The Forerunner, Volume 1 (1909 1910)

C >> Charlotte Perkins Gilman >> The Forerunner, Volume 1 (1909 1910)

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"Thanks to the Providential Miss Bell," said he. "If she'll stay I'll
pay her anything!"

The months went by.

Peace, order, comfort, cleanliness and economy reigned in the Porne
household, and the lady of the house blossomed into richer beauty and
happiness; her contentment marred only by a sense of flying time.

Miss Bell fulfilled her carefully specified engagement to the letter;
rested her peaceful hour in the morning; walked and rode in the
afternoon; familiarized herself with the length and breadth of the town;
and visited continuously among the servants of the neighborhood,
establishing a large and friendly acquaintance. If she wore rubber
gloves about the rough work, she paid for them herself; and she washed
and ironed her simple and pretty costumes herself--with the result that
they stayed pretty for surprising periods.

She wrote letters long and loving, to Ross daily; to her mother twice a
week; and by the help of her sister's authority succeeded in maintaining
a fairly competent servant in her deserted place.

"Father was bound he wouldn't," her sister wrote her; "but I stood right
up to him, I can now I'm married!--and Gerald too--that he'd no right to
take it out of mother even if he was mad with you. He made a fuss about
your paying for the girl--but that was only showing off--_he_ couldn't
pay for her just now--that's certain. And she does very well--a good
strong girl, and quite devoted to mother." And then she scolded
furiously about her sister's "working out."

Diantha knew just how hard it was for her mother. She had faced all
sides of the question before deciding.

"Your mother misses you badly, of course," Ross wrote her. "I go in as
often as I can and cheer her up a bit. It's not just the work--she
misses you. By the way--so do I." He expressed his views on her new
employment.

Diantha used to cry over her letters quite often. But she would put
them away, dry her eyes, and work on at the plans she was maturing, with
grim courage. "It's hard on them now," she would say to herself. "Its
hard on me--some. But we'll all be better off because of it, and not
only us--but everybody!"

Meanwhile the happy and unhappy households of the fair town buzzed in
comment and grew green with envy.

In social circles and church circles and club circles, as also in
domestic circles, it was noised abroad that Mrs. Edgar Porne had "solved
the servant question." News of this marvel of efficiency and propriety
was discussed in every household, and not only so but in barber-shops
and other downtown meeting places mentioned. Servants gathered it at
dinner-tables; and Diantha, much amused, regathered it from her new
friends among the servants.

Does she keep on just the same?" asked little Mrs. Ree of Mrs. Porne in
an awed whisper.

"Just the same if not better. I don't even order the meals now, unless
I want something especial. She keeps a calendar of what we've had to
eat, and what belongs to the time of year, prices and things. When I
used to ask her to suggest (one does, you know: it is so hard to think
up a variety!), she'd always be ready with an idea, or remind me that we
had had so and so two days before, till I asked her if she'd like to
order, and she said she'd be willing to try, and now I just sit down to
the table without knowing what's going to be there."

"But I should think that would interfere with your sense of freedom,"
said Mrs. Ellen A Dankshire, "A woman should be mistress of her own
household."

"Why I am! I order whenever I specially want anything. But she really
does it more--more scientifically. She has made a study of it. And the
bills are very much lower."

"Well, I think you are the luckiest woman alive!" sighed Mrs. Ree. "I
wish I had her!"

Many a woman wished she had her, and some, calling when they knew Mrs.
Porne was out, or descending into their own kitchens of an evening when
the strange Miss Bell was visiting "the help," made flattering
propositions to her to come to them. She was perfectly polite and
agreeable in manner, but refused all blandishments.

"What are you getting at your present place--if I may ask?" loftily
inquired the great Mrs. Thaddler, ponderous and beaded.

"There is surely no objection to your asking, madam," she replied
politely. "Mrs. Porne will not mind telling you, I am sure."

"Hm!" said the patronizing visitor, regarding her through her lorgnette.
"Very good. Whatever it is I'll double it. When can you come?"

"My engagement with Mrs. Porne is for six months," Diantha answered,
"and I do not wish to close with anyone else until that time is up.
Thank you for your offer just the same."

"Peculiarly offensive young person!" said Mrs. Thaddler to her husband.
"Looks to me like one of these literary imposters. Mrs. Porne will
probably appear in the magazines before long."

Mr. Thaddler instantly conceived a liking for the young person, "sight
unseen."

Diantha acquired quite a list of offers; places open to her as soon as
she was free; at prices from her present seven dollars up to the
proposed doubling.

"Fourteen dollars a week and found!--that's not so bad," she meditated.
"That would mean over $650 clear in a year! It's a wonder to me girls
don't try it long enough to get a start at something else. With even
two or three hundred ahead--and an outfit--it would be easier to make
good in a store or any other way. Well--I have other fish to fry!"

So she pursued her way; and, with Mrs. Porne's permission--held a sort
of girl's club in her spotless kitchen one evening a week during the
last three months of her engagement. It was a "Study and Amusement
Club." She gave them short and interesting lessons in arithmetic, in
simple dressmaking, in easy and thorough methods of housework. She gave
them lists of books, referred them to articles in magazines, insidiously
taught them to use the Public Library.

They played pleasant games in the second hour, and grew well acquainted.
To the eye or ear of any casual visitor it was the simplest and most
natural affair, calculated to "elevate labor" and to make home happy.

Diantha studied and observed. They brought her their poor confidences,
painfully similar. Always poverty--or they would not be there. Always
ignorance, or they would not stay there. Then either incompetence in
the work, or inability to hold their little earnings--or both; and
further the Tale of the Other Side--the exactions and restrictions of
the untrained mistresses they served; cases of withheld wages; cases of
endless requirements; cases of most arbitrary interference with their
receiving friends and "followers," or going out; and cases, common
enough to be horrible, of insult they could only escape by leaving.

"It's no wages, of course--and no recommendation, when you leave like
that--but what else can a girl do, if she's honest?"

So Diantha learned, made friends and laid broad foundations.

The excellence of her cocking was known to many, thanks to the weekly
"entertainments." No one refused. No one regretted acceptance. Never
had Mrs. Porne enjoyed such a sense of social importance.

All the people she ever knew called on her afresh, and people she never
knew called on her even more freshly. Not that she was directly
responsible for it. She had not triumphed cruelly over her less happy
friends; nor had she cried aloud on the street corners concerning her
good fortune. It was not her fault, nor, in truth anyone's. But in a
community where the "servant question" is even more vexed than in the
country at large, where the local product is quite unequal to the
demand, and where distance makes importation an expensive matter, the
fact of one woman's having, as it appeared, settled this vexed question,
was enough to give her prominence.

Mrs. Ellen A. Dankshire, President of the Orchardina Home and Culture
Club, took up the matter seriously.

"Now Mrs. Porne," said she, settling herself vigorously into a
comfortable chair, "I just want to talk the matter over with you, with a
view to the club. We do not know how long this will last--"

"Don't speak of it!" said Mrs. Porne.

"--and it behooves us to study the facts while we have them."

"So much is involved!" said little Mrs. Ree, the Corresponding
Secretary, lifting her pale earnest face with the perplexed fine lines
in it. "We are all so truly convinced of the sacredness of the home
duties!"

"Well, what do you want me to do?" asked their hostess.

"We must have that remarkable young woman address our club!" Mrs.
Dankshire announced. "It is one case in a thousand, and must be
studied!"

"So noble of her!" said Mrs. Ree. "You say she was really a
school-teacher? Mrs. Thaddler has put it about that she is one of these
dreadful writing persons--in disguise!"

"O no," said Mrs. Porne. "She is perfectly straightforward about it,
and had the best of recommendations. She was a teacher, but it didn't
agree with her health, I believe."

"Perhaps there is a story to it!" Mrs. Ree advanced; but Mrs. Dankshire
disagreed with her flatly.

"The young woman has a theory, I believe, and she is working it out. I
respect her for it. Now what we want to ask you, Mrs. Porne, is this:
do you think it would make any trouble for you--in the household
relations, you know--if we ask her to read a paper to the Club? Of
course we do not wish to interfere, but it is a remarkable
opportunity--very. You know the fine work Miss Lucy Salmon has done on
this subject; and Miss Frances Kellor. You know how little data we
have, and how great, how serious, a question it is daily becoming! Now
here is a young woman of brains and culture who has apparently grappled
with the question; her example and influence must not be lost! We must
hear from her. The public must know of this."

"Such an ennobling example!" murmured Mrs. Ree. "It might lead numbers
of other school-teachers to see the higher side of the home duties!"

"Furthermore," pursued Mrs. Dankshire, "this has occured to me. Would
it not be well to have our ladies bring with them to the meeting the
more intelligent of their servants; that they might hear and see
the--the dignity of household labor--so ably set forth?

"Isn't it--wouldn't that be a--an almost dangerous experiment?" urged
Mrs. Ree; her high narrow forehead fairly creped with little wrinkles:
"She might--say something, you know, that they might--take advantage
of!"

"Nonsense, my dear!" replied Mrs. Dankshire. She was very fond of Mrs.
Ree, but had small respect for her judgment. "What could she say? Look
at what she does! And how beautifully--how perfectly--she does it! I
would wager now--_may_ I try an experiment Mrs. Porne?" and she stood
up, taking out her handkerchief.

"Certainly," said Mrs. Porne, "with pleasure! You won't find any!"

Mrs. Dankshire climbed heavily upon a carefully selected chair and
passed her large clean plain-hemmed handkerchief across the top of a
picture.

"I knew it!" she proclaimed proudly from her eminence, and showed the
cloth still white. "That," she continued in ponderous descent, "that is
Knowledge, Ability and Conscience!"

"I don't see how she gets the time!" breathed Mrs. Ree, shaking her head
in awed amazement, and reflecting that she would not dare trust Mrs.
Dankshire's handkerchief on her picture tops.

"We must have her address the Club," the president repeated. "It will
do worlds of good. Let me see--a paper on--we might say 'On the True
Nature of Domestic Industry.' How does that strike you, Mrs. Ree?"

"Admirable!" said Mrs. Ree. "So strong! so succinct."

"That certainly covers the subject," said Mrs. Porne. "Why don't you
ask her?"

"We will. We have come for that purpose. But we felt it right to ask
you about it first," said Mrs. Dankshire.

"Why I have no control over Miss Bell's movements, outside of working
hours," answered Mrs. Porne. "And I don't see that it would make any
difference to our relations. She is a very self-poised young woman, but
extremely easy to get along with. And I'm sure she could write a
splendid paper. You'd better ask her, I think."

"Would you call her in?" asked Mrs. Dankshire, "or shall we go out to
the kitchen?"

"Come right out; I'd like you to see how beautifully she keeps
everything."

The kitchen was as clean as the parlor; and as prettily arranged. Miss
Bell was making her preparation for lunch, and stopped to receive the
visitors with a serenely civil air--as of a country store-keeper.

"I am very glad to meet you, Miss Bell, very glad indeed," said Mrs.
Dankshire, shaking hands with her warmly. "We have at heard so much of
your beautiful work here, and we admire your attitude! Now would you be
willing to give a paper--or a talk--to our club, the Home and Culture
Club, some Wednesday, on The True Nature of Domestic Industry?"

Mrs. Ree took Miss Bell's hand with something of the air of a Boston
maiden accosting a saint from Hindoostan. "If you only would!" she
said. "I am sure it would shed light on this great subject!"

Miss Bell smiled at them both and looked at Mrs. Porne inquiringly.

"I should be delighted to have you do it," said her employer. "I know
it would be very useful."

"Is there any date set?" asked Miss Bell.

"Any Wednesday after February," said Mrs. Dankshire.

"Well--I will come on the first Wednesday in April. If anything should
happen to prevent I will let you know in good season, and if you should
wish to postpone or alter the program--should think better of the
idea--just send me word. I shall not mind in the least."

They went away quite jubilant, Miss Bell's acceptance was announced
officially at the next club-meeting, and the Home and Culture Club felt
that it was fulfilling its mission.

[Untitled]

I gave myself to God.--
With humility and contrition,
In sacrifice and submission.
"Take me! Do not refuse me!
Order me--govern me--use me!
Nothing I ask for my own--
I pray to be thine alone!--"
And God smiled.

I gave myself to mankind.--
With sorrow and sympathy deep,
With pity that would not sleep.
"To serve you and save you, brothers!
To give my life for the others!
I ask no price--no place--
I seek but to help the race!--"
And God smiled.

I gave myself to Myself.--
In the knowledge that opens power;
In the truth's unfolding hour;
In the glory of service free;
The joy that such life can be:--
My life--that is never done!
For my neighbor and I are One!--
And God smiled.

OUR ANDROCENTRIC CULTURE; or, THE MAN-MADE WORLD

VI.

GAMES AND SPORTS

One of the sharpest distinctions both between the essential characters
and the artificial positions of men and women, is in the matter of games
and sports. By far the greater proportion of them are essentially
masculine, and as such alien to women; while from those which are
humanly interesting, women have been largely debarred by their arbitrary
restrictions.

The play instinct is common to girls and boys alike; and endures in some
measure throughout life. As other young animals express their abounding
energies in capricious activities similar to those followed in the
business of living, so small children gambol, physically, like lambs and
kids; and as the young of higher kinds of animals imitate in their play
the more complex activities of their elders, so do children imitate
whatever activities they see about them. In this field of playing there
is no sex.

Similarly in adult life healthy and happy persons, men and women,
naturally express surplus energy in various forms of sport. We have
here one of the most distinctively human manifestations. The great
accumulation of social energy, and the necessary limitations of one kind
of work, leave a human being tired of one form of action, yet still
uneasy for lack of full expression; and this social need has been met by
our great safety valve of games and sports.

In a society of either sex, or in a society without sex, there would
still be both pleasure and use in games; they are vitally essential to
human life. In a society of two sexes, wherein one has dictated all the
terms of life, and the other has been confined to an extremely limited
fraction of human living, we may look to see this great field of
enjoyment as disproportionately divided.

It is not only that we have reduced the play impulse in women by
restricting them to one set of occupations, and overtaxing their
energies with mother-work and housework combined; and not only that by
our androcentric conventions we further restrict their amusements; but
we begin in infancy, and forcibly differentiate their methods of play
long before any natural distinction would appear.

Take that universal joy the doll, or puppet, as an instance. A small
imitation of a large known object carries delight to the heart of a
child of either sex. The worsted cat, the wooden horse, the little
wagon, the tin soldier, the wax doll, the toy village, the "Noah's Ark,"
the omnipresent "Teddy Bear," any and every small model of a real thing
is a delight to the young human being. Of all things the puppet is the
most intimate, the little image of another human being to play with.
The fancy of the child, making endless combinations with these visible
types, plays as freely as a kitten in the leaves; or gravely carries out
some observed forms of life, as the kitten imitates its mother's
hunting.

So far all is natural and human.

Now see our attitude toward child's play--under a masculine culture.
Regarding women only as a sex, and that sex as manifest from infancy, we
make and buy for our little girls toys suitable to this view. Being
females--which means mothers, we must needs provide them with babies
before they cease to be babies themselves; and we expect their play to
consist in an imitation of maternal cares. The doll, the puppet, which
interests all children, we have rendered as an eternal baby; and we
foist them upon our girl children by ceaseless millions.

The doll, as such, is dear to the little boy as well as the girl, but
not as a baby. He likes his jumping-jack, his worsted Sambo, often a
genuine rag-doll; but he is discouraged and ridiculed in this. We do
not expect the little boy to manifest a father's love and care for an
imitation child--but we do expect the little girl to show maternal
feelings for her imitation baby. It has not yet occurred to us that
this is monstrous.

Little children should not be expected to show, in painful precocity,
feelings which ought never to be experienced till they come at the
proper age. Our kittens play at cat-sports, little Tom and Tabby
together; but little Tabby does not play she is a mother!

Beyond the continuous dolls and their continuous dressing, we provide
for our little girls tea sets and kitchen sets, doll's houses, little
work-boxes--the imitation tools of their narrow trades. For the boy
there is a larger choice. We make for them not only the essentially
masculine toys of combat--all the enginery of mimic war; but also the
models of human things, like boats, railroads, wagons. For them, too,
are the comprehensive toys of the centuries, the kite, the top, the
ball. As the boy gets old enough to play the games that require skill,
he enters the world-lists, and the little sister, left inside, with her
everlasting dolls, learns that she is "only a girl," and "mustn't play
with boys--boys are so rough!" She has her doll and her tea set. She
"plays house." If very active she may jump rope, in solitary
enthusiasm, or in combination of from two to four. Her brother is
playing games. From this time on he plays the games of the world. The
"sporting page" should be called "the Man's Page" as that array of
recipes, fashions and cheap advice is called "the Woman's Page."

One of the immediate educational advantages of the boy's position is
that he learns "team work." This is not a masculine characteristic, it
is a human one; a social power. Women are equally capable of it by
nature; but not by education. Tending one's imitation baby is not
team-work; nor is playing house. The little girl is kept forever within
the limitations of her mother's "sphere" of action; while the boy learns
life, and fancies that his new growth is due to his superior sex.

Now there are certain essential distinctions in the sexes, which would
manifest themselves to some degree even in normally reared children; as
for instance the little male would be more given to fighting and
destroying; the little female more to caring for and constructing
things.

"Boys are so destructive!" we say with modest pride--as if it was in
some way a credit to them. But early youth is not the time to display
sex distinction; and they should be discouraged rather than approved.

The games of the world, now the games of men, easily fall into two broad
classes--games of skill and games of chance.

The interest and pleasure in the latter is purely human, and as such is
shared by the two sexes even now. Women, in the innocent beginnings or
the vicious extremes of this line of amusement, make as wild gamblers as
men. At the races, at the roulette wheel, at the bridge table, this is
clearly seen.

In games of skill we have a different showing. Most of these are
developed by and for men; but when they are allowed, women take part in
them with interest and success. In card games, in chess, checkers, and
the like, in croquet and tennis, they play, and play well if
well-trained. Where they fall short in so many games, and are so wholly
excluded in others, is not for lack of human capacity, but for lack of
masculinity. Most games are male. In their element of desire to win,
to get the prize, they are male; and in their universal attitude of
competition they are male, the basic spirit of desire and of combat
working out through subtle modern forms.

There is something inherently masculine also in the universal dominance
of the projectile in their games. The ball is the one unescapable
instrument of sport. From the snapped marble of infancy to the flying
missile of the bat, this form endures. To send something forth with
violence; to throw it, bat it, kick it, shoot it; this impulse seems to
date back to one of the twin forces of the universe--the centrifugal and
centripetal energies between which swing the planets.

The basic feminine impulse is to gather, to put together, to construct;
the basic masculine impulse to scatter, to disseminate, to destroy. It
seems to give pleasure to a man to bang something and drive it from him;
the harder he hits it and the farther it goes the better pleased he is.

Games of this sort will never appeal to women. They are not wrong; not
necessarily evil in their place; our mistake is in considering them as
human, whereas they are only masculine.

Play, in the childish sense is an expression of previous habit; and to
be studied in that light. Play in the educational sense should be
encouraged or discouraged to develop desired characteristics. This we
know, and practice; only we do it under androcentric canons; confining
the girl to the narrow range we consider proper for women, and assisting
the boy to cover life with the expression of masculinity, when we should
be helping both to a more human development.

Our settled conviction that men are people--the people, and that
masculine qualities are the main desideratam in life, is what keeps up
this false estimate of the value of our present games. Advocates of
football, for instance, proudly claim that it fits a man for life.
Life--from the wholly male point of view--is a battle, with a prize. To
want something beyond measure, and to fight to get--that is the simple
proposition. This view of life finds its most naive expression in
predatory warfare; and still tends to make predatory warfare of the
later and more human processes of industry. Because they see life in
this way they imagine that skill and practice in the art of fighting,
especially in collective fighting, is so valuable in our modern life.
This is an archaism which would be laughable if it were not so dangerous
in its effects.

The valuable processes to-day are those of invention, discovery, all
grades of industry, and, most especially needed, the capacity for honest
service and administration of our immense advantages. These are not
learned on the football field. This spirit of desire and combat may be
seen further in all parts of this great subject. It has developed into
a cult of sportsmanship; so universally accepted among men as of
superlative merit as to quite blind them to other standards of judgment.

In the Cook-Peary controversy of 1909, this canon was made manifest.
Here, one man had spent a lifetime in trying to accomplish something;
and at the eleventh hour succeeded. Then, coming out in the rich
triumph long deferred, he finds another man, of character well known to
him, impudently and falsely claiming that he had done it first. Mr.
Peary expressed himself, quite restrainedly and correctly, in regard to
the effrontery and falsity of this claim--and all the country rose up
and denounced him as "unsportsmanlike!"