Stage Confidences | Page 4

that temptation may be
approaching her, softly, quietly, in the guise of friendship. So, all
unconsciously, she grows to rely upon the advice of this quiet,
unassuming man. She looks for his praise, for his approval. By and by
their companionship reaches beyond the walls of the theatre. She
respects him, admires, trusts him. Trusts him--he may be worthy, he
may not! But it would be well for the young actresses to be on their
guard against the "sympathetic friend."
Since we are speaking about absolute beginners, perhaps a word of
warning may be given against pretended critics. The young actress
trembles at the bare words "newspaper man." She ought to know that a
critic on a respectable paper holds a responsible position. When he
serves a prominent and a leading journal, he is frequently recognized as
an authority, and has a social as well as a professional position to
maintain. Further, the professional woman does not strongly attract the
critic personally. There is no glamour about stage people to him; but

should he desire to make an actress's acquaintance, he would do so in
the perfectly correct manner of a gentleman. But this is not known to
the young stranger within the theatrical gates, and through her
ignorance, which is far from bliss, she may be subjected to a
humiliating and even dangerous experience. I am myself one of several
women whom I know to have been victimized in early days.
The beginner, then, fearing above all things the newspaper, receives
one evening a note common in appearance, coarse in expression,
requesting her acquaintance, and signed "James Flotsam," let us say. Of
course she pays no attention, and two nights later a card reaches her--a
very doubtful one at that--bearing the name "James Flotsam," and in
the corner, Herald. She may be about to refuse to see the person, but
some one will be sure to exclaim, "For mercy's sake! don't make an
enemy on the 'press.'"
And trembling at the idea of being attacked or sneered at in print,
without one thought of asking what Herald this unknown represents,
without remembering that Miller's Pond or Somebody-else's Corners
may have a Herald she hastens to grant to this probably ignorant young
lout the unchaperoned interview she would instantly refuse to a
gentleman whose name was even well known to her; and trembling
with fear and hope she will listen to his boastings "of the awful roasting
he gave Billy This or Dick That," referring thus to the most prominent
actors of the day, or to his promises of puffs for herself "when old
Brown or Smith are out of the office" (the managing and the city
editors both being jealous of him, and blue pencilling him just for spite);
and if Mr. Flotsam does not, without leave, bring up and present his
chum, Mr. Jetsam, the young woman will be fortunate.
A little quiet thought will convince her that an editor would not assign
such a person to report the burning of a barn or the interruption of a dog
fight, and with deep mortification she will discover her mistake. The
trick is as old as it is contemptible, and many a great paper has had its
name put to the dishonourable use of frightening a young actress into
an acquaintance with a self-styled critic.
Does this seem a small matter to you? Then you are mistaken. There

are few things more serious for a young woman than an unworthy or
undesirable acquaintance. She will be judged, not by her many correct
friends, but by her one incorrect one. Again, feeling fear of his power
to work her injury, she ceases really to be a free agent, and Heaven
knows what unwise concessions she may be flurried into; and of all the
dangers visible or invisible in the path of a good girl, the most terrible
is "opportunity." If you wish to avoid danger, if you wish to save
yourself some face-reddening memory, give no one the "opportunity"
to abuse your confidence, to wound you by word or deed. Ought I to
point out one other unpleasant possibility? Temptation may approach
the somewhat advanced young actress through money and power in the
guise of the "patron of Art"--not a common form of temptation by any
means. But what has been may be again, and it is none the easier to
resist because it is unusual. When a young girl, with hot impatience,
feels she is not advancing as rapidly as she should, the wealthy "patron
of Art" declares it is folly for her to plod along so slowly, that he will
free her from all trammels, he will provide play, wardrobe, company,
and show the world that she is already an artist. To her trembling
objection that she could only accept