Page:Sketches of representative women of New England.djvu/74

Rh when, discovering the musical genius of Jenny Lind, she urged and, through urging, accomplished her musical education. What might have happened had Charlotte Cushman chanced to visit that village school-house and discovered, as she might easily have done, a genius of her own great art in this village maiden!

She was given a year at the Hebron Acad- emy, a school of no low degree, and with this her schooling ended, though something in the way of private instruction in Latin and in Eng- lish was given her. Her educational advan- tages, as here summarized, have a meagre look; but it was not the fashion of that day to send young ladies to college, and, if it had been, perhaps the family exchequer would not have been equal to the outlay. But healthy appe- tite has a knack of finding fooil, and her appe- tite was not only healthy, but insatiable. How- ever it was done, she found her nourishment, and developed on it into a finely poised and cultivated woman.

She taught school for a time with marked success. Marriage, however, came, and soon after she crossed the continent with her hus- band and settled in Portland, Ore. Her hus- band, Daniel French Smith, of Turner, the son of Timothy and Jane (French) Smith, a family of good standing in the town, was worthy of her, and all went well for a time. They brought to the task of life high purpose, industry, frugality, intelligence, and in the union of these there is ever good augury. One thing, however, was wanting. Her husband had borne a part in the Civil War, and brought home from it an insidious malady, with which he struggled for a time, but to which he must succumb at last. A child had been given her. It comforted her for a brief period, and died. Her own health gave way; and she rose at last from a protracted illness to find that, whether through legal legerdemain or plain thievery does not matter now, her worldly possessions had been taken from her. Here was exigency in which had she sunk in despair she could have been forgiven. She was not, however, that kind of woman. The Puritan and the Revolutionary strains in her ancestry here manifest themselves. Perhaps she could have sunk into the arms of affection and wept, but not possibly into the embrace of adversity to grieve and whine. "The best use of Fate," says Emerson, "is to teach us a fatal courage," and this best use she drew to her service. In the decrees of her will and through the energies of her conduct fate was out-fated. She must do something for her maintenance, she would do something for the world; and, not unnaturally, she bethought her of the talent she possessed in such ample measure. She got instruction from acknowledged masters, toiled, struggled — won!

For twelve years she has been a teacher of elocution in the Irving Institute in San Francisco and for seventeen years in the California College in Oakland. Since she first took up her work, she has had rooms in San Francisco, where she has instructed and still instructs such as come — actors, teachers, lecturers, ministers, any who may have interest in elocutionary or histrionic art. Her specialty is dramatic expression, and many who have been her pupils are now on the dramatic stage. She carries into her work a genius that is masterful and an enthusiasm that inspires. It is no trifling circumstance to come under her criticism, for her exposure of faults is — we might say without mercy but for the fact that in its very nature it is merciful. It is ruled, however, by an unfailing tact.

In no department of human interest are superficiality and charlatanry more common than in hers, met in men and women who are impatient of the slow progress and long toil that leail to excellence, or are willing to offer highly colored fustian for royal purple. Against both she puts forth a protest which, if not always heeded, is yet widely felt. The stand- ard of public demand has undoubtedly been lifted by her influence. In and about San Francisco charlatanry is less prosperous be- cause she is there. Her art is not her religion, yet, through her utter devotion, represents it. She believes in her art as a ministry to man's higher needs. It is not merely to entertain, but also to instruct and quicken. But these ends are sacrificed if its stantlard is mean. Make it high, make it noble, and it shall be cleansing and uplifting. On this thenic her eloquence never tires.

It is, however, on the platform that some