It was a rare gratification to see the Queen of Tragedy thus out of her robes. Yet her manner, even at the social board, still partakes of the state and gravity of tragedy. Not that there is an unwillingness to unbend, but that there is a difficulty in throwing aside the solemnity of long-acquired habit. She reminded me of Walter Scott’s knights, “who carved the meat with their gloves of steel, and drank the red wine through their helmets barred.” There was, however, entirely the disposition to be gracious, and to play her part like herself in conversation. She, therefore, exchanged anecdote and incident, in the course of which she detailed her feelings and reflections while wandering among the sublime and romantic scenery of North Wales, and on the summit of Penmaennmawr. As she did this her eye kindled and her features beamed, and in her countenance, which is indeed a volume where one may read strange matters, you might trace the varying emotions of her soul. I was surprised to find her face, even at the near approach of sitting by her side, absolutely handsome, and unmarked with any of those wrinkles which generally attend advanced life. Her form is at present becoming unwieldy, but not shapeless, and is full of dignity. Her gestures and movements are eminently graceful. Mr. and Mrs. Campbell say that I was quite fortunate, and might flatter myself on her being so conversible, for that she is very apt to be on the reserve towards strangers.
Mr. and Mrs. Campbell had every reason to say so, for only that very year she proposed dining with them one day, requesting, as she always did, that it was only to be a family party. About noon Washington Irving’s brother and a friend, who had brought letters of introduction from Sir Walter Scott, arrived. During their visit a servant unfortunately came into the room and disclosed the fact that Mrs. Siddons was dining there. Immediately the Americans made up their minds to stay and see her. Campbell told them how annoyed Mrs. Siddons would be at meeting strangers; they were not to be gainsaid:—
When the carriage approached the house, Campbell goes on, I went out to conduct her over a short pathway on the common, as well as to prepare her for a sight of the strangers. It was the only time, during a friendly acquaintance of so many years, that I ever saw a cloud upon her brow. She received my apology very coldly, and walked into my house with tragic dignity. At first she kept the gentlemen of the New World at a transatlantic distance; and they made the matter worse, as I thought, for a time, by the most extravagant flattery. But my Columbian friends had more address than I supposed, and they told her so many interesting anecdotes about their native stage and the enthusiasm of their countrymen respecting herself that she grew frank and agreeable, and shook hands with both of them at parting.
Many were the honours heaped on her during these last years. She received a formal invitation to visit the Universities of Oxford and Cambridge. Her daughter writes to Miss Wilkinson, expressing their delight with the visit:—
I over and over wished for you, who would have enjoyed as much as I did the attention and admiration shown to our Darling. We had sights to see, colleges and libraries to examine, and at every one of them there was a principal inhabitant, eager to show and proud to entertain Mrs. Siddons. In the public library, my mother received the honour of an address from Professor Clarke, who presented her with a handsome Bible from the Stereotype press. After which she read to almost all the members of the University at present there the trial scene in the Merchant of Venice, and more finely she never did it in her life. Everyone was, or seemed to be, enchanted and enthusiastic.
After her retirement from the stage, she gave public readings at the Argyll Rooms in London. The arrangements were most simple. A reading-desk with lights, on which lay her book, a quarto volume, printed in large letters. When her memory failed her, she assisted her sight by spectacles, which in the intervals she handled and used so gracefully, that it was impossible to wish her without them. A large red screen formed an harmonious background to her white dress, and classically-shaped head, round which her dark hair was rolled in loose coils. All her former dignity and grace seemed to return in these readings. The effect she produced was marvellous, considering it was without the aid of stage illusion or scenery.
The attention shown her by the Royal Family was a source of much gratification. Her letters written, after a visit to Windsor, in January 1813, are almost girlish in their emphasis and expressions of delight.
She was in the middle of dressing to go and dine at Mrs. Damer’s, when an especial messenger arrived in the dusk, from Lady Stewart, intimating the Queen’s desires. Everything was rose colour. “The charming accomplished Princesses, so sweetly and graciously acknowledge the amusement I was so happy as to afford them. To have been able to amuse a little a few of the heavy mournful hours, the weight of which those royal amiable sufferers must so often feel, has been to me the greatest, the proudest gratification.”
A magnificent gold chain, with a cross of many coloured jewels, was presented to her by the Queen, and a “silken quilt for my bed, which she sewed with her own hands.”
On the 9th of June 1819, when past sixty, Mrs. Siddons was induced to appear for the benefit of her brother, Charles Kemble, at Covent Garden. She had done so before, at the command of the Princess Charlotte, who at the last moment had been unable to come. All the best critics were of opinion it was a mistake. The part chosen, too, Lady Randolph, was injudicious, with its lengthy speeches and continual movement. The audience certainly gave three rounds of applause, in recognition of her personal character, when Young Norval asked: