The Modesty of Man

I

MANY men can still remember the days when their mothers went about with a curious contraption tied on behind them, giving a luxuriant outline suggestive of the Hottentot. This was called a ‘dress-improver’ and was admired. To the modern eye it is simply hideous. At a slightly later date ladies swept the floor or the street with voluminous trains, dirty and inconvenient. So inconvenient were they that a little rope-handle was attached, by which the wearer could sling her train on to her arm and so attain freedom to move. That was the period in which a lady’s ankles were improper. It was the period of our modest grandmothers, the period to which the modern moralist, usually male, apparently desires a return.

The period before it, the period of Queen Victoria, was quite as ugly, quite as insanitary, and less complete. Inquirers may be referred to contemporary portraits of the Queen in her younger days. By strict standards she ought to have died of pneumonia, and it is not surprising that she was accused of immodesty.

To-day, amid a great deal of talk about ‘rights,’ woman has actually acquired one very important right — the right to wear healthy and beautiful clothes. She has quietly and of her own accord evolved a costume which is graceful, practical, and, we are assured, comfortable. Doctors tell us that it is healthy. What more could be desired? Yet the moralist, usually a man, denounces it as ‘immodest.’

But woman to-day is getting independent. In her search for woman’s rights she has obtained some very worthless things, such as the vote, and some valuable things, such as the right to be educated. She has been most wise when she took her own way and most foolish when she merely attempted to copy man. It is hard to believe, yet it is true that many women claimed the right to wear men’s clothes — top hat, frock coat, trousers, and the rest. One lady, a doctor, actually did so, and history records that she did not make a handsome man. To-day woman is clad sensibly, yet unlike man. She cuts her hair to a sensible, moderate length, keeps her skirts out of the mud, and, in general, looks workmanlike and fit for her occupation of the moment. There are, of course, aberrations, as there will always be: high heels are still worn. Yet in general the statement is true, and of the majority of sensible women it is absolutely true. Fifty years ago woman was in respect of clothing and appearance man’s inferior; to-day she is his superior. But she is denounced as immodest in respect of this very reform.

The truth is that women never were, are not, and never will be modest in man’s sense of the word. Modesty is essentially a manly attribute, and from the beginnings of history men have not ceased to recommend it to women. In the beginning of the twelfth century Guilbert de Nogent wrote: —

Alas how miserably . . . maidenly modesty and honour have fallen off and the mother’s guardianship has decayed both in appearance and in fact, so that in all their behaviour nothing can be noted but unseemly mirth wherein are no sounds but of jest, with winking eyes and babbling tongues and wanton gait and most ridiculous manners. The quality of their garments is so unlike to that frugality of the past that in the widening of their sleeves, the tightening of their bodices, their shoes of Cordovan morocco with twisted beaks, nay in their whole person, we may see how shame is cast aside.

So there were evidently ‘flappers’ in the twelfth century too, and moralists to correct them. Notice how Guilbert drags in the modest grandmother and insists upon clothes. Adam can hardly have referred to the modesty of Eve’s grandmother, but it is probable that he criticized the length of her leaf apron.

Man the artist, the emotional, is also naturally man the modest. Wherever he is supreme, as in Turkey or India or classic Greece, he enforces modesty upon woman. Whenever woman rebels against his rule he denounces each new thing she does as immodest or unwomanly.

Modesty is, after all, a convention. Among those Negroes of Africa who go unclad, the assumption of any clothing is of the nature of concealment, suggestive and immodest. Yet many missionaries, men, consider that clothing is culture, and demoralize their flocks with petticoats and trousers. The statement has been made, by a man, that ‘it is quite clear that civilization is inextricably mixed up with clothing.’ Yet the ancient Greeks, a highly civilized people, were not in the slightest squeamish about the human form. They wore abundant clothes when the occasion demanded it, but shed them freely whenever they liked. The most completely clad people in the world to-day are possibly the Tuaregs of the Sahara, whose men even veil their faces. I have not heard that they are the most civilized.

It is true that all civilized people have used clothes, but that is far from saying that a complete covering of the body is a sign of civilization. It is simply a convention.

As modesty is a convention, so immodesty is anything which breaks that convention. Between the two there is a borderland of variations and developments. Modesty is usually, perhaps, connected with breaches of the conventions between man and woman, but it is really attached to all serious breaches of conventionality. It is, for instance, immodest to boast of one’s own achievements, to shout loudly during a church service, or to eat peas with a knife. These actions break accepted conventions in a disagreeable way. But it is not immodest to eat asparagus with one’s fingers, to interrupt at a political meeting, or to extol the achievements of others.

Now there can be little doubt that women venture much further into this borderland of the modest than men. Without referring to those gross breaches of the conventions which all would condemn, women are more willing to be different from one another than are men. They are more willing to try a novelty, and they are more unconventional than men. This is distinctly a virtue at the present time, when we are too hardly ruled by conventions, but it is usually condemned as ‘the thin edge of the wedge.’

This metaphor of the wedge, of which our reformers are so fond, is a most immoral one. It is the chosen argument of the reactionary, of the obscurantist, and of all who object to any change in present conditions but can find no reasonable arguments in their favor. According to it, dancing is wicked, billiards are wicked, cards are wicked: they all lead to moral ruin. A glass of beer leads to drunkenness; a pretty girl looking her best leads to quite unmentionable wickedness. Now there is just one answer to all these ‘thin edge of the wedge’ arguments. They are all simply false. We must in all things take risks, and we must be strong enough to take them. We shall make no advances in civilization if our conduct is to be regulated entirely for the benefit of the weakest members.

So in asserting that women are naturally less modest than men we are far from asserting that women are essentially wicked. Wherever that doctrine is heard, as in Indian philosophy, we may be sure that we are encountering a man-made culture. On the contrary, we are claiming for them a virtue: women are more ready to break a convention than men.

In England, before the war, educated women behaved in a most immodest manner in order to gain political ends. They yelled, chained themselves to railings, broke windows, bit policemen, and in various ways did things that no modest man of their own class would have dreamed of. This inherent immodesty gave them a very unfair advantage over men. An uneducated man may bite a policeman and no one will be shocked, but for an educated person it is a most immodest action. No real gentleman would do so; it would offend his sense of self-respect — that is, his modesty. But a lady, fired by a sincere belief, would cheerfully eat the whole policeman if the act would forward her aims. She would not by doing so hurt her modesty, because she has not got so much.

Since the days of Eve woman has adventured into new ways, often contrary to the accepted code and often good in the long run. The eating of apples was forbidden in the Garden of Eden. Eve broke that rule; and it was better for Adam to learn good and evil and fall than to remain an innocent and ignorant animal.

II

We have seen that in matters of personal appearance and hygiene woman has during the last fifty years worked a revolution. It is now full time for man to follow her example. For more than a hundred years there has been little change in man’s absurd habiliments. Reform is more than due, but unfortunately it will have to be carried out in the teeth of the professional moralist. He is usually a reactionary, as is well illustrated by the history of man’s distinctive garment.

About one hundred and twenty years ago men began to wear modern trousers. They were instantly condemned as immoral and unworthy of a gentleman. They were the badge of the ‘Reds’ of the day, the revolutionary sans-culottes. It is well known that the Duke of Wellington was refused admittance to Almack’s on the ground that he was wearing trousers. At Trinity College, Cambridge, students were notified that those attending chapel or college in the objectionable garments would not be counted present; and in 1820 the English Nonconformists decided that a minister should on no account ascend the pulpit in trousers. In Berlin in 1801 trouser-wearers were regarded as revolutionaries, although in 1797 King Frederick William III had horrified society at Bad Pyrmont by wearing them in public. It was not until about 1830 that the badge of the French revolutionary became the emblem of respectability.

To-day we retain in our dress all the worst points of the worst period of early Victorianism. We have indeed fairly banished the tall hat, but from the neck down we are expensive, insanitary, and ugly.

A man’s coat is so cut as to weigh heavily upon the spine at the base of the neck with the collar stud pressing firmly on the backbone. An attitude with the head poked forward is the result in most elderly men.

The neck is encircled by a tight band, often of stiffly starched linen. This is patently absurd and unnecessary. The soft collar is a boon, yet even that is much too tight. Women, who leave their necks free, do not catch more colds than men. It is indeed true that men are constitutionally a little more delicate than women, but that is no reason for this swaddling of the neck. Sailors are probably more healthy than business men, yet they expose their necks. This appears to be an urgent reform.

The coat and waistcoat have a curious history. In Caroline times they descended to the knees, forming a kind of stiff kilt and effectually preventing the wearer from sitting in an ordinary chair. Then they ascended in front until in the days of Napoleon they resembled a chest-protector surmounting a large egg. To-day they have descended to the hips, leaving exposed just that vital region about the waist where so many of our ills originate.

The modern waistcoat leaves the waist unprotected. The modern jacket is a pocket-and-dust receptacle. Man has far too many pockets attached to every part of his person, into most of which he dare not put anything for fear of spoiling the suit. Even if he uses them, they are so numerous that objects, such as letters for the post, may be lost in them for weeks.

When a man buttons his jacket, he can with difficulty raise his arms above the shoulder. If he wants to do any work, he has to take off his coat. It binds the shoulders, and many a man has been drowned by his coat.

But for grotesque humor the dress coat is supreme. It is ‘correct’ for dancing, and, as the wearer gyrates, the two little black flaps twist and turn behind like the double tails of some heraldic devil. The dress coat is derived from a riding-coat and was originally cut in that manner in order to give freedom in the saddle. But why should modern man on formal occasions array himself in the trousers of a French revolutionary and the coat of an English farmer?

Trousers are generally acknowledged to be illogical garments. We cannot very well walk without bending the knees, so we not only wear garments with no knee-joint, but even insist on a careful crease in just such a position as to make knee-bending as difficult as possible. Trousers are indeed truly immodest, for when a man sits down he must separately and elaborately hoist each leg, thereby exposing a pale-blue sock-supporting apparatus. No real lady would dream of doing such a thing. But trousers are in some degree sacred. Their popular American name is derived by devious ways from the Italian Saint Pantaleone, and they still retain some trace of sanctity. Alter what you will, but alter not my ‘pants.’ Oxford trousers and plus-fours are objects of the usual denunciations.

There are two lines of reform. Either make them so loose that they slip easily on sitting down, or stop them at the knee. Shortening is the most logical method of reform, but the difficulty lies in the modesty of man. Suggest to him that he wear knickerbockers or shorts, and he retorts with a reference to his ankles or calves. The only person to-day who is ashamed to let his ankles be seen is the American business man. Golf is slowly undermining his position.

This modesty in man seems to be inherent. It appears at a very early age and is apparently independent of training. The little girl early begins to show pleasure in being noticed and in wearing nice clothes; the little boy is the shyest creature imaginable. His one longing is to look exactly like all other boys and to be lost in the mob. Most boys pass through agonies on going first to school, because their collar is not quite the right pattern or their tie is the wrong color. It is not until a fairly late age that they learn to have any individuality. Many men indeed remain boys in this all their lives, — each is only one of ‘the crowd,’ — and unfortunately our present system of education tends to keep them so.

One of the difficulties in introducing the Boy Scout movement into Canada was the shyness of the boys. They were ashamed to show their knees or elbows. In the U. S. A. the Boy Scouts still modestly cover these parts. Girls, as we know, have no such shyness.

III

The uniform question may indicate a way out. All men are shy. The English code of ‘good form’ is simply a form of modesty. It is a citadel of correctness within which the man may feel safe. The American is even shyer. If convention decrees that he is to work in shirt-sleeves, he will put on extra-thick underclothing rather than his coat. If convention decrees that shirt-sleeves are immodest in the presence of ladies, he will at once put on his coat and suffer perspiringly. But he loves a uniform, once it is accepted as a uniform.

It is not customary for American business men to dance in the public streets attired in exotic garb, yet a short time ago several hundred American business men danced in the streets of Montreal, at noonday, attired as Turks. This they did under the guise of endowing a hospital. The endowment was kindly thought of, but the dancing was gratis; it was very complicated and must have taken considerable practice. They evidently enjoyed it — man loves a ritual as he loves a uniform.

Now no woman would ever do anything like this. It would not appeal to her practical mind. She feels no need to take refuge in a crowd when she wants to make a fool of herself, and it is a revelation of our topsy-turvy civilization that man, the individualist, is at present in some ways less individual than woman, the organizer. He can unbottle these wild emotions of his only in the safe anonymity of a society. It is only in the higher branches of learning, science, or art that man can and does preserve his individuality. In ordinary life man is fettered by custom and ritual to a far greater degree than woman. If you wish women to adopt a fashion, suggest that it is daring, new, and French. If you wish men to do the same, make it ritual, uniform, and antique; then they will do or wear anything. But the Ku Klux Klansmen probably hood their faces in order to hide their blushes.

The only tolerable and healthy dress at present habitually worn by men in America is a uniform—that of the sailor. His neck is healthily free; his jumper comes well down and his trousers come well above his waist, and so he avoids chills. He frequently has his feet bare, and so avoids all the twisted toes to which our boxed-in feet are liable. It is a uniform, and so he is not ashamed to wear it. Will someone introduce a benevolent and ancient society for business men with a welldesigned and beautiful uniform? Its legendary history should date back at least to the Aztecs.

When reform comes, as it probably will if woman’s influence increases, it will come slowly and through the young people. This is a simple fact usually ignored by our reformers. The elderly reformer has no chance; he dies too soon. But the young rebel has quite a chance; he is making his own world, and he will live in it when we are safely underground. He usually heeds the reformer very little. After he has buried him, he goes his way on his own responsibility and does things the reformer never dreamed of. We may cite an example of this.

In the latter part of the nineteenth century a certain Mrs. Bloomer introduced a reformed dress for women. It included knickerbockers; it was advocated by wise and elderly persons; and it failed utterly. Mrs. Bloomer’s name is now attached to schoolboys’ knickerbockers. Presently the flapper took it into her empty head to wear breeches. The wise and elderly persons all protested in vain; the reform was brilliantly successful; and to-day girls wear breeches without attracting much notice. For a reform to be really successful, it should be introduced by the young and disapproved of by the elderly. This discovery is recommended to all reformers.

It has been pointed out by a French writer that the Englishman and the Frenchman regard dress from rather different angles. The Englishman wears the clothes appropriate to the time, the Frenchman those suitable to the occasion. So a Frenchman may wear dress clothes in the morning for a ceremonial occasion. The Englishman inclines to wear evening dress even when the occasion is not ceremonial. In this the American inclines to the French practice. He does not indeed wear dress clothes in the morning, unless he is an ambassador, but rather keeps them for ceremonial occasions in the evening. And in other respects he usually identifies clothes with an occasion. He speaks of golf trousers or golf stockings where the Englishman says ‘knickerbockers.’ He speaks of running-trousers where the Englishman says ‘shorts,’ and of tennis dress where the Englishman says ‘flannels.’ He often does wear such dress because it is suitable and comfortable, yet he always seeks the shelter of the conventional excuse: he is presumably going to play golf, or he has just been playing golf and it is too much trouble to change his clothes. So the reformer, if he is wise, will not proclaim the hygienic virtues of, say, shorts or an open neck. He will invent a game suitable for tired business men and guaranteed to reduce weight, for which these are the recognized uniform adjuncts. Women do not need these inducements, but modest man does.

For any who are so bold as to attempt reform, a few obvious improvements may be suggested.

First, clothes should be, as far as possible, washable. We very nearly wear a suit until it falls to pieces from age and dirt. Cleaning is expensive and ruins clothes of the present complicated cut, but our summer clothes, at any rate, should be washable. Starch should be abolished entirely.

Secondly, we should wear quite different clothes in the hot weather from what we wear in the cold — clothes different not merely in thickness but in pattern.

Thirdly, our clothing should recognize that the human body has joints and bends them. Our present clothes are admirably adapted to be worn by dummy figures; they look at their best in the tailor’s window. They hinder us in sitting down and in standing up, to a far greater degree than we realize.

Fourthly, they should leave as much skin exposed as possible, according to the climate. Doctors tell us that we cover ourselves up far too much and that direct light is good for the skin. This is the particular virtue of the sailor’s collar, of shorts, and of kilts.

Fifthly, variety might be encouraged. There is no real need for all men to be dressed alike. But it will take a great deal of converting by their wives before men will consent to this.

Lastly, the best clothes men wear to-day are country or sports clothes. Reform may come through that ‘inordinate love of pleasure’ which the reformers deplore. These clothes at least avoid the horrors of ‘smartness.’

IV

This is only a dream. A few cranks may like to be comfortable, but it is not in this manner that reforms are brought about.

It has been noticed that the changes in man’s dress have always come from below in society upward. Our dress coat does not come to us from the courts of kings, but from the ridingcoat of the English farmer in the eighteenth century. Our trousers come from the French peasant; our soft collars originated in Whitechapel; the jacket is a garment of the common people; knickerbockers were originally worn by the lowland Scottish peasant. We adopt our fashions in dress from the proletariat.

So it is safer to make our prophecy on safe historic lines. One hundred years or so from now the formal attire of the fashionable American man will be an adaptation of the dress of the American peasant. He will appear in a carefully cut suit of black broadcloth overalls, with broad black-silk braces bearing the old-fashioned motto,‘Union Made,’ and exposing at the back a stiffly starched blue shirt. He will be exquisitely uncomfortable.