_To the Editor._
Sir,--The following short matter-of-fact narrative, if inserted in your
widely circulated miscellany, may in some degree tend to lessen the
number of dramatic aspirants, and afford a little amusement to your
readers.
I was, at the age of sixteen, apprenticed to a surgeon, and had served
but two years of my apprenticeship, when I began to conceive that I had
talents for something superior to the profession I had embraced. I
imagined that literature was my forte; and accordingly I tried my skill
in the composition of a tale, wherein I was so far successful, as to
obtain its insertion in a “periodical” of the day. This was succeeded by
others; some of which were rejected, and some inserted. In a short time,
however, I perceived that I had gained but little fame, and certainly no
profit. I therefore determined to attempt dramatic writing, by which I
imagined that I should acquire both fame and fortune. Accordingly, after
much trouble, I concocted a plot, and in three months completed a farce!
I submitted it to my friends, all of whom declared it to be “an
excellent thing;” and that if merit met with its due reward, my piece
would certainly be brought out. Flattered and encouraged by their good
opinion, I offered it, with confidence of success, to the proprietors of
Drury-lane theatre. In the space of a week, however, my piece was
returned, with a polite note, informing me, that it was “not in any way
calculated for representation at _that_ theatre.” I concluded that it
could not have been read; and having consoled myself with that idea, I
transmitted it to the rival theatre. One morning, after the lapse of a
few days, my hopes were clouded by a neat parcel, which I found to
contain my manuscript, with the same polite but cutting refusal, added
to which was an assurance, “that it had been read most attentively.” I
inwardly execrated the Covent Garden “reader” for a fool, and determined
to persevere. At the suggestion of my friends I made numerous
alterations, and submitted my farce to the manager of the Haymarket
theatre, relying upon his liberality; but, after the usual delay of a
week, it was again returned. At the Lyceum it also met with a similar
fate. I was much hurt by these rejections, yet determined to persevere.
The minor theatres remained for me, and I applied to the manager of one
of these establishments, who, in the course of time, assured me, that my
piece should certainly be produced. I was delighted at the brilliant
prospects which _seemed_ to open to me, and I _fancied_ that I was fast
approaching the summit of my ambition. Three tedious months ensued
before I was summoned to attend the rehearsal; but I was then much
pleased at the pains the actors appeared to have taken in acquiring
their parts. The wished-for night arrived. I never dreamed of failure;
and I invited a few of my select friends to witness its first
representation--it was the last: for, notwithstanding the exertions of
the performers, and the applause of my worthy friends, so unanimous was
the hostility of the audience, that my piece was damned!--damned, too,
at a _minor_ theatre! I attributed its failure entirely to the depraved
taste of the audience. I was disgusted; and resolved, from that time,
never more to waste my talents in endeavouring to amuse an
unappreciating and ungrateful public. I have been firm to that
resolution. I relinquished the making up of plays for the more
profitable occupation of making up prescriptions, and am now living in
comfort upon the produce of my profession.