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Copyright, 1913, by the Star Company. Orcat Britain Rights Reserved. Too Perfect for Marriage! Divorce! WHAT ON EARTH WILL ‘LOVEY'LEAN *-'DOVEY"HOLBROOK DO Here Is Mrs. “Dovey” Lean’s Own Story— T HE extraordinary matrimonial situation de scribed on this page by the wife herself, ap pears to have no parallel, and no precedent in history. To be ‘‘too perfect for marriage” sounds like a paradox. Yet here are a husband and wife whose carefully planned and faithfully executed "perfections” at last got on each other’s nerves to an extent that each found the other’s presence un endurable. It is not to be wondered at that these same habits of “perfection” stand in the way of a divorce, now being sought for the fourth time. Mr. and Mrs. Lean had enjoyed for nearly a de cade the reputation of having effectually disproved the theory that marriage within the theatrical pro fession cannot be successful. How their one mistake was in attempting to maintain , a more than human standard of perfection is graphically told—with its obvious moral—in the wife’s narrative* By FLORENCE HOLBROOK L (No Long< The Centipede was happy, quite, Until the Frog, in fun. Said: “Which leg follows after which?’'—' And so perpelxed the hapless wight He lay a-kicking in the ditch A-wondering how to run. —High School Psychology. OVEY” AND “DOVEY”—I mean Mr. and Mrs. Cecil Lean—are floundering in their separate domestic ditches, with no present prospect of getting out, either as “the most perfect married couple on the stage,” or as free and independent individuals. Too much psychology—that’s the trouble. A matri monial standard pitched in too high a key at the start. Too many plans and promises and compacts and agree ments to start perfect and stay perfect. Too much effort to maintain the standard. You can’t be perfect and human at one and the same time—especially after marriage. We held ourselves in our stiff-necked course of perfection until we couldn’t endure each other. We separated. What was the use? The habit of perfection could not be shaken off—we’re so perfect that we can’t get a divorce. Goodness gracious! hasn't there been enough said and printed about it? About “Lovey” and "Dovey,” otherwise Florence Holbrook and Cecil Lean, who got married and proceeded to overturn all the traditions of the impossibility of married stage people living happy “ever after?” That was ten years ago. Nobody can say that we didn’t make a brave struggle. For a couple of years we believed we would have the whole acting profession Florence Holbrook in a Thought ful Attitude r “Dovey”) comfortably reformed on the “for better or worse” fire side companion model—all the husbands and wives members of each other’s companies, and autocratic managers forever shamed from tearing wedded actors assunder for whole long seasons. For several more years we succeeded in fooling the outsiders—and then, ghastly weary of each other’s perfections, it was all off. Why didn’t some experienced relative slap us well and remind us that “to err is human?” That marriage is for human beings, that perfection is necessarily celi bate? Why didn’t some kind person head us off? Why weren’t we arrested? Just read the list of impossible things we swore we’d do and wouldn’t do: 1. It is our marriage; no interference from rela tives, blood or “in-law.” 2. We will remain to gether in our work—man agers will have to engage both or neither. 3. We will permit no professional jealously to come between us—if one gets more applause or press notices than the other both shall rejoice equally. 4. We shall not be sep arated in our pastimes; there shall be harmony in the choice of recreations which both can enjoy. 5. If either develops annoying habits or man nerisms the other shall be considerate and not notice them. 6. We agree never to argue with each other; each shall respect the other’s opinions. Mr. Lean “Lovey” Wearing the Smile That Miss Holbrook Yearn ed to “Come Off.” IF YOU WANT TO FIND OUT WHO IS BOSS JUST START SOMETHING “The smile pursued her.” 7. There shall be no personal criticism of each other—especially in the presence of outsiders. 8. If a harsh remark or angry retort leaps to the lips of either, he or she shall remain silent until the impulse has subsided. 9. Each toward the other shall be courteous and considerate in all circumstances, at all times. Signed, sealed, sworn to and delivered—and then we visited the Little Church Around the Corner. Better, far better if we had been arrested and haled to Police Headquarters and sent to the Psychopathic Ward for observation as to our sanity. However, as that would have meant a long term in Matteawan at public ex pense, perhaps it was just as well that our punishment was permitted to fit the crime. We went to Philadelphia to rejoin the company in which both of us were principals. We had not confided in the company for two reasons. First, we wished to make no parade of our example at the start, but to let it sink in subtly and gradually. Second, Mr. Frank Daniels, the star, was notoriously opposed to having husbands and their own wives acting with him, and we naturally desired a breathing spell before testing Clause No. 2. Alas! it had been necessary for us to get the sage director’s permission to remain over one train in New York, and we found our letter boxes on the stage crammed witr telegrams of congratulation. Clause No. 2 received its test then and there. Mr. Daniels glared at us, snorted once or twice, and sedulously re frained from noticing us except as “Miss Holbrook” and “Mr. Lean.” As time went on our perfection was recognized among our professional associates—except by certain managers. We became “Lovey” and “Dovey.” 1 am sure that the rank and file of our profession were sincere in desiring to see us triumph. We steadily refused to be separated in our work. Managers got to telling each other: “No use. They’re ‘Lovey’ and ‘Dovey.’ Y^i can’t pry ’em apart.” There is no doubt that we sacrificed several oppor tunities to add to our individual earnings and our in dividual professional reputation in order to remain to gether in our work and live up to Perfection No. 2. I can not remember that his relation or mine ever interfered with us—which kept No. 1 intact. As for No. 3, the bulk or our press notices being about “Lovey” and “Dovey” and their worthy example to the theatrical profession, and our applause pretty fairly shared, we had really no grounds for professional jealousy. “Denied speech that would arouse domestic spats, she brought aggra vating signs home—and even they had no effect.” Neither were there many pitfalls hidden in No. 4. We were both fond of out door sports. We sailed and motored togther, and could play tennis and golf with each other without getting angry and violating No. 8— though occasionally by dint of protracted silences be tween us. I was .not addicted to the pink tea habit, nor was he over fond of his club. Not much of a strain, our perfection thus far. But, oh, those fatal Nos. 5, 6, 7 and 9: “Annoying habits or mannerisms.” "Nover argue—respect each other’s opinions.” "No personal criticism.” “Courteous and considerate, etc., at ali times.” Don’t imagine that we didn't, or did, or weren’t. That is where the whole trouble lay. Even in hese last named impossibilities of married life we forced ourselves to be perfect. Imagine not arguing with your own lawfully wedded husband. Or not reminding him of his annoying habits. Or refraining from criticising his ridiculous mannerisms. Or being always courteous and considerate though married! But we did it. We were perfect, as we declared we would be. And then, ail of a sudden, we realized that we would simply have to beihuman or quit! It was the trifles that it was hardest to be perfect about-being considerate, remaining silent about little personal characteristics which were a constant, sourcp. of irritation. He had a habit of always being last. If there was five minutes in which to catch a train he would risk missing it in order to do something quite unnecessary. I dare say I had little habits which annoyed him quite as much. Once there was a wife who left her husband because his glass eye got on her nerves. Another loving couple separated because of an argu ment about which end of the breakfast boiled egg should be broken—the large end or the small end. I actually believe that a glass eye in the family, or a real good, human, matrimonial argument about a boiled egg would have been our salvation. In order to realize our perfection ideal we kept all our little differences and resentments and perfectly natural little argumentative and critical inclinations bottled up. The accumulation at length made us un bearable to each other. We were too perfect to have it out and clear the atmosphere. For quiet a long while we kept on working together. "Lean and Holbrook” sang and danced and made love to each other professionally. They continued to be “Lovey” and “Dovey” on the stage—but nowhere else. They were on each other’s nerves quite hopelessly. Once, twice, three times, they tried to become di vorced. Alas! they were too perfect. His Honor, the Judge, could find no flaw in them! They contemplate another attempt—perhaps “on grounds of incompatibility of perfections.” Otherwise the case seems hopeless. Don’t think me flippant or careless in these remarks. I never was more serious in my life. It is such a scr,- ous matter that 1 feel like warning all young persons contemplating matrimony that that state is nor for the perfect, or those wro have a passion for perfection, but for those who are simply human beings, and otherwise eligible. Famous Fashions from Mistakec O NE of the kings of France came to the throne a child of ten; he wore his hair in long ringlets all about his head. Immediately the men and women of the court did likewise, and it became the nation wide craze. This same monarch was bald at thirty, and, being a lover of things beautiful and feminine, ordered the elab orate wig which was taken up and rev elled in during many reigns. The leather boa originated less than twenty years ago in conservative Boston. In an idle moment an apprentice in a mil liner's shop sewed the discarded bits and ends of poor plumes together and strung them about her neck. The other girls laughed at the trimming; the head of the department declared them pretty, and the order was given that no castaways in the form of plumes be thrown in the waste basket. All parts of the plumes were kept, sewed onto a ribbon, and the entire thing curled, the long ribbon loops put at each end—and this creation was the means of bringing that woman into prominence, and it has gained in success each season since. The origin of the beauty spot is no less interesting. The Duchess de Montmorril- lon, suffering with a boirfon her cheek, re sorted to putting on a bit of black mix ture, which she had been told held great curative power. In the morning she either forgot to wash her face, or did not use enough care—so the taie goes—and ap peared before the world with a face spolted. Powdered and perfumed she re ceived her callers, and they found the accidental black spot charming, so much so that before night had come they an- nointed their faces with the black oint ment. The pannier of to-day was in great vogue the latter part of the eighteenth century. The introduction was brought about by mere accident. A very petite maid of one of the well-known actresses of that day was in the habit of pulling her outer skirt up, so that when she knelt in arranging milady’s habit it wouldn’t soil or wrinkle the skirt. The actress, noticing the attrac tive appearance she made with her outer skirt rolled up about her hips adopted the costume. The late King Edward, when he was the Prince of Wales, set and introduced many fads and fancies. As a younger man he was somewhat stockily built, and the high pointed linen collars, in vogue at that; time, would irritate him in the extreme.) One night he purposely grasped the points,; bent them over, and it didn’t take long for the English dressers to find the scheme an excellent and practical one, adopt it, and make way for our present turn-down col lars. Moral: Don’t Be Perfect; Just Be Human “What on earth can we do,” asks Miss Holbrook— (This Is Charming Miss Holbrook Completely Surrounded by Her Question)—“The only way to be happy if married is not to think about it.”