HONI SOIT QUI MAL Y PENSE.
When we reached the house the doctor said:
"I am going to leave you to Edith this morning. The fact is, my duties as
mentor, while extremely to my taste, are not quite a sinecure. The
questions raised in our talks frequently suggest the necessity of
refreshing my general knowledge of the contrasts between your day and
this by looking up the historical authorities. The conversation this
morning has indicated lines of research which will keep me busy in the
library the rest of the day."
I found Edith in the garden, and received her congratulations upon my
fully fledged citizenship. She did not seem at all surprised on learning
my intention promptly to find a place in the industrial service.
"Of course you will want to enter the service as soon as you can," she
said. "I knew you would. It is the only way to get in touch with the
people and feel really one of the nation. It is the great event we all
look forward to from childhood."
"Talking of industrial service," I said, "reminds me of a question it has
a dozen times occurred to me to ask you. I understand that everyone who
is able to do so, women as well as men, serves the nation from twenty-one
to forty-five years of age in some useful occupation; but so far as I
have seen, although you are the picture of health and vigor, you have no
employment, but are quite like young ladies of elegant leisure in my day,
who spent their time sitting in the parlor and looking handsome. Of
course, it is highly agreeable to me that you should be so free, but how,
exactly, is so much leisure on your part squared with the universal
obligation of service?"
Edith was greatly amused. "And so you thought I was shirking? Had it not
occurred to you that there might probably be such things as vacations or
furloughs in the industrial service, and that the rather unusual and
interesting guest in our household might furnish a natural occasion for
me to take an outing if I could get it?"
"And can you take your vacation when you please?"
"We can take a portion of it when we please, always subject, of course,
to the needs of the service."
"But what do you do when you are at work--teach school, paint china, keep
books for the Government, stand behind a counter in the public stores, or
operate a typewriter or telegraph wire?"
"Does that list exhaust the number of women's occupations in your day?"
"Oh, no; those were only some of their lighter and pleasanter
occupations. Women were also the scrubbers, the washers, the servants of
all work. The most repulsive and humiliating kinds of drudgery were put
off upon the women of the poorer class; but I suppose, of course, you do
not do any such work."
"You may be sure that I do my part of whatever unpleasant things there
are to do, and so does every one in the nation; but, indeed, we have long
ago arranged affairs so that there is very little such work to do. But,
tell me, were there no women in your day who were machinists, farmers,
engineers, carpenters, iron workers, builders, engine drivers, or members
of the other great crafts?"
"There were no women in such occupations. They were followed by men
only."
"I suppose I knew that," she said; "I have read as much; but it is
strange to talk with a man of the nineteenth century who is so much like
a man of to-day and realize that the women were so different as to seem
like another order of beings."
"But, really," said I, "I don't understand how in these respects the
women can do very differently now unless they are physically much
stronger. Most of these occupations you have just mentioned were too
heavy for their strength, and for that reason, largely, were limited to
men, as I should suppose they must still be."
"There is not a trade or occupation in the whole list," replied Edith,
"in which women do not take part. It is partly because we are physically
much more vigorous than the poor creatures of your time that we do the
sorts of work that were too heavy for them, but it is still more an
account of the perfection of machinery. As we have grown stronger, all
sorts of work have grown lighter. Almost no heavy work is done directly
now; machines do all, and we only need to guide them, and the lighter the
hand that guides, the better the work done. So you see that nowadays
physical qualities have much less to do than mental with the choice of
occupations. The mind is constantly getting nearer to the work, and
father says some day we may be able to work by sheer will power directly
and have no need of hands at all. It is said that there are actually more
women than men in great machine works. My mother was first lieutenant in
a great iron works. Some have a theory that the sense of power which one
has in controlling giant engines appeals to women's sensibilities even
more than to men's. But really it is not quite fair to make you guess
what my occupation is, for I have not fully decided on it."
"But you said you were already at work."
"Oh, yes, but you know that before we choose our life occupation we are
three years in the unclassified or miscellaneous class of workers. I am
in my second year in that class."
"What do you do?"
"A little of everything and nothing long. The idea is to give us during
that period a little practical experience in all the main departments of
work, so that we may know better how and what to choose as an occupation.
We are supposed to have got through with the schools before we enter this
class, but really I have learned more since I have been at work than in
twice the time spent in school. You can not imagine how perfectly
delightful this grade of work is. I don't wonder some people prefer to
stay in it all their lives for the sake of the constant change in tasks,
rather than elect a regular occupation. Just now I am among the
agricultural workers on the great farm near Lexington. It is delightful,
and I have about made up my mind to choose farm work as an occupation.
That is what I had in mind when I asked you to guess my trade. Do you
think you would ever have guessed that?"
"I don't think I ever should, and unless the conditions of farm work have
greatly changed since my day I can not imagine how you could manage it in
a woman's costume."
Edith regarded me for a moment with an expression of simple surprise, her
eyes growing large. Then her glance fell to her dress, and when she again
looked up her expression had changed to one which was at once meditative,
humorous, and wholly inscrutable. Presently she said:
"Have you not observed, my dear Julian, that the dress of the women you
see on the streets is different from that which women wore in the
nineteenth century?"
"I have noticed, of course, that they generally wear no skirts, but you
and your mother dress as women did in my day."
"And has it not occurred to you to wonder why our dress was not like
theirs--why we wear skirts and they do not?"
"Possibly that has occurred to me among the thousand other questions that
every day arise in my mind, only to be driven out by a thousand others
before I can ask them; but I think in this case I should have rather
wondered why these other women did not dress as you do instead of why you
did not dress as they do, for your costume, being the one I was
accustomed to, naturally struck me as the normal type, and this other
style as a variation for some special or local reason which I should
later learn about. You must not think me altogether stupid. To tell the
truth, these other women have as yet scarcely impressed me as being very
real. You were at first the only person about whose reality I felt
entirely sure. All the others seemed merely parts of a fantastic farrago
of wonders, more or less possible, which is only just beginning to become
intelligible and coherent. In time I should doubtless have awakened to
the fact that there were other women in the world besides yourself and
begun to make inquiries about them."
As I spoke of the absoluteness with which I had depended on her during
those first bewildering days for the assurance even of my own identity
the quick tears rushed to my companion's eyes, and--well, for a space the
other women were more completely forgotten than ever.
Presently she said: "What were we talking about? Oh, yes,
I remember--about those other women. I have a confession to make. I have
been guilty toward you all this time of a sort of fraud, or at least of a
flagrant suppression of the truth, which ought not to be kept up a moment
longer. I sincerely hope you will forgive me, in consideration of my
motive, and not----"
"Not what?"
"Not be too much startled."
"You make me very curious," I said. "What is this mystery? I think I can
stand the disclosure."
"Listen, then," she said. "That wonderful night when we saw you first, of
course our great thought was to avoid agitating you when you should
recover full consciousness by any more evidence of the amazing things
that had happened since your day than it was necessary you should see. We
knew that in your time the use of long skirts by women was universal, and
we reflected that to see mother and me in the modern dress would no doubt
strike you very strangely. Now, you see, although skirtless costumes are
the general--indeed, almost universal--wear for most occasions, all
possible costumes, ancient and modern, of all races, ages, and
civilizations, are either provided or to be obtained on the shortest
possible notice at the stores. It was therefore very easy for us to
furnish ourselves with the old-style dress before father introduced you
to us. He said people had in your day such strange ideas of feminine
modesty and propriety that it would be the best way to do. Can you
forgive us, Julian, for taking such an advantage of your ignorance?"
"Edith," I said, "there were a great many institutions of the nineteenth
century which we tolerated because we did not know how to get rid of
them, without, however, having a bit better opinion of them than you
have, and one of them was the costume by means of which our women used to
disguise and cripple themselves."
"I am delighted!" exclaimed Edith. "I perfectly detest these horrible
bags, and will not wear them a moment longer!" And bidding me wait where
I was, she ran into the house.
Five minutes, perhaps, I waited there in the arbor, where we had been
sitting, and then, at a light step on the grass, looked up to see Edith
with eyes of smiling challenge standing before me in modern dress. I have
seen her in a hundred varieties of that costume since then, and have
grown familiar with the exhaustless diversity of its adaptations, but I
defy the imagination of the greatest artist to devise a scheme of color
and fabric that would again produce upon me the effect of enchanting
surprise which I received from that quite simple and hasty toilet.
I don't know how long I stood looking at her without a thought of words,
my eyes meanwhile no doubt testifying eloquently enough how adorable I
found her. She seemed, however, to divine more than that in my
expression, for presently she exclaimed:
"I would give anything to know what you are thinking down in the bottom
of your mind! It must be something awfully funny. What are you turning so
red for?"
"I am blushing for myself," I said, and that is all I would tell her,
much as she teased me. Now, at this distance of time I may tell the
truth. My first sentiment, apart from overwhelming admiration, had been a
slight astonishment at her absolute ease and composure of bearing under
my gaze. This is a confession that may well seem incomprehensible to
twentieth-century readers, and God forbid that they should ever catch the
point of view which would enable them to understand it better! A woman of
my day, unless professionally accustomed to use this sort of costume,
would have seemed embarrassed and ill at ease, at least for a time, under
a gaze so intent as mine, even though it were a brother's or a father's.
I, it seems, had been prepared for at least some slight appearance of
discomposure on Edith's part, and was consciously surprised at a manner
which simply expressed an ingenuous gratification at my admiration. I
refer to this momentary experience because it has always seemed to me to
illustrate in a particularly vivid way the change that has taken place
not only in the customs but in the mental attitude of the sexes as to
each other since my former life. In justice to myself I must hasten to
add that this first feeling of surprise vanished even as it arose, in a
moment, between two heart-beats. I caught from her clear, serene eyes the
view point of the modern man as to woman, never again to lose it. Then it
was that I flushed red with shame for myself. Wild horses could not have
dragged from me the secret of that blush at the time, though I have told
her long ago.
"I was thinking," I said, and I was thinking so, too, "that we ought to
be greatly obliged to twentieth-century women for revealing for the first
time the artistic possibilities of the masculine dress."
"The masculine dress," she repeated, as if not quite comprehending my
meaning. "Do you mean my dress?"
"Why, yes; it is a man's dress I suppose, is it not?"
"Why any more than a woman's?" she answered rather blankly. "Ah, yes, I
actually forgot for a moment whom I was talking to. I see; so it was
considered a man's dress in your day, when the women masqueraded as
mermaids. You may think me stupid not to catch your idea more quickly,
but I told you I was dull at history. It is now two full generations
since women as well as men have worn this dress, and the idea of
associating it with men more than women would occur to no one but a
professor of history. It strikes us merely as the only natural and
convenient solution of the dress necessity, which is essentially the same
for both sexes, since their bodily conformation is on the same general
lines."