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.