ters in his "Christmas Essay," Master Simon, &c., &c., for the purpose of making a slight thread of a story on which to string his remarks and sketches of human manner and feelings left us at nine.

A week later we have from Moore this further glimpse of Irving at a dance at the poet's new apartments, in celebration of the tenth anniversary of his marriage to Bessy, for whom, with all his devotion to the gay world, Mr. Irving used always to bear witness, his affection was deep and unchanging.

* *

Our com

26th.-Bessy busy in preparations for the dance this evening. * Went into town too late to return to dinner, and dined at Very's alone. Found on my return our little rooms laid out with great management and decorated with quantities of flowers, which Mrs. Story had sent. pany, Mrs. S. and her cousins, Mrs. Forster, her two daughters and Miss Bridgman, the Villamils, Irving, Capt. Johnson, Wilder, &c., and the Douglases. Began with music; Mrs. V., Miss Drew, and Emma Forster sung. Our dance afterwards to the pianoforte very gay, and not the less so for the floor giving way in sundry places; a circle of chalk was drawn round one hole, Dr. Yonge was placed sentry over another, and whenever there was a new crack, the general laugh at the heavy foot that produced it, caused more merriment than the solidest floor in Paris could have given birth to. Sandwiches, negus, and champagne crowned the night, and we did not separate till near four in the morning. Irving's humor began to break out as the floor broke in, and he was much more himself than ever I have seen him.

A few loose leaves of an imperfect journal of the author, found among his papers after his death, give an interesting account of his first meeting with Talma, the great French tragedian, in company with John Howard Payne, the young American Roscius of former days. Payne was a fellow townsman of Mr. Irving, who had appeared with great eclat at the Park Theatre in New York in his sixteenth year, in the character of Young Norval. He had outgrown all tragic symmetry after leaving his country in 1813 to try his success in England, and from being an actor, had assumed at one time the management of Sadler's Wells; had failed in this and got in debt. He afterwards brought out Junius Brutus, a tragedy which he had manufactured out of two or three plays. It had a great run, and Mr. Irving called on him in London to congratulate him on his success; but alas! its success had proved his ruin. It brought his creditors down upon him, and he was thrown into prison. Here he wrote Teresa, or the Orphan of Geneva, which was successful and extricated him. Then he escaped to

Paris, where Mr. Irving met him. Payne was a fluent writer, and for a while a successful performer; but he is most favorably known at the present day as the author of Home, Sweet Home, a popular song which he introduced in his opera of Clari, or the Maid of Milan. The profits arising from it, realized by the manager and not by Payne, have been stated to have amounted to two thousand guineas in two years.

.

Paris, April 25th, 1821.-Breakfasted this morning with John Howard Payne. He has the first floor of a small house, in a garden No. 16 Petit rue de St. Petre, Pont aux choux. The morning was fine and the air soft and spring-like. His casements were thrown open, and the breezes that blew in were extremely grateful. He has a couple of canary birds, with a little perch ornamented with moss. He stands it in the window, and they fly about the garden and return to their perch for food and to rest at night.

Payne is full of dramatic projects, and some that are very feasible.

After breakfast we strolled along the Boulevards, gossipping, staring at groups and sights and signs, and looking over booksellers' stalls. He proposed to me to call on Talma, who had just returned to Paris. He has a suite of apartments in a hotel, No. rue des Petites Augustines. He has a seat in the country, about miles from Paris, of which he is extremely fond, and is continually altering and improving, though he can seldom get there above once a week. He is about to build a town residence, and at present lives in lodgings. I got Payne to mount before me, as I did not wish to call on Talma so unceremoniously. Payne found him changing his linen. He requested him immediately to bring me up. On entering he received me in a very friendly, frank way, and turning to Payne, said: " Why he is quite a young man; it seems he

had expected to see an old one; his room was full of furniture, and books, &c., rather confused. I remarked a colored engrav

ing of John Kemble.

Talma is about 5 feet 7 or 7

inches English, rather inclined

to fat, with large face and thick neck. His eyes are blueish, and have a peculiar cast in them at times. He speaks English

well, and is very frank, animated, and natural in conversation; a fine, hearty simplicity of manner. Asked me if this was my first visit to Paris; told him that I had been here once before -about fourteen years since. "Ah! that was in the time of the Emperor," said he. He remarked that Paris was very much changed; thinks the French character greatly changed; more grave. You see the young men from the colleges, said he; how grave they are; they walk together, conversing incessantly on politics and other grave subjects; says, the nation has become as grave as the English.

We spoke of the French play of Hamlet. I asked if other of Shakespeare's plays were adapting for the French stage. He believed not. He thinks there is likely to be a great change in French drama. The public feel greater interest in scenes that come home to common life and people in ordinary situations, than in the distresses of heroi. personages of classic literature. Hence they never come to the Théâtre Français except to see a few great actors, but they crowd to the minor theatres to see the representation of ordinary life. He says the revolution has made so many strong and vivid scenes of real life pass before their eyes, that they can no longer be affected by mere declamation and fine language; they require character, incident, passion, life.

Says if there should be another revolution it would be a bloody one. The nation (i. e. the younger part, children of the revolution) have such a hatred of the priests and noblesse, that they would fly upon them like sheep. Mentions the manner in which certain parts of plays have been applauded lately at Rouen; one part which said, "Usurpers are not always. tyrants." When we were coming away he followed us to the door of his ante-chamber; in passing through the latter I saw

childrens' swords and soldiers caps lying on the table, and said, your children, I see, have swords for playthings. He replied with animation, that all the amusements of the children were military; that they would have nothing to play with but swords, guns, trumpets, drums, &c.

It was after this interview that Mr. Irving saw Talma's performance of Hamlet, and I find among his papers this allusion to the tragedy and the actor.

The successful performance of a translation of Hamlet has been an era in the French drama. It is true the play has been sadly mutilated; it has been stripped of its most natural and characteristic beauties, and an attempt has been made to reduce it to the naked stateliness of one of their own dramas; but it still retains enough of the wild magnificence of Shakespeare's imagination to give it an individual character on the French stage. Though the ghost of Hamlet's father does not actually tread the boards, yet he hovers in idea about his son, and the powerful acting of Talma gives an idea of this portentous visitation far more awful and mysterious than could be presented by any spectral representation. The effect of this play on the French audiences is astonishing. The doors of the theatre are besieged at an early hour on the evening of its representation; the houses are crowded to overflowing; the audience continually passes from intervals of breathless attention to bursts of ungovernable applause. I have seen a lady carried fainting from the boxes, overcome by the acting of Talma in the scene with his mother, where he fancies he sees the spectre of his father.