Another was written in an almost illegible hand which ran:
“HONOURED SIR,—i wants to go on the staige i am a servent and my marster sais i am a good smart made so i wod like to play act mades parts untill i can do laidies i doant mind wages for a bit as i like your acting i’d like to act in your theter so i am going to call soon.”
Truly the assurance of people is amazing; to imagine they can enter the theatrical profession without even common education is absurd. Only lately another stage-struck servant appeared in the courts. Although an honest girl, she was tempted to steal from her mistress to pay £3 7_s._ to an agent for a problematical theatrical engagement. She is only one of many.
One day a woman stood before a manager. She had been so persistent for days in her desire to see him, and appeared so remarkable, that the stage door-keeper at last inquired if he might admit her.
“Please, sir, I wants to be an actress,” she began, on entering the manager’s room.
“Do you? And what qualifications have you?”
“That, my good woman, will hardly help you on the stage.”
“And I’ve been to the the-a-ters with my young man—I’m keeping company with ’im ye know, and——”
“And ’e and I thinks you ain’t got the right tone of hactress for them parts. Now I’m a real cook I am, and I don’t wear them immoral ’igh ’eels, and tiny waists, I dresses respectable I do, and I’d just give the right style to the piece. My pal—she’s a parlourmaid she is—could do duchesses and them like—she’s the air she ’as—but I ain’t ambitious, I’d just like to be what I am, and show people ’ow a real cook should be played—Lor’ bless ye, sir, I don’t cook in diamond rings.”
That manager did not engage the lady; but he learnt a lesson in realism which resulted in Miss FitzClair being asked to dispense with her rings on the stage that night.
With a parting nod the “lady” said as she left the door:
“Your young man don’t make love proper neither, you should just see ’ow ’Arry makes love you should, he’d make you all sit up, I know, he does it that beautiful he do—your man’s a arf-’arted bloke ’e is, seems afraid of the gal, perhaps it’s ’er ’igh ’eels and diamonds ’e’s afraid of, eh?”
These are only a few instances to show how all sorts and conditions of people are stage-struck. That delightful man Sir Walter Besant lay down an excellent rule for young authors, “Never pay to produce a book”—it spells ruin to the aspirant. The same may be said of the stage. _Never part with money to get on the stage._ It may be advisable to accept a little if one cannot get much; but never, never to pay for a footing. Services will be accepted while given free or paid for, and dispensed with when the time comes for payment to be received.