The Forerunner, Volume 1 (1909 1910)

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*

The discussion as to whether we should or should not teach children the
Santa Claus myth pops up anew with Christmas time; and puzzles anew
anyone who regards this festival from a religious viewpoint.

If it was a choice between Santa Claus and nothing, we might prefer
Santa Claus; but here we have before us three things: first, the basis
of fact, the world old festival of the turn of the year, the coming of
the sun; second, a history of rejoicing peoples throughout all the ages,
keeping up the celebration under changing gods and dogmas; and third,
the story of beauty and wonder about the birth of Jesus.

Any child could be taught the meaning of the Coming of the Sun. The
growing light, the longer days, the beautiful future of flowers and
birds and playing in the grass; the joy of the young year. If we want
legends and stories, every religion behind us is full of them; stories
of sun-gods and their splendid triumph; stories of the great earth
mother and her bounty; stories of elves and gnomes and druids and all
manner of fairy tales.

But why avoid our own religion--the first which has emphatically taught
Love as the Law of Life--peace on earth and good-will to men. Are we
ashamed of our religion or don't we believe it any more? If we do
accept it in all the long-told tales of miracle and wonder, then we have
stories enough to tell our children; stories of simple human beauty,
stories of heavenly glory, stories of mystery and magic and delight.

If we do not wish to tell them these things as literally true; or even
as beautiful legends, there remains enough historic foundation to begin
with; and enough of the enduring glory of human love to last us a
lifetime.

"What is Christmas, Mama?"

"Christmas is a festival as old as the world, dear child--as old as our
human world; historic people have feasted and danced and sung for
thousands upon thousands of years, at this time of the year; and offered
gifts."

"Why do they give things at Christmas, Mama?"

"Because they are happy, dear; because they feel rich and glad and
loving now that the sun is coming back. As if Mama had been away--and
you could just see her--a long, long way off. You had seen her go--and
go--and go--farther and farther; and then she stopped a while--with her
back to you--and then all of a sudden she turned round and came toward
you! Wouldn't you be glad?"

Then if the child wants to know about the tree and the candles and all
the details of ceremony, there are facts and fancies to account for them
all.

But if he says, "Why do they call it Christmas, Mama?"--then you must
tell him the secret of Christianity--which is love.

Now, can anyone explain--or defend, in face of all this, our preference
for a shallow local myth about St. Nicholas, and the corruption of that
into a mere comic supplement character; a bulbous benevolent goblin,
red-nosed and gross, doing impossible tricks with reindeers and
chimneys, and half the time degraded to a mere adjunct of nursery
government? Why do we think it beautiful? Or interesting? Or
beneficial? The children like it, we say.

Children like what they are used to, generally. Also, like older
people, they are prone to like what isn't good for them. They like
brandy-drops among sweetmeats, but that is no reason we should supply
them.

*

This brings us to a strange characteristic of most of us; we seem to
prefer small cheap shallow outside things to the deep glowing beauty of
life. We seem afraid to take life at its splendid best; choosing rather
to live in a litter of petty ideas and feelings, and save the big ones
for Sundays--or annual holidays.

*

Yet in our hearts we all love great sweeps of emotion; and children
especially. Prof. Thomas, of Chicago, has given us a sidelight on this
in his clever book about women, "Sex and Society." He shows how in our
long pre-social period we were accustomed to strong excitement, long
hours of quivering suspense, mad rushes of blind fear, and orgies of
wild triumph. Our nerve channels were like the beds of mountain
streams, in dry warm lands; lying shallow or even empty at times; and
again roaring torrents. So that nowadays, on the paved levels of our
civilized life, the well-graduated dribble of small steady feelings, the
organism itself cries out for a change in the pressure.

Children and young people feel this more than older ones; the very old,
indeed, resent an unusual emotion. Yet when the young grow restless and
fretfully "wish something would happen!" we rebuke them; from the
heights of our enforced contentment; and call this natural and healthy
feeling a mere "thirst for excitement."

*

We need excitement. We have a vast capacity for it. It is a most
useful thing--this excitement; and we ought to have more of it, much
more. These young people are perfectly right in their uneasy feeling
that it would be nice to have something happen!

With all this to bank on, why so overlook the splendid possibilities of
Christmas? Why continue to make our helpless children's minds the
submissive channels for poor worn-out thin old stories? Are there no
gorgeous glowing truths in life--real life--now?

Then we tired aged people--born and reared in this atmosphere of cold
weariness; shake our heads and say--

"No. Life is hard. Life is dreary. Life is one long grind!"

That is where we are wrong, and the children are right. They come in
new every time. The earth is as young to them as it was to Adam.

If we would but once face the dignity and beauty of childhood instead of
looking down on it as we do--then we could take advantage of that
constant influx of force, instead of doing our best to crush it down.

This brings us sharply back to our Christmas--the festival of the Child.

It is. If celebrates the real new year; the new-born year, the opening
of another season of Life.

Dimly, very dimly, we have glimpsed this now and then, in the old triune
godhead of Isis, Osiris and Horus; and in our modern worship of the
Madonna and Child.

The time is coming very near when we shall see the meaning of The Child
more fully; and make our worship wiser.

What we see in all our thousand homes is "my child." What the
doll-taught mother sees is a sweet pretty dressable object; far more
time and effort being given--even before its birth--to the making of
clothing, than to the making of its constitution or character.

Then we see children as "a care," and a care they are to our worldwide
incompetence. How pathetic is the inadequacy of the young mother! She
would never dare to undertake to run a racing stable with no more
knowledge and experience than she brings to run a family.

She loves them--?

Yes, she loves them. And Mother love is so mighty a power that we all
love and honor Motherhood--in spite of its obvious deficiencies. But
none of these feelings; not even the deepest mother-love, is all that we
should give the child.

He needs Understanding--and Honor.

He needs to be recognized as the forefront of the world--the world of
to-morrow--the world we are making.

As we bear and rear him--and her!--as we guide and teach them both, so
stand the Men and Women who follow us.

*

Of course we do the best we can for our own little ones. That goes
without saying.

So does a monkey.

It is far more than that the child needs.

This Young Life, celebrated in our Christian Festival; this New Life,
Better Life, Life to Come, deserves more respect.

And the first meed of honor which we owe to our Successor, is to tell
him the truth!

*

That ought to put an end to our paltry old story of the Benign Chimney
Climber.

What we are here for, all of us, is to make the world better and the
people better. It is an easy and a pleasant game, if we would but give
our minds to it. The whole swiftly spreading enchantment of our varied
arts and industries is making a garden out of a wilderness; and even the
limited and defective education we now offer to our children, makes
better people than we used to have.

But what we have done for them is nothing to what we may do! The best
brains in the world should proudly serve the child. We should consider
him as a nation does its crown Prince--not a mere pet and darling--but a
coming Ruler.

*

Christmas will have a rejuvenation when it is recognized in this sense
as the Child's Festival. Every beautiful myth of the past remains to
decorate it; every beautiful truth to vivify it. It should be a
domestic, religious, civic, national and international festival.

It should mean Joy--and Hope--and Love; and teach them.

*

And Gifts?

Yes, gifts. There could be no more appropriate testimony to Joy and
Hope and Love than these visible fruits. Gifts to the happy child to
make him happier. Gifts _from_ the happy child--and the new joy of
giving. Gifts everywhere--from each to each--as showing the rich
overflow of Love and joy.

And more than that--Gifts from Each to All! There is a custom worth
initiating! Not charity nor anything of that sort. Not the mere
visiting of the sick and the prisoner. But a yearly practice of giving
something to the Community--to show you love it!

*

And suppose you don't?

If you had been properly taught as a child you would. If you teach our
children properly they will. Should we not gratefully recognize the
care and service that gives as everything we have? It is the most
glaring lesson in life--this universal help of each to all.

Every day of our lives we are served and guarded and generally blessed
by--the Community.

*

It is perfectly easy to teach this to a child. Everything that he sees
about him--that is not "a natural object," some of us dead or alive have
made. The accumulated services of all the people gone have given us the
world as it is; those now here keep it up for us; and we--and our
children may build it better.

Not love the people who have given you the world? How ungrateful!

*

At which you will remark disgustedly, "Given! Not much? They were paid
for it."

That is our mistake.

In the first place they never were paid for it--and are not now--not by
a long way. And further--if we had outgrown this temporary custom of
paying for this--we should still have to serve each other--to live.

If we were all multi-millionaires--and so perfectly "independent"--why
we'd have to have some millionaire sailors and house-builders and
blacksmiths--that's all. Their money would build no houses and sail no
ships.

Service is what counts--giving--the outpouring of strength and
good-will.

That is what Christmas means. It is the Festival of Life. Love and
Service--Loving and Giving--for the Coming Race.

PERSONAL PROBLEMS

We have one, a mere sample, left over from last time.

Query: "My wife is spending more of my income on dress than I can
afford. How can I stop her? G.

Answer: G. "By letting her earn her own income and spend it as she
pleases."

G. would never be content with that. G. would get back at us and say--

Query: "How can a woman do her duty as a mother and earn her own
living?"

Answer: "If your wife was doing her duty as a mother she wouldn't be
spending so much money on dress!"

Answer further: Motherhood is "piecework"--it is not done by the hour.
The value of a mother to her children is not to be measured by quantity,
but by quality. If a mother understood any business thoroughly, she
would begin to understand her mother-work better than she does now.

Query: "But how can a mother leave her children and go to work?"

Answer: "She does not have to. She could be a milliner or dressmaker at
home just as well as a cook."

But these problems are general rather than personal. Here is a personal
one.

Query: "I am about thirty--a woman. I wish very much to be married.
All the nice men in our town have left it--or are married. There are
thirty or forty more unmarried women than men. What shall I do? X."

Answer: "Leave that town and go to some place where there are more men.
Go as a matter of business, earning your own living. Keep well, be as
good as you know how, and trust in Providence."

GET YOUR WORK DONE

Get your work DONE, to remember,--
Nothing can take it away,
Then shall the sun of December
Shine brighter than goldenest May.

What is the Spring-time of flowers for?
Why does the sunshine come down?
What are the harvest-day hours for
But fruit? In the fruit is the crown.

Why should we grieve over losses?
Why should we fret over sin?
Death is the smallest of crosses
To the worker whose harvest is in.

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THE FORERUNNER
CHARLOTTE PERKINS GILMAN'S MAGAZINE
CHARLTON CO., 67 WALL ST., NEW YORK

AS TO PURPOSE:

_What is The Forerunner?_ It is a monthly magazine, publishing stories
short and serial, article and essay; drama, verse, satire and sermon;
dialogue, fable and fantasy, comment and review. It is written entirely
by Charlotte Perkins Gilman.

_What is it For?_ It is to stimulate thought: to arouse hope, courage
and impatience; to offer practical suggestions and solutions, to voice
the strong assurance of better living, here, now, in our own hands to
make.

_What is it about?_ It is about people, principles, and the questions
of every-day life; the personal and public problems of to-day. It gives
a clear, consistent view of human life and how to live it.

_Is it a Woman's magazine?_ It will treat all three phases of our
existence--male, female and human. It will discuss Man, in his true
place in life; Woman, the Unknown Power; the Child, the most important
citizen.

_Is it a Socialist Magazine?_ It is a magazine for humanity, and
humanity is social. It holds that Socialism, the economic theory, is
part of our gradual Socialization, and that the duty of conscious
humanity is to promote Socialization.

_Why is it published?_ It is published to express ideas which need a
special medium; and in the belief that there are enough persons
interested in those ideas to justify the undertaking.

AS TO ADVERTISING:

We have long heard that "A pleased customer is the best advertiser."
The Forerunner offers to its advertisers and readers the benefit of this
authority. In its advertising department, under the above heading, will
be described articles personally known and used. So far as individual
experience and approval carry weight, and clear truthful description
command attention, the advertising pages of The Forerunner will be
useful to both dealer and buyer. If advertisers prefer to use their own
statements The Forerunner will publish them if it believes them to be
true.

AS TO CONTENTS:

The main feature of the first year is a new book on a new subject with a
new name:--

_"Our Androcentric Culture."_ this is a study of the historic effect on
normal human development of a too exclusively masculine civilization.
It shows what man, the male, has done to the world: and what woman, the
more human, may do to change it.

_"What Diantha Did."_ This is a serial novel. It shows the course of
true love running very crookedly--as it so often does--among the
obstructions and difficulties of the housekeeping problem--and solves
that problem. (NOT by co-operation.)

Among the short articles will appear:

"Private Morality and Public Immorality."
"The Beauty Women Have Lost"
"Our Overworked Instincts."
"The Nun in the Kitchen."
"Genius: Domestic and Maternal."
"A Small God and a Large Goddess."
"Animals in Cities."
"How We Waste Three-Fourths Of Our Money."
"Prize Children"
"Kitchen-Mindedness"
"Parlor-Mindedness"
"Nursery-Mindedness"

There will be short stories and other entertaining matter in each issue.
The department of "Personal Problems" does not discuss etiquette,
fashions or the removal of freckles. Foolish questions will not be
answered, unless at peril of the asker.

AS TO VALUE:

If you take this magazine one year you will have:

One complete novel . . . By C. P. Gilman
One new book . . . By C. P. Gilman
Twelve short stories . . . By C. P. Gilman
Twelve-and-more short articles . . . By C. P. Gilman
Twelve-and-more new poems . . . By C. P. Gilman
Twelve Short Sermons . . . By C. P. Gilman
Besides "Comment and Review" . . . By C. P. Gilman
"Personal Problems" . . . By C. P. Gilman
And many other things . . . By C. P. Gilman

DON'T YOU THINK IT'S WORTH A DOLLAR?

THE FORERUNNER
CHARLOTTE PERKINS GILMAN'S MAGAZINE
CHARLTON CO., 67 WALL ST., NEW YORK

_____ 19__

Please find enclosed $_____ as subscription to "The Forerunner" from
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THE FORERUNNER

A MONTHLY MAGAZINE

BY

CHARLOTTE PERKINS GILMAN
AUTHOR, OWNER & PUBLISHER

1.00 A YEAR
.10 A COPY

Volume 1. No. 3
JANUARY, 1910
Copyright for 1910
C. P. Gilman

Forgive the Past--and forget it!--don't carry a grudge against
graveyards.
Accept the Present--you have to--here it is.
Concentrate on the Future--still yours to make--and get busy!

A CENTRAL SUN

A Song

Given a central sun--and a rolling world;
Into the light we whirl--and call it day;
Into the dark we turn--and call it night;
Glow of the dawn--glory of midday light--
Shadow of eve--rest of the fragrant night
And the dawn again!

Given a constant Power--and a passing frame;
Into the light we grow--and call it life;
Into the dark we go--and call It death;
Glory of youth--beauty and pride and power--
Shadow of age--rest of the final hour--
And are born again!

REASONABLE RESOLUTIONS

The trouble with our "New Year Resolutions" is that they are too
personal. We are always fussing about our little individual tempers and
weaknesses and bad habits.

While we, Socially, behave as badly as we do, we individually can
accomplish little.

Says the wiseacre--"Ah! but if each of us was individually perfect
Society would be perfect!"

Not at all! You can amass any number of perfect parts of a
mechanism--or organism--but if they do not _work together right_ the
thing is no good.

And you can't learn to work together by trying to be perfect separately.
Can you?

We need collective aims, collective efforts, collective attainments.

Let us collectively resolve:

That we will stop wasting our soil and our forests and our labor!

*

That we will stop poisoning and clogging our rivers and harbors.

*

That we will stop building combustible houses.

*

That we will _now_--_this year_--begin in good earnest to prevent all
preventable diseases.

*

That we will do our duty by our children and young people, as a wise
Society should, and cut off the crop of criminals by not making them.

*

That--; no; here are quite enough resolutions for one year.

HER HOUSEKEEPER

On the top floor of a New York boarding-house lived a particularly
attractive woman who was an actress. She was also a widow, not
divorcee, but just plain widow; and she persisted in acting under her
real name, which was Mrs. Leland. The manager objected, but her
reputation was good enough to carry the point.

"It will cost you a great deal of money, Mrs. Leland," said the manager.

"I make money enough," she answered.

"You will not attract so many--admirers," said the manager.

"I have admirers enough," she answered; which was visibly true.

She was well under thirty, even by daylight--and about eighteen on the
stage; and as for admirers--they apparently thought Mrs. Leland was a
carefully selected stage name.

Besides being a widow, she was a mother, having a small boy of about
five years; and this small boy did not look in the least like a "stage
child," but was a brown-skinned, healthy little rascal of the ordinary
sort.

With this boy, an excellent nursery governess, and a maid, Mrs. Leland
occupied the top floor above mentioned, and enjoyed it. She had a big
room in front, to receive in; and a small room with a skylight, to sleep
in. The boy's room and the governess' rooms were at the back, with
sunny south windows, and the maid slept on a couch in the parlor. She
was a colored lady, named Alice, and did not seem to care where she
slept, or if she slept at all.

"I never was so comfortable in my life," said Mrs. Leland to her
friends. "I've been here three years and mean to stay. It is not like
any boarding-house I ever saw, and it is not like any home I ever had.
I have the privacy, the detachment, the carelessness of a
boarding-house, and 'all the comforts of a home.' Up I go to my little
top flat as private as you like. My Alice takes care of it--the
housemaids only come in when I'm out. I can eat with the others
downstairs if I please; but mostly I don't please; and up come my little
meals on the dumbwaiter--hot and good."

"But--having to flock with a lot of promiscuous boarders!" said her
friends.

"I don't flock, you see; that's just it. And besides, they are not
promiscuous--there isn't a person in the house now who isn't some sort
of a friend of mine. As fast as a room was vacated I'd suggest
somebody--and here we all are. It's great."