The king paused a little while upon this; but nothing more was said of Rousseau.
GEORGE III. ON PLAYS AND PLAYERS.
Some time afterwards, the king said he found by the newspapers, that Mrs. Clive[198] was dead.
Do you read the newspapers? thought I. O, king! you must then have the most unvexing temper in the world, not to run wild.
This led on to more players. He was sorry, he said, for Henderson,[199] and the more as Mrs. Siddons had wished to have him play at the same house with herself. Then Mrs. Siddons took her turn, and with the warmest praise.
“I am an enthusiast for her,” cried the king, “quite an enthusiast, I think there was never any player in my time so excellent—not Garrick himself—I own it!”
Then, coming close to me, who was silent, he said,—“What? what?”—meaning, what say you? But I still said nothing; I could not concur where I thought so differently, and to enter into an argument was quite impossible; for every little thing I said, the king listened to with an eagerness that made me always ashamed of its insignificancy. And, indeed, but for that I should have talked to him with much greater fluency, as well as ease.
From players he went to plays, and complained of the great want of good modern comedies, and of the extreme immorality of most of the old ones.
“And they pretend,” cried he, “to mend them; but it is not possible. Do you think it is?—what?”