“When I belonged to the Drury Lane Committee, and was one of the Sub-Committee of Management, the number of plays upon the shelves were about five hundred.  Conceiving that amongst these there must be some of merit, in person and by proxy I caused an investigation.  I do not think that of those which I saw there was one which could be conscientiously tolerated.  There never were such things as most of them!  Mathurin was very kindly recommended to me by Walter Scott, to whom I had recourse, firstly, in the hope that he would do something for us himself; and, secondly, in my despair, that he would point out to us any young (or old) writer of promise.  Mathurin sent his Bertram and a letter without his address, so that at first I could give him no answer.  When I at last hit upon his residence, I sent him a favourable answer and something more substantial.  His play succeeded; but I was at that time absent from England.

“I tried Coleridge too; but he had nothing feasible in hand at the time.  Mr. Sotheby obligingly offered all his tragedies, and I pledged myself, and notwithstanding many squabbles with my Committed Brethren, did get ‘Ivan’ accepted, read, and the parts distributed.  But, lo! in the very heart of the matter, upon some tepidness on the part of Kean, or warmth on that of the author, Sotheby withdrew his play.  Sir J.B.  Burgess did also present four tragedies and a farce, and I moved green-room and Sub-Committee, but they would not.

“Then the scenes I had to go through!—­the authors, and the authoresses, and the milliners, and the wild Irishmen,—­the people from Brighton, from Blackwall; from Chatham, from Cheltenham, from Dublin, from Dundee,—­who came in upon me! to all of whom it was proper to give a civil answer, and a hearing, and a reading.  Mrs. * * * ’s father, an Irish dancing-master of sixty years, calling upon me to request to play Archer, dressed in silk stockings on a frosty morning to show his legs (which were certainly good and Irish for his age, and had been still better,)—­Miss Emma Somebody, with a play entitled ’The Bandit of Bohemia,’ or some such title or production,—­Mr. O’Higgins, then resident at Richmond, with an Irish tragedy, in which the unities could not fail to be observed, for the protagonist was chained by the leg to a pillar during the chief part of the performance.  He was a wild man, of a salvage appearance, and the difficulty of _not_ laughing at him was only to be got over by reflecting upon the probable consequences of such cachinnation.

“As I am really a civil and polite person, and do hate giving pain when it can be avoided, I sent them up to Douglas Kinnaird,—­who is a man of business, and sufficiently ready with a negative,—­and left them to settle with him; and as the beginning of next year I went abroad, I have since been little aware of the progress of the theatres.