Now that your own particular theatrical adviser and follower, Mr. NIBBS,
has left London for a trip abroad, I venture to address you on matters
dramatic. I am the more desirous of so doing because, although the
Season is nearly over, two very important additions have been made to
the London playhouse programme--two additions that have hitherto escaped
your eagle glance. I refer, Sir, to _The Doctor_ at the Globe, and _The
Colonel_ at the Comedy--both from the pen of a gentleman who (while I am
writing this in London) is partaking of the waters at Royat. Mr. BURNAND
is to be congratulated upon the success that has attended both
productions. I had heard rumours that _The Doctor_ had found some
difficulty in establishing himself (or rather herself, because I am
talking of a lady) satisfactorily in Newcastle Street, Strand. It was
said that she required practice, but when I attended her consulting-room
the other evening, I found the theatre full of patients, who were
undergoing a treatment that may be described (without any particular
reference to marriages or "the United States") as "a merry cure." I was
accompanied by a young gentleman fresh from school, and at first felt
some alarm on his account, as his appreciation of the witty dialogue
with which the piece abounds was so intense that he threatened more than
once to die of laughing.
[Illustration: "How happy could he be with either."]
I have never seen a play "go" better--rarely so well. The heroine--the
"_Doctoresse_"--was played with much effect and discretion by Miss
ENSON, a lady for whom I prophesy a bright future. Mr. PENLEY was
excellent in a part that fitted him to perfection. Both Miss VICTOR, as
a "strong woman," and Mr. HILL, as--well, himself,--kept the pit in
roars. The piece is more than a farce. The first two Acts are certainly
farcical, but there is a touch of pathos in the last scene which reminds
one that there is a close relationship between smiles and tears. And
here let me note that the company in the private boxes, even when most
heartily laughing, were still in tiers. As a rule the Doctor is not a
popular person, but at the Globe she is sure to be always welcome. Any
one suffering from that very distressing and prevalent malady, "the
Doleful Dumps," cannot do better than go to Newcastle Street for a
speedy cure.
The _Colonel_ at the Comedy is equally at home, and, on the occasion of
his revival, was received with enthusiasm. Mr. BRUCE has succeeded Mr.
COGHLAN in the title _role_, and plays just as well as his predecessor.
Mr. HERBERT is the original _Forester_, and the rest of the _dramatis
personae_ are worthy of the applause bestowed upon them. To judge from
the laughter that followed every attack upon the aesthetic fad, the
"Greenery Yallery Gallery" is as much to the front as ever--a fact, by
the way, that was amply demonstrated at the _Soiree_ of the Royal
Academy, where "passionate Brompton" was numerously represented.
[Illustration: The Colonel.]
_The Bells of Hazlemere_ seem to be ringing in large audiences at the
Adelphi, although the piece is not violently novel in its plot or
characters. Mrs. BERNARD-BEERE ceases to die "every evening" at the end
of this week at the Opera Comique until November. I peeped in, a few
days since, just before the last scene of _As in a Looking-Glass_, and
found the talented lady on the point of committing her nightly suicide.
Somehow I missed the commencement of the self-murder, and thus could not
satisfactorily account for her dying until I noticed that a double-bass
was moaning piteously. Possibly this double-bass made Mrs. BERNARD-BEERE
wish to die--it certainly created the same desire on my part. Believe
me, yours sincerely,