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Page 18
Such glimpses remind us of that tragedy enacted centuries ago in Assisi,
when the eager young noble cast his very clothing at his father's feet,
dramatically renouncing his filial allegiance, and formally subjecting
the narrow family claim to the wider and more universal duty. All the
conflict of tragedy ensued which might have been averted, had the father
recognized the higher claim, and had he been willing to subordinate and
adjust his own claim to it. The father considered his son disrespectful
and hard-hearted, yet we know St. Francis to have been the most tender
and loving of men, responsive to all possible ties, even to those of
inanimate nature. We know that by his affections he freed the frozen
life of his time. The elements of tragedy lay in the narrowness of the
father's mind; in his lack of comprehension and his lack of sympathy
with the power which was moving his son, and which was but part of the
religious revival which swept Europe from end to end in the early part
of the thirteenth century; the same power which built the cathedrals of
the North, and produced the saints and sages of the South. But the
father's situation was nevertheless genuine; he felt his heart sore and
angry, and his dignity covered with disrespect. He could not, indeed,
have felt otherwise, unless he had been touched by the fire of the same
revival, and lifted out of and away from the contemplation of himself
and his narrower claim. It is another proof that the notion of a larger
obligation can only come through the response to an enlarged interest
in life and in the social movements around us.
The grown-up son has so long been considered a citizen with well-defined
duties and a need of "making his way in the world," that the family
claim is urged much less strenuously in his case, and as a matter of
authority, it ceases gradually to be made at all. In the case of the
grown-up daughter, however, who is under no necessity of earning a
living, and who has no strong artistic bent, taking her to Paris to
study painting or to Germany to study music, the years immediately
following her graduation from college are too often filled with a
restlessness and unhappiness which might be avoided by a little clear
thinking, and by an adaptation of our code of family ethics to modern
conditions.
It is always difficult for the family to regard the daughter otherwise
than as a family possession. From her babyhood she has been the charm
and grace of the household, and it is hard to think of her as an
integral part of the social order, hard to believe that she has duties
outside of the family, to the state and to society in the larger sense.
This assumption that the daughter is solely an inspiration and
refinement to the family itself and its own immediate circle, that her
delicacy and polish are but outward symbols of her father's protection
and prosperity, worked very smoothly for the most part so long as her
education was in line with it. When there was absolutely no recognition
of the entity of woman's life beyond the family, when the outside claims
upon her were still wholly unrecognized, the situation was simple, and
the finishing school harmoniously and elegantly answered all
requirements. She was fitted to grace the fireside and to add lustre to
that social circle which her parents selected for her. But this family
assumption has been notably broken into, and educational ideas no longer
fit it. Modern education recognizes woman quite apart from family or
society claims, and gives her the training which for many years has
been deemed successful for highly developing a man's individuality and
freeing his powers for independent action. Perplexities often occur when
the daughter returns from college and finds that this recognition has
been but partially accomplished. When she attempts to act upon the
assumption of its accomplishment, she finds herself jarring upon ideals
which are so entwined with filial piety, so rooted in the tenderest
affections of which the human heart is capable, that both daughter and
parents are shocked and startled when they discover what is happening,
and they scarcely venture to analyze the situation. The ideal for the
education of woman has changed under the pressure of a new claim. The
family has responded to the extent of granting the education, but they
are jealous of the new claim and assert the family claim as over against
it.
The modern woman finds herself educated to recognize a stress of social
obligation which her family did not in the least anticipate when they
sent her to college. She finds herself, in addition, under an impulse to
act her part as a citizen of the world. She accepts her family
inheritance with loyalty and affection, but she has entered into a wider
inheritance as well, which, for lack of a better phrase, we call the
social claim. This claim has been recognized for four years in her
training, but after her return from college the family claim is again
exclusively and strenuously asserted. The situation has all the
discomfort of transition and compromise. The daughter finds a constant
and totally unnecessary conflict between the social and the family
claims. In most cases the former is repressed and gives way to the
family claim, because the latter is concrete and definitely asserted,
while the social demand is vague and unformulated. In such instances the
girl quietly submits, but she feels wronged whenever she allows her mind
to dwell upon the situation. She either hides her hurt, and splendid
reserves of enthusiasm and capacity go to waste, or her zeal and
emotions are turned inward, and the result is an unhappy woman, whose
heart is consumed by vain regrets and desires.
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