11 JUNE 1842, Page 14

To know what is really good acting at the present

day, one must go to see Monsieur BousTP, at the French Theatre in St. James's Street. He is the finest comedian, in the full sense of the term, that we have ever seen ; and it is scarcely possible to conceive a more consummate -artist, or one who conceals his art so completely under the guise of nature ,that he assumes. He made his first appearance on Monday, and ex- cited an extraordinary sensation in an audience not easily moved ; affording some means of estimating his remarkable versatility, by personating two characters totally different, in each of which he seemed a man of an opposite nature. He repeated the same performances on Wednesday, and produced an equally powerful impression, bating the mere astonishment.

The first piece was La Fille de l'Avare, a slight and garbled version of Bemee's novel Eugenie Grandet; in which M. BOUFFE played Grandet, the miser ; who in the vaudeville is robbed by his daughter Eugenie, to save her uncle, a Paris hanker, from ruin. BOOFFE makes the miser 'a bate, ruddy-complexioned, and respectable-looking old country farmer ; his grizzled locks combed straight over his forehead, and his apparel neat and comfortable, befitting a man well to do in the world and not regardless of appearance. His abode is -wretched-looking enough : a ladder staircase, with rope for hand- -mil, and a scanty supply of dilapidated furniture, promise little 'domestic comfort ; and the apprehension of Eugenie lest her father should return and see the luxurious fare, chocolate and biscuits, that itile has provided for the breakfast of her cousin, a young Parisian ex-

quisite, bespeak the penurious economy Of the household. Grandet does arrive too soon, and greets his daughter and nephew kindly be- yond a keen look and a restless eye, there is nothing in his appearance to denote the miser ; but the eight of such unwonted profusion and luxury rallies his temper ; he tarns the matter off, however, by jocu- larly hinting that his nephew must pay. But a more serious annoy- ance is in store for him. His notary comes to receive payment : the way in which BOUSTi haggles about the amount of the bill—feeling the note again and again, counting the money over and over, and thrusting aside the eager hand of the notary with the nervous alarm of a man with the gout at the near approach of a careless foot—appearing all the while utterly absorbed in what he is doing, and wholly unconscious of any effort or artifice—denotes the close student of nature and the per- fect artist. The various moods of impatience, anger, suspicion, vexation,

apprehension, contempt, and tenderness, successively depicted in his countenance and manner as the course of circumstances elicits these feel- ings, are so strongly yet delicately expressed, that the emotions seem spontaneous, and frequently involuntary. But the scene where he disco- vers the loss of his treasure casts into the shade all that has gone before : his exclamations of dismay are heard, and the frantic man, shaking in every limb, staggers in with a face blank with horror and a look of pre- ternaturally intense scrutiny, as if his eyes would penetrate the breast of every one to discover who is the robber : his voice fails and is husky with agitation ; he does not tear his hair or stamp, but stands aghast, palsy-stricken, and bewildered with the extent of his loss: presently he suspects his nephew ; his eyes kindle with fury, and with a desperate effort he reels out of the door to seek the supposed thief. The look he casts on his daughter when she avows herself the culprit is ap- palling: atuazement, indignation, and despair, succeed each other, and are swallowed up in incredulity ; and on her repeating the avowal, his furious gestures and wild desperation are terrific : the agony of his soul seems to make him impotent for any deed of violence, and the miser is forgotten in the heart-broken father. Such a fearful manifestation of human agony has never been seen on the English stage since the elder KEAN'S terrific burst in Sir Giles Overreach on finding a blank parchment instead of the deed : but here was no loudness and undue vehemence, no roaring and stamping ; the tempest and whirlwind was that of the mind : the body did but heave like a wreck on the tumultuous sea of passion. BOUFFE does not appear to feign ; he seems really to suffer: his is no vigorous, self- possessed, prepared explosion of rage and madness, electrifying by the physical force of the shock ; but the writhings of a tortured spirit : he lays hare the heart of his misery, as in his calmer moments be inci- dentally reveals the secret springs of the character. He never seems to he exhibiting either the person he assumes to be or his own skill as an artist ; but he is the character fur the time, and leaves the audience to read it in his actions.

In the next piece, Les Vieux Piches, he is a retired ballet-dancer, grown rich, become a Mayor, and courting au'alliance with a Marchio- ness, but in constant fear of his profession being discovered. The vanity of the old beau, with his dapper look and jaunty air, his Brutus wig and gold chains, and the dislocated gait of the superannuated dancer, with knees and toes turned out, and a springy elasticity of tread, are shown as if incidentally : the fall in the back is evidently much cherished; but the tripping quick step, the occasional vibration of calf and bend of knee, and the perpetual tendency to pirouette, are symptoms that betray themselves involuntarily. The stiff-jointed jerking agility with which he dances a pas de deuce with his pupil, the impotent energy of his aplomb, and the stereotype simper of complacency, are in perfect keeping with the character.

We have never beard of any English actor, except GARRICK, who possessed such power both to awe and to amuse as POUFFE ; whose personations were so real, whose expression of emotion was so lively and intense, and whose art was so finished : of course we do not mean to compare the two, or assign the French vaudeville actor the faculty of embodying the romantic or the heroic. Botrzat's forte is the imitation of common humanity as seen in every-day life ; and everywhere in this wide range he seems to be at home. We hope our actors of the present time will profit by the study of this model for their imitation, so far as to leave their stage-tricks and conventions, and endeavour to be natural by being the cha- racter they assume : master as BOIIITE is of his art, the secret of his great success we believe to be, that he experiences the emotions he de- picts, and feels himself for the moment the person he represents. He studies the workings of the passions, and the complexion of men's minds, as well as their costume and manner ; and puts on a state of being as well as a suit of clothes. This plastic quality of imagination and the faculty of moulding the form in which the actor of genius casts his fancy and feelings, are not to be. acquired, though when intuitive they may and should be sedulously cultivated; but the external attri- butes and the mechanism of art may be so far improved by study and practice, as to avoid the glaring defects of coarseness and exagge- ration, and the habit of stepping out of the assumed character—or rather presenting the player instead of it—which are rife on our stage.

The performance of Mademoiselle FORGEOT in both pieces ought not to be passed by without a word of praise for her genuine pathos and unaffected gayety and grace. Other performers too are praiseworthy, whom we may have a future opportunity to speak of.

Mademoiselle RACHEL made her first appearance this season, on the Italian boards, last night, in her finest part, Camille, in Les Boraces of CORNEILLE. We shall wait to see her in a new character.