14 FEBRUARY 1829, Page 9

FRENCH THEATRICALS—MESSRS. LAFONT AND LAPORTE. MADEMOISELLE JENNY COLON.

THAT there is one place under heaven where a man can be rationally amused, is well known to all who frequent the French play—from

love and not for fashion. It is now somewhat more than two years

since the Atlas announced this truth to the public, in one of those well-bred sentences of nice tact and discrimination; which were not uncommon in the Atlases of those days. " The little French pieces,

compounded of sentiment somewhat refined, pone; frequently-bril- liant, of character interesting but not uncommon, of fable neat

and well composed, language, elegant and appropf ate, with a sea- soning of gaiety mid legZ'rett', appear to us to be the kind of amusement exactly calculated for the relaxation -of the well-edu- cated and well-bred."

The company, as now constituted, is admirably qualified to illus- trate these merits of the Parisian Vaudeville. LAFONT is perfec- tion; Madame, ultra perfection ; and LAPORTE excels that ever excellent person—himself.

It is incorrect to term the performance of LAFONT acting a part—it is being the part. If, for example, out of a certain class of modern Frenchmen—men by education supremely ignorant and simple—by birth and nation supremely self-possessed—the very best sample had been selected and submitted to the observation of the house, in the act of going about his ordinary avocations—smoking, drinking, billiards, gossiping—in the tap-room or the drawing-room —the house would have seen something infinitely less amusing, but hardly more real than M. LAFONT'S Jean. The performance was not to be relished fully by all, because it was not wholly intel- ligible to all;—hut it is enough to bid the cognosant bethink them of Jean feeling in his pocket for the chalk, and then breaking away from a prosy old fellow at the cry of " dix-sept,"—or sitting in the presence of Madame like Cymon before his Iphigenia, and ever and anon lapsing into his old habitual postures, :and as often, from an unwonted feeling of respect for the person before him, correct- ing himself,—to obtain from them a confession, that if they never saw perfection before upon the stage, they saw it then. M. LAFONT'S performance in La Laitil2re is distinguished by the same absolute verisimilitude. In the conversations with Bertrand, this quality is eminently displayed. 1. ayea a. T. —AFONT talks away—alters every word—speaking only after the teneur of what is put down for him ; and by a hundred little variations and interjections struck off casually, and arising, as it were, involuntarily, makes what he says as much his own as though he had the moment conceived the ideas to which he gives utterance. His rapidity in enunciation is something miraculous : a long speech, that in another person's mouth might prove a piece de resistance, crumbles away in his with a celerity that would anticipate the impatience of the most impatient man on earth. His conversation with Bertrand, at the period of his convalescence, was preeminently good. His banker had run away with the Lieutenant's money, and the Lieutenant had fallen sick upon it. The invalid comes in softly, with cravat ?wide ne;gligemment, and the other insignia of the sick-chamber- so changed from what he had been—grown so " sage"—how, in- deed, could he be otherwise, " avec cette 'Akar ? "—only wanted just to know where his "petite brune" was—" c'est pure curiosite " —sitting all the while comfortably in his large chair—wiping his mouth occasionally with his kerchief—with an air of languidgra- vity, and a slightly indicated and covert vivacity in the eye, when speaking of his petite brune. " Ah! mon ami . . . Apropos, connais-tu cette jeune -Elle qui loge, &c. . . ."

Young English girls, who would learn how to give a slap on the face to a froward gentleman, must go to school to Male. JENNY COLON. The boxing esprit—the attitude, and singular vivacity of manner, which Denise discovered in delivering her coy. et to ?IL Auguste, were highly amusing; and the more so, as they were what one would not have looked for in a French girl. Nor is the image of M. LAFONT, wiping his eye, into which the energy of the souglet had conjured up the water, and exclaiming—" Diable de fille ! eile y allait de bon cceiir,"—less distinct and diverting than that of his vivacious lady. Denise rises through all the grades into which French officers are wont to distinguish the womankind of their country. At first, she appears in the dress of the rudest paysanne that ever astonished the eyes of Englishmen just landed at Dieppe. Her next step is to the grisette; then to the bourgeoise,—a class which the same au- thorities subdivide into bonne bourgeoisie and haute bourgeoisie; lastly she attains to the eminence of the high dame. In the. various dresses she assumes in the course of this ascent, we thought Denise

—lovely always—most to be admired in her holvdav peasant's fashion of red petticoat, ornamented with black velvet, and braided hair,—a style which becomes Madlle. J. Coi.o:v much more than that of curls gathered in a heap on either side of the face, in which she usually appears. It would he dangerous to hazard a guess at the lady's age ; but to the general effect it is allowable to speak—and that was in the present instance of blooming seventeen; though no doubt this is an age she looks back on through the vista of some years.

Denise, as performed by Madlle. J. COLON, is a lovely character —so pretty—so sweet ! who could withstand her happy affectionate look, when she proffers Auguste her hand ?—" Vous voulez ma main —11 voila." It is a most touching scene, where poor Denise, having come to Paris, finds Auguste on the point of being married. Her informers are struck by the change in her looks—" What was the matter?"—" Nothing—nothing—fatigue,"—and so on, till af- fliction is too great to be contained, and the poor girl bursts fairly into tears. Miss KELLY in her most signal triumph over the feel- ings never subdued you more completely. In another place Madlle. J. COLON reminded us strongly of MARS ;—when with a hurried simplicity of manner, as if speaking from a momentary emotion, she says to Auguste—" Vous savez mieux que moi tout ce qui est Bien ...Partez—partez, et rappeler—vous Bien quo Denise ...

DENISE VOUS ATTEND."

The way in which these last words were delivered, brought Valf.'rie to mind, when in relating her story to Henri she lets out the name of her. lover before she ought, and then adds with quickness, as from a sudden impulse—" Uest Ernest, qui s'appelle." How is the attached audience of the English Opera-house ever to part with Madlle. JENNY COLON ? It must go, by deputation, and say—" Denise, vows rtes tout pour moi ; sans vows, point de bon- heur ; je mourrai de chagrin si worts tintes point a moi ;"—to which Denise with one of her happiest looks and kindliest tones, must re- spond—" Messieurs les Anglais, ne MOTO% pas ... 'Vous voulez

ma mains . von ... la von :" upon which the whole deputation exclaims " Tionheur supreme !"