friends.'

In spite of his absorption in his work, Haydon found time for the
society of his literary friends. On March 7, he records: 'Sir Walter
Scott, Lamb, Wilkie, and Procter have been with me all the morning,
and a delightful morning we have had. Scott operated on us like
champagne and whisky mixed.... It is singular how success and the want
of it operate on two extraordinary men, Walter Scott and Wordsworth.
Scott enters a room and sits at table with the coolness and
self-possession of conscious fame; Wordsworth with a mortified
elevation of the head, as if fearful he was not estimated as he
deserved. Scott can afford to talk of trifles, because he knows the
world will think him a great man who condescends to trifle; Wordsworth
must always be eloquent and profound, because he knows that he is
considered childish and puerile.... I think that Scott's success would
have made Wordsworth insufferable, while Wordsworth's failures would
not have rendered Scott a whit less delightful. Scott is the companion
of Nature in all her moods and freaks, while Wordsworth follows her
like an apostle, sharing her solemn moods and impressions.'

In these rough notes, unusual powers of observation and insight into
character are displayed. That Haydon also had a keen sense of humour
is proved by his account of an evening at Mrs. Siddons' where the
hostess read aloud _Macbeth_ to her guests. 'She acts Macbeth
herself much better than either Kemble or Kean,' he writes. 'It is
extraordinary the awe that this wonderful woman inspires. After her
first reading the men retired to tea. While we were all eating toast
and tinkling cups and saucers, she began again. It was like the effect
of a mass-bell at Madrid. All noise ceased; we slunk to our seats like
boors, two or three of the most distinguished men of the day, with the