USA > Illinois > Cook County > Chicago > The Congress of Women : held in the Woman's building, World's Columbian exposition, Chicago, U.S.A., 1893 : with portraits, biographies and addresses > Part 94
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Right or wrong -- created for this, that or the other purpose or vocation in life -- certain it is that womankind today has established her own and her sisters' inaliena- ble right to do anything that she can competently and honestly accomplish. She is indeed all along the lines of life successfully carving out her own career, much to her own satisfaction and oftentimes to the amazement and generous admiration of man, who, in my opinion, is maligned when accused of antagonistic propensities toward his sister man.
Mrs. Julia Edwards Sherman was born at Ypsilanti, Mich., in 1845. Her parents were David and Maria Fairchild Edwards, of New England. She is an only child. She was educated at Ypsilanti, Mich., and has traveled considerably in the United States and resided in New York City many years. In 1866 she married Mr. George Sherman, of New York, prominent in the insurance world. He died in 1877, leaving one child, a promising son now eighteen years of age. In 1887 financial vicissitudes cansed Mrs. Sherman to enter the business world. She chose Fire and Life Insurance, in which vocation she is favorably known. In social and literary circles she occupies an enviable position. In religious faith she is an Episcopalian, Her postoffice address is Ypsilanti, Mich.
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In short, whether Eve was made from one of Adani's true or false ribs, as they are termed in physiology, matters little; for certain it is that in this good year of 1893 we must concede to Mrs. Adam her full quota of ribs, and the most prejudiced, if such there be, must admit that they are attached to just as good and stiff a backbone as any modern Adam can boast of possessing.
I need not enumerate the splendid achievements of our sisters, nor need I go into detail to show you the many ways, the many fields in which countless numbers today are earning honest bread, and I am happy to add, in sonie instances, are also winning health, wealth and fame. Suffice it briefly to remind you, that the professions and literary ranks alone number over two hundred thousand women. Six thousand are in postoffices in this land, aside from that mighty army of shop women and girls, office clerks, stenographers and accountants, those in factories, and especially teachers; also the few who are engaged in real estate, mercantile pursuits, even railroading, etc.
I do not know how great a proportion, but very many of these women are doubt- less breadwinners not from choice, but necessity, which compelled them to put aside their sentiment, their cherished ideals, and to bend all their energies to the stern prac- ticalities of life. All honor to this class.
Another class today enters the business world, not quite so impelled by necessity, but some definite object in life is a vent for their restless energy, and to them a happy solution of their destiny.
A few yet higher in the social scales are today deliberately choosing business and public careers, and if therein they find independence, money, glory or fame sweeter than old-fashioned home joys, why the world will have to abide by the consequences, and just what the outcome will be remains to be seen. Who shall prophesy?
It may be reassuring to remind you that Plato, who you remember wrote nearly four hundred years before the Saviour's birth, tells us that "all the pursuits of men are the pursuits of women also," and in all of them, he adds, "woman is only a weaker man."
Well, happily all women are not breadwinners either from choice or necessity. Granted that woman may today enter upon any business career that in her opinion seems well and good, I would call your attention to just one field, by her heretofore quite overlooked or ignored. It is a field full of promise and profit for women with any aptitude in this direction, and it is an avenue that will never be crowded because it is not the majority who can succeed in this line, and this field is life insurance. The social and financial status of the business makes it a suitable, dignified calling for womankind. 'Comparatively few women have as yet entered its ranks as solicitors, agents or managers, but those who have attempted it are making money, and no mean fame in the business world.
To fully explain this work, let me first speak somewhat of life assurance. You are perhaps aware that it is today the greatest financial, and the most beneficent insti- tution in this country. Its sure benefits are scattered broadcast all over this and other lands. It has clothed, warmed, fed and built homes for countless widows and made education possible for their fatherless children. Indeed, its merits in the business world are perhaps too well known to need any recital of them; perhaps, too, the least practical woman here must be aware that in these times of financial depression, collapsed interests, and broken banks, no one questions the security of what is termed "Old-line" Life Insurance Companies. I repeat that they are the most secure and the biggest moneyed interests in the world today, and as you doubtless know, thousands of men are covered by their protection, and there are many more thousands who need and ought to have policies in these stanch companies. And this brings me to point out to you the fact that as our country grows in age and wealth, we have among us not only scores of wealthy men, but we have also great numbers of wealthy women. To most of these their riches have come as a new thing, and American women until of late so little experienced in business and money matters, find their riches oftener than other- wise, a not unmixed blessing. Shameful as the record is, many wealthy women have
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been plundered by their too grasping brothers; however, today, women are fast learning how to invest and how to care for their own funds.
To this class, not as active workers but as participators in this " New Field for Women," I would address a few words.
Like other things life insurance, of late years, has been progressive, and hand in hand with its sure protection there is now added the investment feature also. Espe- cially is this the case in what is known as the endowment policy; i.c., one insures for a certain sum payable to one's self at the end of a stated period, say ten, fifteen or twenty years hence, and the certainty of receiving again in life ( or as an estate in case of death ) this sum, together with good dividends, commends itself beyond any savings bank in the country. No other investment is so sure; consequently our richest and keenest business men we find carrying the largest insurance upon their lives.
No wise, prudent man goes without fire insurance protection, and yet every house does not burn, but every life ceases some day, and very few persons indeed in this world of financial vicissitudes can afford to ignore life insurance. I say it deliberately, there is not of insurable age one wealthy woman in this land who ought to be without good life insurance protection in proportion to her financial status. Other investments promising large returns are so often disappointing. Such unforeseen reverses con- stantly occurring, all combine to make life assurance one of the necessities of our times. An easy and simple thing it is to do; a wise precaution to take, and, except for those in very straitened circumstances, within the reach of all persons.
Now to carry insurance and its blessings to just this one class of wealthy and tax- paying women would indeed afford abundant, I may say inexhaustible work, for very many women as life insurance agents or solicitors. Aside from good remuneration for their labor, there would, in every instance, be the consciousness of having inesti- mably benefited the assured.
If you please, let us take just one other class-school-teachers. A mighty army they are. There is scarcely any work that makes such great demands upon a woman's vitality, especially her nervous forces; consequently her working years in this field are comparatively few. Now, if during these wage-earning years she will put for a few years a certain sum called the premium into an endowment policy, it will insure her an old age replete with creature comforts, and full of self-respect and dignity because robbed of financial terrors.
Small earnings put into savings banks are so hopeless It takes years in this way to accomplish savings for old age or calamity, moreover such savings are alto- gether too accessible, and oftener than otherwise are drawn out for various purposes; but one premium paid into a stanch insurance company means, should one die the next minute, an estate of so many hundred or thousand dollars, which will protect the living or those dependent upon us. This is financial protection, the cheapest and the best that the financial world affords, and as said before, in the case of an endowment policy and the insured living to the end of the endowment period or term there is the certainty of funds for one's self.
Again, the time was when none of our best companies insured women's lives. Today several are writing such risks, but some of them charge an extra premium upon female risks. However, two or three of our oldest and best companies are not bound by this absurd rule; instead, they insure women upon any and all plans just the same as they do men, and without extra premium. Certainly such a company commends itself to those seeking insurance.
In this field work is abundant. Whoever enters here can feel that she is doing dignified, womanly, worthy work. Today women are standing by each other, trusting and believing, not only in the honesty, but in the ability of their sisters as never before; consequently, womanly women are in some cases finding it more agreeable to do business with women than with men, though the latter are by no means bears or boors when properly approached in the business world by women.
If our American men are as good and gracious as I personally rate them, they
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will by no means have heavily burdened consciences. Business avenues are so crowded, and the competition for bread is so sharp that we must forgive man if at first he was none too gracious toward woman, who demanded her share of both his bread and honors; but let a woman once demonstrate her ability to win bread, to do good and honest work, and she has no further feuds with man, but ever after com- mands his respect and esteem, and beyond that she must not presume.
As said before, one must be possessed of certain qualifications and an inborn aptitude to do successful work in life insurance ranks; but any woman with talent or inclination in this direction has but to enter an insurance office, which is by far the best way to learn the business, and any of our companies will gladly instruct and aid to the fullest extent, giving her a fair chance to test her abilities in this line. If turning your attention to this subject induces even one wealthy or salary earning woman to place yearly a share of her money where she will some day be sure to find it, espe- cially if it suggests to any dependent sister a way whereby to support herself or her dear ones, I will feel well repaid for this little effort in your behalf.
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AN APPEAL OF ART TO THE LOVERS OF ART. By MRS. MARY E. CHERRY NORRIS.
which they are surrounded.
All men are conscious of the manifold diversity and multiplicity of the objects by Few and far between are they whose gift is to discern the underlying unity which characterizes the ultimate reduction of this multiform diversity. As this is true in the world of nature, so it is eminently true in the realm of art. In the last analysis we find the divine spark, which is the summum bonum, concealed beneath the drapery of all artistic productions. There lies the divinity of the human soul. The fire which was brought from Heaven and bestowed on mortals has been cherished and kept alive, and men work at their best when they endeavor to explain the potency of that flame. The soul of art is the divinity of humanity -- it is the manifestation of God. So closely akin are the members of that band of souls who live in the work of art that at times we can not distinguish one from another.
We look upon a painting and, suddenly, the can- vas, the coloring, the framework are lost to sight. Our eyes grow dim and the picture speaks no longer to the eyes; the "dweller in the innermost " hears what the eyes saw, the rhythmic lines of the verse which tells the tale, and the painter is as truly a poet MRS. FREDERIC W. NORRIS. as he who wields the pen. A thought comes down from Heaven-it matters little whether it falls into heart of poet, painter or musician -if the soul of the artist is there the thought will find truc expression, and the frag- rance of the flower from Heaven will be of heavenly sweetness in the soul, whether it is borne in upon us through the gate of the eye or of ear, or whether it comes to us in poetry of line and verse. Is there one heart present that has not heard the song that has come from the heart of the true painter? and has not the discord or the har- mony pained or soothed the soul when hearing, as it were, through the eye? And the artist is great if his song or poem has been heard through the colors on the canvas. Once, in an Old World city, a young woman, weary and discouraged and sorely tempted to give up the struggle against the commonplace, came upon a picture by that great allegorical painter, George T. Watts. The picture was entitled "Mammon Dedicated to His Worshipers."" What a change came into the life of this girl through the song that picture sung no one save God and the artist can ever know, and so loud was the voice that spoke that the reverberation will never cease, but ever onward roll until all earthly life is past and self is lost in soul.
To be an artist! What does it mean? Can anyone answer the query, or must it ever
Mrs. Frederic W. Norris is a native of the Island of Ceylon, East Indies, and is a real daughter of the Orient. Her parents were the Rev. S. Henry Cherry and Henrietta Ebell Cherry. She was educated under the continued supervision of her uncle, Prof. Adrian J. Ebell, M. D., Ph. B., late President of the International Academy of Science, Berlin. She has traveled in Europe and America, her home being in New York City until her marriage in 1890. She married the Rev. Fred. eric W. Norris, a clergyman of the Protestant church, who is now in charge of St. Mark's Cathedral, Salt Lake City. Her profession is Shakespearean studies and vocal culture. She occupies the greater part of her time in visiting the poor and sick, in whose behalf ehe employs the gifts of recitation and song with which she adorns her profession. In religious faith she is an ardent and faithful Christian. Her postoffice address is St. Mark's Rectory, Salt Lake City, Utah.
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remain unanswered? Is it the man who writes to please the people, or is it not rather that man or that woman who looks upon talent as God-given, and who therefore strives to advance art regardless of self, who says within himself, " Can I do aught to lead others upward through this bond, this tie that holds me from out the mire of the commonplace; can I not, by striving to be worthy, give others to drink from the cup of precious ambrosia which is only left in my keeping that I may use it for good? What can I do to prove myself a worthy steward of such a gift?" And can we claim that one branch of art is greater than another so long as the one or the other is a gift in the keeping of an unselfish soul? Is it he who paints with brush, or he who wields the pen; is it she whose voice entrances thousands of listeners as by magic spell; is it he who charms the world with exquisite skill upon piano or organ; he who is master of that other instrument which holds within itself a soul that cries for relief at times from the wooden casket in which it is confined-a soul that is dumb until a master- hand guides the song and interprets to those kindred souls the language of his captive strains? Are the different branches of art, the different departments of music, rivals ? or is one but the complement of the other?
And now we would speak especially of music. We then look to those who have been the great teachers or leaders of thought-the golden-tongued poets who are among the world's greatest musicians. What says the king of dramatists -that man whose strength of will is felt even now, though his body has long since crumbled into dust, whose commands the greatest of earthly monarchs does not disregard? "Orpheus' lute was strung with poets' sinews, whose golden touch could soften steel and stones, make tigers tame and mighty leviathans forsake unsounded deeps to dance upon the sands." Robert Browning says, "Music (which is earnest of a Heaven, seeing we know strange emotions by it not else to be revealed) is a voice-low voice-calling fancy as a friend to the greensward in the summer time, and she fills all the way with dancing steps which have made painters pale, and they go on while stars look at them, and winds call to them as they leave life's path for the twilight world where the dead gather." Carlisle tells us that " all inmost things are melodies. The meaning of song goes deep. Who is there in logical words can express the effect music has on us? A kind of inarticulate, unfathomed speech which leads us to the edge of the infinite, and lets us for a moment gaze into that. See deep enough and you see musically, the heart of nature being everywhere music if you can only reach it."
Ruskin, in one of his most interesting chapters, lights for us seven lamps which are to illume the pathway for the artist who builds in marble and in wood. Is not he who builds for us fairy palaces of sweet sounds as much an architect as he who builds for the eye to see? Is not the ear one of the portals to the soul within? Let us see whether or not Ruskin's "Seven Lamps of Architecture" may serve for the artist whose life is given to the building of the music palace which will be worthy to receive the royal guest before whom the heavenly hosts are bending in their never- ceasing song of "Holy! Holy! Holy!" Ruskin gives us in the chapter of which we have spoken the lamp of sacrifice, the lamp of power, the lamp of beauty, the lamp of life, the lamp of truth, the lamp of memory and the lamp of obedience. Oh music loving souls! let us look for a moment and see whither the lamp of sacrifice would guide us with its rays. What may we offer in sacrifice to advance the growth of the Music kingdom? As in a dream comes back the answer, "Forgetfulness of self and self-success." Yet who is willing to place self in the balance and be out- weighed and forgotten for art's sake, and still rejoice in the work that is done? With- out sacrifice nothing worthy can be accomplished-this is true in religion and it is true in art. Look well to the weary and oft-time shadowed road, for unless the lamp of sacrifice shines out brightly, the difficulties will appall, and we shall be tempted to turn back; unless this lamp be held aloft, and our eyes with steadfast gaze be fixed thereupon, our own shadows cast before from the lurid light of self will cause us to stumble and to fall into depths of oblivion. Let this light go before us, and then will the shadow of self fall backward.
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The lamp of truth. When one girds himself up for a journey-a life-journey into the art world -- let him beware of the serpent of deceit, whose wily tongue once brought discord into Eden's bowers; whose tempting voice marred the harmony of human life. Let him beware of becoming himself a traitor. Let him, already lighted by the lamp of sacrifice, look now for the truth, the ideal which can light every shadow of doubt, and burn in its white fire the last vestige of the veil which would conceal motives. Let him look into his inmost soul and commune long with the dweller in the inner- most sanctum. Let him look to it that he enter not into the way of quicksands, where the lamp of truth can not burn; where damp, miasmatic fogs choke the light, and where the traveler will lose his path, and the life be lost in darkness. Let him beware that he follows not a will-o'-the-wisp, deceiving emanation from graves of the mold- cring dead. Let him look closely that he be not led astray. The truth light wavers not, but, like the pillar of fire which led God's people of old through darkness of the night of bondage, the lamp of truth will guide through all dangers, through roughest ways, to the very altar of God, where the reward will be found for all who have inthe art world been faithful.
Let him be fearless, and seek not to cover by flimsy artifice the many failures. Stand firm, and in the white light of truth all faults will be burned away, and at the last he may be worthy of being thought what he now wishes to seem. Truth will shrivel forever and destroy the veil of the seeming.
The lamp of power. Is our traveler lighted by its rays? Neither intricacy nor quantity (if I may use that word just here ) denote power. Neither does an artist's power depend upon surrounding circumstances. Not to be governed by, a true artist must govern circumstances. Methinks Beethoven, Mozart, Mendelssohn, Chopin and Wagner could show more power, more greatness, as artist souls in weaving poetry from the old-time spinet than can many a so-called artist of the present time hammer from the keys of the finest instrument of modern days. Why is this? Is it not that the lamp of power was alight within the soul, and the artist felt his power to be master of the machine before him? He was the soul-the instrument but the acces- sory. The artist held the secret, the "open sesame" to the garden of God, where rarest pictures are painted in colors of sweetest sound. He could enter and gather for us the heaven-born blossoms, at times bright roses of love, and again a wreath of cypress or of yew, and his own hands could weave the crown of laurel which should be given at the end. The lamp of power can be lighted only by truc and reverent love of art, and if the artist's soul is lighted thus, he dare not stop to ask excuse or make apology, or tremble for fear of self-failure. If he loves his art, he shall carry safely the lamp of power. If one has a message from Heaven, it will find expression. Let the traveler think more of what that message may do for mankind, and less of the messenger; more of its effect or power to uplift, and less of the praise that the world will give. Oh, the commonplace to which a so-called artist stoops when he offers excuse for work unworthily donc! Lovers of art should bear the message that God through them sends to mankind, with forgetfulness of self, and free from burden of excuse and apology should carry with stronger hand the lamp of power, which will light them toward the inner sanctuary, where they are called upon to act as priests before the starving, thirsty multitudes. He who can not forget self (which is weak- ness and sin) and grow toward strength and power gigantic, has no right at the high altar. If he fears what the world will say, let him go back and grovel with the com- monplacc.
Beauty-the central lamp, as Ruskin gives the order. On the one hand are sac- rifice, truth, power; on the other, life, memory, obedience. And what is it to be lighted by all the other lamps, but to stand in the center and in the full light of the central lamp of beauty? If this be so, will not the artist strive for higher motives, and leave no earth-worshipers the caricatures of holy sound in way of catch tunes and trick music, which appeals to the lower nature; and will he not strive after more uplifting, heaven-born thoughts, leaving to earth-children the music that can only set the fect
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a-dancing, while he carries reverently the divine spark which shall grow to light him toward the source of all that is beautiful? Oh lovers of soul music! Do not deaden this holy light by letting the dancers cast their shadow over you. The gates will never open unless the lamps of beauty shine down and wither all the false growths about the entrance. Uproot all flowers that have no fragrance. The music-flowers must give forth sweet fragrance, or be unworthy a place in the garden about the palace of music. That style of composition which is unworthy a place in the most reverent love of art, should be cast aside as false. The flowers that God has planted in each artist's soul must be watered with tears of reverent love and pure devotion, and the sunshine of sacrifice and of truth and of power and of beauty must shine direct, not through the colored glass of popular fancy.
And next comes the lamp of life. What can this be to us in the world of music? We listen to some wonderful performance in the way of vocal gymnastics or of finger dexterity, and critics say, " admirable execution!" " Remarkable technic!" and we are silent or give assent because conventionality makes demand. Again, a true artist sits at the instrument, perchance breaking many set laws and rules, but now and again striking chords that flash like white light from highest Heaven into our own souls. The instrument may be poor, the voice imperfect, but the soul of the artist is there, living near to the source of light and life, and the life speaks forth. Would that more of those who struggle for the name of artist might begin within to fan into life the divine spark, if it be there, and if not, then cease to ply at art-go back-there is no room for triflers in this palace. All the outside polish of a common stone can not discover a diamond; all the technic and outside finish can not create an artist. The true artist is a living thought of God, and though his path may oftentimes lead over rough ways, it is ever lighted by the lamps of life, which can not die.
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