THE THEATRES.
The production of the last new Parisian ballet, Le Diable it Quatre, on the English stage, has been heralded by a new species of puffing—the Puff Interlocutory; which has the advantage of enabling managers to show their literary resources by varying the terms of their announcements. For several days past the playbills of the Princess's and Drury Lane have been enlivened by a smart and diverting dialogue, of' a recriminatory kind, between the rival managers; each vieing with the other, in a spirit of generous emulation, in proclaiming the extent to which they are re- spectively indebted to their Parisian brethren for the opportunity of at- tracting the London playgoers to their theatres. This professional interlude would make a very amusing elite ode; and it is too characteristic to be overlooked.
For the ballet itself, it is a farcical pantomimic spectacle, with trans- formations that remind one of our Christmas pantomime. The story is similar to that of Nell and Jobson in the Devil Co Pay. The patient beaten Wife of a drunken basketmaker and the termagant spouse of a sentimental count are made to change places for a while, for the reformation of the one and the reward of the other. The amusement consists, of course, in the de- light of the peasant and the chagrin of the countess, and the embarrass- ment and astonishment of both. The part of the basketmaker's wife, which Carlotta Grisrs dancing and pantomime made to popular in Paris, is filled at the Princess's by Madame Melanie Duval; a vigorous dancer and a lively pantomimist, but not of a refined order. She overacts the gaucherie of the rustic, and makes her awkwardness appear evidently as- sumed. Miss Bailin as the Countess is clever and effective; and Miss Mar- shall and her brother dance incessant polkas and mazonrkas with energetic vivacity, followed by troops of girls in brass-heeled boots and polka jackets. The spectacle is not so splendid as at the Adelphi; but there are two scenes by Beverley that are not to be matched on the stage for picturesque beauty: the first is the opening scene of a romantic landscape, with a river spanned by rustic bridges; the other is a rnagmificent conservatory in the second act, designed with elegant taste, and admirably painted.
The Adelphi version of the ballet is not a burlesque, but another version of it with doggrel dialogue.
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