Actresses -- Great Britain -- Biography; Siddons, Sarah, 1755-1831
“You will be pleased to hear,” she says, “that Mrs. Carr was very civil
to me—gave me a comfortable bed, and I slept very well. We were five of
us in the machine, all females but one, a youth of about sixteen, and the
most civilized being you can conceive—a native of Bristol, too.
“One of the ladies was, I believe verily, a little insane. Her dress was
the most peculiar, and manner the most offensive, I ever remember to have
met with; her person was taller and more thin than you can imagine; her
hair raven black, drawn as tight as possible over her cushion before and
behind; and at the top of her head was placed a solitary fly-cap of the
last century, composed of materials of about twenty sorts, and as dirty
as the ground; her neck, which was a thin scrag of a quarter of a yard
long, and the colour of a walnut, she wore uncovered, for the solace
of all beholders; her Circassian was an olive-coloured cotton of three
several sorts, about two breadths wide in the skirt, and tied up exactly
in the middle in one place only. She had a black petticoat spotted with
red, and over that a very thin white muslin one, with a long black gauze
apron, and without the least hoop. I never in my life saw so odd an
appearance; and my opinion was not singular, for wherever we stopped she
inspired either mirth or amazement, but was quite innocent of it herself.
On taking her seat among us at Bristol, she flew into a violent passion
on seeing one of the windows down. I said I would put it up, if she
pleased. ‘To be sure,’ said she; ‘I have no ambition to catch my death!’
No sooner had she done with me, but she began to scold the woman who sat
opposite to her for touching her foot. ‘You have not been used to riding
in a _coach_, I fancy, good woman.’ She met in this lady a little more
spirit than she found in me, and we were obliged to her for keeping this
unhappy woman in tolerable order for the remainder of the day. Bless
me! I had almost forgot to tell you that I was desired to make tea at
breakfast. Vain were my endeavours to please this strange creature. She
had desired to have her tea in a basin, and I followed her directions
as near as it was possible in the making her tea; but she had no sooner
tasted it than she bounced to the window and threw it out, declaring she
had never met with such a set of awkward, ill-bred people. What could be
expected in a stage-coach, indeed? She snatched the canister from me,
poured a great quantity into the basin, with sugar, cream, and water, and
drank it all together. Did you ever hear of anything so strange? When we
sat down to dinner, she seemed terrified to death lest anybody should eat
but herself.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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