We are beset by a whole range of discontents and confusions. For a great many, the dunghill has become a natural habitat. Derain and other observers of depravity would, in fact, be stunned by the chaos of manners and speech, by the hellish ubiquity of crime and the easy—one might almost say the democratic—availability of drugs; by the new varieties of decadence—rock songs about rape and suicide, pornography at the corner newsstand, commercials for S&M clubs on your friendly cable channel, not to