“Dear Sir,—The sole object of the note with which I troubled you on Friday last, was to ascertain whether the piece I had written had received that vigilant and attentive perusal which I conceive to be due to the production of a person already in the possession of some sort of literary character. There are I should suppose from fifty to a hundred manuscripts of all sizes and denominations handed to your theatre every season; a great majority of them the production of sempstresses, hair dressers, and taylors, without a glimmering of sense from one end to the other. It is impossible that these should be bona fide read through by your committee of censors, three or four pages will often be enough in conscience. The drift of my enquiry was, was my piece or was it not put into the heap?
“Your answer, without applying exactly to this point, opens a new question. You hint at alterations to be made by me. Indeed, sir, standing as the affair does, it is impossible that I should make alterations.
“My piece is promising, or it is not. If it is
radically bad, can my efforts be worse employed than in attempting alterations?
If it is worthy of encouragement your readers are bound by every
| 68 | WILLIAM GODWIN |
“The principal alteration I have myself meditated, consists in elevating the principal character, the exhibiting in every scene in which he appears (which I perceive I have not properly done) sensitive, jealous, the slave of passion, bursting out on the most trifling occasions into uncontrollable fits of violence, at the same time that his intentions are eminently virtuous. But I have no doubt that other alterations might be suggested to me by men of sense and experience, which reflection would lead me to approve and enable me to execute.”
