Capons Wage No War
Between two sailors on a man-of-war in the British Navy in the early 19th century, looking at a beautiful specimen of full-feathered male bird (and “Jack“‘s first reply is sarcastic, if you don’t catch it):
Stephen said, “Have you ever contemplated upon sex, my dear?”
“Never,” said Jack, “Sex has never entered my mind, at any time.”
“The burden of sex, I mean. This bird, for example, is very heavily burdened; almost weighed down. He can scarcely fly or pursue his common daily round with any pleasure to himself, encumbered by a yard of tail and all this top-hamper [a nautical term]. All these extravagant plumes have but one function — to induce the hen to yield to his importunities. How the poor cock must glow and burn, if these are, as they must be, an index of his ardour.”
“That is a solemn thought.”
“Were he a capon, now, his life would be easier by far. These spurs, these fighting spurs, would vanish; his conduct would become peaceable, social, complaisant and mild. Indeed, were I to castrate all the [sailors], Jack, they would grow fat, placid and unaggressive; this ship would no longer be a man-of-war, darting angrily, hastily from place to place; and we should circumnavigate the terraqueous globe with never a harsh word.”
—Patrick O’Brian
