amongst the few whose taste in dress on the stage is quite irreproachable, who never makes a mistake in fitting her clothes to her part.
Mrs. Tree vows that if you gave her a dozen yards of white crepe de chine, she would make a costume in which she could appear as Ophelia, Lady Macbeth, Constance, and Juliet, and would undertake in the disposal of her draperies to satisfy the demands of the most exacting critic. But on the subject of fashion Mrs. Tree is a heretic, refusing to treat it seriously, and indulging in the theory that "everything is people, nothing is gowns." The philosophy of clothes as expounded by Mrs. Tree, if rendered popular, would not bring much grist to the mill of the modiste; but then "In this life nothing comes off—except buttons" is her favourite pessimism.
I have heard a famous dramatist declare that when he wants to mark a situation strongly upon the minds of the audience, he never allows the heroine to make entry in a new frock. He also contended that, in choosing her own gown, the actress should choose it in relation to those to be worn by other players appearing in the same scene, regarding herself, not primarily as an individual but as one in a group. She should also take care that her dress is suited not only to her surroundings but to her "business," so that no drapery impede her movements, no tightness be a bar to graceful gesture.
No less an authority than Mr. Pinero, when discussing the influence that dress may exercise on the art of acting, has declared that our plays are for the most part over-dressed, with extravagance, vulgarity, and inappropriateness obtaining in place of artistic fitness. It is well known that Pinero
