The ideas which appeared thus incongruously in the tales of 1748 reappeared in the direct essays on the drama in 1757 and 1758.  We have left nothing undone, he said, to corrupt dramatic style.  We have preserved from the ancients that emphasis of versification which was so well fitted to languages of strong quantity and marked accent, to vast theatres, to a declamation that had an instrumental accompaniment; and then we have given up simplicity of plot and dialogue, and all truth of situation.[284] La Motte nearly fifty years before had attacked the pseudo-classic drama.  He had inveighed against the unities, against long monologues, against the device of confidants, and against verse.  His assault, in which he had the powerful aid of Fontenelle, was part of that battle between Moderns and Ancients with which the literary activity of the century had opened.  The brilliant success of the tragedies of Voltaire had restored the lustre of the conventional drama, though Voltaire infused an element of the romantic under the severity of the old forms.  But the drama had become even less like Sophocles and Euripides in Zaire than in Phedre or Iphigenie.  Voltaire intended to constitute the French drama into an independent form.  He expected to be told that he was not like Sophocles, and he did not abstain from some singularly free railing against Euripides.  The Greek pieces often smacked too much of the tone of the fair to satisfy him; they were too familiar and colloquial for a taste that had been made fastidious by the court-pieces of Lewis XIV.  Diderot was kept free from such deplorable criticism as this by feeling that the Greek drama was true to the sentiment of the age that gave it birth, and that the French drama, if not in the hands of Racine, still even in the hands of Voltaire, and much more in the hands of such men as Lagrange-Chancel and the elder Crebillon, was true to no sentiment save one purely literary, artificial, and barren.  He insists on the hopelessness of the stage, unless men prepared themselves at every part for a grand return to nature.  We have seen what is his counsel to the actor.  He preaches in the same key to the scene-painter and the maker of costumes.  Scene-painting ought to be more rigorously true than any other kind of picture.  Let there be no distraction, no extraneous suggestion, to interfere with the impression intended by the poet.  Have you a salon to represent?  Let it be that of a man of taste and no more:  no ostentation and no gilding, unless the situation expressly demands the contrary.

In the dresses the same rule holds good.  Under robes that are overladen with gold lace, I only see a rich man; what I want to see is a man.  Pretty and simple draperies of severe tints are what we need, not a mass of tinsel and embroidery.  “A courageous actress has just got rid of her panier, and nobody has found her any the worse for it.  Ah, if she only dared one day to show herself on the