"ALIEN'S" LETTER FROM ENGLAND. (Specially -written for the Witness Ladies' Page.)

Otago Witness, Issue 2719, 25 April 1906, Page 71

"ALIEN'S" LETTER FROM ENGLAND. (Specially -written for the Witness Ladies' Page.)

rHE THEATEE AND FASHIONS.

The controversy -whether the theatres . pay the present-day manager or not 'has - been extended : most of the leading men of the stage who are "in the know"' have - expressed their opinion. Some declare .that unless the management means by "paying" sensational and exaggerated pro- - „ fits, the theatre as an investment does pay. Charles Wyndham says there is no justifi- ' cation for the assertion that theatrical business is not as good to-day as it was - five years ago. Every manager should : bo content to conduct his business on the - law of average. "' - The theatre, I think, -is jnore popular -than "- ever, and the enthusiasm "of audiences iuiV- measurably greater. There- are, -however, more _1 tijeatreaj'ana'for- this'Treason-the runs or plays C" cannot- be as- Jong as former.y. ,Lam not :,'--implying . that ihere 'ere too ma'ny-'theafres, "ior. London is* aitrayV.growing, and the 'public ■ -m^at ba-enierfainep:. -,__, . . , -!Oae;eorrespondeni'ascribed,~as a reason for * 'the"3iminishing "profits of -the theatre the . scarcity; _' of*- goo.d .actresses. This' Sir C. ; Wyndham also, refutes : ' *' TVith regard to the alleged scarcity of .'actresses, "I", must cay ,1 nevei -found more than I wonted to fit any special pait. I do not think artists are overpaid— all good work ' is worth' a good price. When everything was • done on tee cheap, what was the result?. Bankruptcy! Small business done, small enthusiasm, small or no profits. - No! 'Jihere is no time like the present for appreciation of the play and the players. social conditions are very much in our favour, too. In olden times there was no such thing as a first night— l mean, of course, the first - sight as % 'social function. i?ow it is of the utmost value. You have no idea, until v.cv are face to face with it, what a business is the seating for a first night, and, especially in a email theatre,, how many enemies you are compelled to make owing to the limited space available. I think I could almost compile a. "first night enemy list." And now about plays. I think we are suffering from too few authors; that is our great ■vratsi. . Give us plays ; there would be no XQore talk of theatrical depression if we had more authors. "Not a'Bejected Dramatist" says good plays are "going a-begging," quite a con.tradictory note to Wyndham' s : - - Take - any oi the"' lew,- Ijig 1 .popular successes »• *>f "the",.past- years, and-inquir& of the author -l^wkat^ has been" his. Experience". In almcst every ■"instance it. is tfie' fiSnie slory of _ rejection, on ' all " hands, - a^eaeiaL . failure- on » < tlie*p,axt--of T -iaknitge2ip .to, recogpige -the- pppular element s : in, the work'untii, finally^-it"haa beezt ' produced — faule d»-mieux. - »- . "Who .shall .-'. sayj hovrmaory -succcesses in ,einbryof are- lying . , -/unifead^ei?' biing daily, rejected "/by- managers, t/whos'^. 'fallibility 'is- exposed^ with' ''c^very^ k«w .production? It is, - indeed,- well within niy knowledge that a xcund dozen of gc,od — even fine — plays are at present going begging. It is not that their authors arc unknown or insignificant. Quite the contrary. It is not ■evea-that the value of the work, dramatically, is contested. It is either that the manager cannot "see" -himself or his star in the leading part or 'that he is convinced that the public would not stand the pUy. The-fact that the actor-manager and his "star" insist upon the part being either written round or adapted to their individuality is the reason, other critics de- - ciare, why the old-fashioned story drama is ignored. And the public, who love the . story of a play, are disappointed. Arthur ; Bourchier says what the public want they ! will get, whatever the managers may think. Mr George Alexander maintains that people want more for their money than they wanted in the pa'st — more room in the theatres, more luxury in every way, and that the folk who go into the shilling gallery seats at matinees are frequently of the class who drive to the theatre in a carriage and pair, and who on ordinary days patronise the stalls. ' So k^t week he put up the price of the gallery to 2s, but there was such an outcry among his admirers of the theatre-going public that he withdrew his edict. One mother of a .family of girls wrote that they had turned tlie face 'of -his photo to the wall, as he- liad.'made it impossible- for them, to go to his theatre by the .bolition of his shil-'ling-.mattinee gallery. Mr Hawtrey believes "there is as much - talent as *ver as. regards the actresses of to-day, but unfortunately it is latent." As a rule, Mr Hawtrey declares both manager arid actor' are reluctant to grant an actress an opportunity unless she has been tried — presumably in the provinces. Xat Goodwin says : Of course, there is no money to be made in London theatres if what you make is given over to speculators and janitors. I read Mr ISdwardes's article, and gave it much thought. Of course, the public think the theatre a. geld mme — or they did think so before you. lifted the curtain. They know nothing about the intricacies of the theatre; they only care for the gratification they receive^ — the three Lours they are within its walls. If the manager only gives mediocre entertainments he must . expect mediocre results. If he is silly enough I to invest such sums" as are inadequate to meef the patronage of his public, no mattei how huge the receipts, he must not blame his ■public, but look into his own business sagacity. 'And, to back Mr George Alexander's assertion that rich people go to .the matinee gallery and pit performances, other "responsible persons" declare that it is quite trae that wealthy people ■ not only drive Tip tp 'the pit and doors, but go to the expense of Hiring message boys to go in advance to take seats for them, thus - sinning against -the unwritten gallery law ■—•"First come, first served." ■The _ question, -Does stage fame mean wealth? ha? been raised by the probate of - the will of the late -Sit Henry -Irving, the ■ gross- "value -of . whose estate is over -jfiSKMXX). , *A r matt who dies possessed of 5£20,000,- however "inadequate that sum - may, be in comparison with his genius "value/ cannot be said to' have died' "poor. iTor, taking into account many years of lavish , expenditure and generous charity, ths. meeting of; just claims, the granting

j of private claims, all the unaccountable expenditure of an artistic life, to ' die after all the possessor of L £20,000 is to die in this case not only ■ with the. recognition of a nation and a ! nation's honour, but with more money at ■ the end than many a genius has earned all his life through. Mr Pinero's "masterpiece," "His House in Order," must come as a doubly wel- '• come decision of his critics after the severe handling he suffered from them when "A Wife Without a Smile" was produced, a , little over a year ago. It is written, say | the critics, on the '"loftiest plan," which. Being translated, means derision of "mean { lesions of gaudy, disfigured fragments of humanity," but" sympathy with "real happiness by virtue of self-renunciation." 1 i In a sense. "His House in Order"' may be called a reply to the popular and often vulgar attacks on the "upper clases *' which of recent years ~ have swept, like a nauseating 1 stream, through many of. our novels and { 'perfodipals. For Mr Pinero has turned his ■} attention ' to '-another- class — that smug, snobbish, hypocritical, black-clothed, chilly-hearted,'joy-killing class that loathes 1 " laughter, br.owbeats Nature, and' stifles the aspirations of the Jowly. They are represented m the play by the Bidgeley family. "Oh." cries Hilary Jesson, the travelled, genial, kindly, broad-minded man of the world, ■who£e brother has married into the Ridgeley family, "I don't care a rap whether or not they are salf-deceivers, whether or not theirs .is an unconscious hypocrisy. Because they . hug themselves with a belief in th«i. own righteousness, they are the more pernicious. I'd wipe out the whole class to which the^e ltidgeleys belong— exterminate it ruthlessly. It's a class that brings even-thing that's good in the world — virtue, and charity, and religion — into odium and contempt. Its members, individually and collectively, are the. pests of t humanity." j The first night was a very brilliant one ; ! . actors and actresses and playgoers, both of i , the old school and the new, standing to ' honour "the master dramatist of our age '" ! with cheer on cheer. I I Mr Alexander gave a splendid perform- j . ance, and little Miss Iris Hawkins, who , j plays the seven-year-old boy Derek, came j into favour at once. The Mail says, in the ' words of her interviewer : — At the stage door of the St. James's Theatre the writer waited till Miss Iris Hawkins, the child actress, should be, free from her wilful, cheeky, 'charming little existence as Derek, the" enfant terrib'.e in Mr Pineto's new play. At last there came a little boy in a velvet suit and. a pink cloak, -who, with ' a graceful i bow,, invited him- to come up, and .tripped- J 1 lightly up the, stairs -ahead. He ushered him into a dressing room, where there; was no ' ' sign whatever of Miss Iris Hawkins-. ~ j Then, .with I , the dignity oi J an experienced ' actress, the' little -boy regretted that h* had only a few minutes before the call for the next act, and settled himself with a smile to answer questions. It was Derek himself. And s-o as Derek Miss Hawkins had to be interviewed, for even near at hand she looks the most natural little boy of seven ever seer. j "Oh. thank you," he said, "it is a perfectly j levely part ; such a long one, and I am on I a great part of the time; and it is a lovely play, much stronger than anything I have ' acted in before. " j "You know, I love acting. I have a'wavs ! wanted to ever since I ca.i remember, and" I like everything about it — from learning my ; part to the longest rehearsal. I even like mak- ,' i ing up— though my hair is squeezed up horribly. ' Ihe fashion of ladies wearing hats with evening <Jress has been mooted by the chairman of Louise and Company at thei^ annual meeting. In Paris the ladies wear hats with evening dregs, and at restaurant dinners and theatres. One writer says that the tat with an evening toilette" is so picturesque that after growing accustomed to it in France the English dinner costume l<roks "hopelessly incomplete," even with jewelled tiaras. Comparing the spectacle in the Riviera Palace or the Hermitage at J Monte Carlo to the English restaurants at | Ostend and other fashionable resorts, the advantage is all on the side o-f the colouring which the hat gives. But English ladies in England are not likely to wear hats to" dine hij whatever they may do abroad, and in, the theatres British men won't have it; there is even a grumble at the huge, conibs and high head-dressing sow in fashion. § The Empire bonnet is the latest arrival in millinery, being on the plan of the charming Princess bonnet so long the mode and so becoming to many faces. It fits cla-e on the head, and is trimmed with a har.dsome aigrette or flowers in front. Another new head adornment is the new lace tiara and throatlets to match, either jewelled or plain, according to the wearer's taste and means. Up to the very latest date the decision on the suggested mede of hat wearing with evening dress is this: — That hats are- being worn with full-dress evening toilettes in London restaurants has fluttered the dove-cotes of theatrical managers, who, having met in open combat and worsted the once übiquitous matinee hat, view with horror the statement that in England just as in Paris smart women are dining and supping in millinery. For a restaurant diner frequently preludes a visit to the playhouse, just as a "restaurant supper puts' the final touch to an evening's enjoyment of the drama. In order to discover how far the fashion of wearing headgear with evening dress has j spread from Paris and the South of France to- London, a representative of the Daily Moil i vjsited six of the leading "West End milliners ' to obtain tidings of the vogue. | "Are we selling evening dress hats?" asked the manageress of Louise and Company (Ltd.), ' Regent street. "Most certainly, Yes. They have been more in fashion this winter than ever before, and their reign of triumph is now ] assured." o Within a week/tyro romantic marriages in <K>nnection with the stage have attracted attention. Miss Eva Carrington, the beau- '. tiful "Gibson Girl" of the Aldwich Theatre, | ; has married Lord de Clifford, and Lord Ashburton's romantic marriage to the beautiful "Florodora Girl," Miss Frances Belsnont "in public" — Mies Blanch^ Donjielly" in :

piivate — has drawn genuine attention. A Paris correspondent wiites: — At 20 minutes past 10 this morniig an electric brougham drew up at the little town hall of Passy, and out oi it stepped three ladies — Miss Donnelly (slim, and slightly above the medinin height), her elder sister (Miss Blanche Donnelly), and her mother. I Looking exceedingly bright and pretty, Miss J Donnelly was dressed in a snuff-coloured gown. ) in -the Empire style, with a light brown picf rure hat having a large white feather above r her masses of soft, brown hair. She wore long t white gloves reaching to the eibow, and a, . cluster of white lilac blooms was tucked in .her : bodice. On her right wrist was a splendid 1 diamond bracelet. At the door they were met by Lord Ashbur- , , ton— a tall, well-built man, with a strawcoloured moustache, -who wore a light grey i tvercoat over a blue lounge suit and a hard ! felt hat; Mr Norton, his solicitor; and M. - Fewell, a Paris lawyer. The party went to the i rcom, where the mayor of the district, an • elderly gentleman in evening dress, proceeded to perform the civil ceremony. l And although every precaution had been taken to exclude all public spectators, press and "snapshot" reporters managed to be on the scene. . The spring fashions still favour the plain sk:rt with its long flowing lines. The short elbow sleeve stil continues first in favour, but the very newest design 13 to reach halfway between elbow and wrist. Bridge parties commanded the advent of the elbow sleeve to meet the exigencies of the card-table, and so long as bridge continues rb Teign as the fashionable amusement so long must its devotees cling to a very pretty and becoming style in sleeve which certainly displays the contour of lovely arms. The bolero is again an important feature in all new costumes. It is often curved ' heart shape and more often without a band than with one, as it is worn over a dainty waistcoat of silk or cloth of a contrastive colour, exquisitely braided or trimmed with tiny buttons. A successfully made bolero has a "fetching" style of its own on some figures, and can be designed to suit all figures. Slim girls have waists of a full and fursy character, while the matron seeks the neatly-buttoned tailor-made. Tiny : buttons are a favourite garniture, coming only second to braid, which is woven in • every imaginable manner, colour, and texj ture. Buttons in gold or silver of the , size of threepenny-pieces are sewn on *n j gicups of tihree or four, and, in some in- ' stances, are made to overlap one another. For washing frocks buttons will be found covered with crochet and embroidery. Spring colours are delicate 'in tint, as all the pasted shades of dove grey, pearl, mushroom, mauve, and even stone-blue appear in many lo,vely fabrics. j White, in ohalk and oyster tints, ivory ; pale and warm cream colour will all be in vogue,- though for some time to come Court mourning compels attention to grey ! in all shades, black and white ir London, as a tribute to- the memory of Queen Alexandra's father; King Christian of Denmark. King Edward has given great satisfaction in Dublin, where he has kindly permitted the rule for mourning to be relaxed at the , vice-regal receptions, where ladies had j aheady provided their Court dresses. Spring millinery as yet is confined to . toques of violets and a few rather severe straw hats suitable far walking. The style I is very simple, low crown and brim straight 1 or curving upwards slightly all round. In ' Bend street the trimming is confined to ' aigiettes or rosettes of flowers, lilac being chief favourite, and a twist of silk, thus :i brown straw had a few folds of green silk round it and a spray of lilac for an aigrette ; a green straw had the same simple trimming. Blue straws had deep wine-colour or even a puce shade in a wreath of small roses. Veils are worn to match the colour of the hat, and where the shade would be unbecoming pink tulle is put on first over the faoe, and- serves as a protection to t<e skin from the cold east winds of springtime ; over the hat, put on second, is the veil matching the straw of the hat. Blue veils especially should be studied, as in so many cases they impart a peculiar tinge tt a. complexion which is in nowise becoming in the most trying .season of the year. Cold winds give a reddish tinge to most delicate complexions, and the addition of a 1 blue veil gives a most undesirable purplish hue in many cases. The unkind wings of February and March pick out every complexion blemish. Some dainty muffs are to be seen worn with short, light tweed costumes, just coming into evidence in the eai'ly spring days for morning' wear, when the fure of winter seem a little out of place. The centre has an outer covering of silk or in most instances of velvet, and round the edges are full frills held out by being piped at the hem. The centre is finished by a bow of ribbon surmounted by a rose or a spray of violets, or any flower that suits the wearer's costume. Fur even is treated to frills of lace, and a jabot or necklet to match is edged with lace as a dainty finish to a spring costume. Preferably the combination of silk and velvet seems more stylish as a step further towards the necessary daintiness with which spring always should! inspire us. A marriage of interest to New Zealonders took place yesterday at St. Peter's, Eaton square — that of Lord Cranley, the son and heir of the Earl of Onslow, one time Governor of New Zealand. It seems but the other day that all New Zealand was anxiously watching, with Lord' and Lady Onalow, a,t the bed of the lad stricken with- typhoid fever, or the boys oi St. Hilda encountered him in his Eton suit on the road' to. Government House at Ocean Beach, where thte fancy dress ball was given after his recovery, at which, the little ladies Gwendoline and Dorothy looked as though they had stepped out of an old picture. Lord Cranley'6 bride is Miss Violet Bamfyylde, only daughter of the Honourable Coplestone and ISlrs Bamfyylde, an/I granddaughter of Lord Poltimore. The shurch made a charming picture, decollated with tall palms and white lilies. The day •was bright with winter sunshine, ■which slioue on the young brid§ as ehe went dowa

the aisle on the arm of her father, looking charming- in her beautiful -gown of trained heavy white satin, draped -with old and exquisite lace, wearing the Brussels lace veil tKat tvas worn by her grandmother at ' her Vedding. Eight bridesmaids and two blue-velvet -clad pa,ge boys were in attendance, the bridesmaids wearing pale blue taffetas, with picture hats trimmed with . the blue shade of lilacs. Lady Dorothy Onslow was one of the bridesmaids. "Mv.rlin" (David Christie Murray), writing in the February 18 issue of the Referee on "The Cult of Content," shows that he retains very pleasant memories of his visit to New Zealand. He is ill with gout, and regretting, that youth is past, still finds pleasure in what he calls armchair travels. Here is what he says : — No more cold tub of a moruing. with the rejoicing sting ox it, and the joliy and invigorating glow to follow. No more boot and saddle of the old campaigning days. No more chasses d'aventures, double-barrelled smooth bore in hand, over a score of miles of field and forest. No more the giant a.ppetite for plain fare begotten by those wintry searches after the bristly monarch of the Ardennes. "No more long, delicious afternoons beneath the battered old -white umbrella, spent in the perpetration cf libel on landscape. No more falling in love, most adorable of pastimes. No more bouts with "gloves or-single-sticks. No more day-long country rambles. No more the fierce gladness of the gallop or. the racing sou Us. Oh,.r thousand thing's have ' gone out" of life ! And yet nothing is wholly" lost. How, many scores of thousands of miles do I travel in mj armchair at the fire? I pas 3 through storms at sea without a qualm — real storms — no mere capful of wind to, make a landsman think the weather rough, but sea 3 officially logged "tremendous." I renew my first experience under fire, and I am positively exhilarated, and feel not an approach to tremor. I pass on horseback through, the ststely aisles 1 of a totara forest in New Zealand, or through 1 miles and miles of the ghastly picturesqueiiess of the ring-barked bush in New South Wales. I have a most noble panorama of mountain 3 scenery. I can sail round Kat's; Point at £ "Wakatipu and bring the Glenorchy range in ] view, hoary regality lifting its head after hoary ] regality at incredible distance in that crystal . air. Alps and Apennines and Rockies and" Selkirks; huge plunging rivers swollen By the ' warm breath, of the Shoshone on a thousand ' square miles of mountain snows; the never-to- 1 be-forgotten tranquil glories of the Murray ir I calm flood, a mirror faithful to the tiniest twig a of b world-old forest, and all the glories of \ the sunset and the great stars of the under- ] world for days and nights together — all these 7 and a thousand other things of equal value • ■re mine. *