Actorviews (1923)

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Angel Cake PVith Miss Ferguson 27 anything else, but she mustn’t be a lady. I feel I’ve specialized in ladies too long. There’s a superstition abroad that I can’t play anything else. “A part doesn’t interest me unless it’s a challenge. I don’t like the sure things of drama; and perhaps on that very account I sometimes make mistakes in choosing. But I like to play a woman who by experience and emotion has developed — up or down, it makes no difference so long as the development is there and she is true to herself.” “Does going into society fatigue you?” “Something does, a great deal, and I am sleeping poorly; but I shouldn’t blame it all on society.” Only her tired eyes smiled. “Shouldn’t you delight in a society where there was no celebrated Elsie Ferguson, or rather,” I corrected, “where everybody was an Elsie Ferguson? I mean,” I went on, trying to make myself clear, “a society in which are gathered sculptors, painters, writers, beauties, scholars, wits, all of such distinction and acclaim that none would dare think himself or herself more important than his neighbor. Wouldn’t it be a relief to lose self-consciousness in such a company?” “Yes,” said Elsie Ferguson, without passion. “It would be fine in such a society to put one’s cards face up on the table and to talk, really talk, to split the very hairs of every subject.” And in the next breath she was telling me of the curious worship that comes to her unsought, especially through the pictures. She told me of a girl of fourteen, unknown to her, who had come up to her in the lobby of a theater where “Forever” was showing and had said, with tears streaming from her eyes, “Oh, it is you, Elsie! I love you so.” (And will you believe me when I tell you that Miss Ferguson’s recital of this