[Herland by Charlotte Perkins Stetson Gilman]@TWC D-Link bookHerland CHAPTER 5 17/24
The records of their past were all preserved, and for years the older women had spent their time in the best teaching they were capable of, that they might leave to the little group of sisters and mothers all they possessed of skill and knowledge. There you have the start of Herland! One family, all descended from one mother! She lived to a hundred years old; lived to see her hundred and twenty-five great-granddaughters born; lived as Queen-Priestess-Mother of them all; and died with a nobler pride and a fuller joy than perhaps any human soul has ever known--she alone had founded a new race! The first five daughters had grown up in an atmosphere of holy calm, of awed watchful waiting, of breathless prayer.
To them the longed-for motherhood was not only a personal joy, but a nation's hope.
Their twenty-five daughters in turn, with a stronger hope, a richer, wider outlook, with the devoted love and care of all the surviving population, grew up as a holy sisterhood, their whole ardent youth looking forward to their great office.
And at last they were left alone; the white-haired First Mother was gone, and this one family, five sisters, twenty-five first cousins, and a hundred and twenty-five second cousins, began a new race. Here you have human beings, unquestionably, but what we were slow in understanding was how these ultra-women, inheriting only from women, had eliminated not only certain masculine characteristics, which of course we did not look for, but so much of what we had always thought essentially feminine. The tradition of men as guardians and protectors had quite died out. These stalwart virgins had no men to fear and therefore no need of protection.
As to wild beasts--there were none in their sheltered land. The power of mother-love, that maternal instinct we so highly laud, was theirs of course, raised to its highest power; and a sister-love which, even while recognizing the actual relationship, we found it hard to credit. Terry, incredulous, even contemptuous, when we were alone, refused to believe the story.
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