He was delightful, his vivacious gaiety as exhilarating as wine.

But he was more like a Roman Emperor than ever: he had grown fat: he ate and drank too much; not that he was intoxicated, but he became flushed, and in spite of his gay and genial talk he affected me a little unpleasantly; he was gross and puffed up.

But he gave one or two splendid snapshots of actors and their egregious vanity.

It seemed to him a great pity that actors should be taught to read and write: they should learn their pieces from the lips of the poet.
"Just as work is the curse of the drinking classes of this country," he said laughing, "so education is the curse of the acting classes." Yet even when making fun of the mummers there was a new tone in him of arrogance and disdain.

He used always to be genial and kindly even to those he laughed at; now he was openly contemptuous.