The Sun.
London, England, 1869-08-24 00:00:00

THE ZIODEI?X ST,AGE.

The Times contains a letter from Mr. F. B. Chatterton,
the manager of Drury-lane Theatre, which we subjoin.
It is written in answer to a very sharp criticism by
"An Amateur Critic," who said the play 'Formosa," by
Mr. Dion Boucicault, was not fit to be seen by the youth
or the females of London :—" I do not wish to intrude on
the discussion concerning the moral effect of Mr.
Boucicault's new play, 'Formosa.' But, as manager
of Drury-lane Theatre, I must be allowed to say that
if I had perceived in it any such stain as some persons
profess to see I should not have given it house room.
Your correspondent, An Amateur Critic,' suggests that
unmarried ladies are not to be admitted. The ladies,
both married and unmarried, have settled that ques-
tion. I shall gladly submit to your correspondent my
box-book, crow led with the names of ladies the highest
and most respectable in London. And I point to my
boxes and stalls, where the ladies are to be seen nightly in
a large majority. Surely the public is not a child, and
can judge for itself. I live no right to object to the
virtuous indignation of your correspondent. I give him
credit for sincerely feeling every word he writes. But
dr you think this overwhelming majority of ladies would
be found in my audience if the play were as indelicate a
picture as he represented it to be? If he sees indecency
where they do not, am I not permitted to suspect that
he brings the excitement of an unchaste mind to the
subject? Ido not complain of his convictions, but I do
complain that these views—the views of a confessed small
minority—should find expression in your powerful journal,
and, in a manner, tend to injure ma in my business. It
is not, however, with this part of the question it was my
intention to interfere. Its discussion is in abler hands
than mine. lam accused of degrading the standard of
Drury-lane Theatre by the production of 'Formosa.'
Now, sir, it is time the public were put in possession
of some statistics, by the help of which they may judge
what l have done for what is called the legitimate drama,
and if I may be justly accused of deserting it or turning
it out of doors. For seven years I have been the manager
of this house, and this is my experience. I have produced
the best plays of Shakspere, Byron, Milton, and Goiithe.
To illustrate these works I have engaged Miss Helen
Faucit, Mr. Phelps, Mr. Barry Sullivan, Mr. Anderson,
Mr. Montgomery, and all the tragic talent to be obtained.
I employed Mr. Beverley and numerous assistants to
paint the scenery, sparing no expense to render the repre-
sentations perfect. My enterprise was supported cheer-
fully by the pit and gallery, but my boxes and stalls were
sadly deserted. I lost money. Ilad not the pantomime
and Christmas come to my rescue I could not have stood
my ground at all. I was stubborn, and pursued this
policy for pride's sake during six years. But, Sir,
I am neither a literary missionary nor a martyr; I am
simply the manager of a theatre, a vendor of
intellectual entertainment to the London public, and
I found that Shakespeare spelt ruin and Byron bank-
ruptcy. In this extremity, to which I was led by my
faith in the fine taste of the upper classes for the poetic
drama, I turned to the dramatist who has made the for-
tunes of more than one manager in London. I need not
nay with what result. By his advice I opened the theatre
in August, when London is supposed to be empty, at a
period when no manager has ever dared to open it until
now. To my objections he replied that the city was
only cleared of those who never patronised the
drama they talked so much about ; That London al-
ways had three millions of people in it when town
was said to be empty ; that be wrote for the middle
classes and the working classes, who alone could be relied
on to support way intellectual entertainments ; -and that
where they led their betters would follow. He proved to
•be right. Tire amount taken daily at my box-office before
the doors open for securing stalls and private boxes alone
to see 'Formosa' exceeis the gross contents of my
theatre to witness ' Macbeth.' Five years ago I produced
Comus' in the most splendid manner. The public would
not come to see it. They prai,ed it and kept away.
At the same time Mr. toneicault's drama, the
Streets of London' was produced at the Prin-
cess' Theatre, and for 200 nights that theatre was
crammed nightly with those who deserted Milton. Now we
have changed hands. 'Acis and Galatea," the classic work
of Handel, was produced at the Princess's a fortnight
ago in the most magnificent style, and with what result?
The manager closes his doors next week, and awaits the
production of a new di ama. I, on the contrary, produce
`Formoaa,' by the author cf ' The Streets of London,'
and I obtain that public patronage which my rival en-
joyed five 3-ears ago. The public have been a good deal
abused, managers have been called mercenary, and we
have been led to understand that there is an intellectual
and refined class somewhere, who only want the
opportunity to come out and support the higher
class of dramatic entertainment. Where are they?
Mr. Macready, my predecessor in management here,
tried to discover their existence, Let retreated from the
rearch with very sore pockets, just as I did. No such
customers exist. There is, however, a class cf literary
men and d.letta,,ti that profc,st to deplore-the degradati.m
of our times. I Lave rc►narked, however, that. when I
produce Shalz,p,re th,Ae g.ntieit n, who are entitled
courtesy to atlioi,sion to the th•-titre, rarely ask f••r orders,
but since I have produced 'Formosa' I have been
overwhehned with applications from this quarter for
private boxes for :lair wives and families. I state facts;
I allow others to comment upon them.