considered the pioneers of civilisation, the luminaries of the age; and yet, we find not only permitted, but positively encouraged and applauded by them, an exhibition which would not be tolerated in any other part of Christian Europe. Madame Anaïs Ségalas, the feuilletoniste of the "Corsaire," to her honour be it spoken, has ventured to raise her voice in condemnation of such sacrilegious mockery, but she is an exception, and exceptions, alas! do not make the rule. Two things are certain; first, that "La Propriété c'est le Vol" has already drawn more money to the treasury (upwards of 3000 francs a night on an average) than all the other novelties together which have been played during the present management; and secondly, had it not been produced, a fortnight or three weeks would probably have seen the directors insolvents and the company starving. Poor Félix was becoming very infelix, Madame Octave was out of tune, Mademoiselle Caroline Bader found matters growing badder every day, Madame Restout could not rest, Madame Paul Ernest looked most wofully in earnest, and Mademoiselle Judith felt so out of sorts, that if she had had a Holopherne "convanient," it would have gone hard with him. Now the five-franc pieces tumble in faster than the caissier can count them, and people are nightly turned away from the doors, only, like Whittington, to turn in again, whenever there is room for them. Nay more, if this run of good houses continues, M. Clairville, as well as Messieurs les Directeurs, Bouffé and Paul Ernest,-arcades ambo, both arch heads (?)-will be legitimately entitled to inscribe on their respective visiting cards the flattering term of propriétaire, or in Proudhonian and Vaudevillian parlance, voleur. The depressed state of the drama in Paris has had a corresponding effect in the provinces. The Lyons theatre, after a short season, has been compelled to close its doors, and without any immediate prospect of reopening them. It was in this very salle that some ten years ago a whimsical occurrence took place, during the performance of "l'Avare." Harpagon was bitterly bewailing the loss of his treasure as follows:"Justice, juste ciel! je suis perdu, je suis assassiné; on m'a coupé la gorge; on m'a dérobé mon argent !"-when one of the amateurs in the pit, sympathising with the comedian's emotion, rose from his seat, and cried out; "Don't take it so to heart, my good man, don't take it so to heart; it was your son who stole your money!" The audience, as may be expected, burst into a general laugh; and the actor, after thanking his informant with great gravity, quietly proceeded with his part. This reminds me of a similar anecdote, still current in theatrical circles. "Britannicus" was in course of representation, and the actor who played Narcisse was in the act of repeating to Nero what he had previously said to Britannicus, thus alternately deceiving each; when a deeply interested spectator, wishing to put Nero on his guard, exclaimed, with great apparent indignation, "Don't believe him, sir, he has just said as much to your brother!" A mutilated version of "Money" has lately been listened to with frigid indifference at the Théâtre Historique. With respect to this untoward reception two reasons may be urged; the one pro, the other contra. Pro-inasmuch as the piece was badly translated, badly learnt, and badly acted by the dead weights, or bouche-trous of the company. Contra-inasmuch as any extraordinary novelty or rarity on the stage Jan.-VOL. LXXXV. No. CCCXXXVII. K generally obtains at least a succès de curiosité-a reason especially applicable at the present moment, there existing assuredly in the Republican Paris of December, 1848, no greater novelty nor rarity than money. It remains to be seen whether the arts and sciences will find in Louis Napoleon as constant a Mæcenas as they did in his uncle. M. Alfred de Vigny once assured me that Napoleon was so extremely proud of having been elected a member of the Institute, and so anxious to show his respect for the dignity conferred on him that, even in the most eventful moments of his Imperial career, he never omitted applying for the trifling honoraires to which he was entitled as one of that body. There stands within four or five doors of the Place de la Bastille, on the Boulevard Beaumarchais, a small, but tastefully decorated theatre, also named after the author of the "Barbier de Séville." Its chief supporters are the inhabitants of the immediate neighbourhood, so many of whom take season tickets, and therefore walk in and out when they please, that the office of money-takers at the doors is almost a sinecure. M. de Jouy, an enterprising and clever manager, lately undertook the direction of this little temple of Thespis, but, in consequence of the depressed state of theatricals since the days of June, was at first unable to recall his scattered flock of habitués. Luckily, he bethought himself of a certain Angelina, who had formerly shared with Chonchon Léontine of the Gaîté the honourable appellation of la Déjazet du Boulevard, and whose gay and spirited acting had long been the delight of the ancient patrons of the Théâtre Beaumarchais. M. de Jouy felt that, though he had re-gilded his pretty salle, his pockets were becoming every day more innocent of gold and even of silver, and that, though he had recovered his benches, he had not recovered his subscribers. Therefore, recalling to mind Clairville's lines, Qu'importe, hélas ! qu'on ait doré le temple, he forthwith addressed to the pensionnaire of his predecessor a managerial version of— Turn, Angelina, ever dear. Nor was his appeal unheard; the fascinating truant did turn, and with her M. de Jouy's luck turned likewise. The success of the new revue, at the Palais Royal, "Les Lampions de la Veille et les Lanternes du Lendemain," is, though a fait accompli, still in its infancy. Two months hence it will probably be at its zenith, and then it will be time to talk about it. It is sufficient now to say, that in justification of the popularity of M. Clairville's youngest bantling, not one only, but nine reasons may be given. Ecole. Levassor, Sainville, Alcide Tousez, Grassot, Amant, Hyacinthe, Luguet, I might easily make up the dozen, even the baker's, but trop est trop. Est modus in rebus. December 21, 1848. THE THEATRES. As we cannot hope to keep pace with the burlesques and pantomimes provided for the Christmas holidays, since the day of their production is about the same as that when we are forced to go to press, we must reserve our reflections on fairies, goblins, harlequins, and clowns, for another month. Therefore, declaring ourselves free from all connexion with the Christmas theatrical season, we have a free choice of subjects before us. On things immediately of the day we cannot hope to talk, and hence we avail ourselves of the opportunity of dealing in some general matter. A general fact, well worth the attention of our readers, is the great quantity of comic histrionic talent now in London. People talk largely of the decline of British actors, and with regard to certain lines of business they are undoubtedly correct. They may also be right in affirming that no such brilliant company can be brought together as in former days. The multiplicity of theatres causes the existing talent to be diffused all over the metropolis; but if the amateur will take the trouble of going from theatre to threatre with the special object of observing the good comedians, he will be astonished to find how numerous they are. In the first place, there can scarcely be a more excellent actor of light comedy than Mr. Charles Mathews. Possessed of a mercurial temperament, endued with unweared vivacity, he has superadded an exquisite finish that calls to mind the best acting of the French stage, while it is not marked by that absence of decided "point," which renders French acting somewhat tame in the eyes of all audiences excepting those composed of real habitués. If he has a part in which he may do as he likes, it is surprising with what judgment he will avail himself of the license. Not a minute will pass without some new oddity breaking forth; but with all his overflow of spirits, he will not for a moment lose sight of the soundest discretion. In a little piece, called "An Appeal to the Public," he is allowed to talk to the audience across the lamps from the beginning to the end. The play of fancy is constant; but at the same time all is as polished as possible. A severer test than this piece to show the difference between a vulgar and a polished actor, could not be devised. Mr. Keeley is another instance of an union between a happy naturel and the most consummate art. Some years ago he was looked upon as an actor indebted for his comic efforts partly to the shortness of his figure, and partly to a knack which he had acquired of giving his face a ludicrous expression of niaiserie, or terror. Certainly no actor ever equalled Mr. Keeley in the representation of terrified astonishment; but those persons were widely mistaken who fancied that his talent was confined to this characteristic oddity. Let him be seen in one of Shakspeare's characters now, Launce, for example. Every look, every motion, every modulation of the voice, is full of significance. The part is taken up with a resolution of making the most of it, and there is not a weak place left. Such a thorough conception of a character down to its most minute exhibitions can only be the result of profound study, and this, coupled with Mr. Keeley's rich natural humour, produces an inimitable result. He is the only actor on the stage who has that "old school" combina tion of heartiness and elaboration which is still represented by Mrs. Glover. There is not a more conscientious Shaksperian actor than Mr. Compton. He also makes a point of studying a character thoroughly, and displays great intelligence in his impersonations, but he is deficient in that unction which belongs to Mr. Keeley. Messrs. Harley, Wright, and Buckstone, though as different as possible in their styles, may be all classed together, from the circumstance that they less try to represent nature than to amuse by their own idiosyncracies. The grotesque humour of Mr. Harley is more conventional than that of the other two. He has fixed his comic standard, and does not trouble himself much with new inventions, but he is possessed of an invincible good-humour, which always secures popularity to his performance. The oddity of Mr. Buckstone, on the other hand, is the antithesis of convention-one never knows what he will do next. His acting is something altogether per se; he has his own interpretation of every emotion that stirs the human heart; his love, his jealousy, have symbols that can only be understood in detail by a familiarity with his style, but the ensemble is perhaps more broadly comic than the performance of any actor on the stage. If a piece be intrinsically dull and heavy, there is no comedian who can step in to the rescue, and startle a drowsy audience into roars of laughter, with more certainty than Mr. Buckstone. Mr. Wright, in another atmosphere, would probably have been a less grotesque actor than either Mr. Harley or Mr. Buckstone, and he now and then gives touches of a quiet hnmour, which stand out in strange contrast to the general extravagance. But an Adelphi audience has notions of its own, and one of its peculiarities is to insist on improvisation in the principal comic actor. If a man went through a part, with adequate acting and nothing more, the public would be dissatisfied. It longs to see the new inventions of the actor, to be astonished by some novel introduction, to find that the dialogue of to-night is not precisely the same as that of the night before. By the improvisatorial style of acting the late Mr. John Reeve gained his ascendency over his audience. Mr. Wright is legitimately his successor, and rules his admirers with perhaps more unlimited sway. A nod or a wink from Mr. Wright is the sure signal of good-fellowship; the spectators have their cue, and are prepared to follow their favourite to the end. Mr. Paul Bedford, if we set aside his singing, which gives him a certain independence, is in some sort made by Mr. Wright. If Mr. Compton is elaboration without unction, Mr. Bedford is unction without elaboration, but the good-humoured stolidity which he assumes serves as a target for the drolleries of the more vivacious Wright, and the two actors are so associated with each other, that they become sharers of one popularity. The progress of Mr. Munyard from insignificance into prominence may be watched with interest. With a tendency to mannerisin, he has nevertheless a perception of character, and a carefulness of performance, which promise a continual advance. His Swidger, in the dramatised version of Mr. Dickens's "Haunted Man," is not a fair exhibition of his powers, but his Caliban, in the burlesque "Tempest," is the work of an actor who may some day be a dangerous rival to those in high places. LITERARY NOTICES. THE PUNJAUB. BROUGHT up from the cradle in hostility to the Anglo-Indians, warlike by disposition as well as by education, with manners and habits of thought unsubdued by liberal understanding or a true religion, there was only one way to treat the semi-barbarous natives of the north when driven back into their territories, in return for an unprovoked and almost overwhelming invasion of their neighbour's lands. That step lay in the incorporation of the Punjaub into the other provinces of India. Times are, however, now changed from what they were in the days of Clive, of Arthur Wellesley, and of Lord Lake. Other nations might declaim against a manifest spirit of conquest, nay, they might even have made the occupation of the Punjaub an excuse for some analogous proceedings in which neither reason nor necessity existed as an excuse. Then again there were dissentients at home, the territory which lapsed to our dominion by the misconduct of the Ameers-the valley of the Indus-so inevitably attached to the fortunes of the Peninsula, did not, by some mismanagement, answer at first, there were not wanting those who would have cast it off, as many unnatural parents would a sickly child, forgetting that it might yet become healthy and vigorous. There were still more who, terrified at the occupation of so vast a territory as that watered by the five rivers, saw nothing in the perspective but a new army of employés, civil and military, and a new budget of expenses, with items extending from Thibet to Teheran, and a sum-total of bankruptcy. Not only was all the consequent toying with the fated kingdom as absurd as it was pernicious, but events have already shown that the natural progress of things cannot be averted by any such short-sighted considerations and policy as have hitherto been acted upon. At the time of the war of retaliation, the kingdom was divided into six provinces, Jumnoo, Cashmere, Peshawur, Deera Ismael Khan, Multan, and Lahore. The hill chieftain, Gholab Singh, was, for various reasons, recognised as independent sovereign of the first, and he purchased the second with the purloined treasures of the old Rajah, Runjit Singh. At Lahore, the metropolitan province, the farce of establishing a firm native government was performed with so much success, that after narrowly escaping several general massacres, every dweller there totters on the brink of a precipice; while where Anglo-Indian rule is not, that is to say, in the three other provinces, there is open and avowed rebellion. Taking thus the six provinces together, we find that at Lahore we are despised, bearded, and conspired against; at Jumnoo and Cashmere we are disregarded, and opportunity to rise against us is daily anticipated; while Peshawur, Deera Ismael Khan, and Multan are in open rebellion, or in the field against us. It must not be supposed, however, that all these elements are arrayed against us in conjunction, no; they are all agreed on one point, to cast off, if possible, the Anglo-Indian yoke, but the Mohammedan, the Rajpoot, and the Sikh population are at variance amongst themselves as to which shall dominate. The Sikhs, the former dominant party, do not constitute more than one-tenth of the population, and they are chiefly found in the metropolitan province. Their conduct as allies |