and drink for the stage
lawyer.
They all go about telling their own and their friends' secrets to
perfect strangers on the stage. Whenever two people have five minutes
to spare on the stage they tell each other the story of their lives.
"Sit down and I will tell you the story of my life" is the stage
equivalent for the "Come and have a drink" of the outside world.
The good stage
lawyer has generally nursed the
heroine on his knee
when a baby (when she was a baby, we mean)--when she was only so high.
It seems to have been a part of his
professional duties. The good
stage
lawyer also kisses all the pretty girls in the play and is
expected to chuck the housemaid under the chin. It is good to be a
good stage
lawyer.
The good stage
lawyer also wipes away a tear when sad things happen;
and he turns away to do this and blows his nose, and says he thinks he
has a fly in his eye. This
touching trait in his
character is always
held in great
esteem by the
audience and is much applauded.
The good stage
lawyer is never by any chance a married man. (Few good
men are, so we gather from our married lady friends.) He loved in
early life the
heroine's mother. That "sainted woman" (tear and nose
business) died and is now among the angels--the gentleman who did
marry her, by the bye, is not quite so sure about this latter point,
but the
lawyer is fixed on the idea.
In stage
literature of a
frivolous nature the
lawyer is a very
different individual. In
comedy he is young, he possesses chambers,
and he is married (there is no doubt about this latter fact); and his
wife and his mother-in-law spend most of the day in his office and
make the dull old place quite
lively for him.
He only has one
client. She is a nice lady and affable, but her
antecedents are
doubtful, and she seems to be no better than she ought
to be--possibly worse. But anyhow she is the sole business that the
poor fellow has--is, in fact, his only source of
income, and might,
one would think, under such circumstances be accorded a
welcome by his
family. But his wife and his mother-in-law, on the
contrary, take a
violent
dislike to her, and the
lawyer has to put her in the
coal-scuttle or lock her up in the safe
whenever he hears either of
these
female relatives of his coming up the stairs.
We should not care to be the
client of a farcical
comedy stage
lawyer.
Legal transactions are
trying to the nerves under the most favorable
circumstances; conducted by a farcical stage
lawyer, the business
would be too exciting for us.
THE ADVENTURESS.
She sits on a table and smokes a cigarette. A cigarette on the stage
is always the badge of infamy.
In real life the cigarette is usually the hall-mark of the
particularly mild and
harmless individual. It is the dissipation of
the Y.M.C.A.; the
innocent joy of the pure-hearted boy long ere the
demoralizing influence of our vaunted
civilization has dragged him
down into the depths of the short clay.
But behind the cigarette on the stage lurks ever black-hearted
villainy and
abandoned womanhood.
The adventuress is generally of foreign extraction. They do not make
bad women in England--the article is entirely of continental
manufacture and has to be imported. She speaks English with a
charming little French
accent, and she makes up for this by speaking
French with a good sound English one.
She seems a smart business woman, and she would probably get on very
well if it were not for her friends and relations. Friends and
relations are a
trying class of people even in real life, as we all
know, but the friends and relations of the stage adventuress are a
particularly irritating lot. They never leave her; never does she get
a day or an hour off from them. Wherever she goes, there the whole
tribe goes with her.
They all go with her in a body when she calls on her young man, and it
is as much as she can do to
persuade them to go into the next room
even for five minutes, and give her a chance. When she is married
they come and live with her.
They know her
dreadful secret and it keeps them in comfort for years.
Knowing somebody's secret seems, on the stage, to be one of the most
profitable and least exhausting professions going.
She is fond of married life, is the adventuress, and she goes in for
it pretty
extensively. She has husbands all over the globe, most of
them in prison, but they escape and turn up in the last act and spoil
all the poor girl's plans. That is so like husbands--no
consideration, no thought for their poor wives. They are not a
prepossessing lot, either, those early husbands of hers. What she