the conceit of their separateness and veiled personality.  Every woman was supposed to be playing a part behind a mask.  Montaigne is always investigating woman as a mystery.  It is, for instance, a mystery he does not relish that, as he says, women commonly reserve the publication of their vehement affections for their husbands till they have lost them; then the woful countenance “looks not so much back as forward, and is intended rather to get a new husband than to lament the old.”  And he tells this story: 

“When I was a boy, a very beautiful and virtuous lady who is yet living, and the widow of a prince, had, I know not what, more ornament in her dress than our laws of widowhood will well allow, which being reproached with as a great indecency, she made answer ’that it was because she was not cultivating more friendships, and would never marry again.’” This cynical view of woman, as well as the extravagantly complimentary one sometimes taken by the poets, was based upon the notion that woman was an unexplainable being.  When she herself adopted the idea is uncertain.  Of course all this has a very practical bearing upon modern life, the position of women in it, and the so-called reforms.  If woman is so different from man, to the extent of being an unexplainable mystery, science ought to determine the exact state of the case, and ascertain if there is any remedy for it.  If it is only a literary creation, we ought to know it.  Science could tell, for instance, whether there is a peculiarity in the nervous system, any complications in the nervous centres, by which the telegraphic action of the will gets crossed, so that, for example, in reply to a proposal of marriage, the intended “Yes” gets delivered as “No.”  Is it true that the mental process in one sex is intuitive, and in the other logical, with every link necessary and visible?  Is it true, as the romancers teach, that the mind in one sex acts indirectly and in the other directly, or is this indirect process only characteristic of exceptions in both sexes?  Investigation ought to find this out, so that we can adjust the fit occupations for both sexes on a scientific basis.  We are floundering about now in a sea of doubt.  As society becomes more complicated, women will become a greater and greater mystery, or rather will be regarded so by themselves and be treated so by men.

Who can tell how much this notion of mystery in the sex stands in the way of its free advancement all along the line?  Suppose the proposal were made to women to exchange being mysterious for the ballot?  Would they do it?  Or have they a sense of power in the possession of this conceded incomprehensibility that they would not lay down for any visible insignia of that power?  And if the novelists and essayists have raised a mist about the sex, which it willingly masquerades in, is it not time that the scientists should determine whether the mystery exists in nature or only in the imagination?