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of Louis XIV; but Talma, in his dress, in every movement, every look, was a Greek. . . . . To have arrived at such perfection, he must have studied antiquity as no modern actor has done; and the proofs of this were very obvious.
His dress was perfect; his gestures and attitudes reminded one of ancient statues; and when, in imagination pursued by the Furies, he becomes frenzied, changes color, trembles and falls, pale and powerless, before the implacable avengers, it is impossible to doubt that he has studied and felt the scene in Euripides, and the praises of Longinus.
His study of the ancient statues struck me in the passage,—when, in his second insanity, he cries out in agony,—
Vois-tu d'affreux serpens, de son front s'elancer,he started back into the posture of Laocoon with great effect. Like Demosthenes, he has had difficulties to overcome, and even now at times he cannot conceal an unpleasant lisp; but I have never seen acting, in many respects, like his. Cooke had a more vehement and lofty genius, and Kean has sometimes, perhaps, flashes of eccentric talent; but in an equal elevation of mind, and in dignity and force, Talma, I think, left them all far behind. April 14.—I called this morning on A. W. Schlegel. His history, like his brother Frederick's, is singular and unfortunate. Their father was a man of considerable learning, and a poet whose religious odes and hymns are still read. Augustus, who was his youngest son but one, was sent early to Gottingen, where he remained five years. As his reputation was already considerable, he was soon called as professor to Jena, and married a daughter of Michaelis. . . . . He resigned his place and left the University. When Mad. de Stael went to Germany, he was without a home; he attached himself to her, and has been with her through all her travels in Germany, Italy, Sweden, and England. . . . . . The consequence of his troubles and this mode of life is, that he now looks like a careworn, wearied courtier, with the manners of a Frenchman of the gayest circles, and the habits of a German scholar,—a confusion anything but natural or graceful. I found him in full dress, with his snuff-box and handkerchief by his side, not sitting up to receive company, but poring over a folio Sanscrit Grammar; for he has recently left his other studies, even his Etruscan antiquities, that employed him so zealously a year ago, when he wrote his review of Niebuhr, and has thrown himself on the Eastern languages with a passion purely German. He talked very volubly in French, with an uncommonly pure accent, on all the subjects
Et de leur longs replis te ceindre, et te presser?—
