‘I fancy you little people of the mimic world are rather inclined to overrate your importance. By the side of it the editorial “we” is modesty itself. You actors and actresses are not such great folk after all. Admired one day, forgotten the next! As I think of all the men and women I have known upon the stage, who were lions of their day, for whom the public went into fits of madness, and then see how completely they are forgotten, it has always seemed to me that to illustrate the vanity of life and the nothingness of human applause I should point to the stage.’ One morning there came the manager of the theatre. ‘No, I shall never go back to the stage,’ replied the actress. ‘Why not, my dear?’ said the manager, a gentleman of showy manners, and suspected of being rather over-sweet. ‘Because I don’t like the life behind the scenes.’ ‘I am surprised to hear that. If you knew how young ladies of really good position bother me to give them a trial!’ ‘Ah, they are ignorant.’ ‘Yes,’ said the manager; ‘remember the old lines: ‘“Where ignorance is bliss, ’Tis folly to be wise.’” ‘Folly or not,’ replied Rose, ‘my eyes have been opened by experience. Once I was ignorant as they, and thought how delightful the life behind the scenes must be; but now I know better. I only wish I could have a quiet chat with some of those stage-struck girls, and warn them before it is too late. The life is only possible for the children of parents who are on the stage. It is the atmosphere in which they have been brought up. But as to other girls, the stage is the last thing they should think of if I had my way.’ ‘But what do you object to?’ ‘Why, to everything: the language one is obliged to hear; the dresses, which are often actually indecent; the way in which one is persecuted by men supposed to be gentlemen—the free-and-easy way in which they attempt familiarities is decidedly unpleasant. No, I have been behind the scenes; I have no more illusions on that score. I have done with the whole affair. I am off the boards, and I have no wish to reappear on them again.’ ‘No money will tempt you?’ said the manager. ‘None,’ was the reply. ‘You will be exposed to no inconvenience, you know.’ ‘That is true; but I should have to give my sanction to much that I disapprove of. You must reform what goes on behind the scenes.’ ‘Oh, that is impossible.’ ‘That’s what I fear.’ ‘Well, as you’ve made up your mind, it is no use, I fear, discussing the subject any longer.’ His appeal was in vain. She did not want money, she did not care for applause; she had plenty of excitement in real life. She wanted time to think, and read, and feel. Behind the footlights every night, what time has actor or actress to realize the great ends of life as something real, and not a show with its pretended tragedy or farce? ‘In fact,’ said the lady, ‘I wish to live and not to act.’