Star.
London, England, 1829-09-17 00:00:00

THE MUSICO.

.

It is with infinite pleasure we at length perceive some
indications of reform, manifested by the public, in the conduct of
our English Theatres. We have frequently called attention to the
injudicious and reprehensible manner in which they are managed,
and testified our sorrow and disgust to behold them falling into
neglect and gradual disrepute, as the chief haunts of open licen-
tious profligacy : the passages and staircases obstructed by drunken
rioters and bustling pickpockets ; and their saloons—chose crying
infamous, indispensable appurtenances to English Play-houses—
out-doing all that Europe shows of the most blackguard and most
shameful—surpassthg even the sailors' hops at Chatham and Ports-
mouth, the Colonnade of the Palais Royal, and the Music°
at Amsterdam, in the audacious parade of low public de-
pravity. The Increasing licentiousness of these repairs
extending gradually to the very front of what is called
the Dews Circles, has most properly driven the majority of
respectable people from the pleasures of an English play. Here,
a ruin pugilist, or noisy apprentice, is allowed to swagger you
down. There, victims of intoxication are seen reeling 'Waugh
the lobbies, or sleeping oa the benches of the Musico. In another
place, crowds of prostitutes, of all ages from thirteen to sixty, of
every complexion and stature, half naked and inebriated, shout
their horrid obscenities—drink—quarrel—fight, and pursue their
paramours even to the body of the house, where they dare to
triumph in their vice and wantonness in the very faces of our
families. Supported by bribed boxkeepers and constables,—sub-
servient fruit-women and dependent bullies,—what a humiliating
spectacle does this not present to the mind of a foreigner, arro-
gating to ourselves, as we do, the character of superior virtue and
decorum? On leading a French gentleman last winter to th
saloon of Drury-lane, he started back at the very entrance, folded
his arms, and after contemplating the scene for some time, in
mute astonishment, be exclaimed with a sneer of contempt—
Non diem I intik nation 'morale—

Now all this abmninableiniquity, which has leagued our theatres
to the almost exclusive enjoyment of the profligate,—by which the
proprietors of theatrical property are threatened with ruin,—is the
work of managers themselves. They speculate as much upon the
attractions of the wretched women who frequent their houses, as
the procures... and panders who At them out for exhibition ; and
now, having succeeded in banishing almost every other front their
benches, accuse us for withdrawing ourselves and families to other
places of amusement. where contaminating example and offensive
daunting Infamy are not obtruded upon our notice.
Permit no lady to enter the Saloon unaccompanied with a gentle-
man ;—have keepers, as in the new Bazaars, to watch their con-
duct. and warn them off on the least show of impropriety;—Dave
the second tier of boxes well lighted, and compel the females to
remain in their places ;—above all. allow them no where to crowd in
the passages, not to vociferate and riot in the outlets and staircases
reduce the price of admission, and abolish half-price altogether;—
dismiss all the present box-keepers, constables, and fruit-women ;
and the English Theatre will. once mote, become all we wish to
see 14—the resort of the fashionable, the moral, and the intel-
lectual. • • • • •

FASHIONABLE INTELLIGENCE.