232 The Drama. [FEB. 



Mr. Planche is au desespoir that he is out of work. His scissors 

 "hang idly in his hall." In the present busy scene of botchery, or 

 rather butchery, of poor " Robert-le-Diable," his talents ought to have 

 entitled him to the rank of head slaughterman. But alas ! managers 

 are imbecile ; merit lies at Bromptori unregarded. 



Miss Sheriff has performed her rotation in an incredibly short period, 

 to the amazement of the dramatic world. Mercury is a sluggard in 

 comparison with her. The glorious sun himself has been nearly ex- 

 tinguished by her short-lived blaze. That great luminary, however, 

 has the advantage of rising again, while his formidable rival, alas ! seems 

 set for ever ! Miss Sheriff's career has been more like a sky-rocket- 

 blazing and brief; so much for puffing. 



A new subscription theatre has been opened in the Strand by Mr. 

 Rayner. One of the public journals praises the manager, because his 

 company is composed of Yorkshire people. The " Yorkshire-Pudding/' 

 or, the " Horse and the Halter," by an unknown writer, is one of the 

 forthcoming novelties. 



There has been a tremendous clatter about M. Laporte taking 

 Covent Garden theatre ; it was all, however, " vox et prceterea nihil." 

 This Laporte is a terrible fellow. He took, takes, and will take every 

 theatre in London. He takes the French theatre, he took the Opera, 

 and, they say, he will take the Pantheon. He took another Italian 

 Opera he will take Drury Lane. He takes a small theatre for English 

 vaudeville he will take a provincial tour and is now about to take, 

 Heaven only knows what. One thing, however, is certain, that he 

 takes too much room in the paragraph department. 



The march of theatres begins to be alarming every day brings a 

 new undertaking of the kind into notice. There is one now building 

 in Portman Market. Should the minors carry their point, we shall 

 have as many theatres as streets. But the multiplying evil will soon 

 correct itself; or at all events, some of them will make good hospitals. 



The English dramatists are looking rather melancholy some sup- 

 pose it is the approach of cholera. It is not so. The real cause arises 

 from the clear intimation of dullness in the French vaudeville-makers. 

 Nothing of any note has been brought out at Paris of late ; for the 

 recent list of novelties exhibits nothing but failures, or successes which 

 are pretty nearly the same. 



