesars do you resemble?" asked Gombauld.
"I am potentially all of them," Mr. Scogan replied, "all--with the possible exception of Claudius, who was much too stupid to be a development of anything in my character. The seeds of Julius's courage and compelling energy, of Augustus's prudence, of the libidinousness and cruelty of Tiberius, of Caligula's folly, of Nero's artistic genius and enormous vanity, are all within me. Given the opportunities, I might have been something fabulous. But circumstances were against me. I was born and brought up in a country rectory; I passed my youth doing a great deal of utterly senseless hard work for a very little money. The result is that now, in middle age, I am the poor thing that I am. But perhaps it is as well. Perhaps, too, it's as well that Denis hasn't been permitted to flower into a little Nero, and that Ivor remains only potentially a Caligula. Yes, it's better so, no doubt. But it would have been more amusing, as a spectacle, if they had had the chance to develop, untrammelled, the full horror of their potentialities. It would have been pleasant and interesting to watch their tics and foibles and little vices swelling and burgeoning and blossoming into enormous and fantastic flowers of cruelty and pride and lewdness and avarice. The Caesarean environment makes the Caesar, as the special food and the queenly cell make the queen bee. We differ from the bees in so far that, given the proper food, they can be sure of making a queen every time. With us there is no such certainty; out of every ten men placed in the Caesarean environment one will be temperamentally good, or intelligent, or great. The rest will blossom into Caesars; he will not. Seventy and eighty years ago simple-minded people, reading of the exploits of the Bourbons in South Italy, cried out in amazement: To think that such things should be happening in the nineteenth century! And a few years since we too were astonished to find that in our still more astonishing twentieth century, unhappy blackamoors on the Congo and the Amazon were being treated as English serfs were treated in the time of Stephen. To-day we are no longer surprised at these things. The Black and Tans harry Ireland, the Poles maltreat the Silesians, the bold Fascisti slaughter their poorer countrymen: we take it all for granted. Since the war we wonder at nothing. We have created a Caesarean environment and a host of little Caesars has sprung up. What could be more natural?"
Mr. Scogan drank off what was left of his port and refilled the glass.
At this very moment," he went on, "the most frightful horrors are taking place in every corner of the world. People are being crushed, slashed, disembowelled, mangled; their dead bodies rot and their eyes decay with the rest. Screams of pain and fear go pulsing through the air at the rate of eleven hundred feet per second. After travelling for three seconds they are perfectly inaudible. These are distressing facts; but do we enjoy life any the less because of them? Most certainly we do not. We feel sympathy, no doubt; we represent to ourselves imaginatively the sufferings of nations and individuals and we deplore them. But, after all, what are sympathy and imagination? Precious little, unless the person for whom we feel sympathy happens to be closely involved in our affections; and even then they don't go very far. And a good thing too; for if one had an imagination vivid enough and a sympathy sufficiently sensitive really to comprehend and to feel the sufferings of other people, one would never have a moment's peace of mind. A really sympathetic race would not so much as know the meaning of happiness. But luckily, as I've already said, we aren't a sympathetic race. At the beginning of the war I used to think I really suffered, through imagination and sympathy, with those who physically suffered. But after a month or two I had to admit that, honestly, I didn't. And yet I think I have a more vivid imagination than most. One is always alone in suffering; the fact is depressing when one happens to be the sufferer, but it makes pleasure possible for the rest of the world."
Now, I really hope that isn't the source of the sentiment attributed to Huxley, and that people who complain about not being permitted to carry firearms in public are not actually likening themselves to the victims of European imperialism in Africa, the victims of Italian Fascists in World War II ... (My grandfather was a Black and Tan as Huxley wrote that, about the most ignominous leaf on my family tree.)
Can you give us the actual source of your quotation, please?