c THE .NATION DRAMATIC REGISTER. DRURY-LANE. JEAN DEPARts.—Both our winter Play H o u ses are now deepry engaged in a translating race. Covent GT.- den having lately given out that Jean de Paris, a French Opera, performed at the Feydeau theatre in that capital, was preparing for representation, found itself unexpectedly an ticipated by the Drury Lane Managers, who silently got up that piece, and on Tuesday last suddenly introduces} it to the British public. Whether the distanced opponent will give up the race or endeavour to recover the ground he has lost, has not yet been ascertained, and all that it now be comes us to enquire is, whether the prize itself was worth the contention, and how far the British public ought to be pleased with their new acquaintance Mr. Jean de Paris. Like all French pieces this trifle. possesses but very little ` plot, and cannot fail to disappoint the lover of deep intrigue end complicated incidents. The Dauphin of France, son to Phillip tie Valois (Elliston) has heard of the beauty of the y Princess of Navarre (Mrs. Edwin), whose alliance is courted by most Princes in Christendom. Before he becomes one of the pretenders to her band, he resolves to see her incognito, ' and assuming the disguise and rough manners of a merchant of his time, and the name of Jean dc Paris, sets off, with a large retinue, equally disguised, to meet her on her travels, and , reaches, before her, an inp, kept by an Irishma n (Johnstone) P in Navarre, and hired for her reception by the High Senes ehal of Navarre (Lovegrove.) Jean de Paris, however, gives five times the money the Seneschal has paid, and takes pos- , session of the hotel, to the great alarm of the landlord and ,1 his daughter (Mrs. Orger), who hourly expect the arrival of the Princess anti her attendants. The appearance of the Seneschal encreases their fears, and the Irishman himself is at a loss how to find an excuse for what has happened, when Jean de Paris comes forward, and claiming the hotel as his , own, invites the Princess and the enraged Seneschal himself to dinner. Whilst the latter is venting his indignation the Princess arrives, and having been secretly informed of the disguise of the Prince, accepts his invitation, though she affects to treat him as a merchant. Jean de Paris, who had provided for such an occurrence, causes a splendid repast to be served in costly plate, on the green, whilst the villagers execute a tasteful dance before the guests. When the fete is over an explanation takes place between the lovers, and Jean Is caught at the feet of the Princess by the Seneschal, "ho can no longer contain his astonishment and his indignation, which still encrease when the Princess assures him she has selected the Merchant for her husband. To remove all sur prise, however, the Prince orders his attendants to throw off their, disguise, and opening his mantle, spews the broad erachat of France on his breast, when all preseut do him homage, az:d the piece closes. As an episode to this meagre plot, the Seneschal's daughter (Miss Kelly), who had run away with the Prince's favourite (Mr. Wallack) and attended as a Page in the suite of the pretended Merchant , is restored to,and pardoned by her father. Such is the outline of. . this hide, which,- though very sim ple, is not unatnosing. Its dialogue is not of a quality to enhance its beauties, it is true, and its success chiefly de pends on the abilities of the performers C'but tl ese are ex erted in such a manner as to give life and colour to the most raked canvas. Elliston maintains a proper dignity amidst all his assumed roughness, and when carried off his guard by his feelings, in tile scene in which he reveals his love, suffers the most elegant and princely manners to burst forth; Mrs. Edwin displayed much pleasing . playfulness, and Miss Kelly, Lovegrove, Johnstone, Atid .Mrs. Qrgers mach Visits, or- REGISTER. NOV. 6. . . . The Ballet introduced in the second act, is one of the most tasteful we bare seen, for the disposition of the greupes. Miss Smith danced with much' agility, but unfortunately. and unwisely too, selected the present Parisian fashions for her dress, which destroyed all the grace and elegance of her figure; and at first led the audience to believe that they saw a second apparition of the little square French woman, who lately was hissed off tile Covert Garden boards. The success of Jean de Paris was undoubted, and the piece has since been repeated to full houses, without any decrease of its attractions. MR. KEAN'S MACBETH. . Last night Mr. Kean assumed for the first time the obarac ter of Madeth, and the piece was brought nut with all the attractions which liberality and taste, on the part of the Ma. nagets, could produce. As the lateness of the hour will not allow us to particularize, we must rest contented with stating that most of the scenery was new, beuttiful, and magni fi cent that the apparition of the spirits tnnli which the witches hold their power, and with whom Hecate rides on the moonlight clouds. NiltliSt the full chorusses of her compa nions, assembled 4:,1 barren rocks, hail her ascent, seemed to realize the wildest visions of ancient superstition ; and that the music, selected from the works of Purcell, and adapted on the occasion by Mr.llern, was at once most ap. propriate, tasteful and grand. In a word, every thing that can complete the illusion of the senses was profusely lavished on this tragedy ; and never had the genius of Shakespear I. received mon assistance from the painter's art, or the ma . chinist's skill. Mr. Kean, however, was the magnet which Lad drawn im mense crowds to this house. When he appeared, the air was rent with shouts of applause, and hundreds of hats and handkerchiefs were waved in the pit. When the tempest of congratulation had subsided, and he was able to proceed. he seemed in better voice than usual, and displayed much judgment. Ile,, however, persisted in at which robs his Hamlet of many beauties, the neglect those passages rendered celebrated by the effect with which they are. given by other performers. He thus reduced himself to the neces sity of so iking out new ones, and as this is almost impossi ble, in a field so beaten by the genius of his predecessors, he was but seldom successful. Hence his performance during the whole of the first act was unifot tidy good, but without any of those eminent bursts which surpi ise the feeling's and elicit spontaneous applause. In the seccand, his soliloquy to the " air drawn dagger" was perhaps impaired hot* the same cause. Though delivered with great justness, its excellence was of -too level a nature to prodtice much effect. it displayed much harmony of colours, but wanted a few bold touches to give it life. After having committed the murder, he rose to greater eminence. It was there he successfully introduced a new point. Whilst giving an account of the interruptions he had encountered whilst going to the bed of his victim, he says. " There one did laugh in his sleep, and one cried murder, That they did wake each other. I stood and heard them ; But they did say their prayers, and addressed them Again to sleep." On coming to the word "prayer," he stopped, as though unable to utter it from the consciousness of his unworthiness after having imbrued his hands in human blood. The atten tion with which he watched for the first exclamations of Abi de on finding the King murdered. whom he was going to wake, and the absent manner in which he replied to the quv firms of Lenor, during that anxious interval, were most na tural and effective. Throughout this act his performance was of a higher order. . In the banquet scene he was great, and his last moments were worthy of his fame. The fight ire not suite so well managed, hdwever, as either re a .' • • • • f