Papers from Lilliput

PAPERS FROM LILLIPUT
BY J. B. PRIESTLEY AUTHOR OF ‘BRIEF DIVERSIONS’ CAMBRIDGE BOWES & BOWES 1922 PRINTED IN GREAT BRITAIN TO MY FATHER
Some of these essays have appeared in THE LONDON MERCURY, THE NINETEENTH CENTURY, THE OUTLOOK, and THE CAMBRIDGE REVIEW. Others have been selected from a large number I contributed (week by week, under the pseudonym of ‘Peter of Pomfret’) to the YORKSHIRE OBSERVER. Others again are the first-fruits of a current series of such things I am contributing to THE CHALLENGE under the general title of ‘New Papers from Lilliput.’ I take this opportunity of thanking all the editors concerned for their hospitality to these not, I trust, too ill-favoured bantlings of mine, and hope that they will not regret it if they should now chance to renew the acquaintance.
J. B. P.

IT has been said that literature must use its gift of praise or it will come to nothing. Those of us who keep up a little dribble of ink, though we aspire to be very Swifts, must ultimately bestow our commendation somewhere: our praise is the last, greatest and kindliest weapon in our poor armoury. If we can applaud where most men have kept silent, so much the better: we are fine fellows, using our little tricks to sweeten the world. So much preamble is necessary because I wish to bring forward, in this season of burning questions, the figure of a poor player who died over one hundred and fifty years ago and whose very name is now only known to a few. True, it can be found in many places, but who goes to them? For my part, I have rescued him from the pages of The Eccentric Mirror , a quaint production of four volumes, ‘reflecting (I quote the title-page) a faithful and interesting delineation of Male and Female Characters, Ancient and Modern, Who have been particularly distinguished by extraordinary Qualifications, Talents, and Propensities, natural or acquired.’ There, among fat men, giants, freaks and eccentrics, I found our hero, Bridge Frodsham, a country actor, once known as the ‘York Garrick.’ He comes rather late in the series of characters, and is only there at all because the compiler was probably running short of better material, such as fat men, murderers, misers, and the like. Even then, Frodsham is scurvily treated; he is set down simply as a very good specimen of the conceited, self-opinionated young fool; the greatness that was in him is entirely missed; and it has been left for us, at this late hour, to give him his meed of praise. But let us turn to the details of his story, which I shall filch for the most part from The Eccentric Mirror , and thereby get myself some return for the four shillings and sixpence I paid for it.