You have so changed your point of view, which indicates your real worth
and progressive good sense. And when you tell me that you have for years
regretted your lost opportunities for natural and moral pleasure, and
that you suffered beyond your power to describe in those old days in
conquering your desire to dance and play games, it brings the tears of
mingled rage and pity to my eyes. Rage at the old theology, and pity for
the poor children whose lives were shadowed by it.
And now what you tell me of your son and daughter proves another of my
theories true, and shows me how nature revenges its wrongs.
Children, my dear Wilton, especially the offspring of strong characters,
_inherit the suppressed tendencies of their parents_. They bring into
action the unexhausted impulses and the ungratified desires of those
parents.
The greatest singers are almost invariably the offspring of mothers or
fathers who _were music hungry_, and who were given no complete
gratification of this craving.
The poet, you will find, is the voice of an artistic-natured parent, who
was forced to be emotionally dumb.
And the proverbial clergyman's son is merely the natural result of the
same cause. He is charged with the tendencies and impulses which his
father crucified.
That your son loathes study, and hates church-going, and adores a brass
band and a circus, and runs away to the races, does not in the least
surprise me. Nor that your sixteen-year-old daughter grows hysterical at
the sound of dance music, and prefers a theatrical show in your village
hall to a Sunday-school picnic, and is mad to become an actress.
_They are your own wronged and starved emotions personified, and crying
out to you for justice._
The very best thing for you to do with the boy is to put him into a
gymnasium and a football team as soon as possible. Offer no opposition
when he wants to see a good horse-race. Urge him to go, and ask him to
tell you all about it when he returns. Begin right now to get close to
the heart of your children.
Once you do that, once you convince them you are near enough to their
lives to understand their needs and to try and gratify their natural
longings, all your worries will take wing and fly away; for your
children will cease to hide and cloak their actions and natures, and
they will no longer wish to deceive or attempt to defy you.
Send your daughter where she can learn dancing, in company with other
refined and well-bred young people. You have so far emancipated yourself
from your old superstitions and beliefs that this action on your part
will not antagonize the desirable members of your congregation.
Only a remnant of the old bigots and intolerants are to be found in any
congregation of intelligent people of to-day.
If that remnant is shaken out of its winding-sheet by being antagonized,
you may galvanize it into life.
At all events, do not endanger the peace of your home and the happiness
of your children, for fear of antagonizing a few parishioners of
arrested spiritual development.
Give your son and daughter an outlet for the youthful vitality which is
like steam: a moving power when used, dangerous and destructive when
pent up.
Take young Wilton and Rebecca into a room, and talk the whole matter
over.
Tell them how deeply you love them, and how you have just come to
realize the mistake you have made in trying to eradicate from them the
natural desire for wholesome pleasure instead of giving it proper
avenues of expression.
Say frankly that you see your error, and that you intend to rectify it.
Ask their coöperation, and appeal to their good taste and affection not
to mortify or humiliate you in your position of clergyman, by
overstepping the bounds of decorum or discretion.
Lead them to talk of their ambitions and desires, and, as consistently
as you can, gratify them.
Let your daughter come to me for a season. I will help to reshape and
modify her ideals of enjoyment to some degree.
I am sure if she sees a few of our best spectacular plays, and hears
good music, and enjoys beautiful rhythmic dancing, she will not be so
carried away with the travelling show.
I will acquaint her with some of the commonplace facts concerning the
lives of theatrical people, and show her the frayed tinsel and worn
faces by daylight. This will do more for her than all your sermons on
the dangers of a theatrical career.
The young heart is fascinated with the thought of danger and temptation.
It is repelled by the commonplace and the ugly.
When you talk to a young mind in a whisper and behind locked doors about
a temptation to be avoided, you but give edge to appetite and curiosity.
When you bring the temptation out into the glare of sunlight, and speak
of it in presence of the whole world, you dispel the illusion.
I will gather together some data concerning the sporting men of America,
and send your son. I will also mail him the sporting papers regularly.
Let him talk and read openly about the subject, and it will lose half
its weird charm.
He, too, should learn to dance, swim, fence, and ride. His bounding
vitality needs directing in wholesome channels. I have never understood
the prejudice against dancing.
To me, it is a form of religious praise of the Creator of youth, health,
vitality, and grace. I have always loved dancing, and the exercise,
besides being eminently beneficial to the health and wonderfully
conducive to grace is, to my thinking, highly moral in its effect. Its
only danger lies in wrong associations, and these seem to threaten young
people who are restricted from the enjoyment in their homes and among
their rightful companions.
I cannot help thinking that Loie Fuller should have a niche in the hall
of fame, among the "Immortals," for having given the last century her
exquisitely beautiful creations in dancing.
No woman has given us a great epic, or a great painting, or a great
musical composition, but she has given us a great dance-poem, which is
at the same time a painting and a song. Oh, you poor starved, blind
soul, to be deprived of such beautiful spectacles. How I pity you, and
how I pray you to give your children the privileges you have missed
through a belittling idea of your Creator.
Do you fancy God would punish beautiful young Rebecca for dancing, any
sooner than he would blight the willow-tree for waving its graceful arms
to the tune the wind-harps play?
Come up out of the jungles of ignorance and bigotry, my dear cousin,
and live on the hilltops and bring your children with you. For there you
will all find yourself nearer to God and to humanity.