sily be able to name others, but I will still maintain that they are
only exceptions, and you will please remark that in the exceptions I
have named the husbands have, as actors, quite as high a reputation as
their wives, which may be the very explanation of those exceptions.

The actress is a heroine, partly owing to the roles that she plays, and
partly to the talent which she displays in them, and no heroine can be a
good wife to a man unless he be a hero himself. A woman can never drop
her love, and she never does; she gives it only to a man she can look up
to.

But there are a great many other reasons. An actress wants perfect
freedom of action. She cannot be bothered by household duties, hampered
by the bringing up of children, mindful of the attentions required, or
at least expected, by a husband.

Her soul and her very nervous system have to be stirred by the whole
gamut of sentiments, sensations, and even passions, or she will never be
able to stir the soul of her audience.

Can you imagine Lady Macbeth, Camille, Fedora, Phedre, La Tosca,
Brunnehilde, played by young innocent virgins or by attentive and
devoted wives who mend their husbands' stockings and make the puddings?
Perhaps you will tell me that Mrs. Kendal does all that, and if you do,
my reply will be, 'Will you please leave me alone with Mrs. Kendal?'

However, since we have mentioned the name of that great actress, I will
quote her, and repeat what she said to me one day: 'It is a general rule
with me never to engage married couples in my company; whenever I have
done so I have had trouble. I want both men and women to act in my
plays without having to mind what their wives or husbands may look like
in the wings while they are making love on the stage.'

The husband of an actress is nine times out of ten an intolerable bore.
He is jealous when she rehearses, he is jealous when she plays, he is
jealous when the audience applauds her, he is jealous when she receives
bouquets, he is jealous and suspicious if the manager increases her
salary, he is jealous during the intervals, he makes scenes to her when
she returns home, and, if he does not, he sulks, which is worse, because
the man who consumes his own smoke is far less bearable than the one who
'has it out' and has done with it. Even if he is not all that, he has
that feeling, which we can quite understand, that his wife belongs to
the authors of the play, to the manager of the theatre, to the p