Ladies and Gentlemen,—As a general outcry arose some considerable time ago that there was a great dearth of good, original English dramas, and as the recent so-called original productions of English dramatists have failed to stifle it—because they have either traduced English society or have been simply adaptations from the French respecting a state of society which cannot exist here, and in both cases have proved unpalatable to the English, and, therefore, unsuccessful—I, who am a writer in more than one language, resolved to produce a drama on purely English topics, and I was guided by the dictum of your immortal poet, Byron, that “Truth is stranger than fiction,” because all fictitious situations prove less “sensational” (pardon me the vernacular), as produced by those dramatists, with all the powerful accessories and machinery of the stage, than the simplest police report from the daily papers. It took me more than a year of my half-holidays to write the drama “Stern Realities,” and in about five months I wrote the play “Trust.” Now, I have been trying for the last eighteen months to have one of these pieces accepted, but all my endeavours have been in vain. The excuse was, that I am not known (a circumstance which, by-the-by, happened once to Shakespeare also), and that it is far preferable to produce the works of authors already known to the public, even if their more recent efforts have proved a failure in more than one respect. It is now for the public of this great country to decide whether this arrangement between Managers of Theatres and a certain small clique of authors is a monopoly that is to go on for ever; or whether it is only a false and preconceived notion on the part of the former regarding the want of good taste for superior productions on the part of the public. Though I am a foreigner I consider myself as one of the public who has endeavoured to amuse his fellow-citizens, but to whom no opportunity has hitherto been afforded. However, as the author of a collection of songs, of which some are written in English, French, and German, or English and German, or simply in English poetry, and which volume is entitled “Honi soit qui mal y pense,” and was collectively dedicated to the Queen, and accepted by her Majesty, containing dedications also, by special commission, to ladies of the highest titles, and to others equally exalted in attainments, I beg you to believe me, when I assure you, on the word of a gentleman, author, and schoolmaster, that the two pieces I have written will meet with your approbation. I appeal now to you, ladies and gentlemen, to assist me in bringing out one of the two pieces; and, in my humble opinion, the most effectual way, perhaps, in which this could be done, would be in addressing me a note, kindly informing me which of the two pieces, “Stern Realities” or “Trust,” should in your opinion be performed first, and that you promise you will come to see either or both. Receiving thus from you a great quantity of letters, I shall, armed with such a phalanx of patronage, present myself as the bearer of the popular will to the Manager of one of the London Theatres, and—we shall see! A letter simply addressed thus, “Dr. Vellère, Harrow,” will safely reach me. Trusting to hear from you at your earliest convenience, I remain, ladies and gentlemen, very faithfully yours,

E. R. W. VELLERE.

The English and Continental College,
Harrow, October 1st, 1869.

Before the attention directed to this novelty in literature had died away, another similar effusion appeared, and for about a twelvemonth the Times contained every three or four weeks a message of direful import from Dr Vellère on dramatic monopoly and its probable ultimate effect on dramatic literature and the stage generally, varied by requests similar to those given here. Iniquity was still triumphant, however, and the patrons of the legitimate must have been unwilling to interfere, for at the end of the year Dr Vellère was yet unacted. He is still busy writing plays, for he believes that success must come in the end; and if his literary ability be in any way proportioned to his pertinacity, the chief of the Elizabethan roll of dramatists has at last met a worthy rival. Happily there is a way out of the difficulty with which Dr Vellère and his friends are encompassed. Let them take a theatre, engage actors, and play each other’s dramas in turn. If they can only agree as to the order of production, and the relative merits of the pieces, they are sure to succeed; for if our experience goes for anything, the unacted and unread are sufficiently numerous to support any house of moderate pretensions. But they mustn’t all want to be put on the free list. That great distinction must be left for Dr Vellère and a chosen few—composed, say, of friendly critics, and managers distraught with the knowledge that priceless gems have been discarded, and that the new era has at last arrived.

[34] The letter written by the sailor with the artificial hands to the printer of the Caledonian Mercury.

[35] Our information of this advertisement, and the clue to its explanation, was, as already stated, obtained from an article in the Quarterly Review. On reference to the Times to discover whether the Jefferies portion was right or not, we could not for a long time find the particular notice we were in search of. At last, after the above was written, under date February 10, it was found; and then we saw that the word was “Jfhiiwola,” which subjected to the process as above, will give the required name. We have preferred to explain this in full, as the Quarterly is undoubtedly entitled to the merit of deciphering the puzzle, if not to anything else; and any alteration or correction of ours would have detracted from such merit, which is original, and without which the quaint libel might still have remained in obscurity. Besides, it shows how a small printer’s error may spoil the calculations of a week, in matters like this.

CHAPTER XII.
SWINDLES AND HOAXES.

It is of course only natural that as soon as advertising became general, that portion of the community which regards the other portion as its oyster, was not slow to discover the advantages which were soon to accrue in the way of increased facilities for publishing new dodges, or of giving extended scope to those which were old, but had so far attained only limited circulation. This has been so conclusively shown by specimens already given, and references made, that there is no necessity to discuss the question anew, and therefore we will at once plunge into the thick of those advertisements which have special qualifications for treatment different from that given to the milder classes of rogues and scoundrels. The first transaction which calls for attention is in connection with Queen Anne’s farthings. No popular delusion has perhaps made more dupes than that relating to these coins. Innumerable people believe that there never were but three farthings of this description, two of which have found their way in due course to the British Museum, the third only being still abroad; and it is also believed that the Museum authorities would give a very large sum for the possession of the missing token. Now there are no less than six distinct varieties of Anne’s farthings known to exist, and specimens of them are not at all rare. Some of them may be procured at the coin-dealers, for ten or twelve shillings; but there is one variety, struck in 1713, which is extremely rare, and would bring from £5 to £10. There is also a small brass medal or counter of Queen Anne, about the size of a farthing, of which there are hundreds. A publican once procured one of these, and placed it in his window, ticketed as “the real farthing of Queen Anne.” Credulous persons came from far and near to view this wonderful curiosity, and the owner turned his deception to good account.