I have asked you to consider three facts, but in reality they are but three manifestations of one fact, to my mind the most important human fact society has yet encountered.  Women have ceased to exist as a subsidiary class in the community.  They are no longer wholly dependent, economically, intellectually, and spiritually, on a ruling class of men.  They look on life with the eyes of reasoning adults, where once they regarded it as trusting children.  Women now form a new social group, separate, and to a degree homogeneous.  Already they have evolved a group opinion and a group ideal.

And this brings me to my reason for believing that society will soon be compelled to make a serious survey of the opinions and ideals of women.  As far as these have found collective expressions, it is evident that they differ very radically from accepted opinions and ideals of men.  As a matter of fact, it is inevitable that this should be so.  Back of the differences between the masculine and the feminine ideal lie centuries of different habits, different duties, different ambitions, different opportunities, different rewards.

I shall not here attempt to outline what the differences have been or why they have existed.  Charlotte Perkins Gilman, in Women and Economics, did this before me,—­did it so well that it need never be done again.  I merely wish to point out that different habits of action necessarily result, after long centuries, in different habits of thought.  Men, accustomed to habits of strife, pursuit of material gains, immediate and tangible rewards, have come to believe that strife is not only inevitable but desirable; that material gain and visible reward are alone worth coveting.  In this commercial age strife means business competition, reward means money.  Man, in the aggregate, thinks in terms of money profit and money loss, and try as he will, he cannot yet think in any other terms.

I have in mind a certain rich young man, who, when he is not superintending the work of his cotton mills in Virginia, is giving his time to settlement work in the city of Washington.  The rich young man is devoted to the settlement.  One day he confided to a guest of the house, a social worker of note, that he wished he might dedicate his entire life to philanthropy.

“There is much about a commercial career that is depressing to a sympathetic nature,” he declared.  “For example, it constantly depresses me to observe the effect of the cotton mills on the girls in my employ.  They come in from the country, fresh, blooming, and eager to work.  Within a few months perhaps they are pale, anaemic, listless.  Not infrequently a young girl contracts tuberculosis and dies before one realizes that she is ill.  It wrings the heart to see it.”

“I suspect,” said the visitor, “that there is something wrong with your mills.  Are you sure that they are sufficiently well ventilated?”

“They are as well ventilated as we can have them,” said the rich young man.  “Of course we cannot keep the windows open.”