To describe the effects produced on me by Mrs. Siddons is wholly
impossible. Her bridal apathy of despair contrasted with the
tumultuous joy of her father, the mingled emotions of love for her
seducer, disdain of his baseness, and abhorrence partly of her own
guilt but still more of the tyranny and guilt of prejudice, and the
majesty of mind with which she trampled on the world's scorn, defied
danger, met death, and lamented little for herself, much for those
she had injured, excited emotions in me the remembrance of which ages
could not obliterate!

It may here be worthy of remark that the difference between the
sensations I then had and those I should now have, were I present at
the same exhibition, is in many particulars as great as can well be
imagined. Not an iota of the whole performance, at that time, but
seemed to me to be perfect; and I should have readily quarrelled with
the man who should have happened to express disapprobation. The art
of acting I had little considered, and was ignorant of its extent and
degree of perfectibility. To read a play was no common pleasure, but
to see one was ecstacy. Whereas at present, the knowledge of how much
better characters might in general be performed occasions me, with
the exception of some very few performers, infinitely to prefer the
reading of a good play in the closet to its exhibition on the stage.

The curtain being dropped for the night, I stood for a while gazing at
the multitude in motion, unwilling to quit the enchanted spot; but the
house beginning to be empty and the lights put out, I thought it was
time to retire.

That I might feel no interruption from having so valuable a deposit
in my charge, for so I considered it to be, instead of putting the