In Mrs. Siddons’s memoranda, we are given an account of one of these readings. She felt extremely awkward, she tells us, in the “sack” with “hoop and treble ruffles which it was considered necessary to put on, according to court etiquette.” On her arrival she was led into an ante-chamber, where there were ladies of rank whom she knew, while presently the King appeared, drawing one of his little daughters in a “go-cart.” This little princess was about three years old; and when Mrs. Siddons remarked to the lady standing next her that she longed to kiss the child, it held out its tiny hand ... so early had she learnt this lesson of royalty. Mrs. Siddons was obliged to stand during the whole of a lengthened evening, preferring this to their offers of refreshment in an adjoining room, as she was terrified at the thought of retiring backwards through “the whole length of a long apartment, with highly-polished, slippery floor.” Her Majesty privately expressed much astonishment at seeing her so collected, and was pleased to say that the actress had conducted herself as though she had been used to a court. “I had certainly often personated queens,” was the actress’s remark. It may be mentioned as a remarkable fact that the first person outside the royal family who seems to have entertained a suspicion that insanity was creeping over the King was Mrs. Siddons. During a visit she paid to Windsor Castle at the time, the King, without any apparent motive, placed in her hands a sheet of paper bearing nothing but his signature—an incident which struck her as so unaccountable, that she immediately carried it to the Queen, who gratefully thanked her for her discretion. But more than all the attentions of royalty, more than all the flattery lavished upon her by great people, more than all the applause and worship she received from the crowds who besieged the theatre, did she value the sparingly awarded praises and sincere shake of the shabby, noble, snuff-covered hand of “the Great Bear,” before whose growl everyone trembled. In Boswell’s _Life of Johnson_ he tells us the Doctor had a singular prejudice against players, “futile fellows” whom he rated no higher than rope-dancers or ballad singers. This prejudice, however, did not prevent him from hobbling off to see poor crippled Mrs. Porter when forsaken by all the rest of the world. The beginning of his liking for Mrs. Siddons is thoroughly characteristic. He always talked to his circle of lady adorers of that jade, Mrs. Siddons, until one of the “fair females” suggested that he must see the actress. “But, indeed, Dr. Johnson,” said Miss Monckton, “you _must_ see Mrs. Siddons. Won’t you see her in some fine part?” “Why, if I _must_, Madam, I have no choice.” “She says, Sir, she shall be very much afraid of you.” “Madam, that cannot be true.” “Not true?” said Miss Monckton, staring. “Yes, it is.” “It _cannot_ be, Madam.” “But she said so to me; I heard her say it myself.”