ithout a director. We, it seems,
suffer them to interfere in the management of state affairs, and to
intrude into the general assemblies. Had I not been restrained by
the modesty and dignity of some among them, had I not been unwilling
that they should be rebuked by a Consul, I should have said to them:
'What sort of practice is this of running into the streets, and
addressing other women's husbands? Could you not have petitioned at
home? Are your blandishments more seductive in public than in private,
and with other husbands than your own?'"

How natural it all sounds, how modern, how familiar! And with what
knowledge of the immutable laws of nature, as opposed to the
capricious laws of man, did Lucius Valerius defend the rebellious
women of Rome! "Elegance of apparel," he pleaded before the Senate,
"and jewels, and ornaments,--these are a woman's badges of
distinction; in these she glories and delights; these our ancestors
called the woman's world. What else does she lay aside in mourning
save her purple and gold? What else does she resume when the mourning
is over? How does she manifest her sympathy on occasions of public
rejoicing, but by adding to the splendour of her dress?"[1]

[Footnote 1: Livy.]

Of course the statute was repealed. The only sumptuary laws which
defied resistance were those which draped the Venetian gondolas and
the Milanese priests in black, and with such restrictions women had
no concern.

The symbolism of dress is a subject which has never received its due
share of attention, yet it stands for attributes in the human race
which otherwise defy analysis. It is interwoven with all our carnal
and with all our spiritual instincts. It represents a cunning triumph
over hard conditions, a turning of needs into victories. It voices
desires and dignities without number, it subjects the importance of
the thing done to the importance of the manner of doing it. "Man wears
a special dress to kill, to govern, to judge, to preach, to mourn,
to play. In every age the fashion in which he retains or discards
some portion of this dress denotes a subtle change in his feelings."
All visible things are emblematic of invisible forces. Man fixed the
association of colours with grief and gladness, he made ornaments
the insignia of office, he ordained that fabric should grace the
majesty of power.

Yet though we know this well, it is our careless custom to talk about
dress, and to write about dress, as if it had