little suggestive of modern nudism appears to have upset a feminine
critic.

"When," was her considered opinion, "a certain piece first presented a
partly unclothed woman to the gaze of a crowded auditory, she was met
with a gasp of astonishment at the effrontery which dared so much. Men
actually grew pale at the boldness of the thing; young girls hung
their heads; a death-like silence fell over the house. But it passed;
and, in view of the fact that these women were French ballet-dancers,
they were tolerated."

To show that she was properly qualified to express her views on such a
delicate matter, this censor added: "Belonging, root and branch, to a
theatrical family, I have not on that account been deemed unworthy to
break bread at an imperial table, nor to grasp the hand of friendship
extended to me by an English lordly divine."

By the way, on this subject of feminine attire (or the lack of it) a
rigid standard was also applicable to the audience's side of the
curtain, and any departure from it met with reprisals. This is made
clear by a shocked paragraph chronicling one such happening at another
theatre:

"During the evening of our visit there transpired an
occurrence to which we naturally have some delicacy in
alluding. Since, however, it indicates a censorship in a
quarter where refinement is perhaps least to be expected, it
should not be suffered by us to pass unnoticed. In the
stalls, which were occupied by a number of ladies and
gentlemen in full evening costume, and of established social
position, there was to be observed a woman whose remarkable
lowness of corsage attracted much criticism. Indeed, it
obviously scandalised the audience, among the feminine
portion of which a painful sensation was abundantly
perceptible. At last, their indignation found tangible
expression; and a voice from the pit was heard to utter in
measured accents a stern injunction that could apply to but
one individual. Blushing with embarrassment, the offender
drew her shawl across her uncovered shoulders. A few minutes
later, she rose and left the house, amid well merited hisses
from the gallery, and significant silence from the outraged
occupants of the stalls and boxes."

Decorum was one thing; _decolletage_ was another. In the considered
opinion of 1851 the two did not blend.

A certain Dr. Judd, who, in the intervals of his me