This romance, on its first appearance, roused the attention of all the literary world of England, and even spread its writer’s name to the continent. The author—“wonder-working Lewis,” was a stripling under twenty when he wrote The Monk in the short space of ten weeks! Sir Walter Scott, probably the most rapid composer of fiction upon record, hardly exceeded this, even in his latter days, when his facility of writing was the greatest.
THOMSON’S RECITATIONS.
Thomson, the author of the “Seasons,” was a very awkward reader of his own productions. His patron, Doddington, once snatched a MS. from his hand, provoked by his odd utterance, telling him that he did not understand his own verses! A gentleman of Brentford, however, told the late Dr. Evans, in 1824, that there was a tradition in that town of Thomson frequenting one of the inns there, and reciting his poems to the company.
GOLDSMITH’S “SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER.”
Goldsmith, during the first performance of this comedy, walked all the time in St. James’ Park in great uneasiness. Finally, when he thought that it must be over, hastening to the theatre, hisses assailed his ears as he entered the green-room. Asking in eager alarm of Colman the cause—“Pshaw, pshaw!” said Colman, “don’t be afraid of squibs, when we have been sitting on a barrel of gunpowder for two hours.” The comedy had completely triumphed—the audience were only hissing the after farce. Goldsmith had some difficulty in getting the piece on the stage, as appears from the following letter to Colman:—“I entreat you’ll relieve me from that state of suspense in which I have been kept for a long time. Whatever objections you have made, or shall make, to my play, I will endeavour to remove, and not argue about them. To bring in any new judges either of its merits or faults, I can never submit to. Upon a former occasion, when my other play was before Mr. Garrick, he offered to bring me before Mr. Whitehead’s tribunal, but I refused the proposal with indignation. I hope I shall not experience as hard treatment from you, as from him. I have, as you know, a large sum of money to make up shortly; by accepting my play, I can readily satisfy my creditor that way; at any rate, I must look about to some certainty to be prepared. For God’s sake take the play, and let us make the best of it; and let me have the same measure at least which you have given as bad plays as mine.”
SILENCE NOT ALWAYS WISDOM.
Coleridge once dined in company with a person who listened to him, and said nothing for a long time; but he nodded his head, and Coleridge thought him intelligent. At length, towards the end of the dinner, some apple dumplings were placed on the table, and the listener had no sooner seen them than he burst forth, “Them’s the jockeys for me!” Coleridge adds: “I wish Spurzheim could have examined the fellow’s head.”