rassed, and frequently seemed to hesitate in the delivery of some furious republican sentiment. One day, in the year 1808, Napoleon was conversing with Talma at the Tuileries, while several royal personages were waiting for their turns to speak with the Emperor. Talma, observing this, wished to withdraw, but Napoleon detained him, saying, "No, no; let them wait; let them wait." During this conversation, which Talma related to me himself, the Emperor recommended him, above all things to let his acting be as simple as possible.* "You see in this palace," said he, "kings who have come to solicit the restoration of their states; great captains who have come to ask me for crowns. Ambition and other violent passions agitate all around me. Here I behold men offering to serve those whom they hate. Young princesses intreating me to restore them to the lovers from whom I have separated them. Are not these tragic characters? And I am perhaps the most tragical of all. Yet you do not find that we continually strain our voices, and make violent gestures. We are calm, except at those times when we are agitated by passion; and those moments are always of short duration. A man's natural strength would not enable him to continue in such a state of excitation for two hours in succession: and besides, when a man is under the impulse of violent passion, he has less strength than usual." Talma used to relate his conversations with Napoleon in a style of simplicity, which rendered it impossible to suspect him of misrepresentation. He had no more than that degree of pretension, without which no man can nowa-days succeed in Paris. He was the last of the great men formed by our beneficial Revolution. With what astonishing rapidity they have vanished from the scene of life. Napoleon, Massena, Murat, Davoust, David, Regnault, and Talma, are all numbered with the dead; and some of them have sunk into a premature grave. Talma had a beautiful country residence at Brunoy, near Paris, where he expended enormous sums of money; and yet he has left only 10,000l. to his two sons. He was very charitable to the poor; and what is rather singular, he gave a great deal to the Catholic priests, who were continually applying to him for money for church repairs and other purposes of a similar kind. Talma spoke English very well, and he frequently read Shakspeare in the original. Before he performed in Ducis' imitation of Hamlet, he read the original play, and he often remarked "This Shakspeare electrifies me." Nature had endowed Talma with a handsome countenance, and a finely proportioned figure. When he performed the part of Orestes in the tragedy of Clytemnestra," about four years ago, nobody would have supposed him to have been more than five and twenty. He never approached so nearly to perfection as in 1821, when he performed Sylla. In this character he presented a striking resemblance to Napoleon. Talma had no idea of his approaching dissolution. During his long illness the only circumstance which rendered him uneasy, was that his extreme thinness would disable him from personating certain youthful characters, in which he was obliged to have his neck uncovered. Talma's forte was the delineation of terror; for he was but an indifferent representative of love. And yet that passion influenced his whole life. He was beloved by some of the most distinguished women of his time; and even at the period of his death, he is said to have been in love with, and jealous of his last wife. The judicious advice of Napoleon may be said to have materially assisted Talma in attaining the high eminence which he latterly enjoyed. HYMEN'S BALL. HYMEN afforded a ball On the outside of his Castle; Beauty look'd smiling on Faith, Wedlock's a glorious thing, Blessings be on the beginning o't, Hallow'd Flirtation's domain, Crowds to the Castle (no more Single to pine and to pout again) Flock'd-and behind them the door Was shut that lets nobody out again. Stunn'd as it slamm'd on them, some Look'd rather sheepish, I'm vext to say, But for one face that was glum, Twenty brighten'd with ecstacy. CHORUS. Wedlock's a glorious thing, Blessings be on the beginning o't, Should your neck break with the string, Sweet is at least the spinning o't. Hymen, they say, is a wag, A conjuring rogue that prevaricates, That will change a poor man to a stag, And a couple of doves to a pair o' cats- Gall with your nectar he 'll mix, Clashes of discord with harmony; Still I deny that his tricks Match'd with his fair dealings are many. Glory in wedlock and war With safety's alike contradictory; Hearts that will hazard a scar, Here's to your honour and victory! CHORUS. Wedlock's a glorious thing, Blessings be on the beginning o't, Should your neck break with the string, Sweet is at least the spinning o't. |