A Book of the Play | Page 8

Evening Post was thus
addressed by a correspondent assuming the character of Miss Townley:
"I am a young woman of fashion who love plays, and should be glad to
frequent them as an agreeable and instructive entertainment, but am
debarred that diversion by my relations upon account of a sort of
people who now fill or rather infest the boxes. I went the other night to
the play with an aunt of mine, a well-bred woman of the last age,
though a little formal. When we sat down in the front boxes we found
ourselves surrounded by a parcel of the strangest fellows that ever I
saw in my life; some of them had those loose kind of great-coats on
which I have heard called _wrap-rascals_, with gold-laced hats,
slouched in humble imitation of _stage-coachmen_; others aspired at

being grooms, and had dirty boots and spurs, with black caps on, and
long whips in their hands; a third sort wore scanty frocks, with little,
shabby hats, put on one side, and clubs in their hands. My aunt
whispered me that she never saw such a set of slovenly, unmannerly
footmen sent to keep places in her life, when, to her great surprise, she
saw those fellows, at the end of the act, pay the box-keeper for their
places."
In 1730 the "Universal Spectator" notes: "The wearing of swords, at the
Court end of the town, is, by many polite young gentlemen, laid aside;
and instead thereof they carry large oak sticks, with great heads and
ugly faces carved thereon."
Elliston was, in 1827, lessee and manager of the Surrey Theatre. "Quite
an opera pit," he said to Charles Lamb, conducting him over the
benches of that establishment, described by Lamb as "the last retreat of
his every-day waning grandeur." The following letter--the authenticity
of which seems to be vouched for by the actor's biographer--supplies a
different view of the Surrey audience of that date:
"_August 10th, 1827._
"SIR,--I really must beg to call your attention to a most abominable
nuisance which exists in your house, and which is, in a great measure,
the cause of the minor theatres not holding the rank they should
amongst playhouses. I mean the admission of sweeps into the theatre in
the very dress in which they climb chimneys. This not only
incommodes ladies and gentlemen by the obnoxious odour arising from
their attire, but these sweeps take up twice the room of other people
because the ladies, in particular, object to their clothes being soiled by
such unpleasant neighbours. I have with my wife been much in the
habit of visiting the Surrey Theatre, and on three occasions we have
been annoyed by these sweeps. People will not go, sir, where sweeps
are; and you will find, sooner or later, these gentlemen will have the
whole theatre to themselves unless an alteration be made. I own, at
some theatres, the managers are too particular in dress; those days are
passed, and the public have a right to go to theatrical entertainments in
their morning costumes; but this ought not to include the sweeps. It is

not a week ago since a lady in a nice white gown sat down on the very
spot which a nasty sweep had just quitted, and, when she got up, the
sight was most horrible, for she was a very heavy lady and had laughed
a good deal during the performance; but it was no laughing matter to
her when she got home. I hope I have said quite enough, and am your
"WELL-WISHER."
"R.W. Elliston, Esq."
No doubt some reform followed upon this urgent complaint.
Regulations as to dress are peculiar to our Italian opera-houses, are
unknown, as Mr. Sutherland Edwards writes in his "History of the
Opera," "even in St. Petersburg and Moscow, where, as the theatres are
directed by the Imperial Government, one might expect to find a more
despotic code of laws in force than in a country like England. When an
Englishman goes to a morning or evening concert, he does not present
himself in the attire of a scavenger, and there is no reason for supposing
that he would appear in any unbecoming garb if liberty of dress were
permitted to him at the opera.... If the check-takers are empowered to
inspect and decide as to the propriety of the cut and colour of clothes,
why should they not also be allowed to examine the texture? On the
same principle, too, the cleanliness of opera-goers ought to be inquired
into. No one whose hair is not properly brushed should be permitted to
enter the stalls, and visitors to the pit should be compelled to show their
nails."
There have been, from time to time, protests, unavailing however,
against the tyranny of the opera-managers. In his