At the end of half an hour I stepped through the gates to meet my
destiny. I had not waited for the decision of my fellow men. It was
only too apparent what it would be. By my voluntary submission I did in
fact regain at least a sentimental if tragic prestige. The walls were
thronged and as I left the Club, the entire body burst forth in three
resounding cheers, which considering the time I had had to instruct
them in the art, were quite impressive.
A great throng was gathered to witness my surrender, and my heart
leaped with a sudden hope as I perceived banners flying above the crowd
with these devices:
VOTES FOR MEN
EQUALITY OF THE SEXES
SOCIAL EQUALITY IS SIMPLE JUSTICE
My beloved Dianne was the first to greet me and sadly insisted on
accompanying me in the official aeroplane which was to conduct me
to the Supreme Council. Despite the cheers and flutter of hands that
greeted my progress, I perceived that her eyes were oppressed with
forebodings.
As we rose a thousand little aeroplanes rose like the scurry of birds
and followed behind us.
“But it is a triumph!” I exclaimed as our victorious progress developed.
“Don’t nourish any false hopes, my dear one,” Dianne said, shaking her
lovely head. “The people are with you, and the younger students. But
what does that amount to? Manfreda dominates the Supreme Council and no
emotion has ever swayed her.”
“But surely--the voice of the people, _vox populi, vox dei_,” I
insisted. “To defy the sovereign will might mean a revolution.”
For answer Dianne pointed to the skies where the grim armada hovered
over us with the menace of a thunder cloud.
“All New York could be wiped out in ten minutes. There is the answer.”
“But a compromise--certain concessions?”
“It is for you I fear,” she replied, slipping her adorable hand into
mine. “You have shown yourself too strong. Oh, Jack dear, if you had
only listened to my advice.”
“After all, the worst is immortality,” I replied.
The phrase pleased me and threw me into a heroic mood. I resolved come
what might, to face my destiny with a stoic dignity.
We came to ground before the great dome of the hall of justice where
the Supreme Council was assembled. The square was packed with a
sympathetic and curious crowd, while the flight of the accompanying
aeroplanes flung shifting shadows like the moving silhouettes of
leaves. Two guards stood at the top of the steps holding in their hands
what seemed to be electric torches, but which were in fact deadly
electronoid batteries that plainly overawed the crowd.
I passed with Dianne at my side, my blood tingling with the murmured
sympathy of thousands, and ascending the steps was shortly conducted
to the great hall of judgment. The dramatic sense which flames up in
all martyrs upheld me. I had sought for some word that might pass down
into history, worthy to be linked with the last of my sex, but to tell
the truth the inspiration deserted me and all I could find to say, as I
confronted the judges, was:
“Ladies, I am here!”
However I put into the words a certain defiance, smiled proudly and
stood at rest.
My judges, as before at our first meeting, were seated in a hemicycle
with the austere Manfreda in the centre. I looked for Acquilla and
perceived her sitting with downcast eyes. She raised her glance,
perceived Dianne, and a flush of anger transformed her.
“Be seated, Bogardus,” said Manfreda, indicating a seat in the centre.
Her tone as always was emotionless, calm as authority itself. “You
are accused of rebellion against the state, of exciting the Clubs to
defy our customs, and of an intention to overthrow the existing order.
Prisoner before us, are you guilty?”
Dianne had warned me of the recording apparatus, of which indeed
Acquilla had already exposed to me the secret. I was prepared and even
as the question was put, I rose and standing, replied:
“Manfreda, in your woman’s age of pure logic, is the accused still
permitted to defend himself, or am I brought here simply to hear a
sentence passed upon me?”
She was visibly surprised at this challenge, but recovering herself,
she replied coldly:
“You have every right to defend yourself.”
“Then may I inquire what is the penalty which may be imposed upon me
if I am considered guilty in your eyes of the charges you have brought
against me?”
“There is only one punishment, Bogardus, as you know.”
“For great crimes and little offences.”
“The crime is always against the sanctity of the law. We impose no laws
unless we intend to have them observed.”
“Then the punishment is invariably death?”
“We do not take human life.”
“Then if guilty, I shall be returned to the Frigidrome and translated
to another century,” I exclaimed eagerly.
“You are right, Bogardus.”
“Ladies,” I cried joyfully, “you see before you the happiest prisoner
in history. I am certain that you will find me guilty. You must if you
hold as strictly to justice as you claim, and I demand now as my right
the immediate infliction of the penalty.”
I heard a low groan from Dianne behind me, and at the same time I
noticed that the anger seemed to depart from Acquilla’s furrowed brow.
“The accused is wanting in respect,” said Doctrina severely.
“Perhaps,” I took up instantly, “but is that not precisely the whole
of my offending? I come from that uncivilized age, that strangely
emotional age, that age of curious sentimentalities and when I am
introduced to this woman-ruled society I remain un-impressed. And
because, my dear ladies, you are afraid to answer my arguments you are
going to send me to another age, perhaps another world. I answer as we
used to answer. How like a woman!”
The taunt which I had flung out intentionally, to procure a hearing,
stirred the assembly to violent protests. Doctrina and some of the
council were on their feet demanding to reply. Manfreda, however,
without any further show of emotion, calmed the council and waved them
back to their seats. From that moment I felt secure of being heard,
for I knew that if there was one weakness in the coldly logically
composition of Manfreda it was the age-old primitive instinct of women.
Manfreda intended to have the last word.
“You are in error, Bogardus,” she said in chiselled accents. “There
will be no obstacle placed in the way of anything you wish to say.
Now may I ask you to return to the point. Do you plead guilty or not
guilty?”
“I might retort, Manfreda,” I replied, “that I should like to be
informed on what evidence I am accused?”
“It is hardly necessary to remind you, Bogardus,” she replied with a
spidery satisfaction, “that every word and every movement you have made
since you were in the Club has been heard and noted by every woman in
the state. But to proceed to overt acts. Do you deny that you were the
author of the ultimatum delivered by the young males to the Histriones?”
“I was the author. Yes, but that does not constitute treason.”
“And why not?”
“Because,” I replied, taking a long chance, “I am certain as the
incident cannot have happened before, that no law can be on the statute
books dealing with the case. I appeal to the Council and wait for a
reply.”
My surmise was correct, as a hurried consultation and furtive
whispering showed me.
“The question is, of course, one of a technical defence,” said
Manfreda. “If you were appealing to a jury of men, accustomed daily
to see justice miscarry, by appeals to legal mystification, you could
evade the issue in the name of Justice. But--”
“No buts, Manfreda,” I said, smiling at the immediate relief visible
in the council at this extraordinary reply. “Your answer does credit
to your sex, but in my day I have heard just as ingenuous answers
from your prehistoric sisters. I pass to the next point. I am accused
of rebellion against the State. A very serious charge. But on what
grounds? Because I have urged my fellow men to demand social and
political equality and to become total abstainers until their rights
shall have been granted? Am I right?”
I waited, but already a certain defiance of my legal acumen had become
evident. There was a pause but no precipitation to reply. Finally
Manfreda, forced to meet the issue, said:
“And how do you reply to this charge you yourself have formulated?”
“Ah, Manfreda, you are subtle but you are evading the issue, and you
know it. Is this or is this not _your_ complaint against me?”
For the first time I observed that adamantine temperament, show a touch
of human resentment.
“Yes, it is,” she snapped back irritably.
“Good. Observe, you yourself, you the great Manfreda, have said it. It
is treason for me to stir up my fellow men to insist upon equality.
That is right, is it not, oh, Manfreda?”
I think she perceived the trap, for she twisted in her seat and made as
though to answer, but it was too late.
“Your silence is consent, but it would have been franker to have said
it,” I continued, for in humiliating Manfreda before the assembly I
knew was my one chance of escape. “Now I appeal to every woman present.
Was I the first to launch the cry of ‘Votes for Men’? Before I came
was there not a party already formed who sought to rehabilitate my sex?
Hasn’t the discussion been open and has there been any concealment that
here even in this council its proponents have urged their views? Again
I ask, am I right and pause for an answer? No one protests. I continue.
If it was not treason to the State to urge male equality before I
came, I submit that it cannot be treason for me to do so now. Again I
appeal to the council that the second charge as the first charge has no
bearing in fact, and ask that both be dismissed.”
There was a burst of applause from the great crowd outside, to whom
every word evidently was being transmitted, mingled with shouts of:
“Votes for Men!”
“Hurrah for Bogardus!”
Within, the consternation was so evident that even Acquilla, carried
away by her passion, dared to exclaim:
“He is right!”
“Ah, Acquilla,” I exclaimed, moved by the daring of her act, “by that
word you have doomed me. Your sex has always forgiven us when we were
in the wrong, but never for being right!”
“Bogardus has at least the intelligence to perceive the issue,” said
Manfreda, raising her hand for silence. “It is not a question of right
or wrong. True justice is a matter of necessity. And we shall decide
this question not on legal quibbles or adroit justification but on one
simple issue. Is it necessary to remove Bogardus from the State?”
There was a visible brightening among the Minervenes. I bowed
ironically and replied:
“For a moment I was afraid that I might convince you. Thank heaven that
a sense of humor no longer exists, for I shudder to think that if it
did, you would compel me to go on living in this dreadful state!”
Dianne, my beloved Dianne sprang to my side, crying:
“If you sentence this man, I demand the right to follow him.”
“And I!” cried Dulcina.
“And I!” cried Carrilla, to my surprise.
Acquilla hesitated, stunned, and covered her eyes with her arm.
Encouraged by the stupor these defections produced, I stood with my arm
about Dianne and taunted them:
“If you only knew how gladly I welcome my fate! Your vaunted
civilization is nothing but a dreadful monotony. Your freedom of the
individual is only a terrifying loneliness. You are not human beings;
you are as mechanical as your machinots. You are so afraid of suffering
that you have cut away every emotion that makes life worth living.
You can’t laugh with a friend, romp with a child or cling to a man!
This magnificent scientific era is, my dear ladies, to me a man who
has lived in the glorious twentieth century--just a flat, drab, dreary
existence! If God had intended humanity to end thus, He would have
taken color and beauty out of His universe as you have done out of
life. Stay here? Thanks, ladies! I should be bored to death!”
“Before we pass to a vote,” said Manfreda flushing, as she stilled the
outburst of angry protests, “it is well to take up the challenge that
this barbaric man has flung out. We are accused of oppressing the male
sex. I shall answer, and my answer is directed to all those mistaken
emotional minds who have allowed themselves to be tricked into an
advocacy of male equality. But first how have we oppressed the male
sex? What have men been deprived of? We have abolished poverty, so that
no man need longer work. We have abolished sickness, so that every man
may indulge his appetites and luxuries without fear of consequence. We
have taken from him the conduct of public affairs where even Bogardus
has admitted he has been a tragic failure. We have ended crime and war
so that no false sentiment demands the sacrifice of his life. We have
freed him from monogamy so that his natural instincts need no longer be
repressed. Is this oppression or what once was man’s idea of a heavenly
paradise?”
I rose and bowed.
“Paradise, oh Manfreda, but how did you guess it?”
A sense of humor has always misled me. From this moment I felt the
assembly turn against me.
“Now to pass to the major consideration,” continued Manfreda. “To
restore male equality means just one thing--to destroy authority. One
thing is certain--history has always been the record of the war of the
sexes. One or the other must dominate. Authority cannot be shared.
Read history. The world was at its worst when a divided authority
broke down the standards of morality. The age this man represents was
an age of compromise and anarchy. Restore the male--you will bring
back the hypocrisy of marriage with its lies and its treachery, its
mutual tyranny. You will restore the family and permit the weak to
prey upon the strong, the unfit to ride upon the backs of the fit. You
will return to the jealousy and irreverence of the younger generation,
impatient to crowd out the older. For the family is nothing but the
battleground of the sexes and the clash of opposing generations. You
are now free and self sufficing individualities. Do you wish to return
to a society of sacrifice and mutual tyranny?”
I sprang up, through the applause and exclaimed indignantly:
“It is for me to recall you to the point, Manfreda. You have made an
ex-parte statement, with the evident intention of prejudicing my judges
by an appeal to their emotions, and this from a woman who feigns to
hold up to ridicule our system of justice. Enough. Let me state the
issue and save you the waste of your adroit pleadings. I am guilty of
being too intelligent for you, and that is my crime. Have the courage
to admit it. Remove me because you cannot, you dare not allow me to
remain here any longer. But for heaven’s sake, ladies, please don’t try
to be logical. Let us ignore the charges. You have decided to condemn
me, please, please don’t try to justify your actions!”
I sat down well pleased at the adroitness of my answer, feeling that
woman-like they could not let my taunt stand on the record, and that to
remove me would be to approve me. But I misjudged the infinite subtlety
of the feminine mind. The room was in an uproar and the hubbub in the
square was deafening. In the midst of the clamor Doctrina, having
obtained silence, rose and pointing her finger at me cried angrily:
“Well, I will bring a charge that cannot be denied. I demand this man’s
removal for having corrupted the morals of youth by the introduction of
a shameful and detestable costume, and I call on all to witness,” she
added, tempestuously pointing to the shorts and polo shirt in which I
was clothed, “that he himself stands before us in this nude and unmanly
exposure.”
“Rubbish!” I shouted at the top of my voice, losing my temper at the
last. “Ridiculous! Condemn me honestly or not at all. Listen, all! I
demand to be heard!”
“And I move now that all discussion end,” continued Doctrina, “and that
a vote be taken.”
Everyone was standing up gesticulating wildly. Dianne clung to my side,
but I pushed past her.
“I will be heard!” I shouted furiously, sprang forward, tripped and
went down with a crash.
* * * * *
When I came to consciousness, Manfreda was standing before me, and
Doctrina shaking my arm.
“Wake up, John, wake up,” said the voice of my wife. “You are having a
dreadful nightmare.”
I sat up, staring wildly. The face of Doctrina was the face of Emelia,
and the terrible calm of Manfreda was on the face of my mother-in-law.
“Don’t touch me,” I cried. “Traitors, spies! Never again will I listen
to you! Between us it is war--open war to the end!”
And then and there I fled from my home.
* * * * *
[Note by Theodosia Sitwell. Assistant physician in the Clarendon County
Hospital for the Insane.]
_John Bogardus was confined in this hospital for over eight months
during which time he wrote the preceding curious manuscript. Despite
some hesitation we have decided on its publication in the interest
of medical science, revealing as it does how strange and casual
suggestions may lead to the most exaggerated hallucinations. During
the whole of his confinement, John Bogardus, with the exception of a
fixed feminaphobia and an obsession that his duty lay in warning his
sex of the danger of feminine progress, was an exemplary and tractable
patient. His tragic death could not have been foreseen. A week after
the completion of his manuscript, he disappeared and after forty-eight
hours’ search, his frozen body was recovered in the large refrigerator
of the asylum, where he had taken refuge under the evident delusion
that it was a Frigidrome._
TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES
Inconsistencies in hyphenation have been left unchanged.
Typos corrected: “sariette” to “sarriette” (page 30); “Of” corrected to
“Or” in “Or simply an invitation” (page 71); “brittanic” to “britannic”
(page 85); “Astrodome” to “Astrodrome” (page 94); “tremulo” to
“tremolo” (page 97); “superor” to “superior” (page 114); “comtemplated”
to “contemplated” (page 121); “psychoanalists” to “psycho-analysts”
(page 162); “chorographic” to “choreographic” (page 230); “is”
corrected to “it” in “revealing as it does” (page 251).
Missing comma added after “Besides” in “Besides, men educated by” (page
63) and “Besides, such a case as yours” (page 218)
Missing/misprinted single/double quotes corrected.
Differing spellings of “ascendancy” (page 57) and “ascendency” (page
144) retained.
Author’s spelling of “dumfounded” retained.