The persistent notion that a theatre is an Alsatia where the king's writ
does not run, and where any wickedness is possible in the absence of a
special tribunal and a special police, was brought out by an innocent
remark made by Sir William Gilbert, who, when giving evidence before
the Committee, was asked by Colonel Lockwood whether a law sufficient to
restrain impropriety in books would also restrain impropriety in plays.
Sir William replied: "I should say there is a very wide distinction
between what is read and what is seen. In a novel one may read that
'Eliza stripped off her dressing-gown and stepped into her bath' without
any harm; but I think if that were presented on the stage it would be
shocking." All the stupid and inconsiderate people seized eagerly on
this illustration as if it were a successful attempt to prove that
without a censorship we should be unable to prevent actresses from
appearing naked on the stage. As a matter of fact, if an actress could
be persuaded to do such a thing (and it would be about as easy to
persuade a bishop's wife to appear in church in the same condition) the
police would simply arrest her on a charge of indecent exposure. The
extent to which this obvious safeguard was overlooked may be taken as a
measure of the thoughtlessness and frivolity of the excuses made for
the censorship. It should be added that the artistic representation of
a bath, with every suggestion of nakedness that the law as to decency
allows, is one of the most familiar subjects of scenic art. From the
Rhine maidens in Wagner's Trilogy, and the bathers in the second act
of Les Huguenots, to the ballets of water nymphs in our Christmas
pantomimes and at our variety theatres, the sound hygienic propaganda
of the bath, and the charm of the undraped human figure, are exploited
without offence on the stage to an extent never dreamt of by any
novelist.