Feminism -- Fiction; Political fiction, American; Socialism -- Fiction; Utopian fiction; Utopias -- Fiction; Women -- Fiction
It was this new growth of humanity which made continuing social progress
so rapid and so sure.
These young minds had no rubbish in them. They had a vivid sense of the
world as a whole, quite beyond their family "relations." They were
marvelously reasonable, free from prejudice, able to see and willing to
do. And this spreading tide of hope and courage flowed back into the
older minds, as well as forward into the new I found that people's ideas
of youth and age had altered materially. Nellie said it was due to the
change in women--but then she laid most things to that. She reminded me
that women used to be considered only as females, and were "old" when no
longer available in that capacity; but that as soon as they recognized
themselves as human beings they put "Grandma" into the background, and
"Mother" too; and simply went on working and growing and enjoying life
up into the lively eighties--even nineties, sometimes.
"Brains do not cease to function at fifty," she said. "Just because a
woman is no longer an object to 'fall in love' with, it does not follow
that life has no charms for her. Women to-day have all that they ever
had before, all that was good in it; and more, a thousand times more.
When the lives of half the world widen like that it widens the other
half too."
This quite evidently had happened.
The average mental standard was higher, the outlook broader. I found
many very ordinary people, of course; some whose only attitude toward
this wonderful new world was to enjoy its advantages; and even some who
grumbled. These were either old persons with bad digestions or new
immigrants from very backward countries.
I traveled about, visiting different places, consulting all manner of
authorities, making notes, registering objections. It was all
interesting, and grew more so as it seemed less strange. My sense of
theatrical unreality gave way to a growing appreciation of the universal
beauty about me.
Art, I found, held a very different position from what it used to hold.
It had joined hands with life again, was common, familiar, used in all
things. There were pictures, many and beautiful, but the great word Art
was no longer so closely confined to its pictorial form. It was not
narrow, expensive, requiring a special education, but part of the
atmosphere in which all children grew, all people lived.
For instance the theatre, which I remember as a two-dollar affair, and
mainly vulgar and narrow, was now the daily companion and teacher. The
historic instinct with which nearly every child is born was cultivated
without check. The little ones played through all their first years of
instruction, played the old stone age (most natural to them!) the new
stone age, the first stages of industry. Older children learned history
that way; and as they reached years of appreciation, special dramas were
written for them, in which psychology and sociology were learned without
hearing their names.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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