There is no question that the actor of to-day is living in a more agreeable environment than his brother of a hundred years ago. He is accepted now socially. He was a gypsy then. His opportunity to annex a large share of the world's goods is larger to-day than ever it was. Yet in his artistic life he is less fortunate than his confreres of even twenty-five years ago. Why? Simply because we have lifted the curtain, let loose the secrets of our little house, discussed our art with the gambler and the janitor! It is a difficult job to convince a friend with whom you're dining that you are capable of playing Hamlet. He can't disassociate you from the evening clothes you wear! Abroad the man and the actor are separate beings. Here, through our own fault, we are always ourselves. And so it must continue to be until the old back door keeper is reinstated, the green room refurbished and--the curtain dropped! Let the janitor be silenced and the stage door barred and securely fastened! Then and not until then may we hope to attain truly artistic results. [Illustration: IN HAMLET _It had always been my desire to appear in Shakespearean roles_] _Chapter LXXV_ MY STAGE-STRUCK VALET It was back in the early nineties that an invitation was extended to me to appear in an all-star performance of "Richard the Third" in a monster benefit for some charitable institution. (My friends, the critics, permit me to play tragedy--for charity!) With my acceptance of the invitation I also sent word I should appreciate it if a "bit" (a small part) were given to my valet to play. This valet of mine was the most woefully stage-struck individual I ever saw. It was his only fault. Otherwise he was without a blemish as a valet. He had begged me for months to let him go on in one of my productions but I had never had an opportunity until now. The messenger sent from Richmond through Lord Stanley to Richard on the field of battle was the part my valet was to play and his line was "A gentleman called Stanley desires admittance from the Earl of Richmond." For weeks prior to the benefit matinee that valet repeated his line aloud! If I asked for my slippers he brought them mumbling, "A gentleman called Stanley desires admittance from the Earl of Richmond." No matter what I said to him he prefaced his answer with this line. It got on my nerves to such an extent I told him I'd dismiss him if he said it again in my hearing. It was no use. Every time I turned my head I saw my valet repeating "A gentleman called Stanley desires admittance from the Earl of Richmond."