In contrast with the selected, similar origin stories in the previous chapter, the societies depicted in each text vary greatly. As addressed in the general introduction, all make the contemporary, lowered status of women a focal point, either through explicitly futuristic, matriarchal societies (New Amazonia, A Few Hours in A Far-Off Age, “The White Women”), depictions of feminist revolutions (the Dixie works, Margaret Dunmore, “Women Free”), or more subtle castigations of particular, misogynistic institutions (marriage in Handfasted, medicine in The Age of Science). So, although texts tend to have a similar agenda, few commonalities, aside from major facets of political and educational equality, exist between them.

The first text in this chapter, New Amazonia, like many contemporary, male utopian texts, provides a traditional overview of a new, speculative society. Most societal qualities are not organically discovered by the nameless narrator, but, instead, are essentially listed in this section of the text. Men may live and work in New Amazonia, but they do not hold any governmental/leadership positions. Only healthy people may marry, poor and sick individuals are forbidden from joining the society, and sick infants are killed. They also heavily emphasize physical fitness and comfortable clothing--a museum displays a Victorian-era corset as a sort of torture device. Although utopian, Corbett tends to portray New Amazonia as rather extreme and repressive; citizens are required to pledge allegiance to the nation and its rather strict code of mores.


 

In contrast, La Maison, the central home of Margaret Dunmore, seems posited as much more positive. All participants helped form and run the home, and, thus, all appear willing to be there. The selection included here features a visit from Mr. Hunter, a misogynistic caricature, who meets with Walter Cairns, a house member, as he considers placing his daughters in the La Maison school. Clapperton portrays Hunter completely unsympathetically, but Cairns still speaks to him calmly and politely, suggesting the ethos of kindness that permeate the household. The latter explains the focus on gentle, egalitarian education: no competition, no “cramming or straining of a child’s natural powers”, and teaching the same subjects (which are both academic and domestic) to both boys and girls. Later in the chapter, the reader learns that La Maison residents eschew religion and teach their pupils the same. Cairns works to convince Cairns that his daughters would benefit from receiving such an education, even using a somewhat Wollstoncraftian defense, arguing that they will be better wives and mothers for doing so. Although the society of La Maison remains contained to the home (something, as discussed in the origin stories intro, may have been of some comfort to New Woman readers), Cairns and others clearly desire to spread the message. Ultimately, though, Cairns and others decide that the Hunter children are not promising enough to live in the household, determining that they possess too much ignorance and “vulgar thought” to succeed in their household. Although Dunmore and New Amazonia approach the feminist utopia drastically differently, they do seem to possess this commonality: not everyone is sufficient enough to live in their respective societies. Contrasting with, perhaps, Gloriana, which attends more to the quantity of women working for the revolution than the quality, both Dunmore and New Amazonia present societies that are carefully cultivated, with individuals who are not intellectually or physically sufficient not permitted.
 

In spite of their greater differences, this commonality is not the only one that exists between the two texts. First, it is notable that both texts depict rather socialist societies, though, as expected, each text executes such formation differently. As discussed previously, New Women writers tended to support socialism and related revolutions, connecting them intrinsically with women's rights, so it is unsurprising that two New Woman utopian novels, in spite of their surface level differences, both represented socialism positively. New Amazonia possesses a rather typical socialist government: “The State was to be the only importer, no private competition being permitted”. La Maison, in contrast, perpetuates socialism through a collectively owned and operated home existing as a sanctuary within larger, capitalist society. Interestingly enough, it is capitalism itself that allows La Maison to form--the titular character funds the home with her inherited fortune. Sally Ledger addresses the ‘domestic socialism’ of La Maison. She compares it with Morris’ News from Nowhere--both novels intrinsically link socialist and feminist progress, although the former, perhaps as a true “New Woman” novel, does offer the female characters more power and influence. Ledger writes, “Margaret Dunmore and her close friend, Therese Jose, are the centers of political consciousness in the novel, and have considerable power in the ‘Socialist Home’” (Ledger 51). Ledger also addresses how, though liberal feminism remained more prominent at the time, socialist feminism--focusing mainly on supporting the welfare state--gained traction around the publication date of Dunmore. New Amazonia seems to posit a similar correlation between socialist progress, but it, perhaps, reverses the formation of La Maison. The latter is an explicitly socialist society formed by a feminist group, but New Amazonia begins as just a matriarchal society, who then decide to embrace socialism. Perhaps the divergence here originates in the two texts’ diverging origin stories. Women make the conscious decision to start La Maison, and they opt for a socialist utopia. New Amazonia is matriarchal by circumstance, not through a rebellion of women, so the socialist system comes later, after the society organizes. The circumstantial origins of New Amazonia also suggest why and how an entire nation and society can become such a socialist utopia--significant shifts in global powers and war likely had more impact than a small group of women seeking reforms.

Similarly, Margaret Dunmore and New Amazonia possess another similar social facet, although, again, each texts approaches it somewhat differently: ‘state’ ownership of motherhood. In New Amazonia, “all children were considered the property of the state”. Mothers have the right to publicly nurse, but they are punished for “recklessness” for having more than four children. Though more subtly and, perhaps, more gently, motherhood is similarly “state” regulated in La Maison--all female members of the household mother all children. The ‘mothers’ seem happy to do so though, as, unlike New Amazonia, nothing about the tone of this section suggests it as a punitive measure, as one to prevent irresponsible custody arrangements or parenting. Instead, the women of La Maison (although still stuck in a feminine gender role regarding motherhood) take a lot of pride in and associate high emotions with their work. In the included excerpt, Clapperton’s narrator describes a household infant in extremely positive, idealized terms, and Lucy, a household resident, describes how happy they are to all feel like “his mother”. Perhaps the only uncomfortable facet of the La Maison approach to mothering is that infants who misbehave are put into a “prison” to help “train them to obedience”, although they are never scolded. Like the rejection of the Hunter children, such a concept further suggests a sinister underpinning to the otherwise positive tone surrounding La Maison. That said, the collective mothering still seems generally more positive in tone than the state custody of children in New Amazonia. New Women's opinions on motherhood diverged greatly; Lorna Sage argued that the crux of New Womanhood was having “ambitions beyond motherhood” (465). In contrast, Jean Pfaelzer suggests that 19th century feminist texts in particular celebrated motherhood--20th century texts depict the institution negatively, while 18th century texts, using the “absent mother figure” trope, tend to circumvent it entirely. New Amazonia and Margaret Dunmore offer evidence for either interpretation. Obviously, state custody of children and collective mothering allows for lower pressure on individual women and more time for other pursuits. Thus, New Amazonia seems more in the first camp, suggesting that motherhood was hardly a woman’s most important job--after this mention, its role is rather minimized the text’s depictions of society. At the same time, the celebratory nature of the motherhood and the perpetuation of traditional gender roles (though while taking pride in them, like News from Nowhere) in Margaret Dunmore suggests a New Womanhood open to progressive, socialist reforms in mothering, but still heavily celebrating it as an institution. Furthermore, since the motherhood in the text is so collective, Clapperton seems to be suggesting a connection between potential socialist reforms and motherhood, specifically, not just femininity. Clearly, New Women strongly diverged in the importance of motherhood in their reformed, utopian societies, and the included texts in this chapter seem to represent both sides--New Amazonia nearly suggests eliminating the institution through true state-sponsored parenting, while the women of La Maison celebrate and advocate it as an important facet of their socialist society.

Thus, New Amazonia and Margaret Dunmore, both texts that address several aspects of the formation of society, reveal a few specific issues raised by New Woman fiction: the ethics of pledging “allegiance” to a society, socialist governing, and the position of mothering. In contrast, the society in Catherine Helen Spence’s Handfasted revolves around a singular feminist issue: marriage. In the included excerpt. Lilliard, the text’s female protagonist, explains to the narrator, Hugh, (who, diverting from all other included texts, is male) that marriage in Coumba only takes place through the “handfasting” ritual (a reference to a similar device in Sir Walter Scott’s The Monastery). “Handfasting” is a form of trial marriage that all couples must go through before being permanently wed in Columba, the novel’s society. It is, more or less, cohabiting--couples live together and essentially act “married”, with the caveat that one or the other partner, regardless of gender, is free to leave at any point in time. Lilliard is very level-headed about the possibility that she may leave her handfasting partner or that he may leave her--emotions seem relatively uninvolved. The included chapter, “The Peculiar Institution of Columba”, reveals other, elements of the utopian society. Religion ended many years ago, when the only remaining minister among the settlers died at sea. Citizens heavily value ‘great books’, but have little access directly to them--teachers learn from them in the capital, then coming back to individual towns to teach students what they learn. In addition, both boys and girls learn crafts and needlework at school (though each gender learns slightly different forms--boys crochet, and girls knit, for example), which, through unexplained means, helps expand their memory and capacity for great books.

Despite these other revelations, the narrator remains the most perplexed by the handfasting ritual, and most of the chapter focuses on it. Clearly, the novel intends to take a more feminist, even sex-positive perspective to traditional marriage. Men and women select their own partners, cohabit, and have the freedom to leave at any point before settling into a real commitment. Naturally, the so-called liberty of this concept is problematized by the fact that the state requires such an action, but, still, the text seems primarily like a feminist rewriting of typical marriage rituals. Terra Walston Joseph argues that the new marriage ritual, more so than other aspects of Columba, is the novel’s central, feminist tenant. It eliminates the “double standard” regarding women with multiple partners, decreases spousal abuse through creating more satisfying, healthy relationships, and eradicates the need for prostitution. Thus, unlike most other included texts, Columbans have not made many feminist reforms, but, instead, one central change with far-reaching impacts. The novel suggests that perhaps just one major reform, instead of several, could make a large change, making the novel seem more specific in its political agenda. Notably, many other included texts do not comment on marriage at all, and they certainly do not to the extent that Handfasted does. New Women were certainly concerned with marriage and marriage rituals--Ann Ardis addresses many non-speculative/utopian texts where women escaping its confines and having premarital relations is a focal point. Some other texts do comment on the issue (marriage and divorce are allowed in New Amazonia, for example), but, otherwise, writers of New Woman speculative fiction tended to comment on it less frequently. Perhaps Spence is unique in that she believed it to be the source of female oppression, while other writers saw it as more of a side-effect of lack of female suffrage, capitalist economies, general patriarchy, etc. Spence lived in Australia, away from most other New Woman writers--perhaps her geographical isolation impacted her unique point of view. Regardless, her focus on solving the "marriage problem", to borrow Sarah Grand's term, appears to be one of the most explicit New Woman castigations of women's inequality in sexuality.


 

Finally, Elizabeth Gaskell’s Cranford is, similarly, deeply unique, diverging completely from the aforementioned texts. It is the earliest text in this anthology (as discussed in the general introduction), and is not speculative or futuristic. Instead, Cranford is a small village located in contemporary, Victorian England, which women essentially run--they own property, enforce a strict social code (everyone lives in poverty, but nobody is permitted to discuss this or other uncomfortable topics, like death), and run single men who are not willing to conform out of town. Captain Brown, a single man, comes to town and openly discusses poverty, but, in a twist, the ladies find him kind enough to allow him to continue living there. The novel is hardly a classic utopian text; Rae Rosenthal collects and discusses the small amount of criticism that posits it as such. Rosenthal argues that the text is a clear feminist utopia, as it meets the definition she establishes: “emphasis on feminine values and issues, commitment to communialsim, and an ability to overcome male intruders through either expulsion or conversion” (74). The text is at least 30 years older than other included texts in this anthology, and, at the time of its publication, the New Woman phenomenon had not taken off in the manner that it had by the 1880s and 1890s. So, it is perhaps unsurprising that the text operates more subtly--women do not vote, go to school, or have major careers, and the national governmental and economic systems remain the same, but they are able to dictate the social mores of a small, otherwise typical Victorian village. Such a depiction may have been more appealing to earlier Victorian feminists and other female readers. It, like many of the origin stories, recalls Beaumont’s “latent content”, perhaps more so than even Margaret Dunmore. The change is not particularly radical; in fact, the Cranford women live in abject poverty, and their life of gossip and social regulation seems hardly pleasant or empowering. Arguably, Cranford is more "Independent Woman" (a term from Anne Ardis, as discussed in the introduction ) fiction than New Woman fiction. In some senses, it operates as a contrasting example for the purposes of this anthology, demonstrating the "Independent Woman" ideal of women maintaining most hegemonic values while challenging one aspect of sexist society. That said, if there is a commonality amongst the texts included in this section, it is, perhaps, matriarchal authority being the root of some kind of social change; in Cranford, it may be maintenance of rather niche conservative social values instead of a New Woman-style socialist revolution, but, like the New Woman texts, the utopian aspects of society are still intrinsically linked to female authority. Although it, again, also serves as a contrasting text, I would argue that Cranford also functions as a predecessor to New Woman fiction in this sense (further justifying its inclusion in this anthology).

Aside from this, though, the texts radically diverge; each can be read as a different example of writings regarding feminist, utopian social systems. Both New Amazonia and Margaret Dunmore demonstrate radical changes across many aspects of society (particularly regarding economic and family systems), but the former seems to suggest a sense of fear and state overbearance, while Dunmore takes on a generally more optimistic tone, though with some more subtle, sinister ideas about who may live in the society. Handfasted attacks only one antifeminist institution, demonstrating how one change can lead to a great fallout. Finally, Cranford, like many origins, suggests that many women, even as they dream for greater utopias, may desire authority and respect within dominant society is more important than massive social changes.