I read Melopoyn’s Tragedy, and conceive a vast Opinion of his Genius — he recounts his Adventures

While we ate our breakfast together, I made him acquainted with the character and condition of the poet, who came in with his play at that instant, and, imagining we were engaged about business, could not be prevailed upon to sit; but, leaving his performance, went away. My friend’s tender heart was melted at the sight of a gentleman and Christian (for he had a great veneration for both these epithets) in such misery; and assented with great cheerfulness to a proposal I made of clothing him with the our superfluities; a task with which he charged himself, and departed immediately to perform it.

He was to sooner gone than I locked my door, and sat down to the tragedy; which I read to the end with vast pleasure, not a little amazed at conduct of the managers who had rejected it. The fable, in my opinion, was well chosen and naturally conducted, the incidents interesting, the characters beautifully contrasted, strongly marked, and well supported; the diction poetical, spirited and correct; the unities of the drama maintained with the most scrupulous exactness; the opening gradual and engaging, the peripeteia surprising, and the catastrophe affecting, In short, I judged it by the laws of Aristotle and Horace, and could find nothing in it exceptionable but a little too much embellishment in some few places, which objection he removed to my satisfaction, by a quotation of Aristotle’s poetics, importing, that the least interesting parts of a poem ought to be raised and dignified by the charms and energy of diction.

I revered his genius, and was seized with an eager curiosity to know the particular events of a fortune so unworthy of his merit. At that instant Strap returned with a bundle of clothes, which I sent with my compliments to Mr. Melopoyn, as s small token of my regard, and desired the favour of his company to dinner. He accepted my present and invitation, and in less than half-an-hour made his appearance in a decent dress, which altered his figure very much to his advantage. I perceived by his countenance that his heart was big with gratitude, and endeavoured to prevent his acknowledgments, by asking pardon for the liberty I had taken; he made no reply, but, with an aspect full of admiration and esteem, bowed to the ground, while the tears gushed from his eyes. Affected with these symptoms of an ingenuous mind, I shifted the conversation, and complimented him on his performance, which I assured him afforded me infinite pleasure. My approbation made him happy. Dinner being served, and Jackson arrived, I begged their permission for Strap to sit at table with us, after having informed them that he was a person to whom I was extremely obliged; they were kind enough to grant that favour, and we ate together with great harmony and satisfaction.

Our meal being ended, I expressed my wonder at the little regard Mr. Melopoyn had met with from the world: and signified a desire of hearing how he had been treated by the managers of the playhouses, to whom I understood from Jackson, he had offered his tragedy without success. “There is so little entertaining in the incidents of my life,” said he, “that I am sure the recital will not recompense your attention; but, since you discover an inclination to know them I understand my duty too well to disappoint your desire.

“My father, who was a curate in the country, being by the narrowness of his circumstances hindered from maintaining me at the university, took the charge of my education upon himself, and laboured with such industry and concern in the undertaking, that I had little cause to regret the want of public masters. Being at great pains to consult my natural bias, He discovered in me betimes an inclination for poetry; upon which he recommended to me an intimate acquaintance with the classics, in the cultivation of which he assisted me with a paternal zeal and uncommon erudition. When he thought me sufficiently acquainted with the ancients, he directed my studies to the best modern authors, French and Italian as well as English, and laid, and laid a particular injunction upon me make myself master of my mother tongue.

“About the age of eighteen, I grew ambitious of undertaking a work of some consequence; and, with my father’s approbation, actually planned the tragedy you have read; but, before I had finished four acts, that indulgent parent died, and left my mother and me in very indigent circumstances. A near relation, compassionating our distress, took us into his family, where I brought my fable to a conclusion; and, soon after that period my mother quitted this life. When my sorrow for this melancholy event had subsided, I told my kinsman, who was a farmer, that, having paid my last duty to my parent, I had now no attachment to detain me in the country, and therefore was resolved to set out for London, and offer my play to the stage, where I did not doubt of acquiring a large share of fame as well as fortune; in which case I should not be unmindful of my friends and benefactors. My cousin was ravished with the prospect of my felicity, and willingly contributed towards the expense of fitting me out for my expedition.

“Accordingly I took a place in the waggon, and arrived in town, where I hired an apartment in a garret, willing to live as frugally as possible, until I should know what I had to expect from the manager, to whom I intended to offer my play. For, though I looked upon myself as perfectly secure of a good reception, imagining that a patentee would be as eager to receive as I to present my production, I did not know whether or not he might be pre-engaged in favour of another author, a circumstance that would certainly retard my success. On this consideration, too, I determined to be speedy in my application, and even to wait upon one of the managers the very next day. For this purpose, I inquired my landlord if he knew where either or both of them lived: and he, being curious to know my business, and at the same time appearing to be a very honest friendly man (a tallow chandler), I made him acquainted with my design, upon which he told me that I went the wrong way to work; that I would not find such easy access to a manager as I imagined; and that if I delivered my performance without proper recommendation, it would be as one to a thousand if ever it would be minded. “Take my advice,” said he, “and your business is done. One of the patentees is a good catholic, as I am, and uses the same father who confesses me. I will make you acquainted with this good priest, who is an excellent scholar, and if he should approve of your play, his recommendation will go a great way in determining Mr. Supple to bring it on the stage.” I applauded his expedient, and was introduced to the friar, who, having perused the tragedy, was pleased to signify his approbation, and commended me in particular for having avoided all reflections upon religion. He promised to use all his influence with his son Supple in my behalf, and to inform himself that very day at what time it was proper for me to wait upon him with the piece. He was punctual in performing his engagement, and next morning gave me to understand that he had mentioned my affair to the manager, and that I had nothing more to do than to go to his house any time in the forenoon, and make use of his name, upon which I should find immediate admittance. I took his advice, put my performance in my bosom, and, having received directions, went immediately to the house of Mr. Supple, and knocked at the door, which had a wicket in the middle, faced with a net-work of iron. Through this a servant having viewed me for some time, demanded to know my business. I told him my business was with Mr. Supple, and that I came from Mr. O’Varnish. He examined my appearance once more, then went away, returned in a few minutes, and said his master was busy, and could not be seen. Although I was a little mortified at my disappointment, I was persuaded that my reception was owing to Mr. Supple’s ignorance of my errand: and, that I might meet with no more obstructions of the same kind, I desired Mr. O’Varnish to be my introductor the next time. He complied with my request, and obtained immediate admittance to the manager, who received me with the utmost civility, and promised to read my play with the first convenience. By his own appointment I called again in a fortnight, but he was gone out: I returned in a week after, and the poor gentleman was extremely ill: I renewed my visit in a fortnight after that, and he assured me he had been so much fatigued with business, that he had not been able as yet to read it to an end, but he would take the first opportunity: and, in the meantime, observed that what he had yet seen of it was very entertaining. I comforted myself with this declaration a few weeks longer, at the end of which I appeared again before his wicket, was let in, and found him laid up with the gout. I no sooner entered his chamber than, looking at me with a languishing eye, he said, “Mr. Melopoyn, I’m heartily sorry for an accident that has happened during my illness. You must know that my eldest boy, finding your manuscript upon the table in the dining-room, where I used to read it, carried it into the kitchen, and leaving it there, a negligent wench of a cook-maid, mistaking it for waste paper, has expended it but a few leaves in singing fowls upon the spit. But I hope the misfortune is not irreparable, since, no doubt, you have several copies.”

“I protest to you, my good friend, Mr. Random, I was extremely shocked at this information; but the good-natured gentleman seemed to be so much affected with my misfortune, that I suppress............