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| Billie Burke (1885-1970) |
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In Press and Literature |
(The Washington Post, 18th September, 1910)
BILLIE BURKE'S BABY
When Miss Billie Burke, the beautiful American actress, sailed for Europe a year ago, a frail young woman and a little girl kissed her goodly and waved their handkerchiefs to her from the end of the pier.
It was raining, and the fragile young woman contracted a cold that grew into pneumonia, only week after her farewell to Miss Burke on the pier she died. That actress, on landing, received the cablegram: "Mrs. Watson died at your home today. Await orders." From Miss Burke came the reply: "Conduct funeral my expense. Send Cherry to me. Will adopt her." And now, on this page, Miss Burke tells how she is training her foster-daughter for womanhood and the stage - "for every woman should have a means of livelihood, and, given talent, the stage is the best profession for women, because its rewards are greatest."
When fate made me the foster-mother of a little girl I was at first appalled bv my task. There were several disconcerting things about the little girl. First, she was such a big little girl, being only 9 years younger than myself. Second, she was such a grave little girl, with big gray eyes. She wasn't at all as I had conceived all children to be - glancing sunbeams of gayety. And there was something else that disheartened me. I new almost nothing about children because I was the only child in the family myself and I had a dear dad and a clever mother who had been my playmates and companions as I grew up.
But while I thought what I should do with this sad, big-eyed duckling that circumstances had given into my keeping there came In a flash thoughts that made everything plain.
"Put yourself in her place.
"Fancy yourself in her place and train her as you would want to be trained.
That made a hard task easy. Put yourself in the other person's place and you will always know what to do. I fancied myself In "Cherry's" place, a little girl who had never been out of her native North Carolina until I came for a visit to the big, noisy, skyscraping City, New York. Then I Imagined that black city when, in the pretty little cottage at Yonkers, my mother became terribly ill, and that inky day she died. I imagined my terrible aloneness, when for a time there was nothing to do but to crawl every day to my mother's grave and lie with my head on the sod and wish that I, too, were lying beneath it.
And then came a lawyer, telling me to join my mother's friend in England, and I felt my first slight revival of interest in life. And then, when I learned that I had been adopted by my mother's friend, herself only a girl, I was conscious of a first spark of humor.
The First Tour of Europe.
There we were, my big little Cherry and I. She looking very slim and tall and frail in her mourning dress, and with the big black bow on her long braids, and I, looking round and frivolous, I am afraid. In my pink neglige. We both seemed to feel the incongruity of our relation.
Both smiled ever so little. Then I did what I thought the little girl Billie Burke would have liked, gathered her into my arms, and rested my cheek in her black hair, and talked baby talk to her, though she was only 9 years younger than I. And she did what I would have done, cried a little, and then brightened up and began to smile and take an interest in people and things.
Then, with what the little Billie Burke would have liked under the circumstances in mind, I took Cherry on a tour of Europe. We visited France and Italy, and stayed for a while in Switzerland. I brought her back to this country only when it was time to begin my tour. Then fearing the loneliness of leaving her behind, I took her on tour with me.
I believed that travel world supplement her education, besides taking her out of herself while her grief at her mother's sudden death was still fresh. With me in the company was my cousin, and I made her Cherry's governess. I joined her in the spelling lessons myself, for I am a bad speller. I taught her some of the songs I used to sing when I first went on the stage. One of these was "My Little Canoe," which a relative of ours says that Cherry sings better than I do myself.
Meanwhile, I had my little girl under observation, so to speak. Had she, or had she not, talent for the stage? To my great pleasure I found she had. For every woman should have some means of livelihood, and, given talent, the stage is the best profession for women, because its rewards are greatest. I saw that my little adopted daughter had individuality, and that she also had personality. Without doing anything at all, she made people like her. She wasn't pretty, but I saw that she would grow into beauty or a distinction and difference that is as valuable an asset for the stage.
And she was inventive, and had little dramatic spurts alternating with her ladylike quietings-down. When I was satisfied that she had a taste and talent for the stage I knew that her future was in great measure settled.For while I should leave Cherry provided for — I have already made my will with that in view — I want her to have something that she can depend upon within herself.
But before and after and all the time the greater question of character was to be settled. My little adopted daughter has a sweet, pliant nature, and I saw that right environment was absolutely essential. I think every child should leave behind a home, of peace and joy when she goes into that world. I had such a home. I wanted Cherry to have it. It was right to let her go about in a world on wheels for a while, till the edge of her sorrow was dulled. But now what?
In my traveling life I could not make a permanent home for her. I persuaded cousins of mine to let her stay with them while I am away. I left her with thankfulness in my heart. For I know how essential it is that a child shall live with those who are happily married, and my cousins, I knew, had one of those heavens on earth — a happy home.
I shall have her taught by governesses at first, until she is well grounded in the home qualities that are also the womanly qualities. I want her to learn to be truthful, to abominate lying and liars; and I want her to be taught as I was, that if one fail in all else, she must never fail in truth.
I am training her to be gentle, for gentleness is, next to truthfulness, one of the greatest, womanly virtues. Every difficulty in life, if met with gentleness is made easier. I often talk to her about kindness and impress upon her that unkindness is a crime. The lessons proceed gradually from animals to human beings. I have taught her that the domestic animals are our little brothers and sisters and that we must treat them as such.
"Guardie" of Tutti and Frutti
I have told her that the helpless rabbits that play about on the lawn, the squirrels in the park, and our poodles, Tutti and Frutti, are her little wards, and she gravely takes the responsibility of being their "guardie." The person who has a kindly feeling toward animals will never be cruel to human beings dependent upon him for welfare and happiness.
Every day, when we are together, we have little talks about conduct. I tell her that for selfish reasons alone we must, be as unselfish as we can. Give out love and oceans of love come back to us. I was fortunate in my good, clever mother, who taught me that to get happiness we must give happiness, and that in every situation we should always think of others first and ourselves last; that it is hard at first, but afterward becomes a habit. We can train ourselves to make little sacrifices for others until it becomes happiness to make them.
I never punish Cherry. I talk things over with her and explain why it is better to do one thing than another — better for her and for others. That develops her reasoning faculties. I teach her to rely upon that, for by so relying she will always do what is wise and right.
I shall carry forward my little girl's education here first in the care of governesses in a home. Then, when her character seems to be fairly fixed and the better qualities I have spoken of are impressed, I shall send her to a girls school in the United States.
Cherry's Accomplishments
She is being taught music, because I think every woman should know music for the refinement it gives, quite apart from the exquisite pleasure it yields to the person who loves music. She is learning dancing, because it develops grace, besides being a most healthful exercise. She is studying French, because the knowledge of any language opens the shutters of our lives and lets us look into a new world. And French is a delightful accomplishment.
For her last year I shall place her in a school abroad. Not in one of the convents in France, where so many American girls go for their finishing, but in England. I shall do this because, having lived half my life this side and half on the other, I know that the charming vivacity of American women, which often verges upon abruptness and makes other nations criticise us for rudeness, is tempered in the English schools. Some might call it better deportment, but it has always seemed to me that what the English schools teach, and what English women have that we lack, is control. They are calmer than we are. They have poise. Control of their emotions helps them over the hard places of life. It makes their lives inwardly easier and outwardly more graceful. I want my little girl to have this.
And I want her to have the low voice and charming diction of the Englishwoman. And thus I hope and expect to make of Cherry a fine American woman.