MOVING THE
MOUNTAIN
BY
CHARLOTTE PERKINS GILMAN
CHARLTON COMPANY
NEW YORK
1911
Copyright, 1911
by
Charlotte Perkins Gilman
PREFACE
One of the most distinctive features of the human mind is to forecastbetter things.
And pine for what is not."
This natural tendency to hope, desire, foresee and then, if possible,obtain, has been largely diverted from human usefulness since our goalwas placed after death, in Heaven. With all our hope in "Another World,"we have largely lost hope of this one.
Some minds, still keen in the perception of better human possibilities,have tried to write out their vision and give it to the world. FromPlato's ideal Republic to Wells' Day of the Comet we have had manyUtopias set before us, best known of which are that of Sir Thomas Moreand the great modern instance, "Looking Backward."
All these have one or two distinctive features—an element of extremeremoteness, or the introduction of some mysterious outside force."Moving the Mountain" is a short distance Utopia, a baby Utopia, alittle one that can grow. It involves no other change than a change ofmind, the mere awakening of people, especially the women, to existingpossibilities. It indicates what people might do, real people, nowliving, in thirty years—if they would.
One man, truly aroused and redirecting his energies, can change hiswhole life in thirty years.
So can the world.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER I
CHAPTER II
CHAPTER III
CHAPTER IV
CHAPTER V
CHAPTER VI
CHAPTER VII
CHAPTER VIII
CHAPTER IX
CHAPTER X
CHAPTER XI
CHAPTER XII
CHAPTER I
On a gray, cold, soggy Tibetan plateau stood glaring at one another twowhite people—a man and a woman.
With the first, a group of peasants; with the second, the guides andcarriers of a well-equipped exploring party.
The man wore the dress of a peasant, but around him was a leatherbelt—old, worn, battered—but a recognizable belt of no Asiaticpattern, and showing a heavy buckle made in twisted initials.
The woman's eye had caught the sunlight on this buckle before she sawthat the heavily bearded face under the hood was white. She pressedforward to look at it.
"Where did you get that belt?" she cried, turning for the interpreter tourge her question.
The man had caught her voice, her words. He threw back his hood andlooked at her, with a strange blank look, as of one listening tosomething far away.
"John!" she cried. "John! My Brother!"
He lifted a groping hand to his head, made a confused noise that endedin almost a shout of "Nellie!" reeled and fell b