was a literary gentleman present who had
dramatized in his time two hundred and
forty-seven novels, as fast as they had come
out - some of them faster than they had
come out - and who was a literary
gentleman in consequence."
This gentleman sat on the left hand of
Nicholas, to whom he was introduced by his
friend the African Swallower, from the
bottom of the table, with a high eulogium
upon his fame and reputation.
"I am happy to know a gentleman of
such great distinction". said Nicholas
politely.
"Sir", replied the wit, 'you're very
welcome, I'm sure. The honour is reciprocal,
sir, as I usually say when I dramatize a
book. Did you ever hear a definition of
fame, sir?"
"I have heard several", replied Nicholas,
with a smile. "What is yours?"
"When I dramatize a book, sir*, said
the literary gentleman, "that's fame. For its
author."
"Oh, indeed!" rejoined Nicholas.
That's fame, sir*, siad the literary
gentleman.
"So Richard Turpin, Tom King, and
Jerry Abershaw have handed down to fame
the names of those on whom they committed
thier most impudent robberies?" said
Nicholas.
"I don't know anything about that, sir*,
answered the literary gentleman.
"Shakespeare dramatized stories which
had previously appeared in print, it is true",
observed Nicholas.
■Meaning Bill, sir?" said the literary
gentleman. "So he did. Bill was an adapter,
certainly. So he was - and very well he
adapted too - considering."
"I was about to say", rejoined Nicholas,
"that Shakespeare derived some of his plots
from old tales and legends in general
circulation; but it seems to me, that some of
the gentlemen of your craft at the present
day have shot very far beyond him".
"You're quite right, sir", interrupted the
literary gentleman, leaning back in his chair
and exercising his toothpick. "Human
intellect, sir, has progressed since his time,
is progressing, will progress."
"Shot beyond him, I mean", resumed
Nicholas, "in quite another respect, for,
whereas he brought within the magic circle
of his genius, traditions peculiarly adapted
for his purpose, and turned familiar things
into constellations which should enlighten
the world for ages, you drag within the
magic circle of your dulness, subjects not at
all adapted to the purposes of the stage, and
debase as he exalted. For instance, you take
the uncompleted books of living authors,
fresh from their hands, wet from the press,
cut, hack, and carve them to the powers and
capacities of your actors, and the capability
of your theaters, finish unfinished works,
hastily and crudely vamp up ideas not yet
worked out by their original projector, but
which have doubtless cost him many
thoughtful days and sleepless nights; by a
comparison of incidents and dialogue, down
to the very last word he may have written a
fortnight before, do your utmost to
anticipate his plot - all this without his
permission, and against his will; and then, to
crown the whole proceeding, publish in some
mean pamphlet, an unmeaning farrago of
