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 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 
 
 A BIOGRAPHY 
 , BY 
 
 WASHINGTON IRVING 
 
 EDITED, WITH INTROD UCTION, NO TES, 
 AND QUESTIONS 
 
 BY 
 
 H. E. COBLENTZ, A.M. 
 
 TEACHER OF ENGLISH IN THE SOUTH DIVISION HIGH SCHOOL, 
 MILWAUKEE, WISCONSIN 
 
 BOSTO:Nr, U.S.A. 
 
 D. C. HEATH & CO., PUBLISHERS 
 
 1904 
 
LIBRARY of CONGRESS 
 Two Cepies Received 
 
 MAR 9 1904 
 
 „ Copyright E-fltry , 
 
 CLASS 0L /Xc. No, 
 ^ / ^ 67 
 
 COPY ar 
 
 Copyright, 1904, 
 By D. C. Heath & Co. 
 

 EDITOR'S PREFACE 
 
 In the preparation of Washington Irving's Life of Gold- 
 srftith the editor has often recalled Scott's Antiquarian, who, 
 in preparing some precious manuscript for the press, made 
 "notes on all that was dark, and all that was clear, and all 
 that was neither dark nor clear." There was a strong tempta- 
 tion to annex Boswell's Life of Johnson^ and to make a con- 
 temporary historical and literary document as large as the 
 book itself. The wealth of information with which to over- 
 annotate the book is so great that an editor of the Life feels 
 guilty in making so few notes. Yet the editor hopes that he 
 has erred, if at all, on the side of a minimum of notes. He 
 remembers well that many years ago, when he first read 
 Irving's Goldsmith in a well-thumbed high school copy, he 
 found no notes, nor did he miss them. The pleasure that 
 he derived from the book was largely due to Irving, and to 
 the fact that the book did not have to be read as a school 
 exercise. As a teacher, he has found that boys and girls 
 have read the book before it was put " on the list," and that 
 the absence of notes was no great loss. Since the book is now 
 assigned for reading, let it be read, not studied in the intensive 
 way. The notes and questions are intended as a staff, not as 
 a crutch ; and if the staff is not needed, let Irving lead the 
 pupil. 
 
 H. E. C. 
 
 Milwaukee, 
 January 1, 1904. 
 
 ill 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 m 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Life of Washington Irving vii 
 
 Appreciations of Irving xvii 
 
 Books relating to Irving xxiii 
 
 Books relating to Goldsmith xxiv 
 
 Contemporary Literary History xxv 
 
 Irving's Preface xxix 
 
 LIFE OF OLIVER GOLDSMITH 1 
 
 Explanatory Notes 269 
 
 Explanatory Index 276 
 
 Critical Notes and Suggestive Questions . . . 287 
 Questions for Review 298 
 
MAPS AND ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 Portrait of Oliver Goldsmith .... Frontispiece 
 
 Sir Joshua Keynolds 
 
 FACING PAGE 
 
 Portrait of Washington Irving ..... xv 
 
 After a daguerreotype by Plumb, about 1850 
 
 Portrait of Samuel Johnson 86 »^ 
 
 Sir Joshua Eeynolds 
 
 Nos. 1 AND 2, Brick Court, London 144 
 
 Mary Horneck, " The Jessamt Bride " . . . . 154 
 
 Goldsmith's Burial-place 260 
 
 Diagram of the Poets' Corner, Westminster Ab^et . 261 
 
 London in 1780 296 
 
 VI 
 
WASHINGTON IRVING 
 
 Washington Irving was born in New York City, April 3, 
 1783, the year that the British troops evacuated New York. 
 Bm was not baptized, however, until after General Washington 
 and his army took possession of the city. " Washington's work 
 is ended," said Irving's mother, " and the child shall be named 
 after him." When Irving was six weeks old, a Scotch maid- 
 servant of the Irvings, with her charge in her arms, followed 
 the first President of the United States into a shop, and said, 
 *' Please, your Honor, here's a bairn was named for you." Wash- 
 ington placed his hand upon the boy's head, and gave him a 
 blessing. "That blessing," said Irving, in after years, "at- 
 tended me through life." 
 
 The Irving household, although strong in family affection, 
 was marked by a striking contrast in the parents. The father, 
 a Scotchman, a stern Presbyterian, a loyal patriot through the 
 American Revolution, was, as became a descendant from the 
 armor-bearer of Robert Bruce, a strict disciplinarian. Irving's 
 mother, on the other hand, had traits that are more evident in 
 her son : gentleness, cheerfulness, vivacity, and sympathy. The 
 mischievous disposition of the boy probably called forth so many 
 stern rebukes from his father, that Irving thought the paternal 
 training was too Puritanical. " I was led," he says " to believe 
 that everything that was pleasant was wicked." From his in- 
 dulgent mother he received only the kindly admonition, " Wash- 
 ington, I wish you were good ! " 
 
 His roguish propensity and indisposition to study led him 
 from the prescribed rules and courses of study in the schools. 
 " In school," we are told by one of his biographers, " he feasted 
 on travels and tales, but hated arithmetic. He wrote composi- 
 tions for boys, who, in return, worked sums for him." He 
 revelled in Sindhad the Sailor, Gulliver's Travels, Robinson 
 Crusoe, and Tlie World Displayed; the last a book of voyages 
 
 vii 
 
VIU WASHINGTON IRVING 
 
 that fired his youthful fancy with the wish to go to the ends of 
 the earth. In his later years he was to become a wanderer, and 
 to write many interesting books about foreign lands. But all 
 was not fancy and lassitude in Irving's school days ; he early 
 showed a strength of character that marked him as one of na- 
 ture's gentlemen. We learn with pleasure that one of his teach- 
 ers, admiring the straightforward truthfulness of the boy in 
 admitting a fault, dubbed him "the General." His kindness 
 of heart and sensitiveness to suffering would not allow him to 
 see corporal punishment in the school, so when some unlucky 
 schoolmate was to receive a whipping, Irving was permitted to 
 leave the schoolroom. 
 
 Declining to spend his time at Columbia University, as his 
 brothers had done, he entered, in his seventeenth year, a law 
 oflSce. He spent some time in migrating from one law office to 
 another until 1801, when he became a clerk in the office of 
 Josiah 0. Hoffman, one member of whose family was to have 
 a great influence over Irving's whole life. As a law student 
 Irving was not successful. He was a " heedless student," spend- 
 ing more time over literature than over law. That he was 
 finally admitted to the bar, some years later, is probably due 
 more to the kindness of the examiners than to Irving's knowl- 
 edge of law. 
 
 Irving's indisposition to study, both in school and at law, is 
 in some measure accounted for by his ill-health. He was so 
 far from robust that he was kept in the open air. It was dur- 
 ing this period in the law offices that he began his wanderings 
 in the Hudson and the Mohawk VaUey regions — regions that 
 are now known best because Irving discovered their beauties and 
 their legendary lore, and put them in enduring literary form. 
 On one of these trips he went as far north as Montreal. The 
 trip is hardly worth mentioning except for one curious and 
 pleasing incident. At Caughnawaga, the party, composed of 
 Josiah Hoffman, his family, and Irving, was received by some 
 Indians. Irving was persuaded to go through the ceremony 
 of exchanging names with the savages. The significant name 
 they gave him was " Vomonte," which means "Good to Every- 
 body." It was in these wanderings that Irving stored his mind 
 for his future tales ; the little journeys exercised " the most 
 
WASHINGTON IRVING IX 
 
 witching effect upon his imagination " — an effect that became 
 apparent in the bewitching tales that Irving was to write about 
 the river and valley of Hendrick Hudson. 
 
 In 1804, Irving's health becoming worse, his brothers de- 
 cided to send him abroad. As Irving was helped aboard the 
 ship, the captain remarked, " That chap will go overboard before 
 we get across." Contrary to the captain's prophecy, the voyage 
 did Irving good. He spent nearly two years in delightful 
 travel in Europe, feeding his fancy on Old World traditions. 
 He "Eiad learned to love the storied past of his native state, and 
 he looked forward to learning something of the legend-haunted 
 places of Europe. "Europe," he says, in the "Author's Ac- 
 count of Himself" in the Sketch Book, — " Europe held forth 
 all the charms of storied and poetical associations. They were 
 to be seen in the masterpieces of art, the refinements of highly 
 cultivated society, the quaint peculiarities of ancient and local 
 custom. My native country was full of youthful promise; 
 Europe was rich in the accumulated treasures of age. Her 
 very ruins told the history of times gone by, and every moulder- 
 ing stone was a chronicle. I longed to wander over the scenes 
 of renowned achievement — to tread, as it were, in the footsteps 
 of antiquity, to loiter about the ruined castle, to meditate on 
 the falling tower — to escape, in short, from the commonplace 
 realities of the present, and lose myself among the shadowy 
 grandeurs of the past." Leaving Bordeaux in June, Irving 
 went to the Mediterranean, where, off Messina, he saw Nelson's 
 fleet, ready for Trafalgar ; thence he went to Genoa, to Sicily, 
 to Naples, to Rome, where he met the American painter, Wash- 
 ington Allston; then he turned north to Paris, from which 
 place, in excuse of his neglected home correspondence, he wrote, 
 " I am a young man and in Paris " ; and finally he crossed over 
 to London, where he saw and enjoyed John Kemble and Mrs. 
 Siddons, noted actors of the day. Restored in health, Irving 
 embarked, January, 1806, for New York, landing there in 
 February. 
 
 Previous to his trip to Europe Irving had contributed some 
 juvenile efforts to the Morning Chronicle, a paper edited by 
 his brother Peter. The contributions, smart criticisms on the 
 drama and the actors of the day, had increased Irving's "pro- 
 
X WASHINGTON IRVING 
 
 pensity for belles lettres.'^ Shortly after his return to America 
 an opportunity was given him to write articles for the Salma- 
 gundi (1807), a periodical owned by James K. Paulding and 
 William Irving. The paper was suggested, perhaps, by the 
 Tatler and the Spectator of Addison and Steele, but it was 
 droller and more waggish. The Tatler was written " to expose 
 the false acts of life, to pull off the disguise of cunning, vanity, 
 and affectation, and to recommend a general simplicity in our 
 dress, our discourse, and our behavior " ; the Salmagundi was 
 written "to instruct the young, to reform the old, to correct 
 the town, and to castigate the age." The periodical was short- 
 lived, running through only twenty numbers, but it tickled the 
 town, and gave Irving a cue for his next attempt. 
 
 One of the papers Irving wrote for the Salmagundi pre- 
 tended to be a chapter from " The Chronicles of the Kenowned 
 and Ancient City of Gotham." This squib was used as a basis 
 for a burlesque of a very pompous and pretentious handbook, 
 just issued, called A Picture of New York. Irving took to the 
 humor of the situation, wrote his first notable book, A History 
 of New York (1809) by Diedrich Knickerbocker, and gravely 
 dedicated it to the New York Historical Society. Some of the 
 descendants of the old Dutch burghers were indignant at the 
 liberty taken with their honest, plodding, austere ancestors, 
 but the rest of the world accepted the book in the kindly humor 
 and playful parody with which it was written. As it was a 
 readable book — at that time a rare thing in American litera- 
 ture — it became immensely popular. Charles Dudley Warner 
 praises it as " one of the few masterpieces of humor," and as- 
 serts that it has entered the popular mind as no other book ever 
 has. This is indeed high praise, but even to-day, when our 
 American humor is broader and keener (but not so kind), 
 Knickerbocker's History probably stands first in our row of 
 humorous books. In England it also received a favorable 
 reception. Sir Walter Scott, who read it aloud to his family, 
 pronounced it " a most excellently jocose history," 
 
 Irving began the History of New York in a joyous and happy 
 spirit, but completed it in a time of sorrow — a sorrow that was 
 to follow him through life. He was in love with Miss Matilda 
 Hoffman, the daughter of his law monitor, Judge Hoffman, and 
 
WASHINGTON IRVING XI 
 
 their marriage had been agreed on. Suddenly she died at the 
 age of eighteen. Irving, who at that time was twenty-six years 
 old, never recovered from the blow, and never ceased to regret 
 his loss. In after years, when writing of his early love, he said, 
 " For years I could not even mention the name ; but her image 
 was constantly before me, and I dreamt of her incessantly." 
 Irving never married. He always carried with him in his jour- 
 neys, Matilda Hoffman's Bible and Prayer Book, and at his 
 death, when his desk was opened, there were found among his 
 prtVate papers, her picture and a lock of her hair. It is pleas- 
 ant to know that Irving bore his sorrow so manfully, and that 
 his love affair was not a thing of mere sentiment, but had its 
 roots deep in the strong character of the man. 
 
 For ten years after the publication of the History of New 
 York, Irving put forth no book. As a matter of fact, especially 
 in his earlier life, he had little of the decisive element in choos- 
 ing a career. This may be accounted for by the lack of a literary 
 atmosphere in New York. Irving was to be the pioneer of the 
 New World of Letters ; he had no really worthy associates to 
 help him blaze out the trail, and hence he went forward much 
 more cautiously into the undiscovered realms of American litera- 
 ture than he would have done had he been surrounded by 
 experienced helpers and guides. His brothers, encouraged by 
 his success with Knickerbocker, made him an associate partner 
 in their hardware business in New York and Liverpool, intend- 
 ing that he should share in the profits, but not in the work, so 
 that he could devote his time to literary pursuits. The War of 
 1812 coming on, Irving was called on for the first of a long list 
 of services that he was to perform for his country. He was 
 made one of a committee of business men who went to Washing- 
 ton in 1812 to seek measures of relief from the business depres- 
 sion resulting from the war. In 1814, after the British troops 
 had wantonly destroyed the capitol, Irving, although deprecating 
 the war, offered his services to Governor Tompkins of New York, 
 on whose staff he remained for four months, as aid and military 
 secretary. After peace was declared, Irving, altogether uncon- 
 scious of the new influence coming into his life, made another 
 visit, in 1815, to England to see his brother Peter. 
 
 He intended to remain abroad only a short time, but as it 
 
Xll WASHINGTON IRVING 
 
 happened his visit extended into a residence of seventeen years. 
 The immediate cause for his delay in returning home was the 
 ilhiess of his brother, whose business he was called upon to man- 
 age. For two years he tried to avert the failure of the Irving 
 brothers, but owing to trying financial times and a consequent 
 depressed business condition, he was unable to prevent the fail- 
 ure which occurred in 1818. This event determined Irving's 
 career ; he now resolved to make writing his profession. He 
 had offers to enter commercial or public life again, but having 
 made little' progress in both law and trade, he wisely put aside 
 briefs and bills, and turned to literature for support and pleas- 
 ure. Having made his decision for a literary career, Irving 
 wisely chose to remain in London ; for, although the most loyal 
 of Americans, he justly felt that the atmosphere of England, 
 more than the atmosphere of New York, was conducive to liter- 
 ary efforts. However loyal he was to his native land, he was 
 equally loyal to the dictates of his literary sense. To be thrown 
 into the society of such writers as Campbell, Rogers, Hallam, 
 Milman, Moore, and Scott meant much to a man of Irving's 
 shifting and hesitating temperament. In such environment, and 
 amid such associates, he was called upon to do his best work. 
 
 The first book Irving wrote in England was the Sketch Book 
 (1819) by "Geoffrey Crayon." The first number of the Sketch 
 Book — for it was issued serially — was published in America in 
 1819, and the series was completed in September, 1820. It is 
 not difficult for us to-day to see why the book should have re- 
 ceived immediate and remarkable favor, but it is well for us to 
 remember that Irving was an American, and that Sydney Smith 
 had asked, not long before, " Who reads an American book ? " 
 In fact, Murray, the great publisher and authors' friend, flatly 
 refused to publish the Sketch Book until he was persuaded to 
 do so by Sir Walter Scott. Irving was to write other books 
 that strike a higher level, but he never wrote another book 
 that contained two such immortal characters as Ichabod Crane 
 and Rip Van Winkle : they are the prize characters of American 
 fiction. 
 
 The success of the Sketch Book tempted Irving to write 
 other books somewhat similar in tone. Bracebridge Hall 
 (1822) and Tales of a Traveller (1824), following the well- 
 
WASHINGTON IRVING XIU 
 
 worked vein of the Sketch Book, added but little to living's 
 fame. The public and the critics, never long indulgent with 
 an author who repeats his work, found fault because Irving did 
 not cease writing sketches, and demanded that he should write 
 a novel or some more sustained work. Irving doughtily replied 
 that his work was his own, and that he intended to stick to his 
 " own line of writing." Nevertheless, he sought a new fount 
 of inspiration in another land, rich in historic and legendary- 
 themes — the land of Columbus. 
 
 4n 1826, Irving, at his own solicitation, was made a member 
 of the American Legation at Madrid. His first literary work 
 in Spain, undertaken at the suggestion of Alexander Everett, 
 then our Minister to Spain, was an attempt to translate ISfava- 
 rette's Voyages of Columbus. Irving found the book little to 
 his taste, and soon gave up the idea of translating it. He was 
 pleased, however, with the theme of the book, and began collect- 
 ing material for his Life of Columbus (1828). He had unusual 
 opportunities to gather new data and facts for the Life in the 
 archives of the Spanish government, and he made good use of 
 the opportunity. That Irving, who had done nothing so serious 
 in literature as to write the life of a great man, sliould write a 
 biography of the discoverer of America, a book that even to- 
 day holds an eminent place, probably the first place, in all the 
 lives of Columbus, is evidence of his fitness for writing biogra- 
 phy, and of his sterling qualities as an investigator. Irving 
 took infinite pains with the book ; investigated every fact and 
 theory ; examined every date ; rewrote parts of his manuscript 
 as many times as new material came to hand ; and above all, he 
 made a readable biography. Some years later Irving completed 
 his work on the Life of Columbus by publishing a less notable 
 companion book. The Companions of Columbus (1831). 
 
 It was quite natural that Irving, in his investigations in 
 Columbian literature, and in his intercourse with the Spanish 
 people, should find a wealth of legendary lore that he could 
 readily use. The Chronicles of the Conquest of Granada 
 (1829), which Irving regarded as his best work, is just the sort 
 of book that one would expect him to take great pleasure in 
 writing. It is historic in fundamentals, yet through it runs the 
 play of humor, the genial element of legendary fiction, and the 
 
XIV WASHINGTON IRVING 
 
 glamour of the writer who delights in coloring dry historic facti 
 with a lively human touch. Irving had written an Americai 
 sketch book, and in Bracebridge Hall, an English sketch book 
 this was a Spanish sketch book. 
 
 The Alhambra (1832) is generally considered the mos 
 pleasing and the best of Irving's books. Seldom are travel 
 lers the authors of enduring books about foreign countries 
 but Irving had imbibed the very spirit of Spain and of thi 
 romantic palace of Alhambra. From the palace he wrote 
 " Here, then, I am nestled in one of the most remarkable 
 romantic, and delicious spots in the world. ... It absolutel; 
 appears to me like a dream, or as if I am spell-bound in somi 
 fairy place." Out of this fairy place, Irving made one of th^ 
 most delightful medleys of travels, tales, character sketches, an( 
 descriptive sketches, in the English language. 
 
 Irving left Spain in 1829 to return to London as the Secre 
 tary of the American Legation at the Court of St. James. Her 
 he was received with the honor of old and new friendships tha 
 his established literary fame now brought him. He was hon 
 ored with a gold medal from the Royal Society, and was givei 
 the degree of Doctor of Civil Law by Oxford University. Hi 
 stay in England, however, was not long. He had been ii 
 Europe now for seventeen years, and he longed to see again thi 
 old, familiar scenes, so in 1832 he returned to America. 
 
 The welcome that his fellow-citizens gave him was in keeping 
 with his position as the head of American literature — a positioi 
 that was to be his as long as he lived. He was banqueted 
 honored at public gatherings, and offered public ofl&ces withii 
 the gift of his countrymen. Irving preferred, however, to settL 
 down somewhere out of the bustle of life. Though a bachelor 
 he had need of a home because of dependent relatives (hii 
 brother Peter and several nieces lived with him), who looke( 
 to his generosity for their support. What could be more natura 
 than that he should select a home in his familiar Hudson Rive 
 valley? At Tarrytown (now Irvington) he bought an ol( 
 Dutch stone cottage, once the home of Baltus Van Tassel of th( 
 Legend of Sleepy Hollow, and made " Sunnyside," which wai 
 to be his home until his death. Here he kept an open, generous 
 and hospitable house ; here he received many noted visitors 
 
'^y^-5^^^^^^^1-^'^^^ c/'if-taye<^<7 
 
 
WASHINGTON IRVING XY 
 
 among others Daniel Webster and Louis Bonaparte, afterward 
 Napoleon III., and near here he lies buried. Those who wish 
 to know of " Sunnyside " may read much about it in one of 
 the last of Irving's books — Wolfert^s Boost (1855). 
 
 Irving was by nature so much of a traveller that the fireside 
 was not to have too strong a hold on him. Only a short time 
 after his return from Europe, he travelled through the far West 
 with some government officials, who were to make Indian 
 treaties. This Western tour resulted in Irving's least noteworthy 
 bodks. Astoria (1836), named for the great merchant, John 
 Jacob Astor, was written for the most part by Pierre M. Irv- 
 ing, his nephew and biographer. Irving's other Western tales, 
 travels, and sketches. The Tour of the Prairies (1835), and 
 The Adventures of Captain Bonneville (1837), are little read 
 to-day. 
 
 The Tour was issued as part of a book entitled Crayon 
 Miscellanies: the miscellanies being reminiscences of Irving's 
 sojourns in England and in Spain. It is in this book that we 
 read the delightful account of Irving's visit to Abbotsford, the 
 home of Sir Walter Scott, and to Newstead Abbey, the home of 
 Lord Byron. 
 
 After the tour through the West, Irving passed his time 
 serenely at "Sunnyside." But he was not inactive. In 1838, 
 a year somewhat memorable in his life, he declined the nomina- 
 tion for mayor of New York City ; refused to run for Congress ; 
 declined a seat in Van Buren's Cabinet as Secretary of the Navy ; 
 resigned, in favor of W. H. Prescott, a cherished project of 
 writing a Conquest of Mexico; and began his Life of Wash- 
 ington. The following two years are of little moment. He 
 ^ wrote a now-forgotten Life of Margaret Davidson, and con- 
 tributed monthly articles to the Knickerbocker Magazine. 
 This was one of Irving's fallow periods ; a time which was to 
 be followed by a rich harvest of good work. 
 
 In 1842 Irving was again called upon to serve his country 
 in another way than in quietly writing the life of its first Presi- 
 dent. At the suggestion of Daniel Webster, he was appointed 
 Minister to Spain. 
 
 Irving, who had now become attached so firmly to " Sunny- 
 side," and who had such a distaste for public affairs, accepted 
 
Xvi WASHINGTON IRVING 
 
 the offer only because he felt that public duty compelled him to 
 do so. Spain, at that time stirred by civil strife and insurrec- 
 tion, was a trying post for any Minister, but Irving, who had 
 in his former residence there endeared himself to the volatile 
 Spanish people, directed our affairs with entire satisfaction to 
 both countries. 
 
 Amid these factional difficulties and diplomatic disputes, he 
 found little time for literary affairs. Now in his sixty-fourth 
 year, and desiring to finish his Washington, he resigned his 
 mission with the knowledge that he had served his country- 
 well in Spain, and in 1846 returned to "Sunnyside." 
 
 The remaining thirteen years of Irving's life were largely cen- 
 tred in his Washington (1855-1859), but he also published, 
 during the last years, his Life of Goldsmith (1849), Mahomet 
 and His Successors (1849), and Wolfe7^t's Boost (1855). 
 
 The Life of Goldsmith is of only relative importance in 
 Irving's work^ but as it is the immediate object of our study, it 
 may be well to learn something about its publication. The 
 circumstances of publishing the Life are best told by Irving's 
 publisher, Mr. Putnam. He says : " Sitting at my desk one 
 day, Irving was looking at Forster's clever work, which I pro- 
 posed to re-print. He remarked that it was a favorite theme of 
 his, and he had half a mind to pursue it, and extend into a volume 
 a sketch he had once made for an edition of Goldsmith's works. 
 I expressed a hope that he would do so ; and within sixty days 
 the first sheets of Irving's Goldsmith were in the printer's 
 hands. The press (as he says) was ' dogging at his heels,' for 
 in two or three weeks the volume was published." Thus was 
 conceived, written, and published one of the most delightful 
 biographies is the English language. 
 
 After 1850 Irving's attention was almost entirely given to 
 completing his Life of Washington. "All I fear," he said, 
 "is to fail in health, and fail in completing this work at the 
 same time. If I can only live to finish it, I would be willing 
 to die the next moment. I think I can make it a most interest- 
 ing book, if I had only ten more years of life." Nine more 
 years were allotted him. The fourth and final volume of the 
 Washington was published in the year Irving died at "Sunny- 
 side," November 28, 1859. 
 
WASHINGTON IRVING XVU 
 
 APPRECIATIONS OF IRVING 
 
 I had half an hour one day last week at Sunnyside, the resi- 
 dence of Washington Irving. Such a half hour ought to have 
 been one of the pleasantest in one's life, and so it was. The 
 pleasure began before reaching the door-step, or taking the old 
 man's hand — in the thousand associations of the place — for a 
 visit to Sunnyside is equal to a pilgrimage to Abbotsford, 
 
 The quaint, grotesque old dwelling, with its old-fashioned 
 gables, stood as solemn and sleepy among the trees as if it had 
 been built to personate old Rip Van Winkle at his nap. The 
 grounds were covered with brown and yellow leaves, with here 
 and there a red squirrel running and rustling among them, as 
 if pretending to be the true redbreast that laid the leaves over 
 the babes in the wood. 
 
 The morning had been rainy, and the afternoon showed only 
 a few momentary openings of clear sky : so that I saw Sunny- 
 side without the sun. But under the heavy clouds there was 
 something awe-inspiring in the sombre view of those grand hills 
 with their many-colored forests, and of Hendrik Hudson's an- 
 cient river still flowing at the feet of the ancient Palisades. 
 
 The mansion of Sunnyside has been standing for twenty-three 
 years : but when first its sharp-angled roof edged its way up 
 among the branches of the old woods, the region was far more 
 a solitude than now; for at that time our busy author had 
 secluded himself from almost everybody but one near neighbor ; 
 while he has since unwittingly gathered around him a little com- 
 munity of New York merchants, whose elegant county seats, 
 opening into each other by mutual intertwining roads, form 
 what looks like one vast and free estate, called on the time- 
 tables of the railroad by the honorary name of Irvington. 
 But even within the growing circle of his many neighbors, the 
 genial old Knickerbocker still lives in true retirement, enter- 
 taining his guests within echo distance of Sleepy Hollow — 
 without thought, and almost without knowledge, 
 
 how the great world 
 
 Is praising him far off." 
 Mr. Irving is not so old-looking as one would expect who 
 
XVlll WASHINGTON IRVING 
 
 knew his age. I fancied him as in the winter of life ; I found 
 him only in its Indian summer. He came down stairs, and 
 walked through the hall into the back parlor with a firm and 
 lively step that might well have made one doubt whether he 
 had truly attained his seventy-seventh year. He was suffering 
 from asthma, and was muffled against the damp air with a 
 Scotch shawl, wrapped like a great loose scarf around his neck ; 
 but as he took his seat in the old arm-chair, and, despite his 
 hoarseness and troubled chest, began an unexpectedly vivacious 
 conversation, he made me almost forget that I was the guest of 
 an old man long past his " three score years and ten." 
 
 But what should one talk about who had only half an hour 
 with Washington Irving'? I ventured the question, — 
 
 " Now that you have laid aside your pen, which of your books 
 do you look back upon with most pleasure 1 " 
 
 He immediately replied, " I scarcely look with full satisfac- 
 tion upon any ; for they do not seem what they might have 
 been. I often wish that I could have twenty years more, to 
 take them down from the shelf, one by one, and write them 
 over." 
 
 He spoke of his daily habits of writing, before he had made 
 the resolution to write no more. His usual hours for literary 
 work were from morning till noon. But, although he had gen- 
 erally found his mind most vigorous in the early part of the 
 day, he had always been subject to moods and caprices, and 
 could never tell, when he took up the pen, how many hours 
 would pass before he would lay it down. 
 
 " But," said he, " these capricious periods, of heat and glow 
 of composition, have been the happiest hours of my life. I have 
 never found in anything outside of the four walls of my study, 
 any enjoyment equal to sitting at my writing desk with a clean 
 page, a new theme, and a mind awake." 
 
 His literary employments, he remarked, had always been more 
 like entertainments than tasks. 
 
 " Some writers," said he, " appear to have been independent 
 of moods. Sir Walter Scott, for instance, had great powers of 
 writing, and could work almost at any time ; so could Crabbe — 
 but with this difference : Scott always, and Crabbe seldom, 
 wrote well." 
 
WASHINGTON IRVING XIX 
 
 "I remember," said he, "taking breakfast one morning with 
 Eogers, Moore, and Crabbe. The conversation turned on Lord 
 Byron's poetic moods : Crabbe said that, however it might be 
 with Lord Byron, as for himself, he could write as well one time 
 as another. But," said Irving, with a twinkle of humor at 
 recalling the incident, "Crabbe has written a great deal that 
 nobody can read." 
 
 He mentioned that while living in Paris he went a long period 
 without being able to write. "I sat down repeatedly," said 
 he,-" with pen and ink, but could invent nothing worth putting 
 on the paper. At length, I told my friend, Tom Moore, who 
 dropped in one morning, that now, after long waiting, I had the 
 mood, and would hold it, and work it out as long as it would 
 last, until I had wrung my brain dry. So I began to write 
 shortly after breakfast, and continued, without noticing how the 
 time was passing, until Moore came in again at four in the after- 
 noon — when I had completely covered the table with freshly 
 written sheets. I kept the mood almost without interruption 
 for six weeks." 
 
 I asked which of his books was the result of this frenzy : he 
 replied, " Bracebridge Hall." 
 
 " None of your works," I remarked, " are more charming than 
 the Biography of Goldsmith." 
 
 " Yet that was written," said he, " even more rapidly than 
 the other." He then added : — 
 
 " When I have been engaged on a continuous work, I have 
 often been obliged to rise in the middle of the night, light my 
 lamp, and write an hour or two, to relieve my mind ; and now 
 that I write no more, I am sometimes compelled to get up in 
 the same way to read." 
 
 — Theodore Tilton, in The Independent, November 24, 1859. 
 
 For my part, I know of nothing like it. I have read no 
 biographical memoir which carries forward the reader so de- 
 lightfully and with so little tediousness of recital or reflection. 
 I never take it up without being tempted to wish that Irving 
 had written more works of the kind ; but this could hardly be ; 
 for where could he have found another Goldsmith 1 
 
 — W. C. Bryant, before N. Y. Historical Society, April 3, 1860, 
 
XX WASHINGTON IRVING 
 
 For philosophical history Irving had no aptitude. Even in 
 biography he appears at his best where the details are few, and 
 where he grasps the idea of his subject rather by his sympathies 
 than by his intentions of cause and effect. In the Life of 
 Goldsmith he has given us one of the most charming biogra- 
 phies ever written. His success, apart from his felicity of style, 
 is owing to his perfect sympathy with the man. A more logical 
 mind would be puzzled with the inconsistencies of Goldsmith's 
 character, and become entangled in metaphysical theories for 
 their reconciliation. Irving reconciles all these diiferences in 
 his heart rather than in his head, and makes us forget them by 
 forgetting them himself. — D. J. Hill's Washington Irving. 
 
 It may be doubted whether Irving's Goldsmith or his Wash- 
 ington can be accepted as the Goldsmith or the Washington who 
 once trod the earth ; yet his Goldsmith and Washington, and 
 the other personages whom he introduced into their stories, are 
 at least living human beings. His work is perhaps halfway 
 between history and fiction ; imaginative history is perhaps the 
 best name for it. As usual, he was preoccupied almost as much 
 with a desire to write charmingly as with a purpose to write 
 truly ; but in itself this desire was beautifully true. Through- 
 out, one feels, Irving wrote as well as he could, and he knew 
 how to write better than almost any contemporary Englishman. 
 — Barrett Wendell's Literary History of America. 
 
 AV"e have always fancied that there was a strong resemblance 
 between Goldsmith and Irving. They both look at human nature 
 from the same generous point of view, with the same kindly 
 sympathies and the same tolerant philosophy. They have the 
 same quick perception of the ludicrous, and the same tender 
 simplicity in the pathetic. There is the same quiet vein of 
 humor in both, and the same cheerful spirit of hopefulness. 
 You are at a loss to conceive how either of them can ever have 
 had an enemy ; and as for jealousy and malice, and all that 
 brood of evil passions which beset the path of fame so thickly, 
 you feel that there can be no resting-place for them in bosoms 
 like theirs. Yet each preserves his individuality as distinctly 
 as if there were no points of resemblance between them. Ir- 
 ving's style is as though Goldsmith had never written, and his 
 
WASHINGTON IRVING XXI 
 
 pictures have that freshness about them which nothing but life- 
 studies can give. He has written no poem, no Traveller, no 
 Deserted Village, no exquisite ballad like the Hermit, no little 
 stanzas of unapproachable pathos like Woman. But how much 
 real, poetry and how much real pathos has he not written. We 
 do not believe that there was ever such a description of the song 
 of a bird, as his description of the soaring of a lark in Buckthorn ; 
 and the poor old widow in the Sketch Book, who, the first 
 Sunday after her son's burial, comes to church with a few bits 
 of Jblack silk and ribbon about her, the only external emblem of 
 mourning which her poverty allows her to make, is a picture 
 that we can never look at through his simple and graphic 
 periods without sobbing like a child. Poet he is, and that too 
 of the best and noblest kind, for he stores our memories with 
 lovely images and our hearts with human aff'ections. If you 
 would learn to be kinder and truer, if you would learn to bear 
 life's burdens manfully, and make for yourself sunshine where 
 half your fellow-men see nothing but shadows and gloom, read 
 and meditate Goldsmith and Irving. 
 
 — G. W. Greene's Biographical Studies. 
 
 Every reader has his first book. I mean to say one book 
 among all others, which in early youth first fascinates his im- 
 agination, and at once excites and satisfies the desires of his 
 mind. To me this first book was the Sketch Book of Washing- 
 ton Irving. I was a schoolboy when it was published, and 
 read each succeeding number with ever-increasing wonder and 
 delight; spell-bound by its pleasant humor, its melancholy 
 tenderness, its atmosphere of reverie, nay, even by its gray-brown 
 covers, the shaded letters of the titles, and the fair, clean type, 
 which seemed an outward symbol of the style. 
 
 How many delightful books the same author has given us, 
 written before and since — volumes of history and fiction, most 
 of which illustrate his native land, and some of which illumine 
 it, and make the Hudson, I will not say as classic, but as ro- 
 mantic as the Rhine. Yet still the charm of the Sketch Book 
 remains unbroken ; the old fascination still lingers about it ; 
 and whenever I open its pages, I open also that mysterious door 
 which leads back into the haunted chambers of youth. 
 
XXll WASHINGTON IRVING 
 
 Many years afterwards, I had the pleasure of meeting Mr. 
 Irving in Spain, and found the author, whom I had loved, re- 
 peated in the man. The same playful humor ; the same touches 
 of sentiment ; the same poetic atmosphere ; and, what I ad- 
 mired still more, the entire absence of all literary jealousy, of 
 all that mean avarice of fame, which counts what is given to 
 another as so much taken from one's self — 
 
 " And rustling hears in every breeze, 
 The laurels of Miltiades." 
 
 At this time Mr. Irving was at Madrid, engaged upon his 
 Life of Columbus ; and if the work itself did not bear ample 
 testimony to his zealous and conscientious labor, I could do so 
 from personal observation. He seemed to be always at work. 
 " Sit down," he would say ; " I will talk with you in a moment, 
 but I must first finish this sentence." 
 
 One summer morning, passing his house at the early hour of 
 six, I saw his study window already wide open. On my men- 
 tioning it to him afterwards, he said: "Yes, I am always at 
 my work as early as six." Since then I have often remembered 
 that sunny morning and that open window, so suggestive of his 
 sunny temperament and his open heart, and equally so of his 
 patient and persistent toil; and have recalled those striking 
 words of Dante : — 
 
 " Seated upon down, 
 Or in his bed, man cometh not to fame, 
 Withouten which, whoso his life consumes. 
 Such vestige of himself on earth shall leave. 
 As smoke in air, and in the water foam." 
 
 — Henry W. Longfellow before the Massachusetts Historical 
 Society, December 15, 1859, 
 
 He wrote with such a charm and grace of expression, that 
 the mere fascination of his style would often prove powerful 
 enough to keep the reader intent upon his pages when the sub- 
 ject itself might not happen to interest him. His humor was 
 of a peculiar quality, always delicate in character, and yet 
 enriched with a certain quaint poetic coloring, which added 
 greatly to its effect. His graver writings have no less beauty, 
 
WASHINGTON IRVING XXIU 
 
 and several of them prove that, as is often the case with men 
 who possess a large share of humor, he was no less a master in 
 the pathetic, and knew how to touch the heart. His Life of 
 Oliver Goldsmith always seemed to us one of the most de- 
 lightful works of biography ever written — we doubt whether 
 Goldsmith himself, even if he had been so fortunate in his 
 subject, could have executed his task so well. 
 
 — From an obituary notice in the New York Evening Post, Novem- 
 ber 29, 1859. 
 
 What Irving ? thrice welcome, warm heart and fine brain ; 
 
 You bring back the happiest spirit from Spain, 
 
 And the gravest sweet humor, that ever were there 
 
 Since Cervantes met death in his gentle despair. 
 
 Nay, don't be embarrassed, nor look so beseeching, 
 
 I shan't run directly against my own preaching. 
 
 And, having just laughed at their Raphaels and Dantes, 
 
 Go to setting you up beside matchless Cervantes ; 
 
 But allow me to speak what I honestly feel, — 
 
 To a true poet-heart add the fun of Dick Steele, 
 
 Throw in all of Addison, minus the chill. 
 
 With the whole of that partnership's stock and good will, 
 
 Mix well, and, while stirring, hum o'er, as a spell, 
 
 The fine old English Gentleman ; simmer it well, 
 
 Sweeten just to your own private liking, then strain, 
 
 That only the finest and clearest remain ; 
 
 Let it stand out of doors till a soul it receives 
 
 From the warm, lazy sun loitering down through green leaves, 
 
 And you'll find a choice nature, not wholly deserving 
 
 A name either English or Yankee — just Irving. 
 
 — James Russell Lowell's Fable for Critics. 
 
 BOOKS RELATING TO IRVING 
 
 The standard biography of Washington Irving is by his 
 nephew, Pierre M. Irving (4 vols., 1862). Charles Dudley 
 Warner's Washington Irving is the most interesting of the 
 short biographies of Irving. The same writer has a choice 
 essay on Irving, published by Harper & Brothers. Thackeray, 
 who met Irving in America in 1853, has written a loving trib- 
 ute to Irving's memory in his Round-about Papers : Nil Nisi 
 Bonum, which should be read. One of the most discriminating 
 
Xxiv OLIVER GOLDSMITH 
 
 and scholarly essays on Irving is in Professor Barrett Wendell's 
 Literary History of America. William Dean Howells, in My 
 Literai'y Passions, has a charming essay on Irving. 
 
 BOOKS EELATING TO GOLDSMITH 
 
 The editor of this book believes that it is unwise for secondary 
 pupils to consult the larger biographies of Goldsmith. Irving's 
 Life of Goldsmith does not err to any great extent, and to spend 
 time over Forster's Life and Times of Oliver Goldsmith and 
 Prior's Life of Oliver Goldsmith is profitless. The teacher 
 may select passages from those books to read to the class, or to 
 add to the fund of anecdotes concerning Goldsmith. Dobson's 
 Life of Goldsmith, in the Great Writers series, is a most pains- 
 taking and scholarly book. Black's Life of Goldsmith in the 
 English Men of Letters series is merely a rehash of Prior and 
 Forster without any distinctive note of its own. The one book 
 that the pupil should be encouraged to dip into is Boswell's 
 Life of Johnson. No attempt should be made to have the 
 pupil read the whole book, but with the help of the index much 
 interest can be aroused in reading the story of Goldsmith and 
 his friends as told by the " Prince of Biographers." Dr. Birk- 
 beck Hill's edition of Boswell's Johnson is the most acceptable 
 edition of that book. Mr. Augustine Birrell's recently issued 
 edition of the Johnson is interesting for its many illustrations. 
 If, however, the pupil fails to take delight in Irving's Goldsmith^ 
 it is a hopeless and thankless task to drive him into longer and 
 drier books about Goldsmith or Goldsmith's contemporaries. 
 
 The teacher should know Thackeray's English Humorists, 
 D'Arblay's Diary and Letters, Dobson's Eighteenth Century 
 Vignettes, Besant's London in the Eighteenth Century, Hare's 
 Walks in London, Hutton's Literary Landmarks of London, 
 and Macaulay's various Essays on writers of the period. 
 
OLIVER GOLDSMITH 
 
 XXV 
 
 GOLDSMITH 
 
 1728. Bom at Pallas. 
 1734. Entered school at Elpin. 
 1744. Entered Trinity College, Dublin. 
 1747. His father died. 
 1749. Graduated from Trinity College. 
 1752. Went to Edinburgh to study medi- 
 cine. 
 
 1755. Travelled in France, Italy, and 
 
 Switzerland. 
 
 1756. Returned to England. 
 Usher in Peckham School. 
 
 1757r Contributed to Monthly Revieio. 
 
 1759. The Bee. Wrote the Inquiry. 
 
 1760. Published The Citizen of the World. 
 1762. Wrote The Vicar of Wakefield. 
 
 1765. Published The Traveller. Essays. 
 
 1766. Published The Vicar of Wakefield. 
 
 1768. Good-natured Man performed. 
 
 1769. Published The History of Rome. 
 
 1770. Published The Deserted Village. 
 
 1771. Published the History of England, 
 
 4 vols. 
 
 1773. She Stoops to Conquer performed. 
 
 1774. Retaliatio7i wa,s published in April. 
 The History of Animated Nature 
 
 was published in June. 
 Died in London, April 4. 
 
 CONTEMPORARIES 
 
 Johnson . 
 Hume . . 
 Sterne . . 
 Gray . . 
 Garrick . 
 H. Walpole 
 Smollett . 
 Sheridan . 
 Adam Smith 
 Reynolds . 
 Wilkes. . 
 Goldsmitli 
 Percy . . 
 Burke . . 
 Churchill . 
 Cumberland 
 Beattie 
 Gibbon 
 Boswell . 
 Goethe 
 C.J. Fox. 
 R. B. Sheridan 
 Frances Burney 
 Mrs. Siddons . 
 
 1709-1784. 
 1711-1776. 
 1713-1768. 
 1716-1771. 
 1716-1779. 
 1717-1797. 
 1721-1771. 
 1721-1788. 
 1723-1790. 
 1723-1792. 
 1727-1797. 
 1728-1774. 
 1728-1811. 
 1729-1797. 
 1731-1764. 
 1732-1811. 
 1735-1803. 
 1737-1794. 
 1740-1795. 
 1749-1832. 
 1749-1806. 
 1751-1816. 
 1752-1840. 
 1755-1831. 
 
 CONTEMPORARY LITERARY HISTORY 
 
 1728. 
 
 1730. 
 1731. 
 1732. 
 1738. 
 1740. 
 1744. 
 1744. 
 1749. 
 
 1751. 
 1755. 
 
 1756. 
 1759. 
 1762. 
 1769. 
 
 Pope's Dunciad. 
 
 Gay's Beggar's Opera. 
 
 Thomson's Seasons. 
 
 Gentleman's Magazine founded. 
 
 Pope's Essay on Man. 
 
 Johnson's London. 
 
 Richardson's Pamela. 
 
 Young's Night Tho^ights. 
 
 Johnson's Life of Savage. 
 
 Fielding's Tom Jones. 
 
 Johnson's Vanity of Human Wishes. 
 
 Johnson's Irene. 
 
 Gray's Elegy. 
 
 Johnson's Dictionary. 
 
 Burke's Essay on the Sublime and Beautiful. 
 
 Johnson's Rasselas. 
 
 Macpherson's Ossian's Poems. 
 
 Robertson's Charles V. 
 
OLIVER GOLDSMITH 
 
 A BIOGBAPHT 
 
 BY 
 WASHINGTON IRVING 
 
PEEFACE 
 
 Iifcthe course of a revised edition of my works I have come 
 to a biographical sketch of Goldsmith, published several years 
 since. It was written hastily, as introductory to a selection 
 from his writings ; and, though the facts contained in it were 
 collected from various sources, I was chiefly indebted for them 
 to the voluminous work of Mr. James Prior, who had collected 
 and collated the most minute particulars of the poet's history 
 with unwearied research and scrupulous fidelity ; but had 
 rendered them, as I thought, in a form too cumbrous and 
 overlaid with details and disquisitions, and matters uninter- 
 esting to the general reader. 
 
 When I was about of late to revise my biographical sketch, 
 preparatory to republication, a volume was put into my hands, 
 recently given to the public by Mr. John Forster, of the Inner 
 Temple, who, likewise availing himself of the labors of the 
 indefatigable Prior, and of a few new lights since evolved, has 
 produced a biography of the poet, executed with a spirit, a 
 feeling, a grace and an eloquence that leave nothing to be 
 desired. Indeed it would have been presumption in me to 
 undertake the subject after it had been thus felicitously treated, 
 did I not stand committed by my previous sketch. That 
 sketch now appeared too meager and insufficient to satisfy 
 public demand; yet it had to take its place in the revised 
 series of my works unless something more satisfactory could 
 be substituted. Under these circumstances I have again taken 
 
 xxix 
 
2 • OLIVER GOLDSMITH 
 
 telligent being that he appears in his writings. Scarcely an 
 adventure or character is given in his works that may not be 
 traced to his own parti-colored story. Many of his most ludi- 
 crous scenes and ridiculous incidents have been drawn from his 
 own blunders and mischances, and he seems really to have been 
 buffeted into almost every maxim imparted by him for the 
 instruction of his reader. 
 
 Oliver Goldsmith was born on the 10th of November, 1728, 
 at the hamlet of Pallas, or Pallasmore, county of Longford, in 
 Ireland. He sprang from a respectable, but by no means a 
 thrifty stock. Some families seem to inherit kindliness and 
 incompetency, and to hand down virtue and poverty from gen- 
 eration to generation. Such was the case with the Goldsmiths. 
 "They were always," according to their own accounts, "a strange 
 family ; they rarely acted like other people ; their hearts were 
 in the right place, but their heads seemed to be doing any thing 
 but what they ought." — " They were remarkable," says another 
 statement, " for their worth, but of no cleverness in the ways 
 of the world." Oliver Goldsmith will be found faithfidly to 
 inherit the virtues and weaknesses of his race. 
 
 His father, the Rev. Charles Goldsmith, with hereditary im- 
 providence, married when very young and very poor, and starved 
 along for several years on a small country curacy and the as- 
 sistance of his wife's friends. His whole income, eked out by 
 the produce of some fields which he farmed, and of some occa- 
 sional duties performed for his wife's uncle, the rector of an ad- 
 joining parish, did not exceed forty pounds. 
 
 "And passing rich with forty pounds a year." 
 
 He inhabited an old, half-rustic mansion, that stood on a rising 
 ground in a rough, lonely part of the country, overlooking a 
 low tract occasionally flooded by the river Inny. In this house 
 Goldsmith was born, and it was a birthplace worthy of a poet ; 
 for, by all accounts, it was haunted ground. A tradition handed 
 down among the neighboring peasantry states that, in after 
 years, the house, remaining for some time untenanted, went to 
 decay, the roof fell in, and it became so lonely and forlorn as 
 to be a resort for the " good people " or fairies, who in Ireland 
 are supposed to delight in old, crazy, deserted mansions for 
 
OLIVER GOLDSMITH 6 
 
 their midnight revels. All attempts to repair it were in vain ; 
 the fairies battled stoutly to maintain possession. A huge 
 misshapen hobgoblin used to bestride the house every evening 
 with an immense pair of jack-boots, which, in his efforts at hard 
 riding, he would thrust through the roof, kicking to pieces all 
 the work of the preceding day. The house was therefore left 
 to its fate, and went to ruin. 
 
 Such is the popular tradition about Goldsmith's birthplace. 
 About two years after his birth a change came over the circum- 
 stances of his father. By the death of his wife's uncle he suc- 
 ceeded to the rectory of Kilkenny West ; and, abandoning the 
 old goblin mansion, he removed to Lissoy, in the county of 
 Westmeath, where he occupied a farm of seventy acres, situated 
 on the skirts of that pretty little village. 
 
 This was the scene of Goldsmith's boyhood, the little world 
 whence he drew many of those pictures, rural and domestic, 
 whimsical and touching, which abound throughout his works, 
 and which appeal so eloquently both to the fancy and the 
 heart. Lissoy is confidently cited as the original of his "Au- 
 burn " in the " Deserted Village " ; his father's establishment, 
 a mixture of farm and parsonage, furnished hints, it is said, for 
 the rural economy of the Vicar of Wakefield ; and his father 
 himself, with his learned simplicity, his guileless wisdom, his 
 amiable piety, and utter ignorance of the world, has been ex- 
 quisitely portrayed in the worthy Dr. Primrose. Let us pause 
 for a moment, and draw from Goldsmith's writings one or two 
 of those pictures which, under feigned names, represent his 
 father and his family, and the happy fireside of his childish 
 days. 
 
 " My father," says the " Man in Black," who, in some re- 
 spects, is a counterpart of Goldsmith himself, " my father, the 
 younger son of a good family, was possessed of a small living 
 in the church. His education was above his fortune, and his 
 generosity greater than his education. Poor as he was, he had 
 his flatterers poorer tlian himself : for every dinner he gave them, 
 they returned him an equivalent in praise ; and this was all he 
 wanted. The same ambition that actuates a monarch at the 
 head of his army, influenced my father at the head of his table ; 
 he told the story of the ivy-tree, and that was laughed at ; he 
 
4 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 
 
 repeated the jest of the two scholars and one pair of breeches, 
 and the company laughed at that ; but the story of Taify in 
 the sedan-chair was sure to set the table in a roar. Thus his 
 pleasure increased in proportion to the pleasure he gave ; he 
 loved all the w(5rld, and he fancied all the world loved him. 
 
 "As his fortune was but small, he lived up to the very 
 extent of it : he had no intention of leaving his children money, 
 for that was dross ; he resolved they should have learning, for 
 learning, he used to observe, was better than silver or gold. 
 For this purpose he undertook to instruct us himself, and took 
 as much care to form our morals as to improve our understand- 
 ing. We were told that universal benevolence was what first 
 cemented society : we were taught to consider all the wants of 
 mankind as our own ; to regard the human face divine with 
 affection and esteem ; he wound us up to be mere machines of 
 pity, and rendered us incapable of withstanding the slightest 
 impulse made either by real or fictitious distress. In a word, 
 we were perfectly instructed in the art of giving away thou- 
 sands before we were taught the necessary qualifications of 
 getting a farthing." ^ 
 
 In the " Deserted Village " we have another picture of his 
 father and his father's fireside : 
 
 " His house was known to all the vagrant train, 
 He chid their wanderings, but relieved their pain ; 
 The long-reraembered beggar was his guest, 
 Whose beard, descending, swept his aged breast ; 
 The ruin'd spendthrift, now no longer proud, 
 Claim'd kindred there, and had his claims allow'd ; 
 The broken soldier, kindly bade to stay, 
 Sat by his fire, and talk'd the night away; 
 Wept o'er his wounds, or tales of sorrow done, 
 Shoulder'd his crutch, and show'd how fields were won. 
 Pleased with his guests, the good man learned to glow, 
 And quite forgot their vices in their woe ; 
 Careless their merits or their faults to scan, 
 His pity gave ere charity began." 
 
 The family of the worthy pastor consisted of five sons and 
 three daughters. Henry, the eldest, was the good man's 
 
 1 Citizen of the World, Letter xxvii. 
 
OLIVER GOLDSMITH 5 
 
 pride and hope, and he tasked his slender means to the utmost 
 in educating him for a learned and distinguished career. Oliver 
 was the second son, and seven years younger than Henry, who 
 was the guide and protector of his childhood, and to whom 
 he was most tenderly attached throughout life. 
 
 Oliver's education began when he was about three years 
 old ; that is to say, he was gathered under the wings of one 
 of those good old motherly dames, found in every village, who 
 cluck together the whole callow brood of the neighborhood, to 
 teacli them their letters and keep them out of harm's way. 
 Mistress Elizabeth Delap, for that was her name, flourished 
 in this capacity for upward of fifty years, and it was the pride 
 and boast of her declining days, when nearly ninety years of 
 age, that she was the first that had put a book (doubtless a 
 hornbook) into Goldsmith's hands. Apparently he did not 
 much profit by it, for she confessed he was one of the dullest 
 boys she had ever dealt with, insomuch that she had some- 
 times doubted whether it was possible to make any thing of 
 him : a common case with imaginative children, who are apt 
 to be beguiled from the dry abstractions of elementary study by 
 the picturings of the fancy. 
 
 . At six years of age he passed into the hands of the village 
 schoolmaster, one Thomas (or, as he was commonly and irrev- 
 erently named, Paddy) Byrne, a capital tutor for a poet. He 
 had been educated for a pedagogue, ■ but had enlisted in the 
 army, served abroad during the wars of Queen Anne's time, 
 and risen to the rank of quartermaster of a regiment in Spain. 
 At the return of peace, having no longer exercise for the sword, 
 he resumed the ferule, and drilled the urchin populace of Lissoy, 
 Goldsmith is supposed to have had him and his school in view 
 in the following sketch in his " Deserted Village " : 
 
 "Beside yon straggling fence that skirts the way, 
 With blossom 'd furze unprofitably gay, 
 There, in his noisy mansion, skill'd to rule. 
 The village master taught his little school ; 
 A man severe he was, and stern to view, 
 I knew him well, and every truant knew : 
 Well had the boding tremblers learn' d to trace 
 The day's disasters in his morning face ; 
 Full well they laugh' d with counterfeited glee 
 
b OLIVER GOLDSMITH 
 
 At all his jokes, for many a joke had he ; 
 
 Full- well the busy whisper circling round, 
 
 Convey'd the dismal tidings when he frown'd : 
 
 Yet he was kind, or, if severe in aught, 
 
 The love he bore to learning was in fault ; 
 
 The village all declared how much he knew, 
 
 'Twas certain he could write and cipher too ; 
 
 Lands he could measure, terms and tides presage, 
 
 And e'en the story ran that he could gauge ; 
 
 In arguing, too, the parson own'd his skill. 
 
 For, e'en though vanquished, he could argue still ; 
 
 While words of learned length and thund'ring sound 
 
 Amazed the gazing rustics ranged around — 
 
 And still they gazed, and still the wonder grew, 
 
 That one small head could carry all he knew." 
 
 There are certain whimsical traits in the character of Byrne, 
 not given in the foregoing sketch. He was fond of talking of 
 his vagabond wanderings in foreign lands, and had brought 
 with him from the wars a world of campaigning stories, of 
 which he was generally the hero, and w^hich he would deal 
 forth to his wondering scholars when he ought to have been 
 teaching them their lessons. These travellers' tales had a 
 powerful effect upon the vivid imagination of Goldsmith, and 
 awakened an unconquerable passion for wandering and seeking 
 adventure. 
 
 Byrne was, moreover, of a romantic vein, and exceedingly 
 superstitious. He was deeply versed in the fairy superstitions 
 which abound in Ireland, all which he professed implicitly to 
 believe. Under his tuition Goldsmith soon became almost as 
 great a proficient in fairy lore. From this branch of good-for-. 
 nothing knowledge, his studies, by an easy transition, extended 
 to the histories of robbers, pirates, smugglers, and the whole 
 race of Irish rogues and rapparees. Every thing, in short, that 
 savored of romance, fable, and adventure, was congenial to his 
 poetic mind, and took instant root there ; but the slow plants 
 of useful knowledge were apt to be overrun, if not choked, by 
 the weeds of his quick imagination. 
 
 Another trait of his motley preceptor, Byrne, was a dis- 
 position to dabble in poetry, and this likewise was caught 
 by his pupil. Before he was eight years old Goldsmith had 
 contracted a habit of scribbling verses on small scraps of 
 
OLIVER GOLDSMITH 7 
 
 paper, which, in a little while, he would throw into the fire. 
 A few of these sybilline leaves, however, were rescued from 
 the flames and conveyed to his mother. The good woman 
 read them with a mother's delight, and saw at once that her 
 son was a genius and a poet. From that time she beset 
 her husband with solicitations to give the boy an education 
 suitable to his talents. The worthy man was already strait- 
 ened by the costs of instruction of his eldest son Henry, and 
 had intended to bring his second son up to a trade ; but the 
 . mother would listen to no such thing ; as usual, her influence 
 prevailed, and Oliver, instead of being instructed in some 
 humble, but cheerful and gainful handicraft, was devoted to 
 poverty and the Muse, 
 
 A severe attack of the smallpox caused him to be taken 
 from under the care of his stoiy-telling preceptor, Byrne. His 
 malady had nearly proved fatal, and his face remained pitted 
 through life. On his recovery he was placed under the charge 
 of the Rev. Mr. Griffin, schoolmaster of Elphin, in Roscommon, 
 and became an inmate in the house of his uncle, John Gold- 
 smith, Esq., of Bally oughter, in that vicinity. He now entered 
 upon studies of a higher order, but without making any uncom- 
 mon progress. Still a careless, easy facility of disposition, an 
 amusing eccentricity of manners, and a vein of quiet and pecu- 
 liar humor, rendered him a general favorite, and a trifling inci- 
 dent soon induced his uncle's family to concur in his mother's 
 opinion of his genius. 
 
 A number of young folks had assembled at his uncle's to 
 dance. One of the company, named Cummings, played on the 
 violin. In the course of the evening Oliver undertook a horn- 
 pipe. His short and clumsy figure, and his face pitted and 
 discolored with the smallpox, rendered him a ludicrous figure 
 in the eyes of the musician, who made merry at his expense, 
 dubbing him his little J^sop. Goldsmith w^as nettled by the 
 jest, and, stopping short in the hornpipe, exclaimed, 
 
 " Our herald hath proclaimed this saying, 
 See iEsop dancing, and his monkey playing." 
 
 The repartee was thought wonderful for a boy of nine years 
 old, and Oliver became forthwith the wit and the bright genius 
 
8 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 
 
 of the family. It was thought a pity he should not receive the 
 same advantages with his elder brother Henry, who had been 
 sent to the University ; and, as his father's circumstances would 
 not afford it, several of his relatives, spurred on by the repre- 
 sentations of his mother, agreed to contribute towards the ex- 
 pense. The greater part, however, was borne by his uncle, the 
 Rev. Thomas Contarine. This worthy man had been the col- 
 lege companion of Bishop Berkeley, and was possessed of mod- 
 erate means, holding the living of Carrick-on-Shannon. He 
 had married the sister of G-oldsmith's father, but was now 
 a widower, with an only child, a daughter, named Jane. Con- 
 tarine was a kind-hearted man, with a generosity beyond his 
 means. He took Goldsmith into favor from his infancy ; his 
 house was open to him during the holidays ; his daughter 
 Jane, two years older than the poet, was his early playmate : 
 and Uncle Contarine continued to the last one of his most 
 active, unwavering, and generous friends. 
 
 Fitted out in a great measure by this considerate relative, 
 Oliver was now transferred to schools of a higher order, to 
 prepare him for the University ; first to one at Athlone, kept 
 by the Rev. Mr. Campbell, and, at the end of two years, to 
 one at Edgeworthstown, under the superintendence of the Rev. 
 Patrick Hughes. 
 
 Even at these schools his proficiency does not appear to 
 have been brilliant. He was indolent and careless, however, 
 rather than dull, and, on the whole, appears to have been well 
 thought of by his teachers. In his studies he inclined towards 
 the Latin poets and historians ; relished Ovid and Horace, and 
 delighted in Livy. He exercised himself with pleasure in read- 
 ing and translating Tacitus, and was brought to pay attention 
 to style in his compositions by a reproof from his brother 
 Henry, to whom he had written brief and confused letters, and 
 who told him in reply, that if he had but little to say, to 
 endeavor to say that little well. 
 
 The career of his brother Henry at the University was 
 enough to stimulate him to exertion. He seemed to be realiz- 
 ing all his father's hopes, and was winning collegiate honors that 
 the good man considered indicative of his future success in life. 
 
 In the meanwhile, Oliver, if not distinguished among his 
 
OLIVER GOLDSMITH 9 
 
 teachers, was popular among his schoolmates. He had a 
 thoughtless generosity extremely captivating to young hearts : 
 his temper was quick and sensitive, and easily offended ; but 
 his anger was momentary, and it was impossible for him to 
 harbor resentment. He was the leader of all boyish sports and 
 athletic amusements, especially ball-playing, and he was fore- 
 most in all mischievous pranks. Many years afterward, an old 
 man, Jack Fitzsimmons, one of the directors of the sports and 
 keeper of the ball-court at Ballymahon, used to boast of having 
 been schoolmate of " Noll Goldsmith," as he called him, and 
 would dwell with vainglory on one of their exploits, in rob- 
 bing the orchard of Tirlicken, an old family residence of Lord 
 Annaly. The exploit, however, had nearly involved disastrous 
 consequences ; for the crew of juvenile depredators were cap- 
 tured, like Shakspeare and his deer-stealing colleagues ; and 
 nothing but the respectability of Goldsmith's connections saved 
 him from the punishment that would have awaited more 
 plebeian delinquents. 
 
 An amusing incident is related as occurring in Goldsmith's 
 last journey homeward from Edgeworthstown. His father's 
 house was about twenty miles distant ; the road lay through a 
 rough country, impassable for carriages. Goldsmith procured 
 a horse for the journey, and a friend furnished him with a 
 guinea for travelling expenses. He was but a stripling of six- 
 teen, and being thus suddenly mounted on horseback, with 
 money in his pocket, it is no wonder that his head was turned. 
 He determined to play the man, and to spend his money in 
 independent traveller's style. Accordingly, instead of pushing 
 directly for home, he halted for the night at the little town of 
 Ardagh, and, .accosting the first person he met, inquired, with 
 somewhat of a consequential air, for the best house in the 
 place. Unluckily, the person he had accosted was one Kelly, 
 a notorious wag, who was quartered in the family of one Mr. 
 Featherstone, a gentleman of fortune. Amused with the self- 
 consequence of the stripling, and willing to play off a practical 
 joke at his expense, he directed him to what was literally "the 
 best house in the place," namely, the family mansion of Mr. 
 Featherstone. Goldsmith accordingly rode up to what he sup- 
 posed to be an inn, ordered his horse to be taken to the stable, 
 
10 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 
 
 walked into the parlor, seated himself by the fire, and demanded 
 what he could have for supper. On ordinary occasions he was 
 diffident and even awkward in his manners, but here he was 
 " at ease in his inn," and felt called upon to show his manhood 
 and enact the experienced traveller. His person was by no 
 means calculated to play off his pretensions, for he was short 
 and thick, with a pock-marked face, and an air and carriage by 
 no means of a distinguished cast. The owner of the house, 
 however, soon discovered his whimsical mistake, and, being a 
 man of humor, determined to indulge it, especially as he acci- 
 dentally learned that this intruding guest was the son of an old 
 acquaintance. 
 
 Accordingly, Goldsmith was " fooled to the top of his bent," 
 and permitted to have full sway throughout the evening. Never 
 was schoolboy more elated. When supper was served, he most 
 condescendingly insisted that the landlord, his wife and daughter 
 should partake, and ordered a bottle of wine to crown the re- 
 past and benefit the house. His last flourish was on going to 
 bed, when he gave especial orders to have a hot cake at break- 
 fast. His confusion and dismay, on discovering the next morn- 
 ing that he had been swaggering in this free and easy way in 
 the house of a private gentleman, may be readily conceived. 
 True to his habit of turning the events of his life to literary 
 account, we find this chapter of ludicrous blunders and cross 
 purposes dramatized many years afterward in his admirable 
 comedy of "She Stoops to Conquer, or the Mistakes of a 
 Night." 
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 Improvident marriages in the Goldsmitli family — Goldsmith at the 
 miiversity — Situation of a sizer — Tyranny of Wilder, the tutor — 
 Pecuniary straits — Street ballads — College riot — Gallows Walsh 
 — College prize — A dance interrupted 
 
 While Oliver was making his way somewhat negligently 
 through the schools, his elder brother Henry was rejoicing his 
 father's heart by his career at the University. He soon dis- 
 tinguished himself at the examinations, and obtained a scholar- 
 ship in J|74:3. This is a collegiate distinction which serves as 
 
OLIVER GOLDSMITH 11 
 
 a stepping-stone in any of the learned professions, and which 
 leads to advancement in the University should the individual 
 choose to remain there. His father now trusted that he would 
 push forward for that comfortable provision, a fellowship, and 
 thence to higher dignities and emoluments. Henry, however, 
 had the improvidence or the " unworldliness " of his race : re- 
 turning to the country during the succeeding vacation, he 
 married for love, relinquished, of course, all his collegiate pros- 
 pects and advantages, set up a school in his father's neighbor- 
 hoocl, and buried his talents and acquirements for the remainder 
 of his life in a curacy of forty pounds a year. 
 
 Another matrimonial event occurred not long afterward in 
 the Goldsmith family, to disturb the equanimity of its worthy 
 head. This was the clandestine marriage of his daughter 
 Catherine with a young gentleman of the name of Hodson, who 
 had been confided to the care of her brother Henry to complete 
 his studies. As the youth was of wealthy parentage, it was 
 thought a lucky match for the Goldsmith family ; but the 
 tidings of the event stung the bride's father to the soul. Proud 
 of his integrity, and jealous of that good name which was his 
 chief possession, he saw himself and his family subjected to 
 the degrading suspicion of having abused a trust reposed in 
 them to promote a mercenary match. In the first transports 
 of his feelings, he is said to have uttered a wish that his 
 daughter might never have a child to bring like shame and 
 sorrow on her head. The hasty wish, so contrary to the usual 
 benignity of the man, was recalled and repented of almost as 
 soon as uttered ; but it was considered baleful in its effects by 
 the superstitious neighborhood ; for, though his daughter bore 
 three children, they all died before her. 
 
 A more effectual measure was taken by Mr. Goldsmith to 
 ward off the apprehended imputation, but one which im^posed 
 a heavy burden on his family. This was to furnish a marriage 
 portion of four hundred pounds, that his daughter might not be 
 said to have entered her husband's family empty-handed. To 
 raise the sum in cash was impossible ; but he assigned to Mr. 
 Hodson his little farm and the income of his tithes until the 
 marriage portion should be paid. In the meantime, as his 
 living did not amount to <£200 per annum, he had to practise 
 
12 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 
 
 the strictest economy to pay oif gradually this heavy tax in- 
 curred by his nice sense of honor. 
 
 The first of his family to feel the effects of this economy was 
 Oliver. The time had now arrived for him to be sent to the 
 University; and, accordingly, on the 11th June, 1747, when 
 sixteen years of age, he entered Trinity College, Dublin ; but 
 his father was no longer able to place him there as a pensioner, 
 as he had done his eldest son Henry; he was obliged, there- 
 fore, to enter him as a sizer, or " poor scholar." He was lodged 
 in one of the top rooms adjoining the library of the building, 
 numbered 35, where it is said his name may still be seen, 
 scratched by himself upon a window frame. 
 
 A student of this class is taught and boarded gratuitously, 
 and has to pay but a very small sum for his room. It is ex- 
 pected, in return for these advantages, that he will be a dili- 
 gent student, and render himself useful in a variety of ways. 
 In Trinity College, at the time of Goldsmith's admission, sev- 
 eral derogatory, and, indeed, menial offices were exacted from 
 the sizer, as if the college sought to indemnify itself for con- 
 ferring benefits by inflicting indignities. He was obliged to 
 sweep part of the courts in the morning ; to carry up the 
 dishes from the kitchen to the fellows' table, and to wait in 
 the hall until that body had dined. His very dress marked 
 the inferiority of the " poor student " to his happier classmates. 
 It was a black gown of coarse stuff without sleeves, and a plain 
 black cloth cap without a tassel. We can conceive nothing 
 more odious and ill-judged than these distinctions, which at- 
 tached the idea of degradation to poverty, and placed the in- 
 digent youth of merit below the worthless minion of fortune. 
 They were calculated to wound and irritate the noble mind, 
 and to render the base mind baser. 
 
 Indeed, the galling effect of these servile tasks upon youths 
 of proud spirits and quick sensibilities became at length too 
 notorious to be disregarded. About fifty years since, on a Trin- 
 ity Sunday, a number of persons were assembled to witness the 
 college ceremonies ; and as a sizer was carrying up a dish of 
 meat to the fellows' table, a burly citizen in the crowd made 
 some sneering observation on the servility of his office. Stung 
 to the quick, the high-spirited youth instantly flung the dish 
 
OLIVEE GOLDSMITH 13 
 
 and its contents at the bead of the sneerer. The sizer was 
 sharply reprimanded for this outbreak of wounded pride, but 
 the degrading task was from that day forward very properly 
 consigned to menial hands. 
 
 It was with the utmost repugnance that Goldsmith entered 
 college in this capacity. His shy and sensitive nature was af- 
 fected by the inferior station he was doomed to hold among his 
 gay and opulent fellow-students, and he became, at times, moody 
 and despondent. A recollection of these early mortifications 
 indliced him, in after years, most strongly to dissuade his brother 
 Henry, the clergyman, from sending a son to college on a like 
 footing. "If he has ambition, strong passions, and an exqui- 
 site sensibility of contempt, do not send him there, unless you 
 have no other trade for him except your own." 
 
 To add to his annoyances, the fellow of the college who had 
 the peculiar control of his studies, the Eev. Theaker Wilder, was 
 a man of violent and capricious temper, and of diametrically 
 opposite tastes. The tutor was devoted to the exact sciences ; 
 Goldsmith was for the classics. Wilder endeavored to force his 
 favorite studies upon the student by harsh means, suggested by 
 his own coarse and savage nature. He abused him in presence 
 of the class as ignorant and stupid ; ridiculed him as awkward 
 and ugly, and at times in the transports of his temper indulged 
 in personal violence. The effect M'as to aggravate a passive 
 distaste into a positive aversion. Goldsmith was loud in ex- 
 pressing his contempt for mathematics and his dislike of ethics 
 and logic ; and the prejudices thus imbibed continued through 
 life. Mathematics he always pronounced a science to which 
 the meanest intellects were competent. 
 
 A truer cause of this distaste for the severer studies may prob- 
 ably be found in his natural indolence and his love of convivial 
 pleasures. " I was a lover of mirth, good-humor, and even some- 
 times of fun," said he, "from my childhood." He sang a good 
 song, was a boon companion, and could not resist any temptation 
 to social enjoyment. He endeavored to persuade himself that 
 learning and dulness went hand in hand, and that genius w^as 
 not to be put in harness. Even in riper years, when the conscious- 
 ness of his own deficiencies ought to have convinced him of the 
 importance of early study, he speaks slightingly of college honors. 
 
14 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 
 
 " A lad," says he, " whose passions are not strong enough in 
 youth to mislead him from that path of science which his tutors, 
 and not his inclination, have chalked out, by four or five years' 
 perseverance will probably obtain every advantage and honor 
 his college can bestow. I would compare the man whose youth 
 has been thus passed in the tranquillity of dispassionate pru- 
 dence, to liquors that never ferment, and, consequently, continue 
 always muddy." ^ 
 
 The death of his worthy father, which took place early in 
 1747, rendered Goldsmith's situation at college extremely irk- 
 some. His mother was left with little more than the means of 
 providing for the wants of her household, and was unable to 
 furnish him any remittances. He would have been compelled, 
 therefore, to leave college, had it not been for the occasional 
 contributions of friends, the foremost among whom was his 
 generous and warm-hearted uncle Contarine. Still these sup- 
 plies were so scanty and precarious, that in the intervals be- 
 tween them he was put to great straits. He had two college 
 associates from whom he would occasionally borrow small sums ; 
 one was an early schoolmate, by the name of Beatty j the other 
 a cousin, and the chosen companion of his frolics, Robert (or 
 rather Bob) Bryanton, of Ballymulvey House, near Ballymahon. 
 When these casual supplies failed him he was more than once 
 obliged to raise funds for his immediate wants by pawning his 
 books. At times he sank into despondency, but he had what 
 he termed "a knack at hoping," which soon buoyed him up 
 again. He began now to resort to his poetical vein as a source 
 of profit, scribbling street-ballads, which he privately sold for 
 five shillings each at a shop which dealt in such small wares of 
 literature. He felt an author's affection for these unowned 
 bantlings, and we are told would stroll privately through the 
 streets at night to hear them sung, listening to the comments 
 and criticisms of bystanders, and observing the degree of ap- 
 plause which each received. 
 
 Edmund Burke was a fellow-student with Goldsmith at the 
 college, Keither the statesman nor the poet gave promise of 
 their future celebrity, though Burke certainly surpassed his con- 
 
 ^ Inquiry into the State of Polite Learning in Europe^ Chap. ix. 
 
OLIVER GOLDSMITH 15 
 
 temporary in industry and application, and evinced more disposi- 
 tion for self-improvement, associating himself with a number of 
 his fellow-students in a debating club, in which they discussed 
 literary topics, and exercised themselves in composition. 
 
 Goldsmith may likewise have belonged to this association, but 
 his propensity was rather to mingle with the gay and thought- 
 less. On one occasion we find him implicated in an affair that 
 came nigh producing his expulsion. A report was brought to 
 college that a scholar was in the hands of the bailiffs. This 
 wa^an insult in which every gownsman felt himself involved. 
 A number of the scholars flew to arms, and sallied forth to 
 battle, headed by a hair-brained fellow nicknamed " Gallows " 
 Walsh, noted for his aptness at mischief and fondness for riot. 
 The stronghold of the bailiff was carried by storm, the scholar 
 set at liberty, and the delinquent catchpole borne off captive to 
 the college, where, having no pump to put him under, they 
 satisfied the demands of collegiate law by ducking him in an 
 old cistern. 
 
 Flushed with this signal victory, Gallows Walsh now ha- 
 rangued his followers, and proposed to break open Newgate, or 
 the Black Dog, as the prison was called, and effect a general 
 jail delivery. He was answered by shouts of concurrence, and 
 away went the throng of madcap youngsters, fully bent upon 
 putting an end to the tyranny of law. They were joined by 
 the mob of the city, and made an attack upon the prison with 
 true Irish precipitation and thoughtlessness, never having pro- 
 vided themselves with cannon to batter its stone walls. A few 
 shots from the prison brought them to their senses, and they 
 beat a hasty retreat, two of the townsmen being killed, and 
 several wounded. 
 
 A severe scrutiny of this affair took place at the University. 
 Four students, who had been ringleaders, were expelled ; four 
 others, who had been prominent in the affray, were publicly 
 admonished ; among the latter was the unlucky Goldsmith. 
 
 To make up for this disgrace, he gained, within a month 
 afterward, one of the minor prizes of the college. It is true it 
 was one of the very smallest, amounting in pecuniary value to 
 but thirty shillings, but it was the first distinction he had 
 gained in his whole collegiate career. This turn of success 
 
16 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 
 
 and sudden influx of wealth proved too much for the head of 
 our poor student. He forthwith gave a supper and dance at 
 his chamber to a number of young persons of both sexes from 
 the city, in direct violation of college rules. The unwonted 
 sound of the fiddle reached the ears of the implacable Wilder. 
 He rushed to the scene of unhallowed festivity, inflicted cor- 
 poral puinshment on the " father of the feast," and turned his 
 astonished guests neck and heels out of doors. 
 
 This filled the measure of poor Goldsmith's humiliations ; 
 he felt degraded both within college and without. He dreaded 
 the ridicule of his fellow-students for the ludicrous termination 
 of his orgie, and he was ashamed to meet his city acquaintances 
 after the degrading chastisement received in their presence, 
 and after their own ignominious expulsion. Above all, he felt 
 it impossible to submit any longer to the insulting tyranny of 
 Wilder : he determined, therefore, to leave, not merely the 
 college, but also his native land, and to bury what he conceived 
 to be his irretrievable disgrace in some distant country. He ac- 
 cordingly sold his books and clothes, and sallied forth from the 
 college walls the very next day, intending to embark at Cork 
 for — he scarce knew where — America, or any other part be- 
 yond sea. With his usual heedless imprudence, however, he 
 loitered about Dublin until his finances were reduced to a 
 shilling ; with this amount of specie he set out on his journey. 
 
 For three whole days he subsisted on his shilling ; when 
 that was spent, he parted with some of the clothes from his 
 back, until, reduced almost to nakedness, he was four-and- 
 twenty hours without food, insomuch that he declared a hand- 
 ful of gray pease, given to him by a girl at a wake, was one of 
 the most delicious repasts he had ever tasted. Hunger, fatigue, 
 and destitution brought down his spirit and calmed his anger. 
 Fain would he have retraced his steps, could he have done so 
 with any salvo for the lingerings of his pride. In his extremity 
 he conveyed to his brother Henry information of his distress, 
 and of the rash project on which he had set out. His affec- 
 tionate brother hastened to his relief; furnished him with 
 money and clothes ; soothed his feelings with gentle counsel ; 
 prevailed upon him to return to college ; and effected an indif- 
 ferent reconciliation between him and Wilder. 
 
OLIVER GOLDSMITH 17 
 
 After this irregular sally upon life he remained nearly two 
 years longer at the University, giving proofs of talent in occa- 
 sional translations from the classics, for one of which he re- 
 ceived a premium, awarded only to those who are the first in 
 literary merit. Still he never made much figure at college, his 
 natural disinclination to study being increased by the harsh 
 treatment he continued to experience from his tutor. 
 
 Among the anecdotes told of him while at college is one in- 
 dicative of that prompt, but thoughtless and often whimsical 
 benevolence which throughout life formed one of the most ec- 
 centric, yet endearing points of his character. He was engaged 
 to breakfast one day with a college intimate, but failed to make 
 his appearance. His friend repaired to his room, knocked at 
 the door, and was bidden to enter. To his surprise, he found 
 Goldsmith in his bed, immersed to his chin in feathers. A 
 serio-comic story explained the circumstance. In the course 
 of the preceding evening's stroll he had met with a woman with 
 five children, who implored his charity. Her husband was in 
 the hospital ; she was just from the country, a stranger, and 
 destitute, without food or shelter for her helpless offspring. 
 This was too much for the kind heart of Goldsmith. He was 
 almost as poor as herself, it is true, and had no money in his 
 pocket ; but he brought her to the college gate, gave her the 
 blankets from his bed to cover her little brood, and part of his 
 clothes for her to sell and purchase food ; and, finding himself 
 cold during the night, had cut open his bed and buried himself 
 among the feathers. 
 
 At length, on the 27th of February, 1749, 0. S., he was 
 admitted to the degree of Bachelor of Arts, and took his final 
 leave of the University. He was freed from college rule, that 
 emancipation so ardently coveted by the thoughtless student, 
 and which too generally launches him amid the cares, the hard- 
 ships, and vicissitudes of life. He was freed, too, from the 
 brutal tyranny of Wilder. If his kind and placable nature 
 could retain any resentment for past injuries, it might have 
 been gratified by learning subsequently that the passionate 
 career of Wilder was terminated by a violent death in the 
 course of a dissolute brawl ; but Goldsmith took no delight in 
 the misfortunes even of his enemies. 
 
18 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 
 
 He now returned to his friends, no longer the student to sport 
 away the happy interval of vacation, but the anxious man, who 
 is henceforth to shift for himself and make his way through the 
 world. In fact, he had no legitimate home to return to. At 
 the death of his father, the paternal house at Lissoy, in which 
 Goldsmith had passed his childhood, had been taken by Mr. 
 Hodson, who had married his sister Catherine. His mother 
 had removed to Ballymahon, where she occupied a small house, 
 and had to practise the severest frugality. His elder brother 
 Henry served the curacy and taught the school of his late father's 
 parish, and lived in narrow circumstances at Goldsmith's birth- 
 place, the old goblin-house at Pallas. 
 
 None of his relatives were in circumstances to aid him with 
 any thing more than a temporary home, and the aspect of every 
 one seemed somewhat changed. In fact, his career at college 
 had disappointed his friends, and they began to doubt his be- 
 ing the great genius they had fancied him. He whimsically 
 alludes to this circumstance in that piece of autobiography, 
 " The Man in Black," in the " Citizen of the WorlcLt 
 '""" The first opportunity my father had of finding his ex- 
 pectations disappointed was in the middling figure I made 
 at the University : he had flattered himself that he should 
 soon see me rising into the foremost rank in literary repu- 
 tation, but was mortified to find me utterly unnoticed and 
 unknown. His disappointment might have been partly ascribed 
 to his having overrated my talents, and partly to my dislike 
 of mathematical reasonings at a time when my imagination 
 and memory, yet unsatisfied, were more eager after new objects 
 than desirous of reasoning upon those I knew. This, however, 
 did not please my tutors, who observed, indeed, that I was a 
 little dull, but at the same time allowed that I seemed to be 
 very good-natured, and had no harm in me." ^ 
 
 The only one of his relatives who did not appear to lose 
 faith in him was his uncle Contarine. This kind and con- 
 siderate man, it is said, saw in him a warmth of heart requir- 
 ing some skill to direct, and a latent genius that wanted time 
 to mature, and these impressions none of his subsequent follies 
 and irregularities wholly obliterated. His purse and affection, 
 
 1 Citizen of the Woiid, Letter xxvii. 
 
OLIVER GOLDSMITH 19 
 
 therefore, as well as his house, were now open to him, and he 
 became his chief counsellor and director after his father's death. 
 He urged him to prepare for holy orders ; and others of his 
 relatives concurred in the advice. Goldsmith had a settled 
 repugnance to a clerical life. This has been ascribed by some 
 to conscientious scruples, not considering himself of a temper 
 and frame of mind for such a sacred office : others attributed it 
 to his roving propensities, and his desire to visit foreign coun- 
 tries ; he himself gives a whimsical objection in his biography 
 of*the "Man in Black ":^ — "To be obliged to wear a long 
 wig when 1 liked a short one, or a black coat when I generally 
 dressed in brown, I thought such a restraint upon my liberty 
 that I absolutely rejected the proposal."-^ 
 
 In effect, however, his scruples were overruled, and he 
 agreed to qualify himself for the office. He was now only 
 twenty-one, and must pass two years of probation. They 
 were two years of rather loitering unsettled life. Some- 
 times he was at Lissoy, participating with thoughtless enjoy- 
 ment in the rural sports and occupations of his brother-in-law, 
 Mr. Hodson; sometimes he was with his brother Henry, at 
 the old goblin mansion at Pallas, assisting him occasionally 
 in his school. The early marriage and unambitious retirement 
 of Henry, though so subversive of the fond plans of his father, 
 had proved happy in their results. He was already surrounded 
 by a blooming family ; he was contented with his lot, beloved 
 by his parishioners, and lived in the daily practice of all the 
 amiable virtues, and the immediate enjoyment of their reward. 
 Of the tender affection inspired in the breast of Goldsmith by 
 the constant kindness of this excellent brother, and of the 
 longing recollection with which, in the lonely wanderings of 
 after years, he looked back upon this scene of domestic felicity, 
 we have a touching instance in the well-known opening to his 
 poem of " The Traveller " : 
 
 "Remote, unfriended, melancholy slow. 
 Or by the lazy Scheld or wandering Po ; 
 
 ****** 
 
 Where'er I roam, whatever realms to see. 
 My heart untravell'd fondly turns to thee ; 
 
 1 Citizen of the World, Letter xxvii. 
 
20 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 
 
 Still to my brother turns with ceaseless pain, 
 And drags at each remove a lengthening chain. 
 
 Eternal blessings crown my earliest friend, 
 
 And round his dwelling guardian saints attend ; 
 
 Bless' d be that spot, where cheerful guests retire 
 
 To pause from toil, and trim their evening fire ; 
 
 Bless'd that abode, where want and pain repair, 
 
 And every stranger finds a ready chair : 
 
 Bless'd be those feasts with simple plenty crown'd, 
 
 Where all the ruddy family around 
 
 Laugh at the jests or pranks that never fail, 
 
 Or sigh with pity at some mournful tale ; 
 
 Or press the bashful stranger to his food, 
 
 And learn the luxury of doing good," 
 
 During this loitering life Goldsmith pursued no study, but 
 rather amused himself with miscellaneous reading ; such as 
 biography, travels, poetry, novels, plays — every thing, in short, 
 that administered to the imagination. Sometimes he strolled 
 along the banks of the river Inny ; where, in after years, when 
 he had become famous, his favorite seats and haunts used to 
 be pointed out. Often he joined in the rustic sports of the 
 villagers, and became adroif at throwing the sledge, afavorite 
 feat of activity and strength in Ireland. Recollections of these 
 " healthful sports " we find in his " Deserted Village " : 
 
 " How often have I bless'd the coming day, 
 When toil remitting lent its turn to play, 
 And all the village train, from labor free. 
 Led up their sports beneath the spreading tree : 
 And many a gambol frolicked o'er the ground, 
 And sleights of art and feats of strength went round." 
 
 A boon companion in all his rural amusements, was his 
 cousin and college crony, Robert Bryanton, with whom he 
 sojourned occasionally at Ballymulvey House in the neigh- 
 borhood. They used to make excursions about the country 
 on foot, sometimes fishing, sometimes hunting otter in the 
 Inny. They got up a country club at the little inn of Bally- 
 mahon, of which Goldsmith soon became the oracle and prime 
 wit ; astonishing his unlettered associates by his learning, and 
 being considered capital at a song and a story. From the 
 rustic conviviality of the inn at Ballymahon, and the company 
 
OLIVER GOLDSMITH 21 
 
 which used to assemble there, it is surmised that he took some 
 hints in after life for his picturing of Tony Lumpkin and his 
 associates: "Dick Muggins, the exciseinarri; Jack Slang, the 
 horse doctor ; little Aminidab, that grinds the music box, and 
 Tom Twist, that spins the pewter platter." Nay, it is thought 
 that Tony's drinking song at the " Three Jolly Pigeons," was 
 but a revival of one of the convivial catches at Ballymahou : 
 
 " Then come put the jorum about, 
 And let us be merry and clever. 
 Our hearts and our liquors are stout. 
 
 Here's the Three Jolly Pigeons for ever. 
 Let some cry of woodcock or hare, 
 
 Your bustards, your ducks, and your widgeons, 
 ; But of all the gay birds in the air. 
 
 Here's a health to the Three Jolly Pigeons. 
 Toroddle, toroddle, toroll." 
 
 Notwithstanding all these accomplishments and this rural 
 popularity, his friends began to shake their heads and shrug 
 their shoulders when they spoke of him ; and his brother Henry 
 noted with any thing but satisfaction his frequent visits to the 
 club at Ballymahou. He emerged, however, unscathed from 
 this dangerous ordeal, more fortunate in this respect than his 
 comrade Bryanton ; but he retained throughout life a fondness 
 for clubs : often, too, in the course of his checkered career, he 
 looked back to this period of rural sports and careless enjoy- 
 ments, as one of the few sunny spots of his cloudy life ; and 
 though he ultimately rose to associate with birds of a finer 
 feather, his heart would still yearn in secret after the " Theee 
 Jolly Pigeons." 
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 Goldsmith rejected by the Bishop — Second sally to see the world — 
 Takes passage for America — Ship sails without him — Return on 
 Fiddle-back — A hospitable friend — The Counsellor 
 
 The time was now arrived for Goldsmith to apply for orders, 
 and he presented himself accordingly before the Bishop of Elfin 
 for ordination. We have stated his great objection to clerical 
 
22 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 
 
 life, the obligation to wear a black coat ; and, whimsical as it 
 may appear, dress seems in fact to have formed an obstacle to 
 his entrance into the church. He had ever a passion for 
 clothing his sturdy, but awkward little person in gay colors ; 
 and on this solemn occasion, when it was to be supposed his 
 garb would be of suitable gravity, he appeared luminously 
 arrayed in scarlet breeches ! He was rejected by the Bishop : 
 some say for want of sufficient studious preparation ; his ram- 
 bles and frolics with Bob Bryanton, and his revels with the 
 club at Ballymahon, having been much in the way of his theo- 
 logical studies ; others attribute his rejection to reports of his 
 college irregularities, which the Bishop had received from his 
 old tyrant Wilder ; but those who look into the matter with 
 more knowing eyes, pronounce the scarlet breeches to have been 
 the fundamental objection. " My friends," says Goldsmith, 
 speaking through his humorous representative, the " Man in 
 Black " — " my friends were now perfectly satisfied I was un- 
 done ; and yet they thought it a pity for one that had not the 
 least harm in him, and was so very good-natured."^ His uncle 
 Contarine, however, still remained unwavering in his kindness, 
 though much less sanguine in his expectations. He now looked 
 round for a humbler sphere of action, and through his influence 
 and exertions Oliver was received as tutor in the family of a 
 Mr. Flinn, a gentleman of the neighborhood. The situation 
 was apparently respectable ; he had his seat at the table ; and 
 joined the family in their domestic recreations and their evening 
 game at cards. There was a servility, however, in his position, 
 which was not to his taste : nor did his deference for the family 
 increase upon familiar intercourse. He charged a member, of 
 it with unfair play at cards. A violent altercation ensued, 
 which ended in his throwing up his situation as tutor. On 
 being paid oft' he found himself in possession of an unheard of 
 amount of money. His wandering propensity and his desire to 
 see ,the world were instantly in the ascendency. Without 
 communicating his plans or intentions to his friends, he pro- 
 cured a good horse, and with thirty pounds in his pocket, made 
 his second sally forth into the world. 
 
 1 Citizen of the World, Letter xxvii. 
 
OLIVER GOLDSMITH 23 
 
 The worthy niece and housekeeper of the hero of La Mancha 
 could not have been more surprised and dismayed at one of the 
 Don's clandestine expeditions, than were the mother and friends 
 of Goldsmith when they heard of his mysterious departure. 
 Weeks elapsed, and nothing was seen or heard of him. It was 
 feared that he had left the country on one of his wandering 
 freaks, and his poor mother was reduced almost to despair, 
 when one day he arrived at her door almost as forlorn in plight 
 as the prodigal son. Of his "thirty pounds not a shilling was 
 left"; and, instead of the goodly steed on which he had issued 
 forth on his errantry, he was mounted on a sorry little pony, 
 which he had nicknamed Fiddle-back. As soon as his mother 
 was well assured of his safety, she rated him soundly for his 
 inconsiderate conduct. His brothers and sisters, who were 
 tenderly attached to him, interfered, and succeeded in molhfy- 
 ing her ire ; and whatever lurking anger the good dame might 
 have was no doubt effectually vanquished by the following 
 whimsical narrative which he drew up at his brother's house 
 and dispatched to her : 
 
 " My dear mother, if you will sit down and calmly listen to 
 what I say, you shall be fully resolved in every one of those 
 many questions you have asked me. I went to Cork and con- 
 verted my horse, which you prize so much higher than Fiddle- 
 back, into cash, took my passage in a ship bound for America, 
 and, at the same time, paid the captain for my freight and all 
 otlier expenses of my voyage. But it so happened that the 
 wind did not answer for three weeks; and you know, mother, 
 that I could not command the elements. My misfortune was, 
 that, when the wind served, I happened to be with a party in 
 the country, and my friend the captain never inquired after me, 
 but set sail with as much indifference as if I had been on board. 
 The remainder of my time I employed in the city and its envi- 
 rons, viewing every thing curious, and you know no one can 
 starve while he has money in his pocket. 
 
 " Reduced, however, to my last two guineas, I began to think 
 of my dear mother and friends whom I had left behind me, 
 and so bought that generous beast Fiddle-back, and bade adieu 
 to Cork with only five shillings in my pocket. This, to be 
 sure, was but a scanty allowance for man and horse towards a 
 
24 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 
 
 journey of above a hundred miles ; but I did not despair, for I 
 knew I must find friends on the road. 
 
 " I recollected particularly an old and faithful acquaintance 
 I made at college, who had often and earnestly pressed me to 
 spend a summer with him, and he lived but eight miles from 
 Cork. This circumstance of vicinity he would expatiate on to 
 me with peculiar emphasis. 'We shall,^ says he, 'enjoy the 
 delights of both city and country, and you shall command my 
 stable and my purse.' 
 
 " However, upon the way I met a poor woman all in tears, 
 who told me her husband had been arrested for a debt he was 
 not able to pay, and that his eight children must now starve, 
 bereaved as they were of his industry, which had been their 
 only support. I thought myself at home, being not far from 
 my good friend's house, and therefore parted with a moiety of 
 all my store ; and pray, mother, ought I not have given her the 
 other half crown, for what she got would be of little use to 
 her 1 However, I soon arrived at the mansion of my affectionate 
 friend, guarded by the vigilance of a huge mastiff, who flew at 
 me and would have torn me to pieces but for the assistance of 
 a woman, whose countenance was not less grim than that of the 
 dog; yet she with great humanity relieved me from the jaws 
 of this Cerberus, and was prevailed on to carry up my name to 
 her master. 
 
 " Without suffering me to wait long, my old friend, who was 
 then recovering from a severe fit of sickness, came down in his 
 nightcap, nightgown, and slippers, and embraced me with the 
 most cordial welcome, showed me in, and, after giving me a 
 history of his indisposition, assured me that he considered him- 
 self peculiarly fortunate in having under his roof the man he 
 most loved on earth, and whose stay with him must, above 
 all things, contribute to perfect his recovery. I now repented 
 sorely I had not given the poor woman the other half crown, 
 as I thought all my bills of humanity would be punctually 
 answered by this worthy man. I revealed to him my whole 
 soul ; I opened to him all my distresses ; and freely owned 
 that I had but one half crown in my pocket ; but that now, 
 like a ship after weathering out the storm, I. considered myself 
 secure in a safe and hospitable harbor. He made no answer, 
 
OLIVER GOLDSMITH 25 
 
 but walked about the room, rubbing his hands as one in deep 
 study. This I imputed to the sympathetic feelings of a tender 
 heart, which increased my esteem for him, and, as that in- 
 creased, I gave the most favorable interpretation to his silence. 
 I construed it into delicacy of sentiment, as if he dreaded tc 
 wound my pride by expressing his commiseration in words, 
 leaving his generous conduct to speak for itself. 
 
 " It now approached six o'clock in the evening ; and as I 
 had eaten no breakfast, and as my spirits were raised, my 
 appiStite for dinner grew uncommonly keen. At length the 
 old woman came into the room with two plates, one spoon, 
 and a dirty cloth, which she laid upon the table. This ap- 
 pearance, without increasing my spirits, did not diminish my 
 appetite. My protectress soon returned with a small bowl 
 of sago, a small porringer of sour milk, a loaf of stale brown 
 bread, and the heel of an old cheese all over crawling with 
 mites. My friend apologized that his illness obliged him to 
 live on slops, and that better fare was not in the house ; 
 observing, at the same time, that a milk diet was certainly 
 the most healthful ; and at eight o'clock he again recommended 
 a regular life, declaring that for his part he would lie down with 
 the Lamb and rise with the larTc. My hunger was at this time 
 so exceedingly sharp that I wished for another slice of the loaf, 
 but was obliged to go to bed without even that refreshment. 
 
 " This lenten entertainment I had received made me resolve 
 to depart as soon as possible ; accordingly, next morning, when 
 I spoke of going, he did not oppose my resolution ; he rather 
 commended my design, adding some very sage counsel upon 
 the occasion. ' To be sure,' said he, ' the longer you stay away 
 from your mother, the more you will grieve her and your 
 other friends ; and possibly they are already afflicted at hearing 
 of this foolish expedition you have made.' Notwithstanding all 
 this, and without any hope of softening such a sordid heart, I 
 again renewed the tale of my distress, and asking ' how he thought 
 I could travel above a hundred miles upon one half crown ? ' 
 I begged to borrow a single guinea, which I assured him should 
 be repaid with thanks. ' And you know, sir,' said I, 'it is no 
 more than I have done for you.' To which he firmly answered, 
 ' Why, look you, Mr. Goldsmith, that is neither here nor there. 
 
26 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 
 
 I have paid you all you ever lent me, and this sickness of mine 
 has left me bare of cash. But I have bethought myself of a 
 conveyance for you ; sell your horse, and I will furnish you a 
 much better one to ride on.' I readily grasped at his proposal, 
 and begged to see the nag ; on which he led me to his bed- 
 chamber, and from under the bed he pulled out a stout oak 
 stick. ' Here he is,' said he ; ' take this in your hand, and it 
 will carry you to your m^other's with more safety than such a 
 horse as you ride.' I was in doubt, when I got it into my 
 hand, whether I should not, in the first place, apply it to his 
 pate ; but a rap at the street door made the wretch fly to it, 
 and when I returned to the parlor, he introduced me, as if 
 nothing of the kind had happened, to the gentleman who 
 entered, as Mr. Goldsmith, his most ingenious and worthy 
 friend, of whom he had so often heard him speak with rapture. 
 I could scarcely compose myself; and must have betrayed in- 
 dignation in my mien to the stranger, who was a counsellor-at- 
 law in the neighborhood, a man of engaging aspect and polite 
 address. 
 
 " After spending an hour, he asked my friend and me to 
 dine with him at his house. This I declined at first, as I 
 wished to have no farther communication with my hospitable 
 friend ; but at the solicitation of both I at last consented, 
 determined as I was by two motives ; one, that I was preju- 
 diced in favor of the looks and manner of the counsellor ; and 
 the other, that I stood in need of a comfortable dinner. And 
 there, indeed, I found every thing that I could wish, abundance 
 without profusion, and elegance without affectation. In the 
 evening, when my old friend, who had eaten very plentifully 
 at his neighbor's table, but talked again of lying down with 
 the lamb, made a motion to me for retiring, our generous host 
 requested I should take a bed with him, upon which I plainly 
 told my old friend that he might go home and take care of 
 the horse he had given me, but that I should never re-enter his 
 doors. He went away with a laugh, leaving me to add this 
 to the other little things the counsellor already knew of his 
 plausible neighbor. 
 
 " And now, my dear mother, I found sufficient to reconcile 
 me to all my follies ; for here I spent three whole days. The 
 
OLIVER GOLDSMITH 27 
 
 counsellor had two sweet girls to his daughters, who played 
 enchantingly on the harpsichord ; and yet it was but a melan- 
 choly pleasure I felt the first time I heard them ; for that 
 being the first time also that either of them had touched the 
 instrument since their mother's death, I saw the tears in silence 
 trickle down their father's cheeks. I every day endeavored to 
 go away, but every day was pressed and obliged to stay. On 
 my going, the counsellor offered me his purse, with a horse and 
 servant to convey me home ; but the latter I declined, and only 
 took a guinea to bear my necessary expenses on the road. 
 
 "Oliver Goldsmith. 
 " To Mrs. Anne Goldsmith, Bally mahon." 
 
 Such is the story given by the poet-errant of this his second 
 sally in quest of adventures. We cannot but think it was here 
 and there touched up a little with the fanciful pen of the future 
 essayist, with a view to amuse his mother and soften her vexa- 
 tion ; but even in these respects it is valuable as showing the 
 early play of his humor, and his happy knack of extracting 
 sweets from that worldly experience which to others yields 
 nothing but bitterness. 
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 Sallies forth as a law student — Stumbles at the outset — Cousin Jane 
 and the valentine — A family oracle — Sallies forth as a student of 
 medicine — Hocus-pocus of a boarding-house — Transformations 
 of a leg of mutton — The mock ghost — Sketches of Scotland — Trials 
 of toadyism — A poet's purse for a Continental tour 
 
 A NEW consultation was held among Goldsmith's friends as 
 to his future course, and it was determined he should try the 
 law. His uncle Contarine agreed to advance the necessary 
 funds, and actually furnished him with fifty pounds, with which 
 he set off for London, to enter on his studies at the Temple. 
 Unfortunately, he fell in company at Dublin with a Roscommon 
 acquaintance, one whose wits had been sharpened about town, 
 who beguiled him into a gambling-house, and soon left him as 
 penniless as when he bestrode the redoubtable Fiddle-back. 
 
 He was so ashamed of this fresh instance of gross heedless- 
 ness and imprudence, that he remained some time in Dublin 
 without communicating to his friends his destitute condition. 
 
28 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 
 
 They heard of it, however, and he was invited back to .the 
 country, and indulgently forgiven by his generous uncle, but less 
 readily by his mother, who was mortified and disheartened at 
 seeing all her early hopes of him so repeatedly blighted. His 
 brother Henry, too, began to lose patience at these successive 
 failures, resulting from thoughtless indiscretion ; and a quarrel 
 took place, which for some time interrupted their usually 
 affectionate intercourse. 
 
 The only home where poor erring Goldsmith still received 
 a welcome, was the parsonage of his affectionate forgiving uncle. 
 Here he used to talk of literature with the good simple-hearted 
 man, and delight him and his daughter with his verses. Jane, 
 his early playmate, was now the woman grown ; their inter- 
 course was of a more intellectual kind than formerly ; they 
 discoursed of poetry and music ; she played on the harpsichord, 
 and he accompanied her with his flute. The music may not 
 have been very artistic, as he never performed but by ear ; it 
 had probably as much merit as the poetry, which, if we may 
 judge by the following specimen, was as yet but juvenile : 
 
 TO A YOUNG LADY ON VALENTINE'S DAY, 
 
 WITH THE DRAWING OF A HEART 
 
 With submission at your shrine, 
 Comes a heart your Valentine ; 
 From the side where once it grew, 
 See it panting flies to you. 
 Take it, fair one, to your breast, 
 Soothe the fluttering thing to rest ; 
 Let the gentle, spotless toy, 
 Be your sweetest, greatest joy ; 
 Every night when wrapp'd in sleep, 
 Next your heart the conquest keep ; 
 Or if dreams your fancy move, 
 Hear it whisper me and love ; 
 Then in pity to the swain, 
 "Who must heartless else remain, 
 Soft as gentle dewy show'rs, 
 Slow descend on April flow'rs ; 
 Soft as gentle riv'lets glide. 
 Steal unnoticed to my side ; 
 If the gem you have to spare, 
 Take your own and place it there. 
 
OLIVER GOLDSMITH 29 
 
 If this Valentine was intended for the fair Jane, and expres- 
 sive of a tender sentiment indulged by the stripling poet, it 
 was unavailing ; as not long afterwards she was married to a 
 Mr. Lawder. We trust, however, it was but a poetical passion 
 of that transient kind which grows up in idleness and exhales 
 itself in rhyme. While Oliver was thus piping and poetizing 
 at the parsonage, his uncle Contarine received a visit from Dean 
 Goldsmith of Cloyne ; a kind of magnate in the wide, but 
 improvident family connection, throughout which his word was 
 law and almost rjspel. This august dignitary was pleased to 
 discover signs ox talent in Oliver, and suggested that as he had 
 attempted di'vinity and law without success, he should now try 
 physic, ^.iie advice came from too important a source to be 
 disregarded, and it was determined to send him to Edinburgh 
 to commence his studies. The Dean having given the advice, 
 added to it, we trust, his blessing, but no money ; that was 
 furnished from the scantier purses of Goldsmith's brother, his 
 sister (Mrs. Hodson), and his ever-ready uncle, Contarine. 
 
 It was in the autumn of 1752 that Goldsmith arrived in 
 Edinburgh. His outset in that city came near adding to the 
 list of his indiscretions and disasters. Having taken lodgings 
 at haphazard, he left his trunk there, containing all his worldly 
 effects, and sallied forth to see the town. After sauntering 
 about the streets until a late hour, he thought of returning 
 home, when, to his confusion, he found he had not acquainted 
 himself with the name either of his landlady or of the street in 
 which she lived. Fortunately, in the height of his whimsical 
 perplexity, he met the cawdy or porter who had carried his 
 trunk, and who now served him as a guide. 
 
 He did not remain long in the lodgings in which he had put 
 up. The hostess was too adroit at that hocus-pocus of the 
 table which often is practised in cheap boarding-houses. No 
 one could conjure a single joint through a greater variety of 
 forms. A loin of mutton, according to Goldsmith's account, 
 would serve him and two fellow-students a whole week. " A 
 brandered chop was served up one day, a fried steak another, 
 collops with onion sauce a third, and so on until the fleshy 
 parts were quite consumed, when finally a dish of broth was 
 manufactured from the bones on the seventh day, and the land- 
 
30 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 
 
 lady rested from her labors." Goldsmith had a good-humored 
 mode of taking things, and for a short time amused himself 
 with the shifts 'and expedients of his landlady, which struck 
 him in a ludicrous manner ; he soon, however, fell in with 
 fellow-students from his own country, whom he joined at more 
 eligible quarters. 
 
 He now attended medical lectures, and attached himself to 
 an association of students called the Medical Society. He set 
 out, as usual, with the best intentions, but, as usual, soon fell 
 into idle, convivial, thoughtless habits. Edinburgh was indeed 
 a place of sore trial for one of his tempeiame:'t. Convivial 
 meetings were all the vogue, and the tavern was the universal 
 rallying-place of good-fellowship. And then Goldsn.ith's inti- 
 macies lay chiefly among the Irish students, who were always 
 ready for a wild freak and frolic. Among them he was a prime 
 favorite and somewhat of a leader, from his exuberance of spirits, 
 his vein of humor, and his talent at singing an Irish song and 
 telling an Irish story. 
 
 His usual carelessness in money matters attended him. 
 Though his supplies from home were scanty and irregular, 
 he never could bring himself into habits of prudence and 
 economy ; often he was stripped of all his present finances 
 at play ; often he lavished them away in fits of unguarded 
 charity or generosity. Sometimes among his boon companions 
 he assumed a ludicrous swagger in money matters, which no 
 one afterward was more ready than himself to laugh at. At 
 a convivial meeting with a number of his fellow-students, he 
 suddenly proposed to draw lots with any one present which of 
 the two should treat the whole party to the play. The moment 
 the proposition had bolted from his lips, his heart was in his 
 throat. "To my great though secret joy," said he, "they all 
 declined the challenge. Had it been accepted, and had I proved 
 the loser, a part of my wardrobe must have been pledged in 
 order to raise the money." 
 
 At another of these meetings there was an earnest dis- 
 pute on the question of ghosts, some being firm believers 
 in the possibility of departed spirits returning to visit their 
 friends and familiar haunts. One of the disputants set 
 sail the next day for London, but the vessel put back through 
 
OLIVER GOLDSMITH 31 
 
 stress of weather. His return was unknown except to one of 
 the believers in ghosts, who concerted with him a trick to be 
 played off on the opposite party. In the evening, at a meeting 
 of the students, the discussion was renewed ; and one of the 
 most strenuous opposers of ghosts was asked whether he con- 
 sidered himself proof against ocular demonstration 1 He per- 
 sisted in his scoffing. Some solemn process of conjuration 
 was performed, and the comrade supposed to be on his way to 
 London made his appearance. The eftect was fatal. The 
 unbeliever fainted at the sight, and ultimately went mad. 
 We have no account of what share Goldsmith took in this trans- 
 action, at which he was present. 
 
 The following letter to his friend Bryanton contains some of 
 Goldsmith's impressions concerning Scotland and its inhabit- 
 ants, and gives indications of that humor which characterized 
 some of his later writings. 
 
 ^''Robert Bryanton, at Ballymahon, Ireland. 
 
 " Edinburgh, September 26th, 1753. 
 "My dear Bob, 
 
 " How many good excuses (and you know I was ever good 
 at an excuse) might I call up to vindicate my past shameful 
 silence. I might tell how I wrote a long letter on my first 
 coming hither, and seem vastly angry at my not receiving an 
 answer ; I might allege that business (with business you know 
 I was always pestered) had never given me time to finger a 
 pen. But I suppress those and twenty more as plausible, and 
 as easily invented, since they might be attended with a slight 
 inconvenience of being known to be lies. Let me then speak 
 truth. An hereditary indolence (I have it from the mother's 
 side) has hitherto prevented my writing to you, and still 
 prevents my writing at least twenty-five letters more, due 
 to my friends in Ireland. No turn-spit-dog gets up into his 
 wheel with more reluctance than I sit down to write ; yet no 
 dog ever loved the roast meat he turns better than I do him T 
 now address. 
 
 " Yet what shall I say now I am entered 1 Shall I tire 
 you with a description of this unfruitful country; where I must 
 lead you over their hills all brown with heath, or their valleys 
 
32 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 
 
 scarcely able to feed a rabbit 1 Man alone seems to be the 
 only creature who has arrived to the natural size in this poor 
 soil. Every part of the country presents the same dismal land- 
 scape. Ko grove, nor brook, lend their music to cheer the 
 stranger, or make the inhabitants forget their poverty. Yet 
 with all these disadvantages to call him down to humility, a 
 Scotchman is one of the proudest things alive. The poor have 
 pride ever ready to relieve them. If mankind should happen 
 to despise them, they are masters of their own admiration ; and 
 that they can plentifully bestow upon themselves. 
 
 "From their pride and poverty, as I take it, results one 
 advantage this country enjoys ; namely, the gentlemen here 
 are much better bred than among us. No such character here as 
 our fox-hunters ; and they have expressed great surprise when 
 I informed them, that some men in Ireland of one thousand 
 pounds a year spend their whole lives in running after a hare, 
 and drinking to be drunk. Truly if such a being, equipped in 
 his hunting dress, came among a circle of Scotch gentry, they 
 would behold him with the same astonishment that a country- 
 man does King George on horseback. 
 
 " The men here have generally high cheek bones, and are 
 lean and swarthy, fond of actioni, dancing in particular. Now 
 that I have mentioned dancing,fllet me say something of their 
 balls,) which are very frequent here. When a stranger enters the 
 dancmg-hall, he sees one end of the room taken up by the ladies, 
 who sit dismally in a group by themselves ; — an the other 
 end stand their pensive partners that are to be ; — ^ut no more 
 intercourse between the sexes than there is between two coun- 
 tries at war. \ The ladies indeed may ogle, and the gentlemen 
 sigh ; but an embargo is laid on any closer commerce. At 
 length, to interrupt hostilities, the lady directress, or intendant, 
 04 what you will, pitches upon a lady and gentleman to walk a 
 minuet; which they perform with a formality that approaches to 
 despondence. After live or six couple have thus walked the gaunt- . 
 let, all stand up to country dances ; each gentleman furnished 
 with a partner from the aforesaid lady directress ; so they dance 
 much, say nothing, and thus concludes our assembly. I told a 
 Scotch gentleman that such profound silence resembled the 
 ancient procession of the Roman matrons in honor of Ceres ; 
 
OLIVER GOLDSMITH 33 
 
 and the Scotch gentleman told me, (and, faith I believe he was 
 right,) that I was a very great pedant for my pains. 
 
 " Now I am come to the ladies ; and to show that I love 
 Scotland, and every thing that belongs to so charming a coun- 
 try, 1 insist on it, and will give him leave to break my head 
 that denies it — that the Scotch ladies are ten thousand times 
 liner and handsomer than the Irish. To be sure, now, I see 
 your sisters Betty and Peggy vastly surprised at my partiality, 
 — but tell them flatly, I don't value them — or their fine skins, 
 
 or eyes, or good sense, or , a potato ; — for I say, and will 
 
 maintain it ; and as a convincing proof (I am in a great pas- 
 sion) of what I assert, the Scotch ladies say it themselves. 
 But to be less serious ; where will you find a language so pret- 
 tily become a pretty mouth as the broad Scotch? And the 
 women here speak it in its highest purity ; for instance, teach 
 one of your young ladies at home to pronounce the 'Whoar 
 wull I gong 1 ' with a becoming widening of mouth, and I'll lay 
 my life they'll wound every hearer. 
 
 "We have no such character here as a coquet, but alas! 
 how many envious prudes ! Some days ago I walked into my 
 Lord Kilcoubry's (don't be surprised, my lord is but a glover),^ 
 when the Duchess of Hamilton (that fair who sacrificed her 
 beauty to her ambition, and her inward peace to a title and 
 gilt equipage) passed by in her chariot ; her battered husband, 
 or more properly the guardian of her charms, sat by her side. 
 Straight envy began, in the shape of no less than three ladies 
 who sat with me, to find faults in her faultless form. — ' For my 
 part,' says the first, 'I think what I always thought, that the 
 Duchess has too much of the red in her complexion.' 'Madam, 
 I am of your opinion,' says the second ; ' I think her face has a 
 palish cast too much on the delicate order.' ' And, let me tell 
 you,' added the third lady, whose mouth was puckered up to 
 the size of an issue, 'that the Duchess has fine lips, but she 
 wants a mouth.' — At this every lady drew up her mouth as if 
 going to pronounce the letter P. 
 
 1 William Maclellan, who claimed the title, and whose son succeeded 
 in establishing the claim in 1773. The father is said to have A^oted at 
 the election of the sixteen Peers for Scotland ; and to have sold gloves 
 in the lobby at this and other public assemblages. 
 
34 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 
 
 " But how ill, my Bob, does it become me to ridicule women 
 with whom I have scarcely any correspondence ! There are, 'tis 
 certain, handsome women here ; and 'tis certain they have hand- 
 some men to keep them company. An ugly and poor man is 
 society only for himself; and such society the world lets me en- 
 joy in great abundance. Fortune has given you circumstances, 
 and nature a person to look charming in the eyes of the fair. 
 Nor do I envy my dear Bob such blessings, while I may sit 
 down and laugh at the world and at myself — the n\pst ridicu- 
 lous object in it. But you see I am grown downright splenetic, 
 and perhaps the fit may continue till I receive an answer to 
 this. I know you cannot send me much news from Ballyma- 
 hon, but such as it is, send it all ; every thing you send will be 
 agreeable to me. 
 
 * ' Has George Conway put up a sign yet ; or John Finecly 
 left off drinking drams ; or Tom Allen got a new wig ? But I 
 leave you to your own choice what to wTite. While I live, know 
 you have a true friend in yours, &c. &c. &c. 
 
 " Oliver Goldsmith. 
 
 "P.S. Give my sincere respects (not compliments, do you 
 mind) to your agreeable family, and give my service to my 
 mother, if you see her ; for, as you express it in Ireland, I have 
 
 a sneaking kindness for her still. Direct to me, , Student 
 
 in Physic, in Edinburgh." 
 
 Nothing worthy of preservation appeared from his pen dur- 
 ing his residence in Edinburgh ; and indeed his poetical powers, 
 highly as they had been estimated by his friends, had not as 
 yet produced any thing of superior merit. He made on one oc- 
 casion a month's excursion to the Highlands. "I set out the 
 first day on foot," says he, in a letter to his uncle Contarine, 
 " but an ill-natured corn I have on my toe, has for the future 
 prevented that cheap mode of travelling ; so the second day I 
 hired a horse, about the size of a ram, and he walked away (trot 
 he could not) as pensive as his master," 
 
 During his residence in Scotland his convivial talents gained 
 him at one time attentions in a high quarter, which, however, 
 he had the good sense to appreciate correctly. " I have spent," 
 says he, in one of his letters, " more than a fortnight every sec- 
 
OLIVER GOLDSMITH 35 
 
 ond day at the Duke of Hamilton's ; but it seems they like me 
 more as a jester than as a companion, so I disdained so servile 
 an employment as unworthy my calling as a physician." Here 
 we again find the origin of another passage in his autobiog- 
 raphy, under the character of the " Man in Black," wherein 
 that worthy figures as a flatterer to a great man. "At first," 
 says he," I was surprised that the situation of a flatterer at a 
 great man's table could be thought disagreeable ; there was no 
 great trouble in listening attentively when his lordship spoke, 
 and iSughing when he looked round for applause. This, even 
 good manners might have obliged me to perform. I found, 
 however, too soon, his lordship was a greater dunce than my- 
 self, and from that moment flattery was at an end. I now 
 rather aimed at setting him right, than at receiving his absurdi- 
 ties with submission : to flatter those we do not know is an 
 easy task ; but to flatter our intimate acquaintances, all whose 
 foibles are strongly in our eyes, is drudgery insupportable. 
 Every time I now opened my lips in praise, my falsehood went 
 to my conscience ; his lordship soon perceived me to be very un- 
 fit for his service : I was therefore discharged ; my patron at the 
 same time being graciously pleased to observe that he believed 
 I was tolerably good-natured, and had not the least harm in 
 me."i 
 
 After spending two winters at Edinburgh, Goldsmith pre- 
 pared to finish his medical studies on the Continent, for which 
 his uncle Contarine agreed to furnish the funds. " I intend," 
 said he, in a letter to his uncle, " to visit Paris, where the 
 great Farheim, Petit, and Du Hammel de Monceau instruct 
 their pupils in all the branches of medicine. They speak 
 French, and- consequently I shall have much the advantage 
 of most of my countrymen, as I am perfectly acquainted with 
 that language, and few who leave Ireland are so. I shall 
 spend the spring and summer in Paris, and the beginning of 
 next winter go to Leyden. The great Albinus is still alive 
 there, and 'twill be proper to go, though only to have it said 
 that we have studied in so famous a university. 
 
 " As I shall not have another opportunity of receiving money 
 from your bounty till my return to Ireland, so I have drawn 
 
 1 Citizen of the World, Letter xxvii. 
 
36 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 
 
 for the last sum that I hope I shall ever trouble you for ; 'tis 
 ^20. And now, dear Sir, let me here acknowledge the hu- 
 mility of the station in which you found me ; let me tell how 
 I was despised by most, and hateful to myself Poverty, hope- 
 less poverty, was my lot, and Melancholy was beginning to 
 
 make me her own. When you but I stop here, to inquire 
 
 how your health goes on? How does my cousin Jenny, and 
 has she recovered her late complaint? How does my poor 
 Jack Goldsmith? I fear his disorder is of such a nature as 
 he won't easily recover. I wish, my dear Sir, you would make 
 me happy by another letter before I go abroad, for there I shall 
 hardly hear from you. . . . Give my — how shall I express 
 it? Give my earnest love to Mr. and Mrs. Lawder." 
 
 Mrs. Lawder was Jane, his early playmate — the object of 
 his valentine — his first poetical inspiration. She had been for 
 some time married. 
 
 Medical instruction, it will be perceived, was the ostensible 
 motive for this visit to the Continent, but the real one, in all 
 probability, was his long-cherished desire to see foreign parts. 
 This, however, he would not acknowledge even to himself, but 
 sought to reconcile his roving propensities with some grand 
 moral purpose. " I esteem the traveller who instructs the 
 heart," says he, in one of his subsequent writings, "but despise 
 him who only indulges the imagination. A man who leaves 
 home to mend himself and others, is a philosopher ; but he 
 who goes from country to country, guided by the blind impulse 
 of cariosity, is only a vagabond." ^ , He, of course, was to 
 travel as a philosopher, and in truth his outfits for a Conti- 
 nental tour were in character. " I shall carry just £33 to 
 France," said he, " with good store of clothes, shirts, &c., and 
 that with economy will suffice." He forgot to make mention 
 of his flute, which it will be found had occasionally to come in 
 play when economy could not replenish his purse, nor philosophy 
 find him a supper. Thus slenderly provided with money, pru- 
 dence, or experience, and almost as slightly guarded against 
 " hard knocks " as the hero of La Mancha, whose head-piece 
 was half iron, half pasteboard, he made his final sally forth 
 upon the world ; hoping all things ; believing all things : little 
 
 1 Citizen of the World, Letter vii. 
 
OLIVER GOLDSMITH 37 
 
 anticipating the checkered ills in store for him ; little thinking 
 when he penned his valedictory letter to his good uncle Con- 
 tarine, that he was never to see him more ; never to return 
 after all his wandering to the friend of his infancy ; never to 
 revisit his early and fondly-remembered haunts at " sweet 
 Lissoy" and Ballymahon. 
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 The agreeable fellow-passengers — Risks from friends picked up by the 
 wayside — Sketches of Holland and the Dutch — Shifts while a poor 
 student at Leyden — The tulip speculation — The provident flute — 
 Sojourn at Paris — Sketch of Voltaire — Travelling shifts of a philo- 
 sophic vagabond 
 
 His usual indiscretion attended Goldsmith at the very out- 
 set of his foreign enterprise. He had intended to take shipping 
 at Leith for Holland ; but on arriving at that port, he found 
 a ship about to sail for Bordeaux, with six agreeable passengers, 
 whose acquaintance he had probably made at the inn. He Avas 
 not a man to resist a sudden impulse ; so, instead of embarking 
 for Holland, he found himself ploughing the seas on his way 
 to the other side of the continent. Scarcely had the ship been 
 two days at sea, when she was driven by stress of weather to 
 Newcastle-upon-Tyne. Here "of course" Goldsmith and his 
 agreeable fellow-passengers found it expedient to go on shore 
 and " refresh themselves after the fatigues of the voyage." 
 " Of course " they frolicked and made merry until a late hour 
 in the evening, when, in the midst of their hilarity, the door 
 was burst open, and a Serjeant and twelve grenadiers entered 
 with fixed bayonets, and took the whole convivial party prisoners. 
 
 It seems that the agreeable companions with whom our green- 
 horn had struck up such a sudden intimacy, were Scotchmen in 
 the French service, who had been in Scotland enlisting recruits 
 for the French army. 
 
 In vain Goldsmith protested his innocence ; he was marched 
 off with his fellow revellers to prison, whence he with difficulty 
 obtained his release at the end of a fortnight. With his cus- 
 tomary facility, however, at palliating his misadventures, he 
 
38 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 
 
 found every thing turn out for the best. His imprisonment 
 saved his life, for during his detention the ship proceeded on 
 her voyage, but was wrecked at the mouth of the Garonne and 
 all on board perished. 
 
 Goldsmith's second embarkation was for Holland direct, and 
 in nine days he arrived at Rotterdam, whence he proceeded, 
 without any more deviations, to Leyden. He gives a whimsical 
 picture, in one of his letters, of the appearance of the Hol- 
 landers. " The modern Dutchman is quite a different creature 
 from him of former times : he in every thing imitates a French- 
 man but in his easy, disengaged air. He is vastly ceremonious, 
 and is, perhaps, exactly what a Frenchman might have been 
 in the reign of Louis XIV. Such are the better bred. But 
 the downright Hollander is one of the oddest figures in nature. 
 Upon a lank head of hair he wears a half-cocked narrow hat, 
 laced with black riband ; no coat, but seven waistcoats and 
 nine pair of breeches, so that his hips reach up almost to his 
 armpits. This well-clothed vegetable is now fit to see company 
 or make love. But what a pleasing creature is the object of 
 his appetite ! why, she wears a large fur cap, with a deal of 
 Flanders lace ; and for every pair of breeches he carries, she 
 puts on two petticoats. 
 
 " A Dutch lady burns nothing about her phlegmatic admirer 
 but his tobacco. You must know, sir, every woman carries in 
 her hand a stove of coals, which, when she sits, she snugs 
 under her petticoats, and at this chimney, dozing Strephon 
 lights his pipe." 
 
 In the same letter he contrasts Scotland and Holland. 
 " There hills and rocks intercept every prospect ; here it is 
 all a continued plain. There you might see a well-dressed 
 Duchess issuing from a dirty close, and here a dirty Dutch- 
 man inhabiting a palace. The Scotch may be compared to 
 a tulip, planted in dung ; but I can never see a Dutchman 
 in his own house, but I think of a magnificent Egyptian temple 
 dedicated to an ox." 
 
 The country itself awakened his admiration. " Nothing," 
 said he, " can equal its beauty ; wherever I turn my eyes, fine 
 houses, elegant gardens, statues, grottos, vistas, present 
 themselves ; but when you enter their towns you are charmed 
 
OLIVER GOLDSMITH 89 
 
 beyond description. No misery is to be seen here ; every one 
 is useftdly employed." And again, in his noble description in 
 "The Traveller": 
 
 " To men of other minds my fancy flies, 
 Imbosom'd in the deep where Holland lies. 
 Methinks her patient sons before me stand, 
 Where the broad ocean leans against the land, 
 And, sedulous to stop the coming tide, 
 Lift the tall rampire's artificial pride. 
 * Onward, methinks, and diligently slow, 
 
 The firm connected bulwark seems to grow ; 
 Spreads its long arms amid the watery roar, 
 Scoops out an empire, and usurps the shore. 
 While the pent ocean, rising o'er the pile. 
 Sees an amphibious world before him smile ; 
 The slow canal, the yellow blossom' d vale, 
 The willow-tufted bank, the gliding sail. 
 The crowded mart, the cultivated plain, 
 A new creation rescued from his reign." 
 
 He remained about a year at Leyden, attending the lectures 
 of Gaubius on chemistry and Albinus on anatomy ; though his 
 studies are said to have been miscellaneous, and directed to 
 literature rather than science. The thirty-three pounds with 
 which he had set out on his travels were soon consumed, and 
 he was put to many a shift to meet his expenses until his pre- 
 carious remittances should arrive. He had a good friend on 
 these occasions in a fellow-student and countryman, named 
 Ellis, who afterwards rose to eminence as a physician. He 
 used frequently to loan small sums to Goldsmith, which were 
 always scrupulously paid. Ellis discovered the innate merits 
 of the poor awkward student, and used to declare in after life that 
 it was a common remark in Leyden, that " in all the peculiari- 
 ties of Goldsmith, an elevation of mind was to be noted; a 
 philosophical tone and manner ; the feelings of a gentleman, 
 and the language and information of a scholar." 
 
 Sometimes, in his emergencies. Goldsmith undertook to 
 teach the English language. It is true he was ignorant of the 
 Dutch, but he had a smattering of the French, picked up 
 among the Irish priests at Ballymahon. He depicts his whim- 
 sical embarrassment in this respect, in his account in the 
 
40 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 
 
 " Vicar of Wakefield " of the Philosophical Vagabond ^ who 
 went to Holland to teach the natives English, without knowing 
 a word of their own language. Sometimes, when sorely 
 pinched, and sometimes, perhaps, when flush, he resorted to 
 the gambling tables, which in those days abounded in Holland. 
 His good friend Ellis repeatedly warned him against this un- 
 Ibrtunate propensity, but in vain. It brought its own cure, or 
 rather its own punishment, by stripping him of every shilling. 
 
 Ellis once more stepped in to his relief with a true Irish- 
 man's generosity, but with more considerateness than gen- 
 erally characterizes an Irishman, for he only granted pecuniary 
 aid on condition of his quitting the sphere of danger. Gold- 
 smith gladly consented to leave Holland, being anxious to visit 
 other parts. He intended to proceed to Paris and pursue his 
 studies there, and was furnished by his friend with money for 
 the journey. Unluckily, he rambled into the garden of a florist 
 just before quitting Leyden. The tulip mania was still preva- 
 lent in Holland, and some species of that splendid flower 
 brought immense prices. In wandering through the garden 
 Goldsmith recollected that his uncle Contarine was a tulip 
 fancier. The thought suddenly struck him that here was an 
 opportunity of testifying, in a delicate manner, his sense of that 
 generous uncle's past kindnesses. In an instant his hand was 
 in his pocket ; a number of choice and costly tulip-roots were 
 purchased and packed up for Mr. Contarine; and it was not 
 until he had paid for them that he bethought himself that he 
 had spent all the money borrowed for his travelling expenses. 
 Too proud, however, to give up his journey, and too shame- 
 faced to make another appeal to his friend's liberality, he 
 determined to travel on foot, and depend upon chance and 
 good luck for the means of getting forward ; and it is said that 
 he actually set off on a tour of the Continent, in February, 
 1755, with but one spare shirt, a flute, and a single guinea. 
 
 " Blessed," says one of his biographers, " with a good con- 
 stitution, an adventurous spirit, and with that thoughtless, or, 
 perhaps, happy disposition which takes no care for to-morrow, 
 he continued his travels for a long time in spite of innumerable 
 privations." In his amusing narrative of the adventures of a 
 
 iRead Chap, xx, in the Vicar of Wakefield. 
 
OLIVER GOLDSMITH 41 
 
 Philosophical Vagabond in the " Vicar of Wakefield," we find 
 shadowed out the expedients he pursued. *'I had some knowl- 
 edge of music, with a tolerable voice ; I now turned what was 
 once my amusement into a present means of subsistence. I 
 passed among the harmless peasants of Flanders, and among 
 such of the French as were poor enough to be very merry, for 
 I ever found them sprightly in proportion to their wants. 
 Whenever I approached a peasant's house towards nightfall, I 
 played one of my merriest tunes, and that procured me not only 
 a lodging, but subsistence for the next day ; but in truth I 
 must own, whenever I attempted to entertain persons of a 
 higher rank, they always thought my performance odious, and 
 never made me any return for my endeavors to please them." ^ 
 
 At Paris he attended the chemical lectures of Rouelle, then 
 in great vogue, where he says he witnessed as bright a circle of 
 beauty as graced the court of Versailles. His love of the- 
 atricals, also, led him to attend the performances of the cele- 
 brated actress Mademoiselle Olairon, with which he was greatly 
 delighted. He seems to have looked upon the state of society 
 with the eye of a philosopher, but to have read the signs of the 
 times with the prophetic eye of a poet. In his rambles about 
 the environs of Paris, he was struck with the immense quanti- 
 ties of game running about almost in a tame state ; and saw in 
 those costly and rigid preserves for the amusement and luxury 
 of the privileged few, a sure "badge of the slavery of the 
 people." This slavery he predicted was drawing towards a 
 close. "When I consider that these parliaments, the members 
 of which are all created by the court, and the presidents of 
 which can only act by immediate direction, presume even to 
 mention privileges and freedom, who till of late received direc- 
 tions from the throne with implicit humility; when this is 
 considered, I cannot help fancying that the genius of Freedom 
 has entered that kingdom in disguise. If they have but three 
 weak monarch s more successively on the throne, the mask will 
 be laid aside, and the country will certainly once more be free." ^ 
 Events have testified to the sage forecast of the poet. 
 
 During a brief sojourn in Paris, he appears to have gained 
 
 1 Present State of Polite Learning, Chap. vii. 
 
 2 Citizen of the World, Letter Ivi. 
 
42 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 
 
 access to valuable society, and to have had the honor and 
 pleasure of making the acquaintance of Voltaire ; of whom, in 
 after years, he wrote a memoir. " As a companion," says he, 
 " no man ever exceeded him when he pleased to lead the con- 
 versation ; which, however, was not always the case. In com- 
 pany which he either disliked or despised, few could be more 
 reserved than he ; but when he was warmed in discourse, and 
 got over a hesitating manner, which sometimes he was subject 
 to, it was rapture to hear him. His meagre visage seemed 
 insensibly to gather beauty : every muscle in it had meaning, 
 and his eye beamed with unusual brightness. The person who 
 writes this memoir," continues he, " remembers to have seen 
 him in a select company of wits of both sexes at Paris, when 
 the subject happened to turn upon English taste and learning. 
 Fontenelle, (then nearly a hundred years old,) who was of the 
 party, and who being unacquainted with the language or 
 authors of the country he undertook to condemn, with a spirit 
 truly vulgar began to revile both. Diderot, who liked the 
 English, and knew something of their literary pretensions, at- 
 tempted to vindicate their poetry and learning, but with un- 
 equal abilities. The company quickly perceived that Fontenelle 
 was superior in the dispute, and were surprised at the silence 
 which Voltaire had preserved all the former part of the night, 
 particularly as the conversation happened to turn upon one 
 of his favorite topics. Fontenelle continued his triumph until 
 about twelve o'clock, when Voltaire appeared at last roused 
 from his reverie. His whole frame seemed animated. He 
 began his defence with the utmost defiance mixed with spirit, 
 and now and then let fall the finest strokes of raillery upon his 
 antagonist ; and his harangue lasted till three in the morning. 
 I must confess, that, whether from national partiality, or from 
 the elegant sensibility of his manner, I never was so charmed, 
 nor did I ever remember so absolute a victory as he gained in 
 this dispute." ^ Goldsmith's ramblings took him into Germany 
 and Switzerland, from which last-mentioned country he sent to 
 his brother in Ireland the first brief sketch, afterwards ampli- 
 fied into his poem of " The Traveller." 
 
 At Geneva he became travelling tutor to a mongrel young 
 
 1 Memoirs of Voltaire, Globe edition of Goldsmith's works, page 500, 
 
OLIVER GOLDSMITH 43 
 
 gentleman, son of a London pawnbroker, who had been sud- 
 denly elevated into fortune and absurdity by the death of 
 an uncle. The youth, before setting up for a gentleman, had 
 been an attorney's apprentice, and was an arrant pettifogger in 
 money matters. Never were two beings more illy assorted 
 than he and Goldsmith. We may form an idea of the tutor 
 and the pupil from the following extract from the narrative of 
 the Philosophic Vagabond. 
 
 "I was to be the young gentleman's governor, but with a, 
 proviso that he should always be permitted to govern himself. 
 My pupil, in fact, understood the art of guiding in money con- 
 cerns much better than I. He was heir to a fortune of about 
 two hundred thousand pounds, left him by an uncle in the 
 West Indies ; and his guardians, to qualify him for the 
 management of it, had bound him apprentice to an attorney. 
 Thus avarice was his prevailing passion ; all his questions on 
 the road were, how money might be saved — which was the 
 least expensive course of travel — whether any thing could be 
 bought that would turn to account when disposed of again in 
 London? Such curiosities on the way as could be seen for 
 nothing, he was ready enough to look at ; but if the sight 
 of them was to be paid for, he usually asserted that he had 
 been told that they were not worth seeing. He never paid 
 a bill that he would not observe how amazingly expensive 
 travelling was : and all this though not yet twenty-one." 
 
 In this sketch Goldsmith undoubtedly shadows forth his 
 annoyances as travelling tutor to this concrete young gentle- 
 man, compounded of the pawnbroker, the pettifogger, and the 
 West Indian heir, with an overlaying of the city miser. They 
 had continual difl&culties on all points of expense until they 
 reached Marseilles, where both were glad to separate. 
 
 Once more on foot, but freed from the irksome duties of 
 "bear leader," and wdth some of his pay, as tutor, in his 
 pocket, Goldsmith continued his half vagrant peregrinations 
 through part of France and Piedmont, and some of the Italian 
 States. He had acquired, as has been shown, a habit of shift- 
 ing along and living by expedients, and a new one presented 
 itself in Italy. " My skill in music," says he, in the Philosophic 
 Vagabond, " could avail me nothing in a country where every 
 
44 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 
 
 peasant was a better musician than I ; but by this time I had 
 acquired another talent, which answered my purpose as well, 
 and this was a skill in disputation. In all the foreign uni- 
 versities and convents there are, upon certain days, philo- 
 sophical theses maintained against every adventitious disputant : 
 for which, if the champion opposes with any dexterity, he can 
 claim a gratuity in money, a dinner, and a bed for one night." ^ 
 Though a poor wandering scholar, his reception in these learned 
 piles was as free from humiliation as in the cottages of the 
 peasantry. " With the members of these establishments," said 
 he, "I could converse on topics of literature, and then I al- 
 ways forgot the meanness of my circumstances^ 
 
 At Padua, where he remained some months, he is said to 
 have taken his medical degree. It is probable he was brought 
 to a pause in this city by the death of his uncle Contariue ; 
 who had hitherto assisted him in his wanderings by occasional, 
 though, of course, slender remittances. Deprived of this source 
 of supplies, he wrote to his friends in Ireland, and especially to 
 his brother-in-law, Hodson, describing his destitute situation. 
 His letters brought him neither money nor reply. It appears, 
 from subsequent correspondence, that his brother-in-law actually 
 exerted himself to raise a subscription for his assistance among 
 his relatives, friends, and acquaintance, but without success. 
 Their faith and hope in him were most probably at an end ; as 
 yet he had disappointed them at every point, he had given none 
 of the anticipated proofs of talent, and they were too poor to 
 support what they may have considered the wandering propen- 
 sities of a heedless spendthrift. 
 
 Thus left to his own precarious resources, Goldsmith gave 
 up ail further wandering in Italy, without visiting the south, 
 though Rome and Naples must have held out powerful attrac- 
 tions to one of his poetical cast. Once more resuming his pil- 
 grim staff, he turned his face toward England, " walking along 
 from city to city, examining mankind more nearly, and seeing 
 both sides of the picture." In traversing France his flute — 
 his magic flute ! — was once more in requisition, as we may con- 
 clude by the following passage in his " Traveller " : 
 
 1 Vicar of Wakefield, Chap. xx. 
 
OLIVER GOLDSMITH 45 
 
 *' Gay, sprightly land of mirth and social ease, 
 Pleased with thyself, whom all the world can please 
 How often have I led thy sportive choir 
 With tuneless pipe beside the murmuring Loire ! 
 Where shading elms along the margin grew. 
 And freshened from the wave the zephyr flew ; 
 And haply though my harsh note falt'ring still, 
 But mocked all tune, and marr'd the dancer's skill ; 
 Yet would the village praise my wondrous power, 
 And dance forgetful of the noontide hour. 
 Alike all ages -. Dames of ancient days 
 Have led their children through the mirthful maze, 
 And the gay grandsire, skill' d in gestic lore. 
 Has frisk' d beneath the burden of three-score." 
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 Landing in England — Shifts of a man without money — The pestle 
 and mortar — Theatricals in a barn — Launch upon London — A 
 city night scene — Struggles with penury — IMiseries of a tutor — A 
 doctor in the suburb — Poor practice and second-hand finery — 
 A tragedy in embryo — Project of tlie written mountains 
 
 After two years spent in roving about the Continent, " pur- 
 suing novelty," as he said, "and losing content," Goldsmith 
 landed at Dover early in 1756. He appears to have had no 
 definite plan of action. The death of his uncle Contarine, and 
 the neglect of his relatives and friends to reply to his letters, 
 seem to have produced in him a temporary feeling of loneliness 
 and destitution, and his only thought was to get to London, and 
 throw himself upon the world. But how was he to get there? 
 His purse was empty. England was to him as completely a 
 foreign land as any part of the continent, and where on earth is 
 a penniless stranger more destitute ? His flute and his philos- 
 ophy were no longer of any avail ; the English boors cared noth- 
 ing for music ; there were no convents ; and as to the learned 
 and the clergy, not one of them would give a vagrant scholar 
 a supper and night's lodging for the best thesis that ever was 
 argued. "You may easily imagine," says he, in a subsequent 
 letter to his brother-in-law, " what difficulties I had to en- 
 counter, left as I was without friends, recommendations, money, 
 or impudence, and that in a country where being born an Irish- 
 
46 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 
 
 • 
 
 man was sufficient to keep me unemployed. Many, in such 
 circumstances would have had recourse to the friar's cord or the 
 suicide's halter. But, with all my follies, I had principle to re- 
 sist the one, and resolution to combat the other." 
 
 He applied at one place, we are told, for employment in the 
 shop of a country apothecary ; but all his medical science gath- 
 ered in foreign universities could not gain him the management 
 of a pestle and mortar. He even resorted, it is said, to the 
 stage as a temporary expedient, and figured in low comedy at a 
 country town in Kent. This accords with his last shift of the 
 Philosophic Vagabond, and with the knowledge of country the- 
 atricals displayed in his "Adventures of a Strolling Player,"^ 
 or may be a story suggested by them. All this part of his 
 career, however, in which he must have trod the lowest paths 
 of humility, are only to be conjectured from vague traditions, or 
 scraps of autobiography gleaned from his miscellaneous writings. 
 
 At length we find him launched on the great metropolis, or 
 rather drifting about its streets, at night, in the gloomy month 
 of February, with but a few half-pence in his pocket. The 
 Deserts of Arabia are not more dreary and inhospitable than 
 the streets of London at such a time, and to a stranger in such 
 a plight. Do we want a picture as an illustration ? We have 
 it in his own works, and furnished, doubtless, from his own 
 experience. 
 
 " The clock has just struck two ; what a gloom hangs all 
 around ! no sound is heard but of the chiming clock, or the dis- 
 tant watch-dog. How few appear in those streets, which but 
 some few hours ago were crowded ! But who are those who 
 make the streets their couch, and find a short repose from 
 wretchedness at the doors of the opulent ? They are strangers, 
 wanderers, and orphans, whose circumstances are too humble to 
 expect redress, and whose distresses are too great even for pity. 
 Some are without the covering even of rags, and others emaci- 
 ated with disease ;.the world has disclaimed them ; society turns 
 its back upon their distress, and has given them up to naked- 
 ness and hunger. These poor shivering females have once seen 
 happier days, and been flattered, into beauty. They are now 
 turned out to meet the severity of winter. Perhaps now, lying 
 
 1 Vicar of Wakefield, Chap. xx. 
 
OLIVER GOLDSMITH 47 
 
 at the doors of their betrayers, they sue to wretches whose 
 hearts are insensible, or debauchees who may curse, but will 
 not relieve them. 
 
 " Why, why was I born a man, and yet see the sufferings of 
 wretches I cannot relieve ! Poor houseless creatures ! The 
 world will give you reproaches, but will not give you relief."^ 
 
 Poor houseless Goldsmith ! we may here ejaculate — to what 
 shifts he must have been driven to find shelter and sustenance 
 for himself in this his first venture into London ! Many years 
 afterwards, in the days of his social elevation, he startled a 
 polite circle at Sir Joshua Reynolds's by humorously dating an 
 anecdote about the time he " lived among the beggars of Axe 
 Lane." Such may have been the desolate quarters with which 
 he was fain to content himself when thus adrift upon the 
 town, with but a few half-pence in his pocket. 
 
 The first authentic trace we have of him in this new part of 
 his career is filling the situation of an usher to a school, and 
 even this employ he obtained with some difficulty, after a refer- 
 ence for a character to his friends in the University of Dublin. 
 In the "Vicar of Wakefield" he makes George Primrose 
 undergo a whimsical catechism concerning the requisites for an 
 usher. " Have you been bred apprentice to the business ? " 
 " No." " Then you won't do for a school. Can you dress the 
 boys' hair ? " " No." " Then you won't do for a school. Can 
 you lie three in a bed?" "No." "Then you will never do 
 for a school. Have you a good stomach?" "Yes." "Then 
 you will by no means* do for a school. I have been an usher in 
 a boarding school, myself, and may I die of an anodyne neck- 
 lace, but I had rather be under-turnkey in Newgate. I was 
 up early and late : I was browbeat by the master, hated for my 
 ugly face by the mistress, worried by the boys." ^ 
 
 Goldsmith remained but a short time in this situation, and 
 to the mortifications experienced there, we doubtless owe the 
 picturings given in his writings of the hardships of an usher's 
 life. "He is generally," says he, "the laughing-stock of the 
 school. Every trick is played upon him ; the oddity of his 
 manner, his dress, or his language, is a fund of eternal ridicule; 
 
 1 Citizen of the World, Letter cxvii. 
 
 2 Vicar of Wakefield, Chap. xx. 
 
48 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 
 
 the master himself now and then cannot avoid joining in 
 the laugh ; and the poor wretch, eternally resenting this ill 
 
 usage, lives in a state of war with all the family." " He is 
 
 obliged, perhaps, to sleep in the same bed with the French 
 teacher, who disturbs him for an hour every night in papering 
 and filleting his hair, and stinks worse than a carrion with his 
 rancid pomatums, when he lays his head beside him on the 
 bolster," ^ 
 
 His next shift was as assistant in the laboratory of a chemist 
 near Fish-street Hill. After remaining here a. few months, he 
 heard that Dr. Sleigh, who had been his friend and fellow- 
 student at Edinburgh, was in London. Eager to meet with a 
 friendly face in this land of strangers, he immediately called on 
 him ; "but though it was Sunday, and it is to be supposed I 
 was in my best clothes, Sleigh scarcely knew me — such is the 
 tax the unfortunate pay to poverty. However, when he did 
 recollect me, I found his heart as warm as ever, and he shared his 
 purse and friendship with me during his continuance in London." 
 
 Through the advice and assistance of Dr. Sleigh, he now 
 commenced the practice of medicine, but in a small way, in 
 Bankside, Southwark, and chiefly among the poor; for he 
 wanted the figure, address, polish, and management, to succeed 
 among the rich. His old schoolmate and college companion, 
 Beatty, who used to aid him with his purse at the university, 
 met him about this time, decked out in the tarnished finery of 
 a second-hand suit of green and gold, with a shirt and neck- 
 cloth of a fortnight's wear. 
 
 Poor Goldsmith endeavored to assume a prosperous air in the 
 eyes of his early associate. " He was practising physic," he 
 said, " and doing very well I " At this moment poverty was 
 pinching him to the bone in spite of his practice and his dirty 
 finery. His fees were necessarily small, and ill paid, and he 
 was fain to seek some precarious assistance from his pen. Here 
 his quondam fellow-student. Dr. Sleigh, was again of service, 
 introducing him to some of the booksellers, who gave him 
 occasional, though starveling employment. According to tra- 
 dition, however, his most efficient patron just now was a 
 journeyman printer, one of his poor patients of Bankside ; who 
 
 1 The Bee, No. vi. 
 
OLIVER GOLDSMITH 49 
 
 had formed a good opinion of his talents, and perceived his 
 poverty and his literary shifts. The printer was in the em- 
 ploy of Mr. Samuel Richardson, the author of " Pamela," 
 "Clarissa," and "Sir Charles Grandison"; who combined the 
 novelist and the publisher, and was in flourishing circumstances. 
 Through the journeyman's intervention Goldsmith is said to 
 have become acquainted with Richardson, who employed him 
 as reader and corrector of the press, at his printing establish- 
 ment in Salisbury Court ; an occupation which he alternated 
 with his medical duties. 
 
 Being admitted occasionally to Richardson's parlor, he began 
 to form literary acquaintances, among whom the most important 
 was Dr. Young, the author of " Night Thoughts,"" a poem in 
 the height of fashion. It is not probable, however, that much 
 famiharity took place at the time between the literary lion of 
 the day and the poor ^sculapius of Bankside, the humble 
 corrector of the press. Still the communion with literary men 
 had its effect to set his imagination teeming. Dr. Farr, one of 
 his Edinburgh fellow-students, who was at London about this 
 time, attending the hospitals and lectures, gives us an amusing 
 account of Goldsmith in his literaiy character. 
 
 " Early in January he called upon me one morning before I 
 was up, and, on my entering the room, I recognized my old 
 acquaintance, dressed in a rusty, full-trimmed black suit, with 
 his pockets fidl of papers, which instantly reminded me of the 
 poet in Garrick's farce of ' Lethe.' After we had finished our 
 breakfast, he drew from his pocket part of a tragedy, which he 
 said he had brought for my correction. In vain I pleaded ina- 
 bility, when he began to read ; and every part on which I 
 expressed a doubt as to the propriety was immediately blotted 
 out. I then most earnestly pressed him not to trust to my 
 judgment, but to take the opinion of persons better qualified to 
 decide on dramatic compositions. He now told me he had sub- 
 mitted his production, so far as he had written, to Mr. Richard- 
 son, the author of ' Clarissa,' on which I peremptorily declined 
 offering another criticism on the performance." 
 
 From the graphic description given of him by Dr. Farr, 
 it will be perceived that the tarnished finery of green and gold 
 had been succeeded by a professional suit of black, to which, 
 
50 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 
 
 we are told, were added the wig and cane indispensable to 
 medical doctors in those days. The coat was a second-hand 
 one, of rusty velvet, with a patch on the left breast, which he 
 adroitly covered with his three-cornered hat during his medical 
 visits ; and we have an amusing anecdote of his contest of 
 courtesy with a patient who persisted in endeavoring to relieve 
 him from the hat, which only made him press it more devoutly 
 to his heart. 
 
 Nothing further has ever been heard of the tragedy men- 
 tioned by Dr. Farr; it was probably never completed. The 
 same gentleman speaks of a strange Quixotic scheme which 
 Goldsmith had in contemplation at the time, " of going to 
 decipher the inscriptions on the 'written mountains, though he 
 was altogether ignorant of Arabic, or the language in which 
 they might be supposed to be written." " The salary of three 
 hundred pounds," adds Dr. Farr, "which had been left for the 
 purpose, was the temptation." This was probably one of many 
 dreamy projects with which his fervid brain was apt to teem. 
 On such subjects he Avas prone to talk vaguely and magnificently, 
 but inconsiderately, from a kindled imagination rather than a 
 well-instructed judgment. He had always a great notion of 
 expeditions to the East, and wonders to be seen and effected in 
 the oriental countries. 
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 
 Life of a pedagogue — Kindness to schoolboys; pertness in return — 
 Expensive charities — The Griifitlis and the Monthly Revieio — 
 Toils of a literary hack — Rupture with the Griffiths 
 
 Among the most cordial of Goldsmith's intimates in London 
 during this time of precarious struggle, were certain of his 
 former fellow-students in Edinburgh. One of these was the son 
 of a Dr. Milner, a dissenting minister, who kept a classical school 
 of eminence at Peckham, in Surrey. Young Milner had a fa- 
 vorable opinion of Goldsmith's abilities and attainments, and 
 cherished for him that good will which his genial nature seems 
 ever to have inspired among his school and college associates. 
 His father falling ill, the young man negotiated with Goldsmith 
 to take temporary charge of the school. The latter readily con- 
 
OLIVER GOLDSMITH 51 
 
 sented ; for he was discouraged by the slow growth of medical 
 reputation and practice, and as yet had no confidence in the coy 
 smiles of the muse. Laying by his wig and cane, therefore, 
 and once more wielding the ferule, he resumed the character of 
 the pedagogue, and for some time reigned as vicegerent over the 
 academy at Peckham. He appears to have been well treated 
 by both Dr. Milner and his wife : and became a favorite with 
 the scholars from his easy, indulgent good nature. He mingled 
 in their sports ; told them droll stories ; played on the flute 
 for tkeir amusement, and spent his money in treating them to 
 sweetmeats and other schoolboy dainties. His familiarity was 
 sometimes carried too far ; he indulged in boyish pranks and 
 practical jokes, and drew upon himself retorts in kind, which, 
 however, he bore with great good humor. Once, indeed, he was 
 touched to the quick by a piece of schoolboy pertness. After 
 playing on the flute, he spoke with enthusiasm of music, as de- 
 lightful in itself, and as a valuable accomplishment for a gentle- 
 man, whereupon a youngster, with a glance at his ungainly 
 person, wished to know if he considered himself a gentleman. 
 Poor Goldsmith, feelingly alive to the awkwardness of his ap- 
 pearance and the humility of his situation, winced at this 
 unthinking sneer, which long rankled in his mind. 
 
 As usual, while in Dr. Milner's employ, his benevolent 
 feelings were a heavy tax upon his purse, for he never could 
 resist a tale of distress, and was apt to be fleeced by every 
 sturdy beggar ; so that, between his charity and his munificence, 
 he was generally in advance of his slender salary. "You had 
 better, Mr. Goldsmith, let me take care of your money," said 
 Mrs. Milner one day, "as I do for some of the young gentle- 
 men." — "In truth, madam, there is equal need ! " was the 
 good-humored reply. 
 
 Dr. Milner was a man of some literary pretensions, and 
 wrote occasionally for the Monthly Review, of which a book- 
 seller, by the name of Griffiths, was proprietor. This work 
 was an advocate for Whig principles, and had been in pros- 
 perous existence for nearly eight years. Of late, however, 
 periodicals had multiplied exceedingly, and a formidable Tory 
 rival had started up in the Critical Revieiv, published by 
 Archibald Hamilton, a bookseller, and aided by the powerful 
 
52 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 
 
 and popular pen of Dr. Smollett. Griffiths was obliged to 
 recruit his forces. While so doing he met Goldsmith, a humble 
 occupant of a seat at Dr. Milner's table, and was struck with 
 remarks on men and books, which fell from him in the course 
 of conversation. He took occasion to sound him privately as 
 to his inclination and capacity as a reviewer, and was furnished 
 by him with specimens of his literary and critical talents. They 
 proved satisfactory. The consequence was that Goldsmith once 
 more changed his mode of life, and in April, 1757, became a 
 contributor to the Monthly Review, at a small fixed salary, with 
 board and lodging : and accordingly took up his abode with Mr. 
 Griffiths, at the sign of the Dunciad, Paternoster Eow. As 
 usual we trace this phase of his fortunes in his semi-fictitious 
 writings ; his sudden transmutation of the pedagogue into the 
 author being humorously set forth in the case of " George Prim- 
 rose," in the "Yicar of Wakefield."-^ "Come," says George's 
 adviser, " I see you are a lad of spirit and some learning ; what 
 do you think of commencing author like me 1 You have read 
 in books, no doubt, of men of genius starving at the trade : at 
 present I'll show you forty very dull fellows about town that 
 live by it in opulence. All honest, jog-trot men, who go on 
 smoothly and dully, and write history and politics, and are 
 praised : men, sir, who, had they been bred cobblers, would all 
 their lives only have mended shoes, but never made them." 
 " Finding " (says George) " that there was no great degree of 
 gentility affixed to the character of an usher, I resolved to ac- 
 cept his proposal ; and, having the highest respect for literature, 
 hailed the antiqua mater of Grub-street with reverence. I 
 thought it my glory to pursue a track which Dryden and Otway 
 trod before me." Alas ! Dryden struggled with indigence all 
 his days ; and Otway, it is said, fell a victim to famine in his 
 thirty-fifth year, being strangled by a roll of bread, which he 
 devoured with the voracity of a starving man. 
 
 In Goldsmith's experience the track soon proved a thorny 
 one. Griffiths was a hard business man, of shrewd, worldly 
 good sense, but little refinement or cultivation. He meddled 
 or rather muddled with literature, too, in a business way, alter- 
 ing and modifying occasionally the writings of his contributors, 
 and in this he was aided by his wife, who, according to Smollett, 
 
 1 Chapter xx. 
 
OLIVER GOLDSMITH 53 
 
 was " an antiquated female critic and a dabbler in the RevieivP 
 Such was the literary vassalage to which Goldsmith had un- 
 warily subjected himself. A diurnal drudgery was imposed on 
 him, irksome to his indolent habits, and attended by circum- 
 stances humiliating to his pride. He had to write daily from 
 nine o'clock until two, and often throughout the day ; whether 
 in the vein or not, and on subjects dictated by his task-master, 
 however foreign to his taste ; in a word, he was treated as a 
 mere literary hack. But this was not the worst ; it was the 
 crittcal supervision of Griffiths and his wife, which grieved 
 him : the " illiterate, bookselling Griffiths," as Smollett called 
 them, " who presumed to revise, alter, and amend the articles 
 contributed to their Revieio. Thank heaven," crowed Smol- 
 lett, " the Critical Revieiv is not written under the restraint 
 of a bookseller and his wife. Its principal writers are inde- 
 pendent of each , other, unconnected with booksellers and un- 
 awed by old women ! " 
 
 This literary vassalage, however, did not last long. The 
 bookseller became more and more exacting. He accused his 
 hack writer of idleness ; of abandoning his writing-desk and 
 literary workshop at an early hour of the day ; and of assuming 
 a tone and manner above his situation. Goldsmith, in return, 
 charged him with impertinence ; his wife, with meanness and 
 parsimony in her household treatment of him, and both of 
 literary meddling and marring. The engagement was broken 
 off at the end of five months, by mutual consent, and without 
 any violent mpture, as it will be found they afterwards had 
 occasional dealings with each other. 
 
 Though Goldsmith was now nearly thirty years of age, he 
 had produced nothing to give him a decided reputation. He 
 was as yet a mere writer for bread. The articles he had con- 
 tributed to the Review were anonymous, and were never avowed 
 by him. They have since been, for the m.ost part, ascertaineil ; 
 and though thrown off hastily, often treating on subjects of 
 temporary interest, and marred by the Griffiths interpolations, 
 they are still characterized by his sound, easy good sense, and 
 the genial graces of his style. Johnson observed that Gold- 
 smith's genius floAvered late ; he should have said it flowered 
 early, but was late in bringing its fruit to maturity. 
 
54 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 
 Newbery, of picture-book memory — How to keep up appearances — ■ 
 Miseries of authorship — A poor relation — Letter to Hodson 
 
 Being now known in the publisliing world, Goldsmith be- 
 gan to find casual employment in various quarters ; among 
 others he wrote occasionally for the Literary Magazine, a 
 production set on foot by Mr. John Newbery, bookseller, St. 
 Paul's Churchyard, renowned in nursery literature throughout 
 the latter half of the last century for his picture-books for 
 children. Newbery was a worthy, intelligent, kind-hearted 
 man, and a seasonable, though cautious friend to authors, re- 
 lieving them with small loans when in pecuniary difficulties, 
 though always taking care to be well repaid by the labor of 
 their pens. Goldsmith introduces him in a humorous yet 
 friendly manner in his novel of the " Vicar of Wakefield." 
 " This person was no other than the philanthropic bookseller 
 in St. Paul's Churchyard, who has written so many little books 
 for children ; he called himself their friend ; but he was the 
 friend of all mankind. He was no sooner alighted but he was 
 in haste to be gone ; for he was ever on business of importance, 
 and was at that time actually compiling materials for the history 
 of one Mr. Thomas Trip, I immediately recollected this good- 
 natured man's red-pimpled face." ^ 
 
 Besides his literary job work. Goldsmith also resumed his 
 medical practice, but with very trifling success. The scantiness 
 of his purse still obliged him to live in obscure lodgings some- 
 where in the vicinity of Salisbury Square, Fleet-street ; but 
 his extended acquaintance and rising importance caused him 
 to consult appearances. He adopted an expedient, then very 
 common, and still practised in London among those who have 
 to tread the narrow path between pride and poverty ; while he 
 burrowed in lodgings suited to his means, he " hailed," as it is 
 termed, from the Temple Exchange Coffee-house near Temple 
 Bar. Here he received his medical calls ; hence he dated his 
 letters, and here he passed much of his leisure hours, conversing 
 
 ' Vicar of Wakefield, Chap, xviii. 
 
OLIVER GOLDSMITH 55 
 
 with the frequenters of the place. "Thirty pounds a year," 
 said a poor Irish painter, who understood the art of shifting, 
 " is enough to enable a man to live in Loudon without being 
 contemptible. Ten pounds will j&nd him in clothes and linen ; 
 he can live in a garret on eighteen pence a week ; hail from a 
 coffee-house, where, by occasionally spending threepence, he may 
 pass some hours each day in good company ; he may breakfast 
 on bread and milk for a penny ; dine for sixpence ; do without 
 supper ; and on clemi-shirt-day he may go abroad and pay 
 visits." 
 
 m 
 
 Goldsmith seems to have taken a leaf from this poor devil's 
 manual in respect to the coffee-house at least. Indeed, coffee- 
 houses in those days were the resorts of wits and literati ; where 
 the topics of the day were gossiped over, and the affairs of 
 literature and the drama discussed and criticised. In this way 
 he enlarged the circle of his intimacy, which now embraced 
 several names of notoriety. 
 
 Do we want a picture of Goldsmith's experience in this part 
 of his career ? we have it in his observations on the life of an 
 author in the " Inquiry into the -State of Polite Learning," 
 published some years afterwards. 
 
 " The author, unpatronized by the great, has naturally re- 
 course to the bookseller. There cannot, perhaps, be imagined 
 a combination more prejudicial to taste than this. It is the 
 interest of the one to allow as little for writing, and for the 
 other to write as much as possible ; accordingly, tedious com- 
 pilations and periodical magazines are the result of their joint 
 endeavors. In these circumstances the author bids adieu to 
 fame ; writes for bread; and for that only imagination is seldom 
 called in. He sits down to address the venal muse with the 
 most phlegmatic apathy ; and, as we are told of the Russian, 
 courts his mistress by falling asleep in her lap." 
 
 Again. " Those who are unacquainted with the world are 
 apt to fancy the man of wit as leading a very agreeable life. 
 They conclude, perhaps, that he is attended with silent admira- 
 tion, and dictates to the rest of mankind with all the eloquence 
 of conscious superiority. Very different is his present situation. 
 He is called an author, and all know that an author is a thing 
 only to be laughed at. His person, not his jest, becomes the 
 
5Q OLIVER GOLDSMITH 
 
 mirth of the company. At his approach the most fat, unthink- 
 ingi face brightens into malicious meaning. Even aldermen 
 laugh, and avenge on him the ridicule which was lavished on 
 their forefathers. . . . The poet's poverty is a standing 
 topic of contempt. His writing for bread is an unpardonable 
 offence. Perhaps of all mankind, an author in these times is 
 used most hardly. We keep him poor, and yet revile his pov- 
 erty. We reproach him for living by his wit, and yet allow 
 him no other means to live. His taking refuge in garrets and 
 cellars has of late been violently objected to him, and that by 
 men who, I have hope, are more apt to pity than insult his 
 distress. Is poverty a careless fault ? No doubt he knows 
 how to prefer a bottle of champagne to the nectar of the neigh- 
 boring ale-house, or a venison pasty to a plate of potatoes. 
 Want of delicacy is not in him, but in those who deny him the 
 opportunity of making an elegant choice. Wit certainly is the 
 property of those who have it, nor should we be displeased if it 
 is the only property a man sometimes has. We must not 
 underrate him who uses it for subsistence, and flees from the in- 
 gratitude of the age, even to a bookseller for redress." ... 
 
 " If the author be necessary among us, let us treat him with 
 proper consideration as a child of the public, not as a rent- 
 charge on the community. And indeed a child of the public 
 he is in all respects ; for while so well able to direct others, 
 how incapable is he frequently found of guiding himself. His 
 simplicity exposes him to all the insidious approaches of cun- 
 ning : his sensibility, to the slightest invasions of contempt. 
 Though possessed of fortitude to stand unmoved the expected 
 bursts of an earthquake, yet of feelings so exquisitely poignant, 
 as to agonize under the slightest disappointment. Broken rest, 
 tasteless meals, and causeless anxieties shorten life and render 
 it unfit for active employments ; prolonged vigils and intense 
 application still farther contract his span, and make his time 
 glide insensibly away." 
 
 While poor Goldsmith was thus struggling with the diffi- 
 culties and discouragements which in those days beset the path 
 of an author, his friends in Ireland received accounts of his 
 literary success and of the distinguished acquaintances he was 
 making. This was enough to put the wise heads at Lissoy and 
 
OLIVER GOLDSMITH 57 
 
 Ballymahon in a ferment of conjectures. With the exagger- 
 ated notions of provincial relatives concerning the family great 
 man in the metropolis, some of Goldsmith's poor kindred 
 pictured him to themselves seated in high places, clothed in 
 purple and fine linen, and hand and glove with the givers of 
 gifts and dispensers of patronage. Accordingly, he was one day 
 surprised at the sudden apparition, in his miserable lodging, of 
 his younger brother Charles, a raw youth of twenty-one, 
 endowed with a double share of the family heedlessness, and 
 whctexpected to be forthwith helped into some snug by-path to 
 fortune by one or other of Oliver's great friends. Charles was 
 sadly disconcerted on learning that, so far from being able to pro- 
 vide for others, his brother could scarcely take care of himself. 
 He looked round with a rueful eye on the poet's quarters, and 
 could not help expressing his surprise and disappointment at 
 finding him no better off. " All in good time, my dear boy," 
 replied poor Goldsmith, .with infinite good-humor; " I shall be 
 richer by-and-by. Addison, let me tell you, wrote his poem of 
 the * Campaign ' in a garret in the Haymarket, three stories 
 high, and you see I am not come to that yet, for I have only 
 got to the second story." 
 
 Charles Goldsmith did not remain long to embarrass his 
 brother in London. With the same roving disposition and 
 inconsiderate temper of Oliver, he suddenly departed in an 
 humble capacity to seek his fortune in the West Indies, and 
 nothing was heard of him for above thirty years, when, after 
 having been given up as dead by his friends, he made his re- 
 appearance in England. 
 
 Shortly after his departure Goldsmith wrote a letter to his 
 brother-in-law, Daniel Hodson, Esq., of which the following is 
 an extract ; it was partly intended, no doubt, to dissipate any 
 further illusions concerning his fortunes which might float on 
 the magnificent imagination of his friends in Ballymahon. 
 
 " I suppose you desire to know my present situation. As 
 there is nothing in it at which I should blush or which man- 
 kind could censure, I see no reason for making it a secret. In 
 short, by a very little practice as a physician, and a very little 
 reputation as a poet, I make a shift to live. Nothing is more 
 apt to introduce us to the gates of the Muses than poverty ; 
 
58 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 
 
 but it were well if they only left us at the door. The mischief 
 is, they sometimes choose to give us their company to the 
 entertainment ; and want, instead of being gentleman-usher, 
 often turns master of the ceremonies. 
 
 " Thus, upon learning I write, no doubt you imagine I 
 starve ; and the name of an author naturally reminds you of 
 a garret. In this particular I do not think proper to undeceive 
 my friends. But, whether I eat or starve, live in a first floor 
 or four pairs of stairs high, I still remember them with ardor ; 
 nay, my very country comes in for a share of my affection. 
 Unaccountable fondness for country, this maladie du pais, as 
 the French call it ! Unaccountable that he should still have 
 an affection for a place, who never, when in it, received above 
 common civility ; who never brought any thing out of it except 
 his brogue and his blunders. Surely my affection is equally 
 ridiculous with the Scotchman's, who refused to be cured of 
 the itch because it made him unco' tlipughtful of his wife and 
 bonny Inverary. 
 
 " But, now, to be serious : let me ask myself what gives me 
 a wish to see Ireland again. The country is a fine one, per- 
 haps 1 No. There are good company in Ireland ? No. The 
 conversation there is generally made up of a smutty toast or a 
 bawdy song; the vivacity supported by some humble cousin, 
 who had just folly enough to earn his dinner. Then, perhaps, 
 there's more wit and learning among the Irish? Oh, Lord, 
 no ! There has been more money spent in the encouragement 
 of the Padareen mare there one season, than given in rewards 
 to learned men since the time of Usher. All their productions 
 in learning amount to perhaps a translation, or a few tracts in 
 divinity ; and all their productions in wit to just nothing at all. 
 Why the plague, then, so fond of Ireland 1 Then, all at once, 
 because you, my dear friend, and a few more wdio are excep- 
 tions to the general picture, have a residence there. This it is 
 that gives me all the pangs I feel in separation. I confess I 
 carry this spirit sometimes to the souring the pleasures I at 
 present possess. If I go to the opera, where Signora Columba 
 pours out all the mazes of melody, I sit and sigh for Lissoy 
 fireside, and Johnny Armstrong's 'Last Good-night' from 
 Peggy Golden. If I climb Hampstead Hill, than where 
 
OLIVER GOLDSMITH 59 
 
 nature never exhibited a more magnificent prospect, I confess 
 it fine ; but then I had rather be placed on the little mount 
 before Lissoy gate, and there take in, to me, the most pleasing 
 horizon in nature. 
 
 " Before Charles came hither, my thoughts sometimes found 
 refuge from severer studies among my friends in Ireland. I 
 fancied strange revolutions at home ; but I find it was the 
 rapidity of my own motion that gave an imaginary one to 
 objects really at rest. No alterations there. Some friends, 
 he 4ells me, are still lean, but very rich ; others very fat, but 
 still very poor. Nay, all the news I hear of you is, that you 
 sally out in visits among the neighbors, and sometimes make a 
 migration from the blue bed to the brown. I could from my 
 heart wish that you and she (Mrs. Hodson), and Lissoy and 
 Ballymahon, and all of you, would fairly make a migration into 
 Middlesex; though, upon second thoughts, this might be at- 
 tended with a few inconveniences. Therefore, as the mountain 
 will not come to Mohammed, why Mohammed shall go to the 
 mountain ; or, to speak plain English, as you cannot con- 
 veniently pay me a visit, if next summer I can contrive to 
 be absent six weeks from London, I shall spend three of them 
 among my friends in Ireland. But first, believe me, my design 
 is purely to visit, and neither to cut a figure nor levy contribu- 
 tions ; neither to excite envy nor solicit favor ; in fact, my 
 circumstances are adapted to neither. I am too poor to be 
 gazed at, and too rich to need assistance." 
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 
 Hackney authorship — Thoughts of literary suicide — Return to Peck- 
 ham — Oriental projects — Literary enterprise to raise funds — 
 Letter to Edward Mills; to Robert Bryanton — Death of uncle 
 Contarine — Letter to cousin Jane 
 
 Foe some time Goldsmith continued to write miscellaneously 
 for reviews and other periodical publications, but without 
 making any decided hit, to use a technical term. Indeed as 
 yet he appeared destitute of the strong excitement of literary 
 ambition, and wrote only on the spur of necessity and at the 
 
60 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 
 
 urgent importunity of his bookseller. His indolent and truant 
 disposition, ever averse from labor and delighting in holiday, 
 had to be scourged up to its task ; still it was this very truant 
 disposition which threw an unconscious charm over every thing 
 he wrote ; bringing with it honeyed thoughts and pictured 
 images which had sprung up in his mind in the sunny hours 
 of idleness : these effusions, dashed olf on compulsion in the 
 exigency of the moment, were published anonymously ; so 
 that they made no collective impression on the public, and 
 reflected no fame on the name of their author. 
 
 In an essay published some time subsequently in the Bee, 
 Goldsmith adverts in his own humorous way, to his impatience 
 at the tardiness with which his desultory and unacknowledged 
 essays crept into notice. "I was once induced," says he, "to 
 show my indignation against the public by discontinuing my 
 efforts to please ; and was bravely resolved, like Raleigh, to 
 vex them by burning my manuscripts in a passion. Upon 
 reflection, however, I considered what set or body of people 
 would be displeased at my rashness. The sun, after so sad 
 an accident, might shine next morning as bright as usual ; 
 men might laugh and sing the next day, and transact business 
 as before ; and not a single creature feel any regret but myself. 
 Instead of having Apollo in mourning or the Muses in a fit of 
 the spleen ; instead of having the learned world apostrophizing 
 at my untimely decease ; perhaps all Grub-street might laugh 
 at my fate, and self-approving dignity be unable to shield me 
 from ridicule." ^ 
 
 Circumstances occurred about this time to give a new 
 direction to Goldsmith's hopes and schemes. Having resumed 
 for a brief period the superintendence of the Peckham school 
 during a fit of illness of Dr. Milner, that gentleman, in requital 
 for his timely services, promised to use his influence with a 
 friend, an East India director, to procure him a medical 
 appointment in India. 
 
 There was every reason to believe that the influence of Dr. 
 Milner would be effectual; but how was Goldsmith to find 
 the ways and means of fitting himself out for a voyage to the 
 Indies 1 In this emergency he was driven to a more extended 
 
 1 The Bee, No. iv. 
 
OLIVER GOLDSMITH 61 
 
 exercise of the pen than he had yet attempted. His skirmish- 
 ing among books as a reviewer, and his disputations ramble 
 among the schools and universities and literati of the Con- 
 tinent, had filled his mind with facts and observations which 
 he now set about digesting into a treatise of some magnitude, 
 to be entitled " An Inquiry into the Present State of Polite 
 Learning in Europe." As the work grew on his hands his 
 sanguine temper ran ahead of his labors. Feeling secure of 
 success in England, he was anxious to forestall the piracy of 
 the-Irish press ; for as yet, the union not having taken place, 
 the English law of copyright did not extend to the other side 
 of the Irish channel. He wrote, therefore, to his friends in 
 Ireland, urging them to circulate his proposals for his contem- 
 plated work, and obtain subscriptions payable in advance ; the 
 money to be transmitted to a Mr. Bradley, an eminent book- 
 seller in Dublin, who would give a receipt for it and be 
 accountable for the delivery of the books. The letters written 
 by him on this occasion are worthy of copious citation as being 
 full of character and interest. One was to his relative and 
 college intimate, Edward Mills, who had studied for the bar, 
 but was now living at ease on his estate at Roscommon. 
 " You have quitted," writes Goldsmith, " the plan of life 
 which you once intended to pursue, and given up ambition for 
 domestic tranquillity. I cannot avoid feeling some regret that 
 one of my few friends has declined a pursuit in which he had 
 every reason to expect success. I have often let my fancy 
 loose when you were the subject, and have imagined you grac- 
 ing the bench, or thundering at the bar : while I have taken 
 no small pride to myself, and whispered to all that I could 
 come near, that this was my cousin. Instead of this, it seems, 
 you are merely contented to be a happy man ; to be esteemed 
 by your acquaintances ; to cultivate your paternal acres ; to 
 take unmolested a nap under one of your own hawthorns, or 
 in Mrs. Mills's bedchamber, which, even a poet must confess, is 
 rather the more comfortable place of the two. But, however 
 your rasokitions may be altered with regard to your situation 
 in life, I persuade myself they are unalterable with respect to 
 your friends in it. I cannot think the world has taken such 
 entire possession of that heart (once so susceptible of friend- 
 
62 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 
 
 ship) as not to have left a corner there for a friend or two, but 
 I flatter myself that even I have a place among the number. 
 This I have a claim to from the similitude of our dispositions ; 
 or setting that aside, I can demand it as a right by the most 
 equitable law of nature ; I mean that of retaliation ; for in- 
 deed you have more than your share in mine. I am a man of 
 few professions ; and yet at this very instant I cannot avoid 
 the painful apprehension that my present professions (which 
 speak not half my feelings) should be considered only as a 
 pretext to cover a request, as I have a request to make. No, 
 my dear Ned, I know you are too generous to think so, and 
 you know me too proud to stoop to unnecessary insincerity — 
 I have a request, it is true, to make ; but as I know to whom 
 I am a petitioner, I make it without difl&dence or confusion. 
 It is in short this, I am going to publish a book in London," 
 &c. The- residue of the letter specifies the nature of the 
 request, which was merely to aid in circulating his proposals 
 and obtaining subscriptions. The letter of the poor author, 
 however, was unattended to and unacknowledged by the pros- 
 perous Mr. Mills, of Roscommon, though in after years he was 
 proud to claim relationship to Dr. Goldsmith, when he had 
 risen to celebrity. 
 
 Another of Goldsmith's letters was to Robert Bryanton, 
 with whom he had long ceased to be in correspondence. " I 
 believe," writes he, " that they who are drunk, or out of their 
 wits, fancy every body else in the same condition. Mine is a 
 friendship that neither distance nor time can efface, which is 
 probably the reason that, for the soul of me, I can't avoid 
 thinking yours of the same complexion ; and yet I have many 
 reasons for being of a contrary opinion, else why, in so long an 
 absence, was I never made a partner in your concerns'? To 
 hear of your success would have given me the utmost pleasure ; 
 and a communication of your very disappointments would 
 divide the uneasiness I too frequently feel for my own. Indeed, 
 my dear Bob, you don't conceive how unkindly you have treated 
 one whose circumstances afford him few prospects of pleasure, 
 except those reflected from the happiness of his friends. How- 
 ever, since you have not let me hear from you, I have in some 
 measure disappointed your neglect by frequently thinking of 
 
OLIVER GOLDSMITH 63 
 
 you. Every day or so I remember the calm anecdotes of your 
 life, from the fireside to the easy chair ; recall the various 
 adventures that first cemented our friendship, — the school, 
 the college, or the tavern ; preside in fancy over your cards ; 
 and am displeased at your bad play when the rubber goes 
 against you, though not with all that agony of soul as when I 
 was once your partner. Is it not strange that two of such like 
 affections should be so much separated, and so differently em- 
 ployed as we are 1 You seem placed at the centre of fortune's 
 wheef, and, let it revolve ever so fast, are insensible of the mo- 
 tion. I seem to have been tied to the circumference, and 
 whirled disagreeably round, as if on a whirligig." 
 
 He then runs into a whimsical and extravagant tirade about 
 his future prospects. The wonderful career of fame and fortune 
 that awaits him, and after indulging in all kinds of humorous 
 gasconades, concludes: "Let me, then, stop my fancy to take 
 a view of my future self, — and, as the boys say, light down 
 to see myself on horseback. Well, now that I am down, where 
 the d — 1 is I ? Oh gods ! gods ! here in a garret, writing for 
 bread, and expecting to be dunned for a milk score ! " 
 
 He would, on this occasion, have doubtless written to his 
 uncle Contarine, but that generous friend was sunk into a help- 
 less hopeless state from which death soon released him. 
 
 Cut off thus from the kind co-operation of his uncle, he 
 addresses a letter to his daughter Jane, the companion of his 
 school-boy and happy days, now the wife of Mr. Lawder. The 
 object was to secure her interest with her husband in promoting 
 the circulation of his proposals. The letter is full of character. 
 
 "If you should ask," he begins, "why, in an interval of so 
 many years, you never heard from me, permit me, madam, to 
 ask the same question. I haver the best excuse in recrimination. 
 I wrote to Kilmore from Leyden in Holland, from Louvain in 
 Flanders, and Rouen in France, but received no answer. To 
 what could I attribute this silence but to displeasure or forget- 
 fulness ? Whether I was right in my conjecture I do not pre- 
 tend to determine ; but this I must ingenuously own, that I 
 have a thousand times in my turn endeavored to forget them, 
 whom I could not but look upon as forgetting me. I have 
 attempted to blot their names from my memory, and, I confess 
 
64 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 
 
 it, spent whole days in efforts to tear their image from my 
 heart. Oould I have succeeded, you had not now been troubled 
 with this renewal of a discontinued correspondence ; but, as 
 every effort the restless make to procure sleep serves but to 
 keep them waking, all my attempts contributed to impress 
 what I would forget deeper on my imagination. But this sub- 
 ject I would willingly turn from, and yet, ' for the soul of me,' 
 I can't till I have said all. I was, madam, when I discontinued 
 writing to Kilmore, in such circumstances, that all my endeavors 
 to continue your regards might be attributed to wrong motives. 
 My letters might be looked upon as the petitions of a beggar, 
 and not the offerings of a friend ; while all my professions, 
 instead of being considered as the result of disinterested esteem, 
 might be ascribed to venal insincerity. I believe, indeed, you 
 had too much generosity to place them in such a light, but I 
 could not bear even the shadow of such a suspicion. The most 
 delicate friendships are always most sensible of the slightest 
 invasion, and the strongest jealousy is ever attendant on the 
 warmest regard. I could not — I own I could not — continue 
 a correspondence in which every acknowledgment for past favors 
 might be considered as an indirect request for future ones ; and 
 where it might be thought I gave my heart from a motive of 
 gratitude alone, when I was conscious of having bestowed it on 
 much more disinterested principles. It is true, this conduct 
 might have been simple enough ; but yourself must confess it 
 was in character. Those who know me at all know that I 
 have always been actuated by different principles from the rest 
 of mankind : and while none regarded the interest of his friend 
 more, no man on earth regarded his own less. I have often 
 affected bluntness to avoid the imputation of flattery ; have 
 frequently seemed to overlook those merits too obvious to 
 escape notice, and pretended disregard to those instances of 
 good nature and good sense, which I could not fail tacitly to 
 applaud ; and all this lest I should be ranked among the grin- 
 ning tribe, who say ' very true ' to all that is said ; who fill a 
 vacant chair at a tea-table ; whose narrow souls never moved 
 in a wider circle than the circumference of a guinea ; and who 
 had rather be reckoning the money in your pocket than the 
 virtue in your breast. All this, I say, I have done, and a 
 
OLIVER GOLDSMITH 65 
 
 thousand other very silly, though very disinterested, things in 
 my time ; and for all which no soul cares a farthing about me. 
 ... Is it to be wondered that he should once in his life for- 
 get you, who has been all his life forgetting himself? However, 
 it is probable you may one of these days see me turned into a 
 perfect hunks, and as dark and intricate as a mouse-hole. I 
 have already given my landlady orders for an entire reform in 
 the state of my finances. I declaim against hot suppers, drink 
 less sugar in my tea, and check my grate with brickbats. In- 
 stead of hanging my room with pictures, I intend to adorn it 
 with maxims of frugality. Those will make pretty furniture 
 enough, and won't be a bit too expensive ; for I will draw them 
 all out with my own hands, and my landlady's daughter shall 
 frame them with the parings of my black waistcoat. Each 
 maxim is to be inscribed on a sheet of clean paper, and wrote 
 with my best pen ; of which the following will serve as a speci- 
 men. Look sharp : Mind the main chance : Money is money 
 now : If you have a thousand pounds you can put your hands 
 hy your sides, and say you are ivorth a thousand pounds every 
 day of the year : Take a farthing from a hundred and it will 
 he a hundred no longer. Thus, which way soever I turn my 
 eyes, they are sure to meet one of those friendly monitors ; and 
 as we are told of an actor who hung his room round with 
 looking-glass to correct the defects of his person, my apartment 
 shall be furnished in a peculiar manner, to correct the errors of 
 my mind. Faith ! madam, I heartily wish to be rich, if it 
 were only for this reason, to say without a blush how much I 
 esteem you. But, alas ! I have many a fatigue to encounter 
 before that happy time comes, when your poor old simple friend 
 may again give a loose to the luxuriance of his nature ; sitting 
 by Kilmore fireside, recount the various adventures of a hard- 
 fought life ; laugh over the follies of the day ; join his flute to 
 your harpsichord ; and forget that ever he starved in those 
 streets where Butler and Otway starved before him. And now 
 I mention those great names — my Uncle ! he is no more that 
 soul of fire as when I once knew him. Newton and Swift grew 
 dim with age as well as he. But what shall I say 1 His mind 
 was too active an inhabitant not to disorder the feeble mansion 
 of its abode : for the richest jewels soonest wear their settings. 
 
66 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 
 
 Yet who but the fool would lament his condition ! He now 
 forgets the calamities of life. Perhaps indulgent Heaven has 
 given him a foretaste of that tranquillity here, which he so well 
 deserves hereafter. But I must come to business ; for business, 
 as one of my maxims tells me, must be minded or lost. I am 
 going to publish in London a book entitled ' The Present State 
 of Taste and Literature in Europe.' TJie booksellers in Ireland 
 republish every performance there without making the author 
 any consideration. I would, in this respect, disappoint their 
 avarice, and have all the profits of ray labor to myself I 
 must, therefore, request Mr. Lawder to circulate among his 
 friends and acquaintances a hundred of my proposals, which I 
 have given the bookseller, Mr. Bradley, in Dame-street, direc- 
 tions to send to him. If, in pursuance of such circulation, he 
 should receive any subscriptions, I entreat, when collected, they 
 may be sent to Mr. Bradley, as aforesaid, who will give a 
 receipt, and be accountable for the work, or a return of the 
 subscription. If this request (which, if it be comphed with, 
 will in some measure be an encouragement to a man of learn- 
 ing) should be disagreeable or troublesome, I would not press 
 it ; for I would be the last man on earth to have my labors go 
 a-begging; but if I know Mr. Lawder (and sure I ought to 
 know him), he will accept the employment with pleasure. All 
 I can say — if he writes a book, I will get him two hundred 
 subscribers, and those of the best wits in Europe. Whether 
 this request is complied with or not, I shall not be uneasy ; but 
 there is one petition I must make to him and to you, which I 
 solicit with the warmest ardor, and in which I cannot bear 
 a refusal. I mean, dear madam, that I may be allowed to 
 subscribe myself, your ever affectionate and obliged kinsman, 
 Oliver Goldsmith. Now see how I blot and blunder, when 
 I am asking a favor." ^ 
 
OLIVEK GOLDSMITH 67 
 
 CHAPTER X 
 
 Oriental appointment and disappointment — Examination at the Col- 
 lege of Surgeons — How to procure a suit of clothes — Fresh dis- 
 appointment — A tale of distress — The suit of clothes in pawn — 
 Punishment for doing an act of charity — Gayeties of Green Arbor 
 Court — Letter to his brother — Life of Voltaire — Scroggin, an 
 attempt at mock-heroic poetry 
 
 While Goldsmith was yet laboring at his treatise, the 
 promise made him by Dr. Milnerwas carried into effect, and 
 he was actually appointed physician and surgeon to one of the 
 factories on the coast of Coromandel. His imagination was 
 immediately on fire with visions of Oriental wealth and mag- 
 nificence. It is true the salary did not exceed one hundred 
 pounds, but then, as appointed physician, he would have the 
 exclusive practice of the place, amounting to one thousand 
 pounds per annum ; with advantages to be derived from trade 
 and from the high interest of money — twenty per cent. ; in 
 a word, for once in his life, the road to fortune lay broad and 
 straight before him. 
 
 Hitherto, in his correspondence with his friends, he had said 
 nothing of his India scheme ; but now he imparted to them his 
 brilliant prospects, urging the importance of their circulating 
 his proposals and obtaining him subscriptions and advances on 
 his forthcoming work, to furnish funds for his outfit. 
 
 In the meantime he had to task that poor drudge, his Muse, 
 for present exigencies. Ten pounds were demanded for his ap- 
 pointment-warrant. Other expenses pressed hard upon him. 
 Fortunately, though as yet unknown to fame, his literary capa- 
 bility was known to " the trade," and the coinage of his brain 
 passed current in Grub-street. Archibald Hamilton, proprietor 
 of the Critical Review, the rival to that of Griffiths, readily 
 made him a small advance on receiving three articles for his 
 periodical. His purse thus slenderly replenished. Goldsmith 
 paid for his warrant ; wiped off the score of his milkmaid ; 
 abandoned his garret, and moved into a shabby first floor in 
 a forlorn court near the Old Bailey; there to await the time 
 for his migration to the magnificent coast of Coromandel. 
 
 Alas ! poor Goldsmith ! ever doomed to disappointment. 
 
68 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 
 
 Early in the gloomy month of November, that month of fog 
 and despondency in Loudon, he learnt the shipwreck of his 
 hope. The great Coromandel enterprise fell through ; or rather 
 the post promised to him was transferred to some other candi- 
 date. The cause of this disappointment it is now impossible 
 to ascertain. The death of his quasi patron. Dr. Milner, which 
 happened about this time, may have had some effect in pro- 
 ducing it ; or there may have been some heedlessness and 
 blundering on his own part ; or some obstacle arising from his 
 insuperable indigence ; whatever may have been the cause, he 
 never mentioned it, which gives some ground to surmise that 
 he himself was to blame. His friends learnt with surprise 
 that he had suddenly relinquished his appointment to India, 
 about which he had raised such sanguine expectations : some 
 accused him of fickleness and caprice; others supposed him 
 unwilling to tear himself from the growing fascinations of the 
 literary society in London. 
 
 In the meantime cut down in his hopes, and humiliated in 
 his pride by the failure of his Coromandel scheme, he sought, 
 without consulting his friends, to be examined at the College 
 of Physicians for the humble situation of hospital mate. Even 
 here poverty stood in his way. It was necessary to appear in 
 a decent garb before the examining committee ; but how was 
 he to do so ? He was literally out at elbows as well as out of 
 cash. Here again the Muse, so often jilted and neglected by 
 him, came to his aid. In consideration of four articles fur- 
 nished to the Monthly Review, G-riffiths, his old task-master, 
 was to become his security to the tailor for a suit of clothes. 
 Goldsmith said he wanted them but for a single occasion, on 
 which depended his appointment to a situation in the army ; 
 as soon as that temporary purpose was served they would either 
 be returned or paid for. The books to be reviewed were ac- 
 cordingly lent to him ; the Muse was again set to her com- 
 pulsory drudgery ; the articles were scribbled off and sent to 
 the bookseller, and the clothes came in due time from the tailor. 
 
 From the records of the College of Surgeons, it appears that 
 Goldsmith underwent his examination at Surgeons' Hall, on the 
 21st of December, 1758. Either from a confusion of mind in- 
 cident to sensitive and imaginative persons on such occasions, 
 
OLIVER GOLDSMITH 69 
 
 or from a real want of surgical science, which last is extremely 
 probable, he failed in his examination, and was rejected as 
 unqualified. The effect of such a rejection was to disqualify 
 him for every branch of public service, though he might have 
 claimed a re-examination, after the interval of a few months 
 devoted to further study. Such a re-examination he never 
 attempted, nor did he ever communicate his discomfiture to 
 any of his friends. 
 
 On Christmas Day, but four days after his rejection by the 
 Colfege of Surgeons, while he was suffering under the mortifi- 
 cation of defeat and disappointment, and hard pressed for means 
 of subsistence, he was surprised by the entrance into his room 
 of the poor woman of whom he hired his wretched apartment, 
 and to whom he owed some small arrears of rent. She had a 
 piteous tale of distress, and was clamorous in her afflictions. 
 Her husband had been arrested in the night for debt, and 
 thrown into prison. This was too much for the quick feelings 
 of Goldsmith ; he was ready at any time to help the distressed, 
 but in this instance he was himself in some measure a cause 
 of the distress. What was to be done ? He had no money it 
 is true ; but there hung the new suit of clothes in which he 
 had stood his unlucky examination at Surgeons' Hall. With- 
 out giving himself time for reflection, he sent it off to the 
 pawnbroker's, and raised thereon a sufficient sum to pay off 
 his own debt, and to release his landlord from prison. 
 
 Under the same pressure of penury and despondency, he 
 borrowed from a neighbor a pittance to relieve his immediate 
 wants, leaving as a security the books which he had recently 
 reviewed. In the midst of these straits and harassments, he 
 received a letter from Griffiths, demanding, in peremptory terms, 
 the return of the clothes and books, or immediate payment for 
 the same. It appears that he had discovered the identical suit 
 at the pawnbroker's. The reply of Goldsmith is not known ; it 
 was out of his power to furnish either the clothes or the money ; 
 but he probably offered once more to make the Muse stand his 
 bail. His reply only increased the ire of the wealthy man of 
 trade, and drew from him another letter still more harsh than 
 the first ; using the epithets of knave and sharper, and contain- 
 ing threats of prosecution and a prison. 
 
70 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 
 
 The following letter from poor Goldsmith gives the most 
 touching picture of an inconsiderate but sensitive man, har- 
 assed by care, stung by humiliations, and driven almost to 
 despondency. 
 
 "Sir, — I know of no misery but a jail to which my own 
 imprudences and your letter seem to point. I have seen it in- 
 evitable these three or four weeks, and, by heavens ! request it 
 as a favor — as a favor that may prevent something more fa- 
 tal. I have been some years struggling with a wretched being 
 — with all that contempt that indigence brings with it — with 
 all those passions which make contempt insupportable. What^ 
 then, has a jail that is formidable? I shall at least have the 
 society of wretches, and such is to me true society. I tell you, 
 again and again, that I am now neither able nor willing to pay 
 you a farthing, but I will be punctual to any appointment you 
 or the tailor shall make ; thus far, at least, I do not act the 
 sharper, since, unable to pay my own debts one way, I would 
 generally give some security another. No, sir; had I been a 
 sharper — had I been possessed of less good-nature and native 
 generosity, I might surely now have been in better circum- 
 stances. 
 
 " I am guilty, I own, of meannesses which poverty unavoid- 
 ably brings with it : my reflections are filled with repentance 
 for my imprudence, but not with any remorse for being a vil- 
 lain : that may be a character you unjustly charge me with. 
 Your books, I can assure you, are neither pawned nor sold, but 
 in the custody of a friend, from whom my necessities obhged 
 me to borrow some money : whatever becomes of my person, 
 you shall have them in a month. It is very possible both the 
 reports you have heard and your own suggestions may have 
 brought you false information with respect to my character ; it 
 is very possible that the man whom you now regard with de- 
 testation may inwardly burn with grateful resentment. It is 
 very possible that, upon a second perusal of the letter I sent 
 you, you may see the workings of a mind strongly agitated with 
 gratitude and jealousy. If such circumstances should appear, 
 at least spare invective till my book with Mr. Dodsley shall be 
 published, and then, perhaps, you may see the bright side of a 
 
OLIVER GOLDSMITH 71 
 
 mind, when my professions shall not appear the dictates of 
 necessity, but of choice. 
 
 " You seem to think Dr. Milner knew me not. Perhaps so ; 
 but he was a man I shall ever honor ; but I have friendships 
 only with the dead ! I ask pardon for taking up so much time ; 
 nor shall I add to it by any other professions than that I am, 
 sir, your humble servant, 
 
 " Oliver Goldsmith. 
 
 'i'P.S. — I shall expect impatiently the result of your reso- 
 lutions." 
 
 The dispute between the poet and the publisher was after- 
 ward imperfectly adjusted, and it would appear that the clothes 
 were paid for by a short compilation advertised by Griffiths in 
 the course of the following month ; but the parties were never 
 really friends afterward, and the writings of Goldsmith were 
 harshly and unjustly treated in the Monthly Review. 
 
 We have given the preceding anecdote in detail, as furnish- 
 ing one of the many instances in which Goldsmith's prompt and 
 benevolent impulses outran all prudent forecast, and involved 
 him in difficulties and disgraces, which a more selfish man 
 would have avoided. The pawning of the clothes, charged 
 upon him as a crime by the grinding bookseller, and apparently 
 admitted by him as one of " the meannesses which poverty un- 
 avoidably brings with it," resulted, as we have shown, from a 
 tenderness of heart and generosity of hand, in which another 
 man would have gloried ; but these were such natural elements 
 with him, that he was unconscious of their merit. It is a pity 
 that wealth does not oftener bring such "meannesses" in its 
 train. 
 
 And now let us be indulged in a few particulars about these 
 lodgings in which Goldsmith was guilty of this thoughtless act 
 of benevolence. They were in a very shabby house. No. 12 
 Green Arbor Court, between the Old Bailey and Fleet Market. 
 An old woman was still living in 1820 who was a relative of 
 the identical landlady whom Goldsmith relieved by the money 
 received from the pawnbroker. She was a child about seven 
 years of age at the time that the poet rented his apartment of 
 
72 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 
 
 her relative, and used frequently to be at the house in Green 
 Arbor Court. She was drawn there, in a great measure, by 
 the good-humored kindness of Goldsmith, who was always ex- 
 ceedingly fond of the society of children. He used to assemble 
 those of the family in his room, give them cakes and sweet- 
 meats, and set them dancing to the sound of his flute. He was 
 very friendly to those around him, and cultivated a kind of 
 intimacy with a watchmaker in the Court, who possessed much 
 native wit and humor. He passed most of the day, however, 
 in his room, and only went out in the evenings. His days 
 were no doubt devoted to the drudgery of the pen, and it would 
 appear that he occasionally found the booksellers urgent task- 
 masters. On one occasion a visitor was shown up to his room, 
 and immediately their voices were heard in high altercation, and 
 the key was turned within the lock. The landlady, at first, 
 was disposed to go to the assistance of her lodger ; but a calm 
 succeeding, she forbore to interfere. 
 
 Late in the evening the door was unlocked ; a supper ordered 
 by the visitor from a neighboring tavern, and Goldsmith and 
 his intrusive guest finished the evening in great good-humor. 
 It was probably his old task- master Griffiths, whose press 
 might have been waiting, and who found no other mode of get- 
 ting a stipulated task from Goldsmith than by locking him in, 
 and staying by him until it was finished. 
 
 But we have a more particular account of these lodgings in 
 Green Arbor Court from the Eev. Thomas Percy, afterward 
 Bishop of Dromore, and celebrated for his relics of ancient 
 poetry, his beautiful ballads, and other works. During an 
 occasional visit to London, he was introduced to Goldsmith by 
 Grainger, and ever after continued one of his most steadfast 
 and valued friends. The following is his description of the 
 poet's squalid apartment : "I called on Goldsmith at his lodg- 
 ings in March, 1759, and found him writing his 'Inquiry,' in a 
 miserable, dirty-looking room, in which there was but one chair ; 
 and when, from civility, he resigned it to me, he himself was 
 obliged to sit in the window. While we were conversing 
 together some one tapped gently at the door, and, being desired 
 to come in, a poor, ragged little girl, of a very becoming de- 
 meanor, entered the room, and, dropping a courtesy, said, ' My 
 
OLIVER GOLDSMITH 73 
 
 mamma sends her compliments, and begs the favor of you to 
 lend her a chamber-pot full of coals.' " 
 
 We are reminded in this anecdote of Goldsmith's picture of 
 the lodgings of Beau Tibbs, and of the peep into the secrets of a 
 make-shift establishment given to a visitor by the blundering 
 old Scotchwoman. 
 
 " By this time we were arrived as high as the stairs would 
 permit us to ascend, till we came to what he was facetiously 
 pleased to call the first floor down the chimney ; and, knocking 
 at t^e door, a voice from within demanded ' who's there 1 ' My 
 conductor answered that it was him. But this not satisfying 
 the querist, the voice again repeated the demand, to which he 
 answered louder than before ; and now the door was opened 
 by an old woman with cautious reluctance. 
 
 " When we got in he welcomed me to his house with great 
 ceremony; and, turning to the old woman, asked where was 
 her lady. 'Good troth,' replied she, in a peculiar dialect, 'she's 
 washing your twa shirts at the next door, because they have 
 taken an oath against lending the tub any longer.' ' My two 
 shirts,' cried he, in a tone that faltered with confusion; 'what 
 does the idiot mean V 'I ken what I mean weel enough,' 
 replied the other ; ' she's washing your twa shirts at the next 
 door, because — ' ' Fire and fury ! no more of thy stupid ex- 
 planations,' cried he ; ' go and inform her we have company. 
 Were that Scotch hag to be for ever in my family, she would 
 never learn politeness, nor forget that absurd poisonous accent 
 of hers, or testify the smallest specimen of breeding or high 
 life ; and yet it is very surprising too, as I had her from a 
 Parliament man, a friend of mine from the Highlands, one of 
 the politest men in the world ; but that's a secret.' " ^ 
 
 Let us linger a little in Green Arbor Court, a place conse- 
 crated by the genius and the poverty of Goldsmith, but recently 
 obliterated in the course of modern improvements. The writer of 
 this memoir visited it not many years since on a literary pilgrim- 
 age, and may be excused for repeating a description of it which 
 he has heretofore inserted in another publication. "It then ex- 
 isted in its pristine state, and was a small square of tall and 
 miserable houses, the very intestines of which seemed turned 
 
 1 Citizen of the World, Letter Iv. 
 
74 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 
 
 inside out, to judge from the old garments and frippery that 
 fluttered from every window. It appeared to be a region of 
 washerwomen, and lines were stretched about the little square, 
 on which clothes were dangling to dry. 
 
 " Just as we entered the square, a scuffle took place between 
 two viragoes about a disputed right to a washtub, and immedi- 
 ately the whole community was in a hubbub. Heads in mob 
 caps popped out of every window, and such a clamor of tongues 
 ensued that I was fain to stop my ears. Every amazon took 
 part with one or other of the disputants, and brandished 
 her arms, dripping with soapsuds, and fired away from her 
 window as from the embrasure of a fortress ; while the screams 
 of children nestled and cradled in every procreant chamber of 
 this hive, waking with the noise, set up their shrill pipes to 
 swell the general concert." ^ 
 
 While in these forlorn quarters, suffering under extreme 
 depression of spirits, caused by his failure at Surgeons' Hall, 
 the disappointment of his hopes, and his harsh collisions with 
 Griffiths, Goldsmith wrote the following letter to his brother 
 Henry, some parts of which are most touchingly mournful. 
 
 " Dear Sir, 
 
 " Your punctuality in answering a man whose trade is 
 writing, is more than I had reason to expect ; and yet you 
 see me generally fill a whole sheet, which is all the recompense 
 I can make for being so frequently troublesome. The behavior 
 of Mr. Mills and Mr. Lawder is a little extraordinary. How- 
 ever, their answering neither you nor me is a sufficient indica- 
 tion of their disliking the employment which I assigned them. 
 As their conduct is different from what I had expected, so I 
 have made an alteration in mine. I shall, the beginning of 
 next month, send over two hundred and fifty books, ^ which 
 are all that I fancy can be well sold among you, and I would 
 have you make some distinction in the persons who have sub- 
 scribed. The money, which will amount to sixty pounds, may 
 be left with Mr. Bradley as soon as possible. I am not certain 
 but I shall quickly have occasion for it. 
 
 1 Tales of a Traveller. 
 
 2 The Inquiry into Polite Literature. His previous remarks apply 
 to the subscription. 
 
OLIVER GOLDSMITH 75 
 
 "I have met with no disappointment with respect to my 
 East India voyage, nor are my resolutions altered ; though, at 
 the same time, I must confess, it gives me some pain to think 
 I am almost beginning the world at the age of thirty-one. 
 Though I never had a day's sickness since I saw you, yet I 
 am not that strong, active man you once knew me. You 
 scarcely can conceive how much eight years of disappointment, 
 anguish, and study have worn me down. If I remember right 
 you are seven or eight years older than me, yet I dare venture 
 to ^j, that, if a stranger saw us both, he would pay me the 
 honors of seniority. Imagine to yourself a pale, melancholy 
 visage, with two great wrinkles between the eyebrows, with an 
 eye disgustingly severe, and a big wig ; and you may have a 
 perfect picture of my present appearance. On the other hand, 
 I conceive you as perfectly sleek and healthy, passing many a 
 happy day among your own children, or those who knew you 
 a child. 
 
 " Since I knew what it was to be a man, this is a pleasure 
 I have not known. I have passed my days among a parcel of 
 cool, designing beings, and have contracted all their suspicious 
 manner in my own behavior. I should actually be as unfit for 
 the society of my friends at home, as I detest that which I am 
 obliged to partake of here. I can now neither partake of the 
 pleasure of a revel, nor contribute to raise its jolhty. I can 
 neither laugh nor drink ; have contracted a hesitating, disagree- 
 able manner of speaking, and a visage that looks ill-nature 
 itself; in short, I have thought myself into a settled melan- 
 choly, and an utter disgust of all that life brings with it. 
 Whence this romantic turn that all our family are possessed 
 with ? Whence this love for every place and every country 
 but that in which we reside — for every occupation but our 
 own? this desire of fortune, and yet this eagerness to dis- 
 sipate? I perceive, my dear sir, that I am at intervals fc 
 indulging this splenetic manner, and following my own taste, 
 regardless of yours. 
 
 " The reasons you have given me for breeding up your son a 
 scholar are judicious and convincing; I should, however, be 
 glad to know for what particular profession he is designed. If 
 he be assiduous and divested of strong passions (for passions in 
 
76 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 
 
 youth always lead to pleasure), he may do very well in your 
 college ; for it must be owned that the industrious poor have 
 good encouragement there, perhaps better than in any other in 
 Europe. But if he has ambition, strong passions, and an 
 exquisite sensibility of contempt, do not send him there, unless 
 you have no other trade for him but your own. It is impos- 
 sible to conceive how much may be done by proper education 
 at home. A boy, for instance, who understands perfectly well 
 Latin, French, arithmetic, and the principles of the civil law, 
 and can write a fine hand, has an education that may qualify 
 him for any undertaking ; and these parts of learning should 
 be carefully inculcated, let him be designed for whatever calling 
 he will. 
 
 " Above all things, let him never touch a romance or novel : 
 these paint beauty in colors more charming than nature, and 
 describe happiness that man never tastes. How delusive, how 
 destructive are those pictures of consummate bliss ! They 
 teach the youthful mind to sigh after beauty and happiness 
 that never existed ; to despise the little good which fortune 
 has mixed in our cup, by expecting more than she ever gave ; 
 and, in general, take the word of a man who has seen the 
 world, and who has studied human nature more by experience 
 than precept ; take my word for it, I say, that books teach us 
 very little of the world. The greatest merit in a state of 
 poverty would only serve to make the possessor ridiculous — 
 may distress, but cannot relieve him. Frugality, and even 
 avarice, in the lower orders of mankind, are true ambition. 
 These afford the only ladder for the poor to rise to preferment. 
 Teach then, my dear sir, to your son, thrift and economy. 
 Let his poor wandering uncle's example be placed before his 
 eyes. I had learned from books to be disinterested and gener- 
 ous, before I was taught from experience the necessity of being 
 prudent. I had contracted the habits and notions of a phi- 
 losopher, while I was exposing myself to the approaches of 
 insidious cunning ; and often by being, even with my narrow 
 finances, charitable to excess, I forgot the rules of justice, and 
 placed myself in the very situation of the wretch who thanked 
 me for my bounty. When I am in the remotest part of the 
 world, tell him this, and perhaps he may improve from my 
 
OLIVER GOLDSMITH 77 
 
 example. But I find myself again falling into my gloomy 
 habits of thinking. 
 
 " My mother, I am informed, is almost blind ; even though 
 I had the utmost inclination to return home, under such cir- 
 cumstances I could not, for to behold her in distress without 
 a capacity of relieving her from it, would add much to my 
 splenetic habit. Your last letter was much too short; it 
 should have answered some queries I had made in my former. 
 Just sit down as I do, and write forward until you have filled 
 all your paper. It requires no thought, at least from the ease 
 with which my own sentiments rise when they are addressed to 
 you. For, believe me^ my head has no share in all I write ; 
 my heart dictates the whole. Pray give my love to Bob 
 Bryanton, and entreat him from me not to drink. My dear 
 sir, give me some account about poor Jenny.-^ Yet her hus- 
 band loves her : if so, she cannot be unhappy. 
 
 "I know not whether I should tell you — yet why should 
 1 conceal these trifles, or, indeed, any thing from you ? There 
 is a book of mine will be published in a few days : the life of 
 a very extraordinary man ; no less than the great Voltaire. 
 You know already by the title that it is no more than a 
 catchpenny. However, I spent but four weeks on the whole 
 performance, for which I received twenty pounds. When 
 published, I shall take some method of conveying it to you, 
 unless you may think it dear of the postage, which may 
 amount to four or five shillings. However, I fear you will not 
 find an equivalent of amusement. 
 
 " Your last letter, I repeat it, was too short ; you should 
 have given me your opinion of the design of the heroi-comical 
 poem which I sent you. You remember I intended to intro- 
 duce the hero of the poem as lying in a paltry ale house. You 
 may take the following specimen of the manner, which I flatter 
 myself is quite original. The room in which he lies may be 
 described somewhat in this way : 
 
 " ' The window, patched with paper, lent a ray 
 That feebly sliow'd the state in which he lay ; 
 The sanded floor that grits beneath the tread, 
 
 1 His sister, Mrs. Johnston ; her marriage, like that of Mrs. Hodson, 
 was private, but in pecuniary matters much less fortunate. 
 
78 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 
 
 The humid wall with paltry pictures spread ; 
 
 The game of goose was there exposed to view, 
 
 And the twelve rules the royal martyr drew ; 
 
 The Seasons, framed with listing, found a place, 
 
 And Prussia's monarch show'd his lamp-black face. 
 
 The morn was cold : he views with keen desire 
 
 A rusty grate unconscious of a fire ; 
 
 An unpaid reckoning on the frieze was scored, 
 
 And five crack'd teacups dress'd the chimney board.' 
 
 "And now imagine, after his soliloquy, the landlord to make 
 his appearance in order to dun him for the reckoning : 
 
 " ' Not with that face, so servile and so gay, 
 That welcomes every stranger that can pay : 
 With sulky eye he smoked the patient man, 
 Then pull'd his breeches tight, and thus began,' &c.i 
 
 " All this is taken, you see, from nature. It is a good 
 remark of Montaigne's, that the wisest men often have friends 
 with whom they do not care how much they play the fool. 
 Take my present follies as instances of my regard. Poetry is 
 a much easier and more agreeable species of composition than 
 prose ; and, could a man live by it, it were not unpleasant 
 employment to be a poet. I am resolved to leave no space, 
 though I should fill it up only by telling you, what you very 
 well know already, I mean that I am your most affectionate 
 friend and brother, 
 
 " Oliver Goldsmith." 
 
 The " Life of Voltaire," alluded to in the latter part of 
 the preceding letter, was the literary job undertaken to satisfy 
 the demands of Griffiths. It was to have preceded a trans- 
 lation of the " Henriade," by Ned Purdon, Goldsmith's old 
 schoolmate, now a Grub-street writer, who starved rather than 
 lived by the exercise of his pen, and often tasked Goldsmith's 
 scanty means to relieve his hunger. His miserable career was 
 summed up by our poet in the following lines written some 
 years after the time we are treating of, on hearing that he had 
 suddenly dropped dead in Smithfield : 
 
 1 The projected poem, of which the above were specimens, appears 
 never to have been completed. 
 
OLIVER GOLDSMITH 79 
 
 " Here lies poor Ned Purdon, from misery freed, 
 Who long was a bookseller's hack ; 
 He led such a damnable life in this world, 
 I don't think he'll wish to come back." 
 
 The memoir and translation, though advertised to form a 
 volume, were not published together ; but appeared separately 
 in a magazine. 
 
 As to the heroi-comical poem, also, cited in the foregoing 
 letter, it appears to have perished in embryo. Had it been 
 brought to maturity we should have had further traits of 
 autobiography ; the room already described was probably his 
 own squalid quarters in Green Arbor Court ; and in a subse- 
 quent morsel of the poem we have the poet himself, under the 
 euphonius name of Scroggin : 
 
 " Where the Red Lion peering o'er the way, 
 Invites each passing stranger that can pay ; 
 Where Calvert's butt and Parson's black champaigne 
 Regale the drabs and bloods of Drury Lane : 
 There, in a lonely room, from bailiffs snug, 
 The Mouse found Scroggin stretch'd beneath a rug ; 
 A nightcap deck'd his brows instead of bay, 
 A cap by night, a stocking all the day ! " 
 
 It is to be regretted that this poetical conception was not 
 carried out : like the author's other writings, it might have 
 abounded with pictures of life and touches of nature drawn 
 from his own observation and experience, and mellowed by his 
 own humane and tolerant spirit ; and might have been a 
 worthy companion or rather contrast to his " Traveller " and 
 " Deserted Village," and have remained in the language a first- 
 rate specimen of the mock-heroic. 
 
 CHAPTER XI 
 
 Publication of The Inquiry — Attacked by Griffiths' Reviev) — Kenrick 
 the literary Ishmaelite — Periodical literature — Goldsmith's essays 
 — Garrick as a manager — Smollett and his schemes — Change of 
 lodgings — The Robin Hood club 
 
 Towards the end of March, 1759, the treatise on which 
 Goldsmith had laid so much stress, on which he at one time 
 
80 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 
 
 had calculated to defray the expenses of his outfit to India, 
 and to which he had adverted in his correspondence with 
 Grijtfiths, made its appearance. It was published by the 
 Dodsleys, and entitled " An Inquiry into the Present State of 
 Polite Learning in Europe." 
 
 In the present day, when the whole field of contemporary 
 literature is so widely surveyed and amply discussed, and when 
 the current productions of every country are constantly collated 
 and ably criticised, a treatise like that of Goldsmith would be 
 considered as extremely limited and unsatisfactory ; but at 
 that time it possessed novelty in its views and wideness in its 
 scope, and being indued with the peculiar charm of style in- 
 separable from the author, it commanded public attention and 
 a profitable sale. As it was the most important production 
 that had yet come from Goldsmith's pen, he was anxious to 
 have the credit of it ; yet it appeared without his name on 
 the title-page. The authorship, however, was well known 
 throughout the world of letters, and the author had now 
 grown into sufficient literary importance to become an object 
 of hostility to the underlings of the press. One of the most 
 virulent attacks upon him was in a criticism on this treatise, 
 and appeared in the Monthly Review^ to which he himself had 
 been recently a contributor. It slandered him as a man while 
 it decried him as an author, and accused him, by innuendo, of 
 " laboring under the infamy of having, by the vilest and mean- 
 est actions, forfeited all pretensions to honor and honesty," and 
 of practising "those acts which bring the sharper to the cart's 
 tail or the pillory." 
 
 It will be remembered that the Review was owned by 
 Griffiths the bookseller, with whom Goldsmith had recently 
 had a misunderstanding. The criticism, therefore, was no 
 doubt dictated by the fingerings of resentment ; and the 
 imputations upon Goldsmith's character for honor and honesty, 
 and the vile and mean actions , hinted at, could only allude to 
 the unfortunate pawning of the clothes. All this, too, was 
 after Griffiths had received the affecting letter from Goldsmith, 
 drawing a picture of his poverty and perplexities, and after the 
 latter had made him a literary compensation. Griffiths, in 
 fact, was sensible of the falsehood and extravagance of the 
 
OLIVER GOLDSMITH 81 
 
 attack, and tried to exonerate himself by declaring that the 
 criticism was written by a person in his employ ; but we see 
 no difference in atrocity between him who wields the knife and 
 him who hires the cut-throat. It may be well, however, in 
 passing, to bestow our mite of notoriety upon the miscreant 
 who launched the slander. He deserves it for a long course of 
 dastardly and venomous attacks, not merely upon Goldsmith, 
 but upon most of the successful authors of the day. His name 
 was Kenrick. He was originally a mechanic, but, possess- 
 ing some degree of talent and industry, applied himself to 
 literature as. a profession. This he pursued for many years, 
 and tried his hand in every department of prose and poetry ; 
 he wrote plays and satires, philosophical tracts, critical dis- 
 sertations, and works on philology ; nothing from his pen ever 
 rose to first-rate excellence, or gained him a popular name, 
 though he received from some university the degree of Doctor 
 of Laws. Dr. Johnson characterized his literary career in one 
 short sentence. " Sir, he is one of the many who have made 
 themselves public without making themselves knovm.^^ 
 
 Soured by his own want of success, jealous of the success 
 of others, his natural irritability of temper increased by habits 
 of intemperance, he at length abandoned himself to the prac- 
 tice of reviewing, and became one of the Ishmaelites of the 
 press. In this his malignant bitterness soon gave him a 
 notoriety which his talents had never been able to attain. We 
 shall dismiss him for the present with the following sketch of 
 him by the hand of one of his contemporaries : 
 
 " Dreaming of genius which he never had, 
 Half wit, half fool, half critic, and half mad ; 
 Seizing, like Shirley, on the poet's lyre, 
 With all his rage, but not one spark of fire ; 
 Eager for slaughter, and resolved to tear 
 From others' brows that wreath he must not wear — 
 Next Kenrick came : all furious and replete 
 AVith brandy, malice, pertness, and conceit ; 
 TJnskiird in classic lore, through envy blind 
 To all that's beauteous, learned, or refined ; 
 For faults alone behold the savage prowl, 
 With reason's offal glut his ravening soul ; 
 Pleased with his prey, its inmost blood he drinks, 
 And mumbles, paws, and turns it — till it stinks." 
 
82 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 
 
 The British press about this time was extravagantly fruitful 
 of periodical publications. That "oldest inhabitant," the 
 Gentleman^n Magazine, almost coeval with St. John's gate 
 which graced its title-page, had long been elbowed by magazines 
 and reviews of all kinds : Johnson's Rambler had introduced 
 the fashion of periodical essays, which he had followed up in 
 his Adventurer and Idler. Imitations had sprung up -on every 
 side, under every variety of name ; until British literature was 
 entirely overrun by a weedy and transient efflorescence. Many 
 of these rival periodicals choked each other almost at the out- 
 set, and few of them have escaped oblivion. 
 
 Goldsmith wrote for some of the most successful, such as the 
 Bee, the Busy-Body, and the Lady^s Magazine. His essays, 
 though characterized by his delightful style, his pure, benevo- 
 lent morality, and his mellow, unobtrusive humor, did not pro- 
 duce equal effect at first with more garish writings of infinitely 
 less value ; they did not " strike," as it is termed ; but they 
 had that rare and enduring merit which rises in estimation ou 
 every perusal. They gradually stole upon the heart of the 
 public, were copied into numerous contemporary publications, 
 and now they are garnered up among the choice productions of 
 British literature. 
 
 In his "Inquiry into the State of Polite Learning," Gold- 
 smith had given offence to David Garrick, at that time the 
 autocrat of the Drama, and was doomed to experience its effect. 
 A clamor had been raised against Garrick for exercising a des- 
 potism over the stage, and bringing forward nothing but old 
 plays to the exclusion of original productions. Walpole joined 
 in this charge. " Garrick," said he, "is treating the town as 
 it deserves and likes to be treated ; with scenes, fire- works, and 
 his own writings. A good new play I never expect to see 
 more ; nor have seen since the ' Provoked Husband,' which 
 came out when I was at school." Goldsmith, who was ex- 
 tremely fond of the theatre, and felt the evils of this system, 
 inveighed in his treatise against the wrongs experienced by 
 authors at the hands of managers. " Our poet's performance," 
 said he, "must undergo a process truly chemical before it is 
 presented to the public. It must be tried in the manager's 
 fire ; strained through a licenser, suffer from repeated correc- 
 
OLIVER GOLDSMITH 83 
 
 tions, till it may be a mere caput mortuum when it arrives 
 before the public." Again. — " Getting a play on even in 
 three or four years is a privilege reserved only for the happy 
 few who have the arts of courting the manager as well as the 
 Muse ; who have adulation to please his vanity, powerful pa- 
 trons to support their merit, or money to indemnify disappoint- 
 ment. Our Saxon ancestors had but one name for a wit and a 
 witch. I will not dispute the propriety of uniting those char- 
 acters then ; but the man who under present discouragements 
 ventures to write for the stage, whatever claim he may have to 
 the appellation of a wit, at least has no right to be called a 
 conjurer." But a passage which perhaps touched more sensibly 
 than all the rest on the sensibilities of Garrick, was the 
 following. 
 
 " I have no particular spleen against the fellow who sweeps 
 the stage with the besom, or the hero who brushes it with his, 
 train. It were a matter of indifference to me, whether our 
 heroines are in keeping, or our caudle-snulfers burn their 
 fingers, did not such make a great part of public care and 
 polite conversation. Our actors assume all that state off the 
 stage which they do on it ; and, to use an expression borrowed 
 from the green-room, every one is uj) in his part. I am sorry 
 to say it, they seem to forget their real characters." 
 
 These strictures were considered by Garrick as intended for 
 himself, and they were rankling in his mind when Goldsmith 
 waited upon him and solicited his vote for the vacant secretary- 
 ship of the Society of Arts, of which the manager was a mem- 
 ber. Garrick, puffed up by his dramatic renown and his 
 intimacy with the great, and knowing Goldsmith only by his 
 budding reputation, may not have considered him of sufficient 
 importance to be conciliated. In reply to his solicitations, he ob- 
 served that he could hardly expect his friendly exertions after the 
 unprovoked attack he had made upon his management. Gold- 
 smith replied that he had indulged in no personalities, and had only 
 spoken what he believed to be the truth. He made no further 
 apology nor application ; failed to get the appointment, and 
 considered Garrick his enemy. In the second edition of his 
 treatise he expunged or modified the passages which had given 
 the manager offence ; but though the author and actor became 
 
84 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 
 
 intimate in after years, this false step at the outset of their 
 intercourse was never forgotten. 
 
 About this time Goldsmith engaged with Dr. Smollett, who 
 was about to launch the British Magazine. Smollett was a 
 complete schemer and speculator in literature, and intent upon 
 enterprises that had money rather than reputation in view. 
 Goldsmith has a good-humored hit at this propensity in one of 
 his papers in the Bee, in which he represents Johnson, Hume, 
 and others taking seats in the stagecoach bound for Fame, 
 while Smollett prefers that destined for Riches.^ 
 
 Another prominent employer of Goldsmith was Mr. John 
 Newbery, who engaged him to contribute occasional essays to 
 a newspaper entitled the Public Ledger, which made its first 
 appearance on the 12th of January, 1760. His most valuable 
 and characteristic contributions to this paper were his " Chinese 
 Letters," subsequently modified into the " Citizen of the World." 
 These lucubrations attracted general attention ; they were re- 
 printed in the various periodical publications of the day, and 
 met with great applause. The name of the author, however, 
 was as yet but little known. 
 
 Being now easier in circumstances, and in the receipt of fre- 
 quent sums from the booksellers, Goldsmith, about the middle 
 of 1760, emerged from his dismal abode in Green Arbor Court, 
 and took respectable apartments in Wine-Office Court, Fleet- 
 street. 
 
 Still he continued to look back with considerate benevolence 
 to the poor hostess, whose necessities he had relieved by pawn- 
 ing his gala coat, for we are told that " he often supplied her 
 with food from his own table, and visited her frequently with 
 the sole purpose to be kind to her." 
 
 He now became a member of a debating club, called the 
 Robin Hood, which used to meet near Temple Bar, and in which 
 Burke, while yet a Temple student, had first tried his powers. 
 Goldsmith spoke here occasionally, and is recorded in the Robin 
 Hood archives as "a candid disputant, with a clear head and 
 an honest heart, though coming but seldom to the society." 
 His relish was for clubs of a more social, jovial nature, and he 
 was never fond of argument. An amusing anecdote is told of 
 
 1 The Bee, No. v. 
 
OLIVER GOLDSMITH 85 
 
 his first introduction to the chib, by Samuel Derrick, an Irish 
 acquaintance of some humor. On entering, Goldsmith was 
 struck with the self-important appearance of the chairman en- 
 sconced in a large gilt chair. " This," said he, " must be the 
 Lord Chancellor at least." " No, no," rephed Derrick, " he's 
 only master of the rolls" — The chairman was a haker. 
 
 CHAPTER XII 
 
 New lodgings — Visits of ceremony — Hangers-on — Pilkington and the 
 white mouse — Introduction to Dr. Johnson — Davies and his hook- 
 shop — Pretty Mrs. Davies — Foote and his projects — Criticism of 
 tlie cudgel 
 
 In his new lodgings in Wine-Office Court, Goldsmith began 
 to receive visits of ceremony, and to entertain his literary friends. 
 Among the latter he now numbered several names of note, such 
 as Guthrie, Murphy, Christopher Smart, and Bickerstaflf. He 
 had also a numerous class of hangers-on, the small fry of litera- 
 ture ; who, knowing his almost utter incapacity to refuse a 
 pecuniary request, were apt, now that he was considered flush, 
 to levy continual taxes upon his purse. 
 
 Among others, one Pilkington, an old college acquaintance, 
 but now a shifting adventurer, duped him in the most ludicrous 
 manner. He called on him with a face full of perplexity. A 
 lady of the first rank having an extraordinary fancy for curious 
 animals, for which she was willing to give enormous sums, he 
 had procured a couple of white mice to be forwarded to her from 
 India. They were actually on board of a ship in the river. 
 Her grace had been apprised of their arrival, and was all im- 
 patience to see them. Unfortunately, he had no cage to put 
 them in, nor clothes to appear in before a lady of her rank. 
 Two guineas would be sufficient for his purpose, but where were 
 two guineas to be procured ! 
 
 The simple heart of Goldsmith was touched ; but, alas ! he 
 had but half a guinea in his pocket. It was unfortunate, but, 
 after a pause, his friend suggested, with some hesitation, " that 
 money might be raised upon his watch : it would but be the 
 loan of a few hours." So said, so done ; the watch was deliv- 
 
86 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 
 
 ered to the worthy Mr. Pilkington to be pledged at a neigh- 
 boring pawnbroker's, but nothing farther was ever seen of him, 
 the watch, or the white mice. The next that Goldsmith heard 
 of the poor shifting scapegrace, he was on his death-bed, starv- 
 ing with want, upon which, forgetting or forgiving the trick he 
 had played upon him, he sent him a guinea. Indeed he used 
 often to relate with great humor the foregoing anecdote of his 
 credidity, and was ultimately in some degree indemnified by its 
 suggesting to him the amusing little story of "Prince Bonben- 
 nin and the White Mouse " in the " Citizen of the World." ^ 
 
 In this year Goldsmith became personally acquainted with 
 Dr. Johnson, toward whom he was drawn by strong sympathies, 
 though their natures were widely different. Both had struggled 
 from early life with poverty, but had struggled in different 
 ways. Goldsmith, buoyant, heedless, sanguine, tolerant of evils 
 and easily pleased, had shifted along by any temporary expe- 
 dient ; cast down at every turn, but rising again with indomi- 
 table good-humor, and still carried forward by his talent at 
 hoping. Johnson, melancholy and hypochondriacal, and prone 
 to apprehend the worst, yet sternly resolute to battle with and 
 conquer it, had made his way doggedly and gloomily, but with 
 a noble principle of self-reliance and a disregard of foreign aid. 
 Both had been irregular at college : Goldsmith, as we have 
 shown, from the levity of his nature and his social and con- 
 vivial habits ; Johnson, from his acerbity and gloom. When, 
 in after life, the latter heard himself spoken of as gay and frolic- 
 some at college, because he had joined in some riotous excesses 
 there, "Ah, sir!" replied he, "I was mad and violent. It 
 was bitterness which they mistook for frolic. / was miserably/ 
 pool", and I thought to fight my tvay by my literature and my 
 wit. So I disregarded all power and all authority." 
 
 Goldsmith's poverty was never accompanied by bitterness ; 
 but neither was it accompanied by the guardian pride which 
 kept Johnson from falling into the degrading shifts of poverty. 
 Goldsmith had an unfortunate facility at borrowing, and help- 
 ing himself along by the contributions of his friends ; no doubt 
 trusting, in his hopeful way, of one day making retribution. 
 Johnson never hoped, and therefore never borrowed. In his 
 
 1 Letters Nos. xlviii and xlix. 
 
SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS 
 
 SAMUEL JOHNSON 
 
 1709-1784 
 
OLIVER GOLDSMITH 8Y 
 
 sternest trials he proudly bore the ills he conld not master. 
 In his youth, when some unknown friend, seeing his shoes 
 completely worn out, left a new pair at his chamber door, he 
 disdained to accept the boon, and threw them away. 
 
 Though like Goldsmith an immethodical student, he had im- 
 bibed deeper draughts of knowledge, and made himself a riper 
 scholar. While Goldsmith's happy constitution and genial hu- 
 mors carried him abroad into sunshine and enjoyment, Johnson's 
 physical infirmities and mental gloom drove him upon himself; 
 to tlie resources of reading and meditation ; threw a deeper 
 though darker enthusiasm into his mind, and stored a retentive 
 memory with all kinds of knowledge. 
 
 After several years of youth passed in the country as usher, 
 teacher, and an occasional writer for the press, Johnson, when 
 twenty-eight years of age, came up to London with a half- 
 written ti'agedy in his pocket; and David Garrick, late his 
 pupil, and several years his junior, as a companion, both poor 
 and penniless, both, like Goldsmith, seeking their fortune in 
 the metropolis. "We rode and tied," said Garrick, sportively, 
 in after years of prosperity, when he spoke of their humble 
 wayfaring. " I came to London," said Johnson, " with two- 
 pence halfpenny in my pocket." — " Eh, what's that you say ? " 
 cried Garrick, "with twopence halfpenny in your pocket?" 
 " Why, yes : I came with twopence halfpenny in my pocket, 
 and thou, Davy, with but three halfpence in thine." Nor was 
 there much exaggeration in the picture ; for so poor were they 
 in purse and credit, that after their arrival they had, with diffi- 
 culty, raised five pounds, by giving their joint note to a book- 
 seller in the Strand. 
 
 Many, many years had Johnson gone on obscurely in London, 
 " fighting his way by his literature and his wit " ; enduring all 
 the hardships and miseries of a Grub-street writer : so destitute 
 at one time, that he and Savage the poet had walked all night 
 about St. James's Square, both too poor to pay for a night's 
 lodging, yet both full of poetry and patriotism, and determined 
 to stand by their country ; so shabby in dress at another time, 
 that when he dined at Cave's, his bookseller, when there was 
 prosperous company, he could not make his appearance at table, 
 but had his dinner handed to him behind a screen. 
 
88 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 
 
 Yet through all the long and dreary struggle, often diseased 
 in mind as well as in body, he had been resolutely self-depend- 
 ent, and proudly self-respectful ; he had fulfilled his college 
 vow, he had "fought his way by his literature and his wit." 
 His Rambler and Idler had made him the great moralist of 
 the age, and his "Dictionary and History of the English 
 Language," that stupendous monument of individual labor, 
 had excited the admiration of the learned world. He was 
 now at the head of intellectual society ; and had become as 
 distinguished by his conversational as his literary powers. He 
 had become as much an autocrat in his sphere as his fellow- 
 wayfarer and adventurer Garrick had become of the stage, and 
 had been humorously dubbed by Smollett, " The Great Cham 
 of Literature." 
 
 Such was Dr. Johnson, when on the 31st of May, 1761, he 
 was to make his appearance as a guest at a literary supper 
 given by Goldsmith, to a numerous party at his new lodgings 
 in Wine-Office Court. It was the opening of their acquaint- 
 ance. Johnson had felt and acknowledged the merit of Gold- 
 smith as an author, and been pleased by the honorable mention 
 made of himself in the Bee and the " Chinese Letters." Dr. 
 Percy called upon Johnson to take him to Goldsmith's lodg- 
 ings ; he found Johnson arrayed with unusual care in a new 
 suit of clothes, a new hat, and a well-powdered wig ; and could 
 not but notice his uncommon spruceness. " Why, sir," replied 
 Johnson, " I hear that Goldsmith, who is a very great sloven, 
 justifies his disregard of cleanliness and decency by quoting my 
 practice, and I am desirous this night to show him a better 
 example." 
 
 The acquaintance thus commenced ripened into intimacy in 
 the course of frequent meetings at the shop of Davies. the book- 
 seller, in Russell-street, Covent Garden. As this was one of 
 the great literary gossiping places of the day, especially to the 
 circle over which Johnson presided, it is worthy of some speci- 
 fication. Mr. Thomas Davies, noted in after times as the 
 biographer of Garrick, had originally been on the stage, and 
 though a small man, had enacted tyrannical tragedy, with a 
 pomp and magniloquence beyond his size, if we may trust the 
 description given of him by Churchill in the " Rosciad " : 
 
OLIVER GOLDSMITH ' 89 
 
 " Statesman all over — in plots famous grown, 
 He mouths a sentence as curs mouth a hone.'''' 
 
 This unlucky sentence is said to have crippled him in the midst 
 of his tragic career, and ultimately to have driven him from 
 the stage. He carried into the bookselling craft somewhat of 
 the grandiose manner of the stage, and was prone to be mouthy 
 and magniloquent. 
 
 Churchill had intimated, that while on the stage he was 
 more noted for his pretty wife than his good acting : 
 
 " With him came mighty Davies ; on my life, 
 That fellow has a very pretty wife." 
 
 " Pretty Mrs. Davies " continued to be the lode-star of his 
 fortunes. Her tea-table became almost as much a literary 
 lounge as her husband's shop. She found favor in the eyes of 
 the Ursa Major of literature by her winning ways, as she poured 
 out for him cups without stint of his favorite beverage. In- 
 deed it is suggested that she was one leading cause of his 
 habitual resort to this literary haunt. Others were drawn 
 thither for the sake of Johnson's conversation, and thus it be- 
 came a resort of many of the notorieties of the day. Here 
 might occasionally be seen Bennet Langton, George Steevens, 
 Dr. Percy, celebrated for his ancient ballads, and sometimes 
 Warburton in prelatic state. Garrick resorted to it for a time, 
 but soon grew shy and suspicious, declaring that most of the 
 authors who frequented Mr. Davies's shop went merely to 
 abuse him. 
 
 Foote, the Aristophanes of the day, was a frequent visitor ; 
 his broad face beaming with fun and waggery, and his satirical 
 eye ever on the look-out for characters and incidents for his 
 farces. He was struck with the odd habits and appearance 
 of Johnson and Goldsmith, now so often brought together in 
 Davies's shop. He was about to put on the stage a farce 
 called " The Orators," intended as a hit at the Robin Hood de- 
 bating club, and resolved to show up the two doctors in it for 
 the entertainment of the town. 
 
 " What is the common price of an oak stick, sir ? " said John- 
 son to Davies. " Sixpence," was the reply. " Why then, sir, 
 
90 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 
 
 give me leave to send your servant to purchase a shilling one. 
 I'll have a double quantity ; for I am told Foote means to take 
 me off, as he calls it, and I am determined the fellow shall not 
 do it with impunity," 
 
 Foote had no disposition to undergo the criticism of the 
 cudgel wielded by such potent hands, so the farce of "The 
 Orators " appeared without the caricatures of the lexicographer 
 and the essayist. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII 
 
 Oriental projects — Literary jobs — The Cherokee chiefs — Merry Is- 
 lington and the White Conduit House — Letters on the history of 
 England — James Boswell — Dinner of Da vies — Anecdotes of John- 
 son and Goldsmith 
 
 Notwithstanding his growing success, Goldsmith continued 
 to consider literature a mere make-shift, and his vagrant imagi- 
 nation teemed with schemes and plans of a grand but indefinite 
 nature. One was for visiting the East and exploring the in- 
 terior of Asia. He had, as has been before observed, a vague 
 notion that valuable discoveries were to be made there, and 
 many useful inventions in the arts brought back to the stock 
 of European knowledge. " Thus, in Siberian Tartary," ob- 
 serves he, in one of his writings, " the natives extract a strong 
 spirit from milk, which is a secret probably unknown to the 
 chemists of Europe. In the most savage parts of India they 
 are possessed of the secret of dyeing vegetable substances scar- 
 let, and that of refining lead into a metal which, for hardness 
 and color, is little inferior to silver." ^ 
 
 Goldsmith adds a description of the kind of person suited to 
 such an enterprise, in which he evidently had himself in view. 
 
 " He should be a man of philosophical turn, one apt to 
 deduce consequences of general utility from particular occur- 
 rences ; neither swoln with pride, nor hardened by prejudice ; 
 neither wedded to one particular system, nor instructed only in 
 one particular science ; neither wholly a botanist, nor quite an 
 antiquarian ; his mind should be tinctured with miscellaneous 
 knowledge, and his manners humanized by an intercourse witli 
 
 1 Citizen of the World, Letter cviii. 
 
OLIVER GOLDSMITH 91 
 
 men. He should be in some measure an enthusiast to the 
 design ; fond of travelling, from a rapid imagination and an in- 
 nate love of change ; furnished with a body capable of sustaining 
 every fatigue, and a heart not easily terrified at danger." 
 
 In 1761, when Lord Bute became prime minister on the ac- 
 cession of George the Third, Goldsmith drew up a memorial on 
 the subject, suggesting the advantages to be derived from a mis- 
 sion to those countries solely for useful and scientific purposes ; 
 and, the better to insure success, he preceded his application to 
 th^ government by an ingenious essay to the same effect in the 
 Public Ledger. 
 
 His memorial and his essay were fruitless, his project most 
 probably being deemed the dream of a visionary. Still it con- 
 tinued to haunt his mind, and he would often talk of making 
 an expedition to Aleppo some time or other, when his means 
 were greater, to inquire into the arts peculiar to the East, and 
 to bring home such as might be valuable. Johnson, who knew 
 how little poor Goldsmith was fitted by scientific lore for this 
 favorite scheme of his fancy, scoffed at the project when it was 
 mentioned to him. " Of all men," said he, " Goldsmith is the 
 most unfit to go out upon such an inquiry, for he is utterly 
 ignorant of such arts as we already possess, and, consequently, 
 could not know what would be accessions to our present stock 
 of mechanical knowledge. Sir, he would bring home a grinding 
 barrow, which you see in every street in London, and think that 
 he had furnished a wonderful improvement." 
 
 His connection with Newbery the bookseller now led him into 
 a variety of temporary jobs, such as a pamphlet on the " Cock- 
 lane Ghost," a "Life of Beau Nash," the famous master of 
 ceremonies at Bath, &c. : one of the best things for his fame, 
 however, was the remodelling and republication of his " Chinese 
 Letters " under the title of the " Citizen of the World," a work 
 which has long since taken its merited stand among the classics 
 of the English language. " Few works," it has been observed 
 by one of his biographers, " exhibit a nicer perception, or more 
 delicate delineation of life and manners. Wit, humor, and sen- 
 timent pervade every page ; the vices and follies of the day are 
 touched with the most playful and diverting satire ; and English 
 characteristics, in endless variety, are hit off with the pencil of 
 a master." 
 
92 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 
 
 In seeking materials for his varied views of life, he often 
 mingled in strange scenes and got involved in whimsical situa- 
 tions. In the summer of 1762 he was one of the thousands who 
 V I went to see the Cherokee chiefs, whom he mentions in one of 
 V I his writings. The Indians made their appearance in grand cos- 
 tume, hideously painted and besmeared. In the course of the 
 visit G-oldsmith made one of the chiefs a present, who, in the 
 ecstasy of his gratitude, gave him an embrace that left his face 
 well bedaubed with oil and red ochre. 
 
 Towards the close of 1762 he removed to " merry Islington," 
 then a country village, though now swallowed up in omnivorous 
 London. He went there for the benefit of country air, his health 
 being injured by literary application and confinement, and to be 
 near his chief employer, Mr. Newbery, who resided in the Can- 
 onbury House. In this neighborhood he used to take his soli- 
 tary rambles, sometimes extending his walks to the gardens of 
 the "White Conduit House," so famous among the essayists of 
 the last century. While strolling one day in these gardens, he 
 met three females of the family of a respectable tradesman to 
 whom he was under some obligation. With his prompt dispo- 
 sition to oblige, he conducted them about the garden, treated 
 them to tea, and ran up a bill in the most open-handed manner 
 imaginable ; it was only when he came to pay that he found 
 himself in one of his old dilemmas — he had not the where- 
 withal in his pocket. A scene of perplexity now took place be- 
 tween him and the waiter, in the midst of which came up some 
 of his acquaintances, in whose eyes he wished to stand particu- 
 larly well. This completed his mortification. There was no 
 concealing the awkwardness of his position. The sneers of 
 the waiter revealed it. His acquaintances amused themselves 
 for some time at his expense, professing their inability to re- 
 lieve him. When, however, they had enjoyed their banter, the 
 waiter was paid and poor Goldsmith enabled to convoy off 
 the ladies with flying colors. 
 
 Among the various productions thrown off by him for the 
 booksellers during this growing period of his reputation, was a 
 small work in two volumes, entitled the " History of England, 
 in a series of Letters from a Nobleman to his Son." It was 
 digested from Hume, Rapin, Carte, and Kennet. These authors 
 
OLIVER GOLDSMITH 93 
 
 he would read in the morning ; make a few notes ; ramble with 
 a friend into the country about the skirts of " merry Islington " ; 
 return to a temperate dinner, and cheerful evening ; and, before 
 going to bed, write off what had arranged itself in his head from 
 the studies of the morning. In this way he took a more gen- 
 eral view of the subject, and wrote in a more free and fluent 
 style than if he had been mousing at the time among authori- _^ 
 ties. The work, like many others written by him in the earlier 
 part of his literary career, was anonymous. Some attributed it 
 to tiord Chesterfield, others to Lord Orrery, and others to Lord 
 Lyttelton. The latter seemed pleased to be the putative father, 
 and never disowned the bantling thus laid at his door; and 
 well might he have been proud to be considered capable of pro- 
 ducing what has been well pronounced " the most finished and 
 elegant summary of English history in the same compass that 
 has been or is likely to be written." 
 
 The reputation of Goldsmith, it will be perceived, grew 
 slowly ; he was known and estimated by a few ; but he had 
 not those brilliant though fallacious qualities which flash upon 
 the public, and excite loud but transient applause. His works 
 were more read than cited ; and the charm of style, for which 
 he was especially noted, was more apt to be felt than talked 
 about. He used often to repine, in a half-humorous, half- 
 querulous manner, at his tardiness in gaining the laurels which 
 he felt to be his due. " The public," he would exclaim, " will 
 never do me justice; whenever I write any thing, they make a 
 point to know nothing about it." 
 
 About the beginning of 1763 he became acquainted with 
 Boswell, whose literary gossipings were destined to have a^ 
 deleterious eftect upon his reputation. Boswell was at that 
 time a young man, light, buoyant, pushing, and presum.ptuous. 
 He had a morbid passion for mingling in the society of men 
 noted for wit and learning, and had just arrived from Scotland, 
 bent upon making his way into the literary circles of the me- 
 tropolis. An intimacy with Dr. Johnson, the great literary 
 luminary of the day, was the crowning object of his aspiring 
 and somewhat ludicrous ambition. He expected to meet him 
 at a dinner to which he was invited at Davies the bookseller's, 
 but was disappointed. Goldsmith was present, but he was not 
 
94 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 
 
 as yet sufficiently renowned to excite the reverence of Boswell. 
 " At this time," says he in his notes, " I think he had pub- 
 lished nothing with his name, though it was pretty generally 
 understood that one Dr. Goldsmith was the author of 'An 
 Inquiry into the Present State of Polite Learning in Europe,' 
 and of ' The Citizen of the World,' a series of letters supposed 
 to be written from London, by a Chinese." 
 
 A conversation took place at table between Goldsmith and 
 Mr. Kobert Dodsley, compiler of the well-known collection of 
 modern poetry, as to the merits of the current poetry of the 
 day. Goldsmith declared there was none of superior merit. 
 Dodsley cited his own collection in proof of the contrary. " It 
 is true," said he, " we can boast of no palaces now-a-days, like 
 Dry den's ' Ode to St. Cecilia's Day,' but we have villages com- 
 posed of very pretty houses." Goldsmith, however, maintained 
 that there was nothing above mediocrity, an opinion in which 
 Johnson, to whom it was repeated, concurred, and with reason, 
 for the era was one of the dead levels of British poetry. 
 
 Boswell has made no note of this conversation ; he was an 
 unitarian in his literary devotion, and disposed to worship none 
 but Johnson. Little Davies endeavored to console him for his 
 disappointment, and to stay the stomach of his curiosity, by 
 giving him imitations of the great lexicographer ; mouthing his 
 words, rolling his head, and assuming as ponderous a manner 
 as his petty person would permit. Boswell was shortly after- 
 wards made happy by an introduction to Johnson, of whom he 
 became the obsequious satellite. From him he likewise imbibed 
 a more favorable opinion of Goldsmith's merits, though he was 
 fain to consider them derived in a great measure from his Mag- 
 nus Apollo. "He had sagacity enough," says he, "to cultivate 
 assiduously the acquaintance of Johnson, and his faculties were 
 gradually enlarged by the contemplation of such a model. To 
 me and many others it appeared that he studiously copied the 
 manner of Johnson, though, indeed, upon a smaller scale." So 
 on another occasion he calls him "one of the brightest orna- 
 ments of the Johnsonian school." " His respectful attachment 
 to Johnson," adds he, " was then at its height ; for his own 
 literary reputation had not yet distinguished him so much as 
 to excite a vain desire of competition with his great master." 
 
OLIVER GOLDSMITH 95 
 
 What beautiful instances does the garrulous Boswell give of 
 the goodness of heart of Johnson, and the passing homage to 
 it by Goldsmith. They were speaking of a Mr, Levett, long 
 an inmate of Johnson's house and a dependent on his bounty ; 
 but who, Boswell thought, must be an irksome charge upon 
 him. "He is poor and honest," said Goldsmith, "which is 
 recommendation enough to Johnson." 
 
 Boswell mentioned another person of a very bad character, 
 and wondered at Johnson's kindness to him. "He is now 
 become miserable," said Goldsmith, "and that insures the 
 protection of Johnson." Encomiums like these speak almost 
 as much for the heart of him who praises as of him who is 
 praised. 
 
 Subsequently, when Boswell had become more intense in 
 his literary idolatry, he affected to undervalue Goldsmith, and 
 a lurking hostility to him is discernible throughout his writ- 
 ings, which some have attributed to a silly spirit of jealousy 
 of the superior esteem evinced for the poet by Dr. Johnson. 
 We have a gleam of this in his account of the first evening he 
 spent in company with those two eminent authors at their 
 famous resort, the Mitre Tavern, in Fleet-street. This took 
 place on the 1st of July, 1763. The trio supped together, and 
 passed some time in literary conversation. On quitting the 
 tavern, Johnson, who had now been sociably acquainted with 
 Goldsmith for two years, and knew his merits, took him with 
 him to drink tea with his blind pensioner. Miss Williams ; a 
 high privilege among his intimates and admirers. To Boswell, 
 a recent acquaintance, whose intrusive sycophancy had not yet 
 made its way into his confidential intimacy, he gave no invita- 
 tion. Boswell felt it with all the jealousy of a little mind. 
 "Dr. Goldsmith," says he, in his memoirs, "being a privileged 
 man, went with him, strutting away, and calling to me with an 
 air of superiority, like that of an esoteric over an exoteric dis- 
 ciple of a sage of antiquity, ' I go to Miss WiUiams.' I con- 
 fess I then envied him this mighty privilege, of which he 
 seemed to be so proud ; but it was not long before I obtained 
 the same mark of distinction." 
 
 Obtained ! but how ? not like Goldsmith, by the force of 
 unpretending but congenial merit, but by a course of the most 
 
96 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 
 
 pushing, contriving, and spaniel-like subserviency. Really, the 
 ambition of the man to illustrate his mental insignificance, by 
 continually placing himself in juxtaposition with the great lexi- 
 cographer, has something in it perfectly ludicrous. Never, 
 since the days of Don Quixote and Sancho Panza, has there 
 been presented to the woiid a more whimsically contrasted pair 
 of associates than Johnson and Boswell. 
 
 " Who is this Scotch cur at Johnson's heels ? " asked some 
 one when Boswell had worked his way into incessant companion- 
 ship. "He is not a cur," replied Goldsmith, "you are too se- 
 vere ; he is only a bur. Tom Davies flung him at Johnson in 
 sport, and he has the faculty of sticking." 
 
 CHAPTER XIV 
 
 Hogarth a visitor at Islington; his character — Street studies — Sj'^m- 
 pathies between authors and painters — Sir Joshua Reynolds; his 
 character; his dinners — The Literary Club; its members — John- 
 son's revels Avith Laukey and Beau — Goldsmith at the club 
 
 Among the intimates who used to visit the poet occasionally 
 in his retreat at Islington,- was Hogarth the painter. Goldsmith 
 had spoken well of him in his essays in the Public Ledger, and 
 this formed tlie first link m their friendship. He was at this time 
 upwai'ds of sixty years of age, and is described as a stout, active, 
 bustling little man, in a sky-blue coat, satirical and dogmatic, 
 yet full of real benevolence and the love of human nature. He 
 was the moralist and philosopher of the pencil ; like Goldsmith 
 he had sounded the depths of vice and misery, without being 
 polluted by them ; and though his picturings had not the per- 
 vading amenity of those of the essayist, and dwelt more on the 
 crimes and vices than the follies and humors of mankind, yet 
 they were all calculated, in like manner, to fill the mind with 
 instruction and precept, and to make the heart better. 
 
 Hogarth does not appear to have had much of the rural feel- 
 ing with whicli Goldsmith was so amply endowed, and may not 
 have accompanied him in his strolls about hedges and green 
 lanes ; but he was a fit companion with whom to explore the 
 mazes of London, in which lie was continually on the look-out 
 
OLIVER GOLDSMITH 97 
 
 for character and incident. One of Hogarth's admirers speaks 
 of having come upon him in Castle-street, engaged in one of his 
 street studies, watching two boys who were quarrelling ; patting 
 one on the back who flinched, and endeavoring to spirit him up 
 to a fresh encounter. " At him again ! D — him, if I would 
 take it of him ! at him again ! " 
 
 A frail memorial of this intimacy between the painter and the 
 poet exists in a portrait in oil, called " Goldsmith's Hostess." 
 It is supposed to have been painted by Hogarth in the course 
 o^his visits to Islington, and given by him to tlie poet as a 
 means of paying his landlady. There are no friendships among 
 men of talents more likely to be sincere than those between 
 painters and poets. Possessed of the same qualities of mind, 
 governed by the same principles of taste and natural laws of 
 grace and beauty, but applying them to different yet mutually 
 illustrative arts, they are constantly in sympathy, and never in 
 collision with each other. 
 
 A still more congenial intimacy of the kind was that con- 
 tracted by Goldsmith with Mr., afterwards Sir Joshua, Rey- 
 nolds. The latter was now about forty years of age, a few years 
 older than the poet, whom he charmed by the blandness and 
 benignity of his manners, and the nobleness and generosity of 
 his disposition, as much as he did by the graces of his pencil 
 and the magic of his coloring. They were men of kindred 
 genius, excelling in corresponding qualities of their several arts, 
 for style in writing is what color is in painting ; both are in- 
 nate endowments, and equally magical in their effects. Certain 
 graces and harmonies of both may be acquired by diligent study 
 and imitation, but only in a limited degree ; whereas by their 
 natural possessors they are exercised spontaneously, almost un- 
 consciously, and with ever- varying fascination. Reynolds soon 
 vinderstood and appreciated the merits of Goldsmith, and a 
 incere and lasting friendship ensued between them. 
 
 At Reynolds's house Goldsmith mingled in a higher range 
 if company than he had been accustomed to. The fame of 
 this celebrated artist, and his amenity of manners, were gath- 
 ering round him men of talents of all kinds, and the increasing 
 affluence of his circumstances enabled him to give full indul- 
 gence to his hospitable disposition. Poor Goldsmith had not 
 
98 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 
 
 yet, like Dr. Johnson, acquired reputation enough to atone for 
 his external defects and his want of the air of good society. 
 Miss Reynolds used to inveigh against his personal appearance, 
 which gave her the idea, she said, of a low mechanic, a journey- 
 man tailor. One evening at a large supper party, being called 
 upon to give as a toast the ugliest man she knew, she gave Dr. 
 Goldsmith, upon which a lady who sat opposite, and whom she 
 had never met before, shook hands with her across the table, 
 and " hoped to become better acquainted." 
 
 We have a graphic and amusing picture of Reynolds's 
 hospitable but motley establishment, in an account given 
 by a Mr. Courtenay to Sir James Mackintosh ; though it 
 speaks of a time after Reynolds had received the honor of 
 knighthood. " There was something singular," said he, " in 
 the style and economy of Sir Joshua's table that contributed 
 to pleasantry and good-humor, a coarse, inelegant plenty, with- 
 out any regard to order and arrangement. At five o'clock 
 precisely, dinner was served, whether all the invited guests 
 were arrived or not. Sir Joshua was never so fashionably ill- 
 bred as to wait an hour perhaps for two or three persons of 
 rank or title, and put the rest of the company out of humor 
 by this invidious distinction. His invitations, however, did 
 not regulate the number of his guests. Many dropped in un- 
 invited. A table prepared for seven or eight was often com- 
 pelled to contain fifteen or sixteen. There was a consequent 
 deficiency of knives, forks, plates, and glasses. The attendance 
 was in the same style, and those who were knowing in the 
 ways of the house took care on sitting down to call instantly 
 for beer, bread, or wine, that they might secure a supply be- 
 fore the first course was over. He was once prevailed on to 
 furnish the table with decanters and glasses at dinner, to save 
 time and prevent confusion. These gradually were demolished 
 in the course of service, and were never replaced. These 
 trifling embarrassments, however, only served to enhance the 
 hilarity and singular pleasure of the entertainment. The wine, 
 cookery, and dishes were but little attended to ; nor was the 
 fish or venison ever talked of or recommended. Amidst this 
 convivial animated bustle among his guests, our host sat 
 perfectly composed ; always attentive to what was said, never 
 
OLIVER GOLDSMITH 99 
 
 minding what was ate or drank, but left every one at jberfect 
 liberty to scramble for himself." 
 
 Out of the casual but frequent meeting of men of talent at 
 this hospitable board rose that association of wits, authors, 
 scholars, and statesmen, renowned as the Literary Club. 
 Reynolds was the first to propose a regular association of the 
 kind, and was eagerly seconded by Johnson, who proposed as a 
 model a club which he had formed many years previously in 
 Iv^ Lane, but which was now extinct. Like that club the 
 number of members was limited to nine. They were to meet 
 and sup together once a week, on Monday night, at the Turk's 
 Head on Gerard-street, Soho, and two members were to con- 
 stitute a meeting. It took a regular form in the year 1764, 
 but did not receive its literary appellation until several years 
 afterwards. 
 
 The original members were Eeynolds, Johnson, Burke, 
 Dr. Nugent, Bennet Langton, Topham Beauclerc, Chamier, 
 Hawkins, and Goldsmith ; and here a few words concerning 
 some of the members may be acceptable. Burke was at that 
 time about thirty-three years of age ; he had mingled a little 
 in politics and been Under Secretary to Hamilton at Dublin, 
 but was again a writer for the booksellers, and as yet but in 
 the dawning of his fame. Dr. Nugent was his father-in-law, a 
 Roman Catholic, and a physician of talent and instruction. 
 Mr., afterwards Sir John, Hawkins was admitted into this asso- 
 ciation from having been a member of Johnson's Ivy Lane club. 
 Originally an attorney, he had retired from the practice of the 
 law, in consequence of a large fortune which fell to him in right 
 of his wife, and was now a Middlesex magistrate. He was, 
 moreover, a dabbler in literature and music, and was actually 
 engaged on a history of music, which he subsequently published 
 in five ponderous volumes. To him we are also indebted for a 
 biography of Johnson, which appeared after the death of that 
 eminent man. Hawkins was as mean and parsimonious as he 
 was pompous and conceited. He forbore to partake of the 
 suppers at the club, and begged therefore to be excused from 
 paying his share of the reckoning. " And was he excused 1 " 
 asked Dr. Burney of Johnson. " Oh yes, for no man is angry 
 at another| ^Yq fb^ig inferior to himself. We all scorned him 
 
100 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 
 
 and admitted his plea. Yet I really believe him to be an 
 honest man at bottom, though to be sure he is penurious, and 
 he is mean, and it must be owned he has a tendency to savage- 
 ness." He did not remain above two or three years in the 
 club ; being in a manner elbowed out in consequence of his 
 rudeness to Burke. 
 
 Mr. Anthony Chamier was Secretary in the war office, and a 
 friend of Beauclerc, by whom he was proposed. We have left 
 our mention of Bennet Langton and Topham Beauclerc until 
 the last, because we have most to say about them. They 
 "were doubtless induced to join the club through their devotion 
 to Johnson, and the intimacy of these two very young and 
 aristocratic young men with the stern and somew^hat melancholy 
 moralist is- among the curiosities of literature. 
 
 Bennet Langton was of an ancient family, who held their 
 ancestral estate of Langton in Lincolnshire, a great title to 
 respect with Johnson. "Langton, sir," he would say, "has a 
 grant of free-warren from Henry the Second ; and Cardinal 
 Stephen Langton, in King John's reign, was of this family." 
 
 Langton was of a mild, contemplative, enthusiastic nature. 
 When but eighteen years of age he was so delighted with read- 
 ing Johnson's Rambler, that he came to London chiefly with a 
 view to obtain an introduction to the author. Boswell gives 
 us an account of his first interview, which took place in the 
 morning. It is not often that the personal appearance of an 
 author agrees with the preconceived ideas of his admirer. 
 Langton, from perusing the writings of Johnson, expected to 
 find him a decent, w^ell dressed, in short a remarkably decorous 
 philosopher. Instead of which, down from his bedchamber 
 about noon, came, as newly risen, a large uncouth figure, with 
 a little dark wig which scarcely covered his head, and his 
 clothes hanging loose about him. But his conversation was so 
 rich, so animated, and so forcible, and his religious and 
 political notions so congenial with those in which Langton had 
 been educated, that he conceived for him that veneration and 
 attachment w^hich he ever preserved. 
 
 Langton went to pursue his studies at Trinity College, Ox- 
 ford, where Johnson saw much of him during a visit which he 
 paid to the University. He found him in close intimacy with 
 
OLIVER GOLDSMITH 101 
 
 Topham Beauclerc, a youth two years older than himself, very 
 gay and dissipated, and wondered what sympathies could draw 
 two young men together of such opposite characters. On be- 
 coming acquainted with Beauclerc he found that, rake though 
 he was, he possessed an ardent love of literature, an acute 
 understanding, polished wit, innate gentility, and high aristo- 
 cratic breeding. He was, moreover, the only son of Lord Sid- 
 ney Beauclerc and grandson of tlie Duke of St. Albans, and 
 was thought in some particulars to have a resemblance to 
 Charles the Second. These were high recommendations with 
 Johnson, and when the youth testified a profound respect 
 for him and an ardent admiration of his talents the conquest 
 was complete, so that in a "short time," says Boswell, "the 
 moral pious Johnson and the gay dissipated Beauclerc were 
 companions." 
 
 The intimacy begun in college chambers was continued when 
 the youths came to town during the vacations. The uncouth, 
 unwieldy moralist was flattered at finding himself an object of 
 idolatry to two high-born, high-bred, aristocratic young men, 
 and throwing gravity aside, was ready to join in their vagaries 
 and play the part of a " young man upon town." Such at 
 least is the picture given of him by Boswell on one occasion 
 when Beauclerc and Langton having supped together at a 
 tavern determined to give Johnson a rouse at three o'clock in the 
 morning. They accordingly rapped violently at the door of his 
 chambers in the Temple. The indignant sage sallied forth in 
 his shirt, poker in hand, and a little black wig on the top of 
 his head, instead of helmet ; prepared to wreak vengeance on 
 the assailants of his castle : but when his two young friends, 
 Lankey and Beau, as he used to call them, presented them- 
 selves, summoning him forth to a morning ramble, his whole 
 manner changed. " What, is it you, ye dogs ? " cried he. 
 " Faith, I'll have a frisk with you ! " 
 
 So said so done. They sallied forth together into Covent- 
 Garden ; figured among the green grocers and fruit women, just 
 come in from the country with their hampers ; repaired to a 
 neighboring tavern, where Johnson brewed a bowl of bishop, a 
 favorite beverage with him, grew merry over his cups, and 
 anathematized sleep in two lines, from Lord Lansdowne's drink- 
 ing song : 
 
102 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 
 
 " Short, very short, be then thy reign, 
 For I'm in haste to laugh and drink again." 
 
 They then took boat again, rowed to Billingsgate, and John- 
 son and Beauclerc determined, like "mad wags," to "keep it 
 up " for the rest of the day. Langton, however, the most 
 sober-minded of the three, pleaded an engagement to break- 
 fast with some young ladies ; whereupon the great moralist 
 reproached him with "leaving his social friends to go and sit 
 with a set of wretched un-idea'd girls." 
 
 This madcap freak of the great lexicographer made a sen- 
 sation, as may well be supposed, among his intimates. " I 
 heard of your frolic t'other night," said Garrick to him ; "you'll 
 be in the Chronicle.^'' He uttered worse forebodings to others. 
 " I shall have my old friend to bail out of the round-house," 
 said he. Johnson, however, valued himself upon having thus 
 enacted a chapter in the Rake's Progress, and crowed over 
 Garrick on the occasion. " lie durst not do such a thing ! " 
 chuckled he, " his ivife would not let him ! " 
 
 When these two young men entered the club, Langton was 
 about twenty-two, and Beauclerc about twenty-four years of 
 age, and both were launched on London life. Langton, how- 
 ever, was still the mild, enthusiastic scholar, steeped to the 
 lips in Greek, with fine conversational powers, and an invalu- 
 able talent for listening. He was upwards of six feet high, 
 and very spare. "Oh! that we could sketch him," exclaims 
 Miss Hawkins, in her "Memoirs," "with his mild countenance, 
 his elegant features, and his sweet smile, sitting with one leg 
 twisted round the other, as if fearing to occupy more space 
 than was equitable ; his person inclining forward, as if wanting 
 strength to support his weight, and his arms crossed over his 
 bosom, or his hands locked together on his knee." Beauclerc, 
 on such occasions, sportively compared him to a stork in 
 Raphael's Cartoons, standing on one leg. Beauclerc was more a 
 " man upon town," a lounger in St. James's Street, an associ- 
 ate with George Selwyn, with Walpole, and other aristocratic 
 wits ; a man of fashion at court ; a casual frequenter of the gam- 
 ing-table ; yet, with all this, he alternated in the easiest and 
 happiest manner the scholar and the man of letters ; lounged 
 into the club with the most perfect self-possession, bringing 
 
OLIVER GOLDSMITH 103 
 
 with him the careless grace and polished wit of high-bred so- 
 ciety, but making himself cordially at home among his learned 
 fellow-members. 
 
 The gay yet lettered rake maintained his sway over Johnson, 
 who was fascinated by that air of the world, that ineffable tone 
 of good society in which he felt himself deficient, especially as 
 the possessor of it always paid homage to his superior talent. 
 " Beauclerc," he would say, using a quotation from Pope, " has 
 a love of folly, but a scorn of fools ; every thing he does shows 
 th« one, and every thing he says the other." Beauclerc de- 
 lighted in rallying the stern moralist of whom others stood in 
 awe, and no one, according to Boswell, could take equal liberty 
 with him with impunity. Johnson, it is well known, was 
 often shabby and negligent in his dress, and not over cleanly in 
 his person. On receiving a pension from the crown,' his friends 
 vied with each other in respectful congratulations. Beauclerc 
 simply scanned his person with a whimsical glance, and hoped 
 that, like Falstaff, " he'd in future purge and live cleanly like 
 a gentleman." Johnson took the hint with unexpected good- 
 humor, and profited by it. 
 
 Still Beauclerc's satirical vein, which darted shafts on every 
 side, was not always tolerated by Johnson. " Sir," said he on 
 one occasion, " you never open your mouth but with intention 
 to give pain ; and you have often given me pain, not from the 
 power of what you have said, but from seeing your intention." 
 
 When it was at first proposed to enroll Goldsmith among 
 the members of this association, there seems to have been some 
 demur ; at least so says the pompous Hawkins. "As he wrote 
 for the booksellers, we of the club looked on him as a mere 
 literary drudge, equal to the task of comjDiling and trans- 
 lating, but little capable of original and still less of poetical 
 composition." 
 
 Even for some time after his admission, he continued to be 
 regarded in a dubious light by some of the members. Johnson 
 and Reynolds, of course, were well aware of his merits, nor was 
 Burke a stranger to them ; but to the others he was as 
 yet a sealed book, and the outside was not prepossessing. 
 His ungainly person and awkward manners were against 
 him with men accustomed to the graces of society, and he 
 
104 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 
 
 was not sufficiently at home to give play to his humor and 
 to that bonhommie which won the hearts of all who knew him. 
 He felt strange and out of place in this new sphere ; he felt at 
 times the cool satirical eye of the courtly Beauclerc scanning 
 him, and the more he attempted to appear at his ease, the 
 more awkward he became. 
 
 CHAPTER XV 
 
 Johnson a monitor to Goldsmith ; finds him in distress with his land- 
 lady; relieved by the Vicar of Wakefield — The oratorio — Poem 
 of The Traveller — The poet and his dog — Success of the poem — 
 Astonishment of the club — Observations on the poem 
 
 Johnson had now become one of Goldsmith's best friends 
 and advisers. He knew all the weak points of his character, 
 but he knew also his merits ; and while he would rebuke him 
 like a child, and rail at his errors and follies, he would suffer no 
 one else to undervalue him. Goldsmith knew the soundness of 
 his judgment and his practical benevolence, and often sought 
 his counsel and aid amid the difficulties into which his heedless- 
 ness was continually plunging him. 
 
 "I received one morning," says Johnson, "a message from 
 poor Goldsmith that he was in great distress, and, as it was 
 not in his power to come to me, begging that I would come to 
 him as soon as possible. I sent him a guinea, and promised 
 to come to him directly. I accordingly went as soon as I was 
 dressed, and found that his landlady had arrested him for his 
 rent, at which he was in a violent passion : I perceived that he 
 had already changed my guinea, and had a bottle of Madeira 
 and a glass before him. I put the cork into the bottle, desired 
 he would be calm, and began to talk to him of the means by 
 which he might be extricated. He then told me he had a 
 novel ready for the press, which he produced to me. I looked 
 into it and saw its merit ; told the landlady I should soon re- 
 turn ; and, having gone to a bookseller, sold it for sixty pounds. 
 I brought Goldsmith the money, and he discharged his rent, 
 not without rating his landlady in a high tone for having used 
 him so ill." 
 
OLIVER GOLDSMITH 105 
 
 The novel in question wos the "Vicar of Wakefield '' : the 
 bookseller to whom Johnson sold it was Francis Newbery, 
 nephew to John. Strange as it may seem, this captivating 
 work, which has obtained and preserved an almost unrivalled 
 popularity in various languages, was so little appreciated by 
 the bookseller, that he kept it by him for nearly two years 
 unpublished ! 
 
 Goldsmith had, as yet, produced nothing of moment in 
 poetry. Among his literary jobs, it is true, was an oratorio 
 entitled " The Captivity," founded on the bondage of the Isra- 
 elites in Babylon. It was one of those unhappy offsprings 
 of the Muse ushered into existence amid the distortions of 
 music. Most of the oratorio has passed into oblivion j but the 
 following song from it will never die. 
 
 "The wretch condemned from life to part, 
 Still, still on hope relies, 
 And every pang that rends the heart 
 Bids expectation rise. 
 
 " Hope, like the glimmering taper's light, 
 Illumes and cheers our way; 
 And still, as darker grows the night, 
 Emits a brighter ray." 
 
 Goldsmith distrusted his qualifications to succeed in poetry, 
 and doubted the disposition of the public mind in regard to it. 
 " I fear," said he, "I have come too late into the world ; Pope 
 and other poets have taken up the places in the temple of 
 Fame ; and as few at any period can possess poetical reputa- 
 tion, a man of genius can now hardly acquire it." Again, on 
 another occasion, he observes : " Of all kinds of ambition, as 
 things are now circumstanced, perhaps that which pursues 
 poetical fame is the wildest. What from the increased refine- 
 ment of the times, from the diversity of judgment produced 
 by opposing systems of criticism, and from the more prevalent 
 divisions of opinion influenced by party, the strongest and 
 happiest efforts can expect to please but in a very narrow 
 circle." ^ 
 
 iFrom the dedication to the first edition of Tlie Traveller. 
 
106 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 
 
 At this very time he had by him his poem of " The Trav- 
 eller." The plan of it, as has already been observed, was con- 
 i^-Vceived many years before, during his travels in Switzerland, and 
 a slietch of it sent from that country to his brother Henry in 
 Ireland. The original outline is said to have embraced a wider 
 scope ; but it was probably contracted through diffidence, in 
 the process of finishing the parts. It had laid by him for 
 several years in a crude state, and it was with extreme hesita- 
 tion and after much revision that he at length submitted it to 
 Dr. Johnson. The frank and warm approbation of the latter 
 encouraged him to finish it for the press ; and Dr. Johnson 
 himself contributed a few lines towards the conclusion. 
 
 We hear much about " poetic inspiration," and the " poet's 
 eye in a fine phrensy rolling " ; but Sir Joshua Reynolds gives 
 an anecdote of Goldsmith while engaged upon his poem, calcu- 
 lated to cure our notions about the ardor of composition. Call- 
 ing upon the poet one day, he opened the door without 
 ceremony, and found him in the double occupation of turning a 
 couplet and teaching a pet dog to sit upon his haunches. At 
 one time he would glance his eye at his desk, and at another 
 shake his finger at the dog to make him retain his position. 
 The last lines on the page were still wet ; they form a part of 
 the description of Italy : 
 
 " By sports like these are all their cares beguiled, 
 The sports of children satisfy the child." 
 
 Goldsmith, with his usual good-humor, joined in the laugh 
 caused by his whimsical employment, and acknowledged that 
 his boyish sport with the dog suggested the stanza. 
 
 The poem was published on the 19th of December, 1764, 
 in a quarto form, by Newbery, and was the first of his works 
 to which Goldsmith prefixed his name. As a testimony of 
 cherished and well-merited affection, he dedicated it to his 
 brother Henry. There is an amusing affectation of indifference 
 as to its fate expressed in the dedication. "What reception a 
 poem may find," says he, "which has neither abuse, party, nor 
 blank verse to support it, I cannot tell, nor am I solicitous to 
 know." The truth is, no one was more emulous and anxious 
 
OLIVER GOLDSMITH 107 
 
 for poetic fame ; and never was he more anxious than in the 
 present instance, for it was his grand stake. Dr. Johnson 
 aided the launching of the poem by a favorable notice in the 
 Critical Review ; other periodical works came out in its favor. 
 Some of the author's friends complained that it did not com- 
 mand instant and wide popularity ; that it was a poem to win, 
 not to strike : it went on rapidly increasing in favor ; in three 
 months a second edition was issued ; shortly afterwards, a third ; 
 then a fourth ; and, before the year was out, the author was 
 pronounced the best poet of his time. 
 
 The appearance of " The Traveller " at once altered Gold- 
 smith's intellectual standing in the estimation of society ; but 
 its effect upon the club, if we may judge from the account given 
 by Hawkins, was almost ludicrous. They were lost in astonish- 
 ment that a "newspaper essayist" and "bookseller's drudge" 
 should have written such a poem. On the evening of its an- 
 nouncement to them Goldsmith had gone away early, after 
 " rattling away as usual," and they knew not how to reconcile 
 his heedless garrulity with the serene beauty, the easy grace, 
 the sound good sense, and the occasional elevation of his poetry. 
 They could scarcely believe that such magic numbers had flowed 
 from a man to whom in general, says Johnson, " it was with dif- 
 ficulty they could give a hearing." " Well," exclaimed Chamier, 
 " I do believe he wrote this poem himself, and let me tell you, 
 that is believing a great deal." 
 
 At the next meeting of the club, Chamier sounded the author 
 a little about his poem. " Mr. Goldsmith," said he, " what 
 do you mean by the last word in the first line of your ' Travel- 
 ler,' 'remote, unfriended, melancholy, dow^ ? do you mean 
 tardiness of locomotion ? " — " Yes," replied Goldsmith, incon- 
 siderately, being probably flurried at the moment. "No, sir," 
 interposed his protecting friend Johnson, "you did not mean 
 tardiness of locomotion ; you meant that sluggishness of mind 
 which comes upon a man in solitude." — "Ah," exclaimed 
 Goldsmith, ''''that was what I meant." Chamier immediately 
 believed that Johnson himself had written the line, and a 
 rumor became prevalent that he was the author of many of the 
 finest passages. This was ultimately set at rest by Johnson 
 himself, who marked with a pencil all the verses he had con- 
 
108 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 
 
 tributed, nine in number, inserted towards the conclusion, and 
 by no means the best in the poem. He moreover, with gener- 
 ous warmth, pronounced it the finest poem that had appeared 
 since the days of Pope. 
 
 But one of the highest testimonials to the charm of the poem 
 was given by Miss Reynolds, who had toasted poor Goldsmith 
 as the ugliest man of her acquaintance. Shortly after the 
 api)earance of " The Traveller," Dr. Johnson read it aloud from 
 beginning to end in her presence. " Well," exclaimed she, when 
 he had finished, " I never more shall think Dr. Goldsmith 
 ugly ! " 
 
 On another occasion, when the merits of " The Traveller " 
 were discussed at Reynolds's board, Langton declared " there 
 was not a bad line in the poem, not one of Dry den's careless 
 verses." " I was glad," observed Reynolds, " to hear Charles 
 Fox say it was one of the finest poems in the English lan- 
 guage." "Why was you glad?" rejoined Langton, "you 
 surely had no doubt of this before." " No," interposed John- 
 son, decisively ; " the merit of ' The Traveller' is so well estab- 
 lished that Mr. Fox's praise cannot augment it, nor his censure 
 diminish it." 
 
 Boswell, who was absent from England at the time of the 
 publication of " The Traveller," was astonished, on his return, 
 to find Goldsmith, whom he had so much undervalued, sud- 
 denly elevated almost to a par with his idol. He accounted 
 for it by concluding that much, both of the sentiments and ex- 
 pression of the poem, had been derived from conversations with 
 Johnson. "He imitates you, sir," said this incarnation of 
 toadyism. "Why no, sir," replied Johnson, "JackHawkes- 
 worth is one of my imitators, but not Goldsmith. Goldy, sir, 
 has great merit." " But, sir, he is much indebted to you for 
 his getting so high in the public estimation." "Why, sir, he 
 has, perhaps, got sooner to it by his intimacy with me." 
 
 The poem went through several editions in the course of the 
 first year, and received some few additions and corrections from 
 the author's pen. It produced a golden harvest to Mr. New- 
 bery, but all the remuneration on record, doled out by his nig- 
 gard hand to the author, was twenty guineas ! 
 
OLIVER GOLDSMITH 109 
 
 CHAPTER XVI 
 
 New lodgings — Johnson's compliment — A titled patron — The poet at 
 Northumberland House — His independence of the great — The 
 Countess of Northumberland — Edwin and Angelina — Gosford 
 and Lord Clare — Publication of Essays — Evils of a rising repu- 
 tation — Hangers-on — Job writing — Goody Two Shoes — A medi- 
 cal campaign — Mrs. Sidebotham 
 
 Goldsmith, now that he was rising in the world, and be- 
 coming a notoriety, felt himself called upon to improve his style 
 of living. He accordingly emerged from Wine-Office Court, and 
 took chambers in the Temple. It is true they were but of 
 humble pretensions, situated on what was then the library stair- 
 case, and it would appear that he was a kind of inmate with 
 Jeffs, tlie butler of the society. Still he was in the Temple, 
 that classic region rendered famous by the Spectator and other 
 essayists, as the abode of gay wits and thoughtful men of letters ; 
 and which, with its retired courts and embowered gardens, in the 
 very heart of a noisy metropolis, is, to the quiet-seeking student 
 and author, an oasis freshening with verdure in the midst of a 
 desert. Johnson, who had become a kind of growling supervisor 
 of the poet's affairs, paid him a visit soon after he had installed 
 himself in his new quarters, and went prying about the apart- 
 ment, in his near-sighted manner, examining every thing mi- 
 nutely. Goldsmith was fidgeted by this curious scrutiny, and 
 apprehending a disposition to find fault, exclaimed, with the 
 air of a man who had money in both pockets, " I shall soon be 
 in better chambers than these." The harmless bravado drew a 
 reply from Johnson, which touched the chord of proper pride. 
 "Nay, sir," said he, "never mind that. Nil te qusesiveris ex- 
 tra" — implying that his reputation rendered him independent 
 of outward show. Happy would it have been for poor Gold- 
 smith, could he have kept this consolatory compliment perpet- 
 ually in mind, and squared his expenses accordingly. 
 
 Among the persons of rank who were struck with the merits 
 of " The Traveller " was the Earl (afterwards Duke) of Northum- 
 berland. He procured several other of Goldsmith's writings, 
 the perusal of which tended to elevate the author in his good 
 opinion, and to gain for him his good will. The earl held the 
 
110 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 
 
 office of Lord Lieutenant of Ireland, and understanding Gold- 
 smith was an Irishman, was disposed to extend to him the 
 patronage which his high post afforded. He intimated the 
 same to his relative, Dr. Percy, who, he found, was well ac- 
 quainted with the poet, and expressed a wish that the latter 
 should wait upon him. Here, then, was another opportunity 
 for Goldsmith to better his fortune, had he been knowing and 
 worldly enough to profit by it. Unluckily the path to fortune 
 lay through the aristocratical mazes of Northumberland House, 
 and the poet blundered at the outset. The following is the 
 account he used to give of his visit : — "I dressed myself in the 
 best manner I could, and, after studying some compliments I 
 thought necessary on such an occasion, proceeded to Northumber- 
 land House, and acquainted the servants that I had particular 
 business with the duke. They showed me into an antechamber, 
 where, after waiting some time, a gentleman, very elegantly 
 dressed, made his appearance : taking him for the duke, I de- 
 livered all the fine things I had composed in order to compli- 
 ment him on the honor he had done me ; when, to my great 
 astonishment, he told me I had mistaken him for his master, 
 who would see me immediately. At that instant the duke came 
 into the apartment, and I was so confounded on the occasion, 
 that I wanted words barely sufficient to express the sense I 
 entertained of the duke's politeness, and went away exceedingly 
 chagrined at the blunder I had committed." 
 
 Sir John Hawkins, in his " Life of Dr. Johnson," gives some 
 farther particulars of this visit, of which he was, in part, a 
 witness. " Having one day," says he, "a call to make on the 
 late Duke, then Earl, of Northumberland, I found Goldsmith 
 waiting for an audience in an outer room : I asked him what 
 had brought him there ; he told me, an invitation from his lord- 
 ship. I made my business as short as I could, and, as a reason, 
 mentioned that Dr. Goldsmith was waiting without. The earl 
 asked me if I was acquainted with him. I told him that 
 I was, adding what I thought was most likely to recommend 
 him. I retired, and stayed in the outer room to take him home. 
 Upon his coming out, I asked him the result of his conversation. 
 ' His lordship,' said he, ' told me he had read my poem, mean- 
 ing " The Traveller," and was much delighted with it ; that he 
 
OLIVER GOLDSMITH 111 
 
 was going to be Lord Lieutenant of Ireland, and that hearing I 
 was a native of that country, he should be glad to do me any 
 kindness.' 'And what did you answer,' said I, 'to this gra- 
 cious offer? ' ' Why,' said he, ' I could say nothing but that I 
 had a brother there, a clergyman, that stood in need of help : 
 as for myself, I have no great dependence on the promises of 
 great men ; I look to the booksellers for support ; they are my 
 best friends, and I am not inclined to forsake them for others.' " 
 "Thus," continues Sir John, "did this idiot in the affairs of 
 the world trifle with his fortunes, and put back the hand that 
 was held out to assist him." 
 
 We cannot join with Sir John in his worldly sneer at the 
 conduct of Goldsmith on this occasion. While we admire that 
 honest independence of spirit which prevented him from asking 
 favors for himself, we love that warmth of affection which in- 
 stantly sought to advance the fortunes of a brother : but the 
 peculiar merits of poor Goldsmith seem to have been little 
 understood by the Hawkinses, the Boswells, and the other 
 biographers of the day. 
 
 After all, the introduction to Northumberland House did not 
 prove so complete a failure as the humorous account given by 
 Goldsmith, and the cynical account given by Sir John Hawkins, 
 might lead one to suppose. Dr. Percy, the heir male of the 
 ancient Percys, brought the poet into the acquaintance of his 
 kinswoman, the countess; who, before her marriage with the 
 earl, was in her own right heiress of the House of Northumber- 
 land. "She was a lady," says Boswell, "not only of high 
 dignity of spirit, such as became her noble blood, but of excel- 
 lent understanding and lively talents." Under her auspices a 
 poem of Goldsmith's had an aristocrat] cal introduction to the 
 world. This was the beautiful ballad of the "Hermit,"^ origi- 
 nally published under the name of "Edwin and Angelina." It 
 was suggested by an old English ballad beginning " Gentle 
 herdsman," shown him by Dr. Percy, who was at that time 
 making his famous collection, entitled " Reliques of Ancient 
 English Poetry," which he submitted to the inspection of Gold- 
 smith prior to publication. A few copies only of the " Hermit " 
 were printed at first, with the following title-page : " Edwin and 
 
 1 Now printed in Chap, viii., Vicar of Wakefield. 
 
112 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 
 
 Angelina : a Ballad. By Mr. Goldsmith. Printed for the 
 Amusement of the Countess of Northumberland." 
 
 All this, though it may not have been attended with any 
 immediate pecuniary advantage, contributed to give Gold- 
 smith's name and poetry the high stamp of fashion, so potent 
 in England : the circle at Northumberland House, however, 
 was of too stately and aristocratical a nature to be much to 
 his taste, and we do not find that he became familiar in it. 
 
 He was much more at home at Gosford, the noble seat of 
 his countryman, Robert Nugent, afterwards Baron Nugent and 
 Viscount Clare, who appreciated his merits even more heartily 
 than the Earl of Northumberland, and occasionally made him 
 his guest both in town and country. Nugent is described as a 
 jovial voluptuary, who left the Roman Catholic for the Protes- 
 tant religion, with a view to bettering his fortunes ; he had an 
 Irishman's inclination for rich widows, and an Irishman's luck 
 with the sex ; having been thrice married, and gained a fortune 
 with each wife. He was now nearly sixty, with a remarkably 
 loud voice, broad Irish brogue, and ready, but somewhat coarse 
 wit. With all his occasional coarseness he was capable of high 
 thought, and had produced poems which showed a truly poetic 
 vein. He was long a member of the House of Commons, where 
 his ready wit, his fearless decision, and good-humored audacity 
 of expression, always gained him a hearing, though his tall 
 person and awkward manner gained him the nickname of 
 Squire Gawky, among the political scribblers of the day. With 
 a patron of this jovial temperament. Goldsmith probably felt 
 more at ease than with those of higher refinement. 
 
 The celebrity which Goldsmith had acquired by his poem 
 of " The Traveller," occasioned a resuscitation of many of his 
 miscellaneous and anonymous tales and essays from the various 
 newspapers and other transient publications in which they 
 lay dormant. These he published in 1765, in a collected form, 
 under the title of " Essays by Mr. Goldsmith." " The follow- 
 ing Essays," observes he in his preface, "have already appeared 
 at different times, and in different publications. The pam- 
 phlets in which they were inserted being generally unsuccessful, 
 these shared tlie common fate, without assisting the book- 
 sellers' aims, or extending the author's reputation. The public 
 
OLIVER GOLDSMITH 113 
 
 were too strenuously employed with their own follies to be 
 assiduous in estimating mine; so that many of my best at- 
 tempts in this way have fallen victims to the transient topic 
 of the times — the Ghost in Cock-Lane, or the Siege of Ticon- 
 deroga. 
 
 " But, though they have, passed pretty silently into the 
 world, I can by no means complain of their circulation. The 
 magazines and papers of the day have indeed been liberal 
 enough in this respect. Most of these essays have been 
 regiitarly reprinted twice or thrice a year, and conveyed to 
 the public through the kennel of some engaging compilation. 
 If there be a pride in multiplied editions, I have seen some of 
 my labors sixteen times reprinted, and claimed by different 
 parents as their own. I have seen them flourished at the 
 beginning with praise, and signed at the end with the names 
 of Philautos, Philalethes, Phileleutheros, and Philanthropes. 
 It is time, however, at last to vindicate my claims ; and as 
 these entertainers of the public, as they call themselves, have 
 partly lived upon me for some years, let me now try if I cannot 
 live a little upon myself" 
 
 It was but little, in fact, for all the pecuniary emolument he 
 received from the volume was twenty guineas. It had a good 
 circulation, however, was translated into French, and has main- 
 tained its stand among the British classics. 
 
 Notwithstanding that the reputation of Goldsmith had 
 greatly risen, his finances were often at a very low ebb, owing to 
 his heedlessness as to expense, his liability to be imposed upon, 
 and a spontaneous and irresistible propensity to give to every 
 one who asked. The very rise in his reputation had increased 
 these embarrassments. It had enlarged his circle of needy 
 acquaintances, authors poorer in pocket than himself, who came 
 in search of literary counsel ; which generally meant a guinea 
 and a breakfast. And then his Irish hangers-on! "Our 
 Doctor," said one of these sponges, " had a constant levee of 
 his distressed countrymen, whose wants, as far as he was able, 
 he always relieved ; and he has often been known to leave him- 
 self without a guinea, in order to supply the necessities of 
 others." 
 
 This constant drainage of the purse therefore obliged him to 
 
114 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 
 
 undertake all jobs proposed by the booksellers, and to keep up 
 a kind of running account with Mr. Newbery ; who was his 
 banker on all occasions, sometimes for pounds, sometimes for 
 shillings ; but who was a rigid accountant, and took care to be 
 amply repaid in manuscript. Many effusions, hastily penned 
 in these moments of exigency, were published anonymously, 
 and never claimed. Some of them have but recently been 
 traced to his pen ; while of many the true authorship will 
 probably never be discovered. Among others, it is suggested, 
 and with great probability, that he wrote for Mr. Newbery the 
 famous nursery story of " Goody Two Shoes," which appeared 
 in 1765, at a moment when Goldsmith was scribbling for 
 Newbery, and much pressed for funds. Several quaint little 
 tales introduced in his " Essays " show that he had a turn for 
 this species of mock history ; and the advertisement and title- 
 page bear the stamp of his sly and playful humor. 
 
 " We are desired to give notice, that there is in the press, 
 and speedily will be published, either by subscription or other- 
 wise, as the public shall please to determine, the History of 
 Little Goody Two Shoes, otherwise Mrs. Margery Two Shoes ; 
 with the means by which she acquired learning and wisdom, 
 and, in consequence thereof, her estate; set forth at large for 
 the benefit of those 
 
 " Who, from a state of rags and care, 
 And having shoes but half a pair, 
 Their fortune and their fame should fix, 
 And gallop in a coach and six." 
 
 The world is probably not aware of the ingenuity, humor, 
 good sense, and sly satire contained in many of the old English 
 nursery-tales. They have evidently been the sportive produc- 
 tions of able writers, who would not trust their names to pro- 
 ductions that might be considered beneath their dignity. The 
 ponderous works on which they relied for immortality have per- 
 haps sunk into oblivion, and carried their names down with 
 them ; while their unacknowledged offspring. Jack the Giant 
 Killer, Giles Gingerbread, and Tom Thumb, flourish in wide- 
 spreading and never-ceasing popularity. 
 
 As Goldsmith had now acquired popularity and an extensive 
 
OLIVER GOLDSMITH 115 
 
 acquaintance, he attempted, with the advice of his friends, to 
 procure a more regular and ample support by resuming the 
 medical profession. He accordingly launched himself upon tlie 
 town in style ; hired a man-servant ; replenished his wardrobe 
 at considerable expense, and appeared in a professional wig and 
 cane, purple silk small-clothes, and a scarlet roquelaiire but- 
 toned to the chin : a fantastic garb, as we should think at the 
 present day, but not unsuited to the fashion of the times. 
 
 With his sturdy little person thus arrayed in the unusual 
 magnificence of purple and fine linen, and his scarlet roquelaure 
 flaunting from his shoulders, he used to strut into the apart- 
 ments of his patients swaying his three-cornered hat in one 
 hand and his medical sceptre, the cane, in the other, and assum- 
 ing an air of gravity and importance suited to the solemnity of 
 his wig ; at least, such is the picture given of lum by the 
 waiting gentlewoman who let him into the chamber of one of 
 his lady patients. 
 
 He soon, however, grew tired and impatient of the duties 
 and restraints of his profession ; his practice was chiefly among 
 his friends, and the fees were not sufficient for his maintenance ; 
 he was disgusted with attendance on sick-chambers and capri- 
 cious patients, and looked back with longing to his tavern haunts 
 and broad convivial meetings, from which the dignity and duties 
 of his medical calling restrained him. At length, on prescribing 
 to a lady of his acquaintance who, to use a hackneyed phrase, 
 "rejoiced" in the aristocratical name of Sidebotham, a warm 
 dispute arose between him and the apothecary as to the quan- 
 tity of medicine to be administered. The doctor stood up for 
 the rights and dignities of his profession, and resented the 
 interference of the compounder of drugs. His rights and dig- 
 nities, however, were disregarded ; his wig and cane and scarlet 
 roquelaure were of no avail ; Mrs. Sidebotham sided with the 
 hero of the pestle and mortar ; and Goldsmith flung out of the 
 house in a passion. " I am determined henceforth," said he to 
 Topham Beauclerc, " to leave off prescribing for friends." " Do 
 so, my dear doctor," was the reply ; " whenever you undertake 
 to kill, let it be only your enemies." 
 
 This was the end of Goldsmith's medical career. 
 
116 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 
 
 CHAPTER XVII 
 
 Publication of the Vicar of Wakefield; opinions concerning it ; of Dr. 
 .lohnsoii ; of Rogers the poet ; of Goethe ; its merits — Exquisite ex- 
 tract — Attack by Ken rick — Reply — Book-building — Project of a 
 comedy 
 
 The success of the poem of " The Traveller," and the popu- 
 larity which it had conferred on its author, now roused the 
 attention of the bookseller in whose hands the novel of the 
 " Vicar of Wakefield," had been slumbering for nearly two long 
 years. The idea has generally prevailed that it was Mr. John 
 Newbery to whom the manuscript had been sold, and much 
 surprise has been expressed that he should be insensible to its 
 merit and suffer it to remain unpublished, while putting forth 
 various inferior writings by the same author. This, however, 
 is a mistake ; it was his nephew, Francis Newbery, who had 
 become the fortunate purchaser. Still tlie delay is equally un- 
 accountable. Some have imagined that the uncle and nephew 
 had business arrangements together, in which this work was 
 included, and that the elder Newbery, dubious of its success, 
 retarded the publication until the full harvest of " The Trav- 
 eller" should be reaped. Booksellers are prone to make 
 egregious mistakes as to the merit of works in manuscript ; 
 and to undervalue, if not reject, those of classic and enduring 
 excellence, when destitute of that false brilliancy commonly 
 called " effect." In the present instance, an intellect vastly 
 superior to that of either of the booksellers was equally at 
 fault. Dr. Johnson, speaking of the work to Boswell, some 
 time subsequent to its publication, observed, " I myself did not 
 think it would have had much success. It was written and 
 sold to a bookseller before ' The Traveller,' but published after, 
 so little expectation had the bookseller from it. Had it been 
 sold after ' The Traveller,' he might have had twice as much 
 money ; though sixty guineas ivas no mean jtrice^ 
 
 Sixty guineas for the " Vicar of Wakefield" ! and this could 
 be pronounced no mean 'price by Dr. Jolinson, at that time the 
 arbiter of British talent, and who had had an opportunity of 
 witnessing the effect of the work upon the public mind ; for its 
 success was immediate. It came out on the 27 th of March, 
 
<n,i vioi: (XM.DHMrrii I 17 
 
 1700 ; boforo Mm vwd (d* IVIny n hck^oikI cditioii vvjiw called lor ; 
 ill tIlT'<H^ iiKiiilJiK iii()r(\ ii lliird ; imhI mo it, went on, vvidciiin;' in 
 tl |K)|niljuil.y Miii.1/ luiH never ll!i;^|;(id. |{.();;('IH, llie Nentor nl' 
 HriiiHli litcniliirc, wlioHe relincd purity oC Ijud.e ntid (iX((iiiMil(i 
 inoiit/til oi'^aiii/iitioii {'(Mideicd liiin (^niinenlly ciileidaiiMl lo 
 n.))|)r('ci;iie n, work oi' IIh^ kind, dcrl.'tred tliiii of all IJie ImokM, 
 vvliifli iJiroii;.';!' •Iin liU'id (•Ii;ui;.';('H of Unce ^viierjd ioiiH lie had 
 Hcc.ii \'\Hv. n\u\ laJI, Uie (^liarni of I.Iki " Vicar of W»ik(^licld " iiiid 
 aJonc conl-iniicd a,M a,!, lin-tt ; juid (tnidd lie rcvinil. (he world nlh'V 
 a-trintervnJ of iiuMiy more /^ciieraiioiiH, Imi Hlioidd an Hiirely look 
 to find it uiidiiiiiiilHlied. Nor Iuih Wh ci^lelnil y heen coiiliiKMl to 
 (Jrenl, Ilril.aiii. 'IMioii/^li ho excliiHively a, picliii'e of llrilJHli 
 HceiicH and niaJinerw, il< lia.H IxMiii (.ra.nMhi,l-<'d into aInioMl. every 
 laii^napfe, and ev<"ry where it,H (iliariii lm,H Imiti Mie Maine. 
 (ioelJu^, the ^\v:\i j.^(;ninH of (ierinaiiy, d(M'la,red in liiH ei^ddy 
 lifHl. y<'a,r, l-lia,l- il- wa-H hii-i deli/^dd, at l.li(i a^(5 of twenty, that it 
 had in a, manner formed a, part of Ihm edu(^a.tioti, iiifliMtnciti^ IiIh 
 l,a,Hl-(i JUid f'eeliii;;'H l,liroii/..diont life, a,iid thai he had recently 
 read il/ a^^aiii from iKijLjiiiiiin;^^ to (;iid with icik^wcmI (hili^ht, 
 and with a ^nuteful H<^nHe of tlui early Ixitiefit derived from it. 
 
 It in ne(M||(!HH t(» (!X|iatia.l-<i upon the (jua.lil-icw of a, work which 
 liaH tliiiH pa,HHed IVttni (-ounl-ry to country, and laji;j;ua.;;<5 to Ian 
 gua^i!, tiiiiil it ]n now known throiiji^hoiit the whole Kta^diiiiLC 
 world a,nd in heconie a. liouHeli(»ld hook in (ivery hand. The 
 H(!(;rel of itn tiniv(M'MaJ and (tnduriii^ popiihuity in utidoulitedly 
 itM truth to nature, iatt to nature of the inoHt airdahh; kind ; to 
 natiir(5 hucIi a,H (ioldHinith Haw it, 'IMie a,iithor, an we- ha,ve 
 oe(;aHionally mIiowii in thi^ courne of thin memoir, took hin HttcncH 
 and characl-eiH in tluH, a,H in hin otlntr writin^H, from ori;(inalH 
 in hin own motley experienc(5 ; hut Im» Inm ^"jiven them an Hcen 
 throu;;'li tin; iiKMiium of hin own indul|.(ent (tye, and lian net them 
 forth with th(! <5oloriny:H of hin own ^iHn\ liea,d and hea-rt. Yet 
 how (tord-ra,dicl,ory itHceniH tlia,t thin, oimi of tim moHt (hdi^^htful 
 pictureH of lionn; and homefelt happiiK^KH, hIiouM he diawn hy a 
 }iomel(;HH man ; that the moHt a.miaJ)le picture of dotncHtic virtue 
 and all the eiidea,rinentM of the ma,rri(ul Hta,t(5 nhoidd he drawn 
 ])y a lia,chelor, who had been Hc-ve-red fr(»m dotiMwtic life almont 
 froni boyhood ; that one of the mont teiide-r, toiichin/jf and 
 ttirccting ttppealu on hehaJf of female lovelinciH, nhould have 
 
118 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 
 
 been made by a man whose deficiency in all the graces of per- 
 son and manner seemed to mark him out for a cynical dispar- 
 ager of the sex. 
 
 We cannot refrain from transcribing from the work a short 
 passage illustrative of what we have said, and which within a 
 wonderfully small compass comprises a world of beauty of 
 imagery, tenderness of feeling, delicacy and refinement of 
 thought, and matchless purity of style. The two stanzas 
 which conclude it, in which are told a whole history of woman's 
 wrongs and sufferings, is, for pathos, simplicity, and euphony, a 
 gem in the language. The scene depicted is where the poor 
 Vicar is gathering around him the wrecks of his shattered 
 family, and endeavoring to rally them back to happiness. 
 
 " The next morning the sun arose with peculiar warmth for 
 the season, so that we agreed to breakfast together on the 
 honeysuckle bank ; where, while we sat, my youngest daughter 
 at my request joined her voice to the concert on the trees about 
 us. It was in this place my poor Olivia first met her seducer, 
 and every object served to recall her sadness. But that melan- 
 choly which is excited by objects of pleasure, or inspired by 
 sounds of harmony, soothes the heart instead of corroding it. 
 Her mother, too, upon this occasion, felt a pleasing distress, and 
 wept, and loved her daughter as before. ' Do, my pretty 
 Olivia,' cried she, ' let us have that melancholy air your father 
 was so fond of ; your sister Sophy has already obliged us. Do, 
 child, it will please your old father.' She complied in a man- 
 ner so exquisitely pathetic as moved me. 
 
 " ' When lovely woman stoops to folly, 
 And finds too late that men betray, 
 What charm can soothe her melancholy, 
 What art can wash her guilt aWay ? 
 
 " ' The only art her guilt to cover, 
 
 To hide her shame from every eye, 
 To give repentance to her lover, 
 
 And wring his bosom — is to die.' " i 
 
 Scarce had the " Vicar of Wakefield " made its appearance 
 and been received with acclamation, than its author was sub- 
 
 1 Vicar of Wakefield, Chap. xxiv. 
 
OLIVER GOLDSMITH 119 
 
 jected to one of the usual penalties that attend success. He 
 was attacked in the newspapers. In one of the chapters he 
 had introduced his ballad of the " Hermit," of which, as we 
 have mentioned, a few copies had been printed some consider- 
 able time previously for the use of the Countess of Northum- 
 berland. This brought forth the following article in a 
 fashionable journal of the day : 
 
 " To the Printer of the St. James's Chronicle. 
 
 '• SiE, — In the 'Reliques of Ancient Poetry,' published 
 about two years ago, is a very beautiful little ballad, called 
 'A Friar of Orders Gray.' The ingenious editor, Mr. Percy, 
 supposes that the stanzas sung by Ophelia in the play of 
 ' Hamlet ' were parts of some ballad well known in Shak- 
 speare's time, and from these stanzas, with the addition of one 
 or two of his own to connect them, he has formed the above- 
 mentioned ballad ; the subject of which is, a lady comes to a 
 convent to inquire for her love who had been driven there by 
 her disdain. She is answered by a friar that he is dead : 
 
 " ' No, no, he is dead, gone to his death's bed. 
 lie never will come again.' 
 
 The lady weeps and laments lier crtielty ; the friar endeavors 
 to comfort her with morality and religion, but all in vain ; she 
 expresses the deepest grief and the most tender sentiments of 
 love, till at last the friar discovers himself: 
 
 " ' And lo ! beneath this gown of gray 
 Thy own true love appears.' 
 
 " This catastrophe is very fine, and the whole, joined with 
 the greatest tenderness, has the greatest simplicity ; yet, 
 though this ballad was so recently published in the ' Ancient 
 Reliques,' Dr. Goldsmith has been hardy enough to publish a 
 poem called ' The Hermit,' where the circumstances and 
 catastrophe are exactly the same, only with this difference, 
 that the natural simplicity and tenderness of the original are 
 almost entirely lost in the languid smoothness and tedious 
 
120 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 
 
 paraphrase of the copy, which is as short of the merits of Mr. 
 Percy's ballad as the insipidity of negus is to the genuine 
 flavor of champagne. 
 
 " I am, sir, yours, &c., 
 
 "Detectoe." 
 
 This attack, supposed to be by Goldsmith's constant per- 
 secutor, the malignant Kenrick, drew from him the following 
 note to the editor : 
 
 " Sir, — As there is nothing I dislike so much as newspaper 
 controversy, particularly upon trifles, permit me to be as 
 concise as possible in informing a correspondent of yours that I 
 recommended Blainville's ' Travels ' because I thought the 
 book was a good one ; and I still think so. I said I was told 
 by the bookseller that it was then first published ; but in that 
 it seems I was misinformed, and my reading was not extensive 
 enough to set me right. 
 
 "Another correspondent of yours accuses me of having 
 taken a ballad I published some time ago, from one of the 
 ingenious Mr. Percy. I do not think there is any great 
 resemblance between the two pieces in question. If there 
 be any, his ballad was taken from mine. I read it to Mr. 
 Percy some years ago ; and he, as we both considered these 
 things as trifles at best, told me, with his usual good-humor, 
 the next time I saw him, that he had taken my plan to form 
 the fragments of Shakspeare into a ballad of his own. He 
 then read me his little Cento, if I may so call it, and I highly 
 approved it. Such petty anecdotes as these are scarcely worth 
 printing ; and, were it not for the busy disposition of some of 
 your correspondents, the public should never have known that 
 he owes me the hint of his ballad, or that I am obliged to his 
 friendship and learning for communications of a much more 
 important nature. 
 
 "I am, sir, yours, &c., 
 
 "Oliver Goldsmith." 
 
 The unexpected circulation of the "Vicar of Wakefield" 
 enriched the publisher, but not the author. Goldsmith no 
 
OLIVER GOLDSMITH 121 
 
 doubt thought himself entitled to participate in the profits of 
 the repeated editions ; and a memorandum, still extant, shows 
 that he drew upon Mr. Francis Newbery, in the month of 
 June, for fifteen guineas, but that the bill was returned dis- 
 honored. He continued, therefore, his usual job-work for the 
 booksellers, writing introductions, prefaces, and head and tail 
 pieces for new works ; revising, touching up, and modifying 
 travels and voyages ; making compilations of prose and poetry, 
 and " building books," as he sportively termed it. These tasks 
 required little labor or talent, but that taste and touch which 
 are the magic of gifted minds. His terms began to be propor- 
 tioned to his celebrity. If his price was at any time objected 
 to, "Why, sir," he would say, "it may seem large; but then 
 a man may be many years working in obscurity before his taste 
 and reputation are fixed or estimated ; and then he is, as in 
 other professions, only paid for his previous labors." 
 
 He was, however, prepared to try his fortune in a different 
 walk of literature from any he had yet attempted. We have 
 repeatedly adverted to his fondness for the drama ; he was a 
 frequent attendant at the theatres ; though, as we have shown, 
 he considered them under gross mismanagement. He thought, 
 too, that a vicious taste prevailed among those who wrote for 
 the stage. "A new species of dramatic composition," says he, 
 in one of his essays, " has been introduced under the name of 
 sentimental comedy, in which the virtues of private life are 
 exhibited rather than the vices exposed; and the distresses 
 rather than the faults of mankind make our interest in the 
 piece. In these plays almost all the characters are good, and 
 exceedingly generous; they are lavish enough of their tin 
 money on the stage ; and though they want humor, have 
 abundance of sentiment and feeling. If they happen to have 
 faults or foibles, the spectator is taught not only to pardon, 
 but to applaud them in consideration of the goodness of their 
 hearts ; so that folly, instead of being ridiculed, is commended, 
 and the comedy aims at touching our passions, without the 
 power of being truly pathetic. In this manner we are likely 
 to lose one great source of entertainment on the stage ; for 
 while the comic poet is invading the province of the tragic 
 Muse, he leaves her lively sister quite neglected. Of this. 
 
122 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 
 
 however, he is no ways solicitous, as he measures his fame by 
 his profits. . . . 
 
 "Humor at present seems to be departing from the stage; 
 and it will soon happen that our comic players will have 
 nothing left for it but a fine coat and a song. It depends 
 upon the audience whether they will actually drive those poor 
 merry creatures from the stage, or sit at a play as gloomy as 
 at the tabernacle. It is not easy to recover an art when once 
 lost ; and it will be a just punishment, that when, by our being 
 too fastidious, we have banished humor from the stage, we 
 should ourselves be deprived of the art of laughing."^ 
 
 Symptoms of reform in the drama had recently taken place. 
 The comedy of the " Clandestine Marriage," the joint produc- 
 tion of Colman and Garrick, and suggested by Hogarth's 
 inimitable pictures of " Marriage k la mode," had taken the 
 town by storm, crowded the theatre with fashionable audiences, 
 and formed one of the leading literary topics of the year. 
 Goldsmith's emulation was roused by its success. The comedy 
 was in what he considered the legitimate line, totally different 
 from the sentimental school ; it presented pictures of real life, 
 delineations of character and touches of humor, in which he 
 felt himself calculated to excel. The consequence was, that in 
 the course of this year (1766), he commenced a comedy of the 
 same class, to be entitled the " Good Natured Man," at which 
 he diligently wrought whenever the hurried occupation of 
 *' book-building " allowed him leisure. 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII 
 
 Social position of Goldsmith ; his colloquial contests with Johnson 
 — Anecdotes and illustrations 
 
 The social position of Goldsmith had undergone a material 
 change since the publication of " The Traveller." Before that 
 event he was but partially known as the author of some clever 
 anonymous writings, and had been a tolerated member of the 
 club and the Johnson circle, without much being expected from 
 
 1 UnacJc7ioivledgecl essays, No. xxvii. 
 
OLIVER GOLDSMITH 123 
 
 him. Now he had suddenly risen to literary fame, and become 
 one of the lions of the day. The highest regions of intellectual 
 society were now open to liim ; but he was not prepared to 
 move in them with confidence and success. Ballymahon had 
 not been a good school of manners at the outset of life ; nor 
 had his experience as a " poor student " at colleges and medical 
 schools contributed to give him the polish of society. He had 
 brought from Ireland, as he said, nothing but his " brogue and 
 his blunders," and they had never left him. He had travelled, 
 it is'true ; but the Continental tour which in those days gave 
 the finishing grace to the education of a patrician youth, had, 
 with poor Goldsmith, been little better than a course of literary 
 vagabondizing. It had enriched his mind, deepened and 
 widened the benevolence of his heart, and filled his memory 
 with enchanting pictures, but it had contributed little to dis- 
 ciplining him for the polite intercourse of the world. His life 
 in London had hitherto been a struggle with sordid cares and 
 sad humiliations. " You scarcely can conceive," wrote he some 
 time previously to his brother, " how much eight years of dis- 
 appointment, anguish, and study have worn me down." Sev- 
 eral more years had since been added to the term during which 
 he had trod the lowly walks of life. He had been a tutor, an 
 apothecary's drudge, a petty physician of the suburbs, a book- 
 seller's hack, drudging for daily bread. Each separate walk 
 had been beset by its peculiar thorns and humiliations. It is 
 wonderful how his heart retained its gentleness and kindness 
 through all these trials ; how his mind rose above the " mean- 
 nesses of poverty," to which, as he says, he was compelled to 
 submit ; but it would be still more wonderful, had his manners 
 acquired a tone corresponding to the innate grace and refine- 
 ment of his intellect. He was near forty years of age when he 
 published " The Traveller," and was lifted by it into celebrity. 
 As is beautifully said of him by one of his biographers, "he 
 has fought his way to consideration and esteem ; but he bears 
 upon him the scars of his twelve years' conflict ; of the mean 
 sorrows through which he has passed ; and of the cheap indul- 
 gences he has sought relief and help from. There is nothing 
 plastic in his nature now. His manners and habits are com- 
 pletely formed; and in them any further success can make 
 
124 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 
 
 little favorable change, whatever it may effect for his mind or 
 genius."^ 
 
 We are not to be surprised, therefore, at finding him make 
 an awkward figure in the elegant drawing-rooms which were 
 now open to him, and disappointing those who had formed an 
 idea of him from the fascinating ease and gracefulness of his 
 poetry. 
 
 Even the Literary Club, and the circle of which it formed a 
 part, after their surprise at the intellectual flights of which he 
 showed himself capable, fell into a conventional mode of 
 judging and talking of him, and of placing him in absurd and 
 whimsical points of view. His very celebrity operated here to 
 his disadvantage. It brought him into continual comparison 
 with Johnson, who was the oracle of that circle and had given it 
 a tone. Conversation was the great staple there, and of this 
 Johnson was a master. He had been a reader and thinker 
 from childhood : his melancholy temperament, which unfitted 
 him for the pleasures of youth, had made him so. For many 
 years past the vast variety of works he had been obliged to 
 consult in preparing his " Dictionary," had stored an uncom- 
 monly retentive memory with facts on all kinds of subjects ; 
 making it a perfect colloquial armory. " He had all his life," 
 says Boswell, " habituated himself to consider conversation as 
 a trial of intellectual vigor and skill. He had disciplined 
 himself as a talker as well as a writer, making it a rule to 
 impart whatever he knew in the most forcible language he could 
 put it in, so that by constant practice and never suffering any 
 careless expression to escape him, he had attained an extraor- 
 dinary accuracy and command of language." 
 
 His common conversation in all companies, according to Sir 
 Joshua Keynolds, was such as to secure him universal atten- 
 tion, something above the usual colloquial style being always 
 expected from him. 
 
 " I do not care," said Orme, the historian of Hindostan, " on 
 what subject Johnson talks ; but I love better to hear him 
 talk than any body. He either gives you new thoughts or a 
 new coloring." 
 
 A stronger and more graphic eulogium is given by Dr. Percy. 
 
 1 Forster's Goldsmith. 
 
OLIVER GOLDSMITH 125 
 
 "The conversation of Johnson," says he, "is strong and clear, 
 and may be compared to an antique statue, where every vein 
 and muscle is distinct and clear." 
 
 Such was the colloquial giant with which Goldsmith's celeb- 
 rity and his habits of intimacy brought him into continual 
 comparison ; can we wonder that he should appear to disad- 
 vantage? Conversation grave, discursive, and disputatious, 
 such as Johnson excelled and delighted in, was to him a severe 
 task, and he never was good at a task of any kind. He had 
 not,4ike Johnson, a vast fund of acquired facts to draw upon ; 
 nor a retentive memory to furnish them forth when wanted. 
 He could not, like the great lexicographer, mould his ideas 
 and balance his periods while talking. He had a flow of ideas, 
 but it was apt to be hurried and confused, and as he said of 
 himself, he had contracted a hesitating and disagreeable manner 
 of speaking. He used to say that he always argued best 
 when he argued alone ; that is to say, he could master a sub- 
 ject in his study, with his pen in his hand ; but, when he came 
 into company, he grew confused, and was unable to talk about 
 it. Johnson made a remark concerning him to somewhat of 
 the same purport. " No man," said he, " is more foolish than 
 Goldsmith when he has not a pen in his hand, or more wise 
 when he has." Yet with all this conscious deficiency he Avas 
 continually getting involved in colloquial contests with John- 
 son and other prime talkers of the literary circle. He felt that 
 he had become a notoriety ; that he had entered the lists and 
 was expected to make fight ; so with that heedlessness which 
 characterized him in every thing else he dashed on at a ven- 
 ture ; trusting to chance in this as in other things, and hoping 
 occasionally to make a lucky hit. Johnson perceived his hap- 
 hazard temerity, but gave him no credit for the real diflidence 
 which lay at bottom. " The misfortune of Goldsmith in con- 
 versation," said he, " is this, he goes on without knowing how 
 he is to get off. His genius is great, but his knowledge is 
 small. As they say of a generous man it is a pity he is not 
 rich, we may say of Goldsmith it is a pity he is not knowing. 
 He would not keep his knowledge to himself." And, on 
 another occasion, he observes : " Goldsmith, rather than not 
 talk, will talk of what he knows himself to be ignorant, which 
 
126 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 
 
 can only end in exposing him. If in company with two found- 
 ers, he would fall a talking on. the method of making cannon, 
 though both of them would soon see that he did not know what 
 metal a cannon is made of." And again : " Goldsmith should 
 not be for ever attempting to shine in conversation ; he has 
 not temper for it, he is so much mortified when he fails. Sir, 
 a game of jokes is composed partly of skill, partly of chance ; 
 a man may be beat at times by one who has not the tenth part 
 of his wit. Now Goldsmith, putting himself against another, 
 is like a man laying a hundred to one, who cannot spare the 
 hundred. It is not worth a man's while. A man should not 
 lay a hundred to one unless he can easily spare it, though he 
 has a hundred chances for him ; he can get but a guinea, and 
 he may lose a hundred. Goldsmith is in this state. When he 
 contends, if he gets the better, it is a very little addition to a 
 man of his literary reputation ; if he does not get the better, he 
 is miserably vexed." 
 
 Johnson was not aware how much he was himself to blame 
 in producing this vexation. " Goldsmith," said Miss Reynolds, 
 "always appeared to be overawed by Johnson, particularly 
 when in company with people of any consequence ; always as if 
 impressed with fear of disgrace ; and indeed well he might. 
 I have been witness to many mortifications he has suffered in 
 Dr. Johnson's company." 
 
 It may not have been disgrace that he feared, but rudeness. 
 The great lexicographer, spoiled by the homage of society, was 
 still more prone than himself to lose temper when the argu- 
 ment went against him. He could not brook appearing to be 
 worsted ; but would attempt to bear down his adversary by the 
 rolling thunder of his periods ; and, when that failed, would 
 become downright insulting. Boswell called it " having re- 
 course to some sudden mode of robust sophistry " ; but Gold- 
 smith designated it much more happily. " There is no arguing 
 with Johnson," said he, '''' for^ ivhen his pistol misses fire, he 
 knocks you down ivith the butt end ofit^^ 
 
 1 The following is given by Boswell, as an instance of robust sophis- 
 try : — " Once, when I was pressing upon him with visible advantage, 
 he stopped me thus — ' My dear Boswell, let's have no more of this ; 
 you'll make nothing of it. I'd rather hear you whistle a Scotch 
 tuue.'" 
 
OLIVER GOLDSMITH 127 
 
 111 several of the intellectual collisions recorded by Boswell 
 as triumphs of Dr. Johnson, it really appears to us that Gold- 
 smith had the best both of the wit and the argument, and 
 especially of the courtesy and good-nature. 
 
 On one occasion he certainly gave Johnson a capital reproof 
 as to his own colloquial peculiarities. Talking of fables, Gold- 
 smith observed that the animals introduced in them seldom 
 talked in character. " For instance," said he, " the fable of 
 the little fishes, who saw birds fly over their heads, and, envy- 
 ing -them, petitioned Jupiter to be changed into birds. The 
 skill consists in making them talk like little fishes." Just 
 then observing that Dr. Johnson was shaking his sides and 
 laughing, he immediately added, "Why, Dr. Johnson, this is 
 not so easy as you seem to think ; for, if you were to make 
 little fishes talk, they would talk like whales." 
 
 But though Goldsmith suffered frequent mortifications in 
 society from the overbearing, and sometimes harsh, conduct of 
 Johnson, he always did justice to his benevolence. When 
 royal pensions were granted to Dr. Johnson and Dr. Shebbeare, 
 a punster remarked, that the king had pensioned a she-hear 
 and a he-hear; to which Goldsmith replied, "Johnson, to be 
 sure, has a roughness in his manner, but no man alive has a 
 more tender heart. He has nothing of the hear hut the skin." 
 
 Goldsmith, in conversation, shone most when he least 
 thought of shining ; when he gave up all efibrt to appear wise 
 and learned, or to cope with the oracular sententiousness of 
 Johnson, and gave way to his natural impulses. Even Bos- 
 well could perceive his merits on these occasions. " For my 
 part," said he, condescendingly, "I like very well to hear hon- 
 est Goldsmith talk away carelessly ; " and many a much wiser 
 man than Boswell delighted in those outpourings of a fertile 
 fancy and a generous heart. In his happy moods. Goldsmith 
 had an artless simplicity and buoyant good-humor, that led to 
 a thousand amusing blunders and whimsical confessions, much 
 to the entertainment of his intimates; yet, in his most thought- 
 less garrulity, there was occasionally the gleam of the gold and 
 the flash of the diamond. 
 
128 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 
 
 CHAPTER XIX 
 
 Social resorts — The shilling whist club — A practical joke — The 
 Wednesday club — The "tun of man" — The pig-butcher — Tom 
 King — Hugh Kelly — Glover and his characteristics 
 
 Though Goldsmith's pride and ambition led him to mingle 
 occasionally with high society, and to engage in the colloquial 
 conflicts of the learned circle, in both of which he was ill at 
 ease and conscious of being undervalued, yet he had some social 
 resorts in which he indemnified himself for their restraints by 
 indulging his humor without control. One of them was a shil- 
 ling whist club, which held its meetings at the Devil Tavern, 
 near Temple Bar, a place rendered classic, we are told, by a 
 club held there in old times, to which " rare Ben Jonson " had 
 furnished the rules. The company was of a familiar, uncere- 
 monious kind, delighting in that very questionable wit which 
 consists in playing off practical jokes upon each other. Of one 
 of these Goldsmith was made the butt. Coming to the club 
 one night in a hackney coach, he gave the coachman by mis- 
 take a guinea instead of a shilling, which he set down as a dead 
 loss, for there was no likelihood, he said, that a fellow of this 
 class would have the honesty to return the money. On the 
 next club evening he was told a person at the street door 
 wished to speak with him. He went forth but soon returned 
 with a radiant countenance. To his surprise and delight the 
 coachman had actually brought back the guinea. While he 
 launched forth in praise of this unlooked-for piece of honesty, 
 he declared it ought not to go unrewarded. Collecting a small 
 sum from the club, and no doubt increasing it largely from his 
 own purse, he dismissed the Jehu with ma'ny encomiums on his 
 good conduct. He was still chanting his praises, when one of 
 the club requested a sight of the guinea thus honestly returned. 
 To Goldsmith's confusion it proved to be a counterfeit. The 
 universal burst of laughter which succeeded, and the jokes by 
 which he was assailed on every side, showed him that the 
 whole was a hoax, and the pretended coachman as much a 
 counterfeit as the guinea. He was so disconcerted, it is said, 
 that he soon beat a retreat for the evening. 
 
 Another of those free and easy clubs met on Wednesday 
 
OLIVER GOLDSMITH 129 
 
 evenings at the Globe Tavern in Fleet-street. It was some- 
 what in the style of the Three Jolly Pigeons : songs, jokes, 
 dramatic imitations, burlesque parodies, and broad sallies of 
 humor, formed a contrast to the sententious morality, pedantic 
 casuistry, and polished sarcasm of the learned circle. Here a 
 huge "tun of man," by the name of Gordon, used to delight 
 Goldsmith by singing the jovial song of Nottingham Ale, and 
 looking like a butt of it. Here, too, a wealthy pig-butcher, 
 charmed, no doubt, by the mild philanthropy of " The Trav- 
 ellen^" aspired to be oq the most sociable footing with the 
 author, and here was Tom King, the comedian, recently risen 
 to consequence by his performance of Lord Ogleby in the new 
 comedy of the " Clandestine Marriage." 
 
 A member of more note was one Hugh Kelly, a second-rate 
 author, who, as he became a kind of competitor of Goldsmith's, 
 deserves particular mention. He was an Irishman, about 
 twenty-eight years of age, originally apprenticed to a stay- 
 maker in Dublin ; then writer to a London attorney ; then a 
 Grub-street hack ; scribbling for magazines and newspapers. 
 Of late he had set up for theatrical censor and satirist, and, 
 in a poem called "Thespis," in emulation of Churchill's 
 "Rosciad," had harassed many of the poor actors without 
 mercy, and often without wit ; but had lavished his incense on 
 Garrick, who, in consequence, took him into favor. He was 
 the author of several works of superficial merit, but which had 
 sufficient vogue to inflate his vanity. This, however, must 
 have been mortified on his first introduction to Johnson ; after 
 sitting a short time he got up to take leave, expressing a fear 
 that a longer visit might be troublesome. " Not in the least, 
 sir," said the surly moralist, " I had forgotten you were in the 
 room." Johnson used to speak of him as a man who had writ- 
 ten more than he had read. 
 
 A prime wag of this club was one of Goldsmith's poor 
 countrymen and hangers-on, by the name of Glover. He had 
 originally been educated for the medical profession, but had 
 taken in early life to the stage, though apparently without 
 much success. While performing at Cork, he undertook, partly 
 in jest, to restore life to the body of a malefactor, who had just 
 been executed. To the astonishment of every one, himself 
 
130 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 
 
 among the number, he succeeded. The miracle took wind. He 
 abandoned the stage, resumed the wig and cane, and considered 
 his fortune as secure. Unluckily, there were not many dead 
 people to be restored to life in Ireland ; his practice did not 
 equal his expectation, so he came to London, where he con- 
 tinued to dabble indifferently, and rather unprofitably, in physic 
 and literature. 
 
 He was a great frequenter of the Globe and Devil taverns, 
 where he used to amuse the company by his talent at story- 
 telling and his powers of mimicry, giving capital imitations of 
 Garrick, Foote, Colman, Sterne, and other public characters of 
 the day. He seldom happened to have money enough to pay 
 his reckoning, but was always sure to find some ready purse 
 among those who had been amused by his humors. Goldsmith, 
 of course, was one of the readiest. It was through him that 
 Glover was admitted to the Wednesday Club, of which his 
 theatrical imitations became the delight. Glover, however, was 
 a little anxious for the dignity of his patron, which appeared to 
 him to suffer from the over-familiarity of some of the members 
 of the club. He was especially shocked by the free and easy 
 tone in which Goldsmith was addressed by the pig-butcher : 
 " Come, Noll," would he say, as he pledged him, " here's my 
 service to you, old boy ! " 
 
 Glover whispered to Goldsmith, that he " should not allow 
 such liberties." "Let him alone," was the reply, "you'll see 
 how civilly I'll let him down." After a time, he called out, 
 with marked ceremony and politeness, " Mr. B., I have the 
 honor of drinking your good health." Alas ! dignity was not 
 poor Goldsmith's forte : he could keep no one at a distance. 
 " Thank'ee, thank'ee, Noll," nodded the pig-butcher, scarce tak- 
 ing the pipe out of his mouth. " I don't see the effect of your 
 reproof," whispered Glover. " I give it up," replied Gold- 
 smith, with a good-humored shrug, " I ought to have known 
 before now there is no putting a pig in the right way." 
 
 Johnson used to be severe upon Goldsmith for mingling in 
 these motley circles, observing, that, having been originally poor, 
 he had contracted a love for low company. Goldsmith, how- 
 ever, was guided not by a taste for what was low, but for what 
 was comic and characteristic. It was the feeling of the artist ; 
 
OLIVER GOLDSMITH 131 
 
 the feeling which furnished out some of his best scenes in 
 familiar life ; the feeling with which " rare Ben Jonson " sought 
 these very haunts and circles in days of yore, to study " Every 
 Man in his Humor." 
 
 It was not always, however, that the humor of these associ- 
 ates was to his taste : as they became boisterous in their merri- 
 ment, he was apt to become depressed. " The company of 
 fools," says he, in one of his essays, "may at first make us 
 smile ; but at last never fails of making us melancholy." " Often 
 he wtDuld become moody," says Glover, " and w^ould leave the 
 party abruptly to go home and brood over his misfortune." 
 
 It is possible, however, that he went home for quite a differ- 
 ent purpose ; to commit to paper some scene or passage sug- 
 gested for his comedy of "The Good-natured Man," The 
 elaboration of humor is often a most serious task ; and we have 
 never witnessed a more perfect picture of mental misery than 
 was once presented to us by a popular dramatic writer — still, 
 we hope, living — whom we found in the agonies of producing 
 a farce which subsequently set the theatres in a roar. 
 
 CHAPTER XX 
 
 The Great Cham of literature and the King — Scene at Sir Joshua 
 Reynolds's — Goldsmith accused of jealousy — Negotiations with 
 Garrick — The author and the actor ; their correspondence 
 
 The comedy of " The Good-natured Man " was completed by 
 Goldsmith early in 1767, and submitted to the perusal of John- 
 son, Burke, Reynolds, and others of the Literary Club, by whom 
 it was heartily approved. Johnson, who was seldom half way 
 either in censure or applause, pronounced it the best comedy 
 that had been written since " The Provoked Husband," and 
 promised to furnish the prologue. This immediately became an 
 object of great solicitude with Goldsmith, knowing the weight 
 an introduction from the Great ,Cham of literature would have 
 with the public ; but circumstances occurred which he feared 
 might drive the comedy and the prologue from Johnson's 
 thoughts. The latter was in the habit of visiting the royal 
 library at the Queen's (Buckingham) House, a noble collection 
 of books, in the formation of which he had assisted the libra- 
 
132 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 
 
 rian, Mr. Bernard, with his advice. One evening, as he was 
 seated there by the fire reading, he was surprised by the entrance 
 of the King (George III.), then a young man ; who sought this 
 occasion to have a conversation with him. The conversation 
 was varied and discursive ; the King shifting from subject to 
 subject, according to his wont; *' during the whole interview," 
 says Boswell, " Johnson talked to his majesty with profound 
 respect, but still in his open, manly manner, with a sonorous 
 voice, and never in that subdued tone which is commonly used 
 at the levee and in the drawing-room. 'I found his majesty 
 wished I should talk,' said he, ' and I made it my business to 
 talk. I find it does a man good to be talked to by his sov- 
 ereign. In the first place, a man cannot be in a passion — .' " 
 It would have been well for Johnson's colloquial disputants, 
 could he have often been under such decorous restraint. Pro- 
 foundly monarchical in his principles, he retired from the inter- 
 view highly gratified with the conversation of the King and with 
 his gracious behavior. " Sir," said he to the librarian, " they 
 may talk of the King as they will, but he is the finest gentle- 
 man I have ever seen." — " Sir," said he subsequently to Bennet 
 Langton, " his manners are those of as fine a gentleman as we 
 may suppose Lewis the Fourteenth or Charles the Second." 
 
 While Johnson's face was still radiant with the reflex of 
 royalty, he was holding forth one day to a listening group at 
 Sir Joshua Reynolds's, who were anxious to hear every partic- 
 ular of this memorable conversation. Among other questions, 
 the King had asked him whether he was writing any thing. 
 His reply was, that he thought he had already done his part 
 as a writer. " I should have thought so too," said the King, 
 " if you had not written so well." — " No man," said Johnson, 
 commenting on this speech, " could have made a handsomer 
 compliment ; and it was fit for a King to pay. It was deci- 
 sive." — " But did you make no reply to this high compliment ? " 
 asked one of the company. " No, sir," replied the profoundly 
 deferential Johnson, "when the King had said it, it was to be 
 so. It was not for me to bandy civilities with my sovereign." 
 
 During all the time that Johnson was thus holding forth, 
 Goldsmith, who was present, appeared to take no interest in 
 the royal theme, but remained seated on a sofa at a distance, 
 
OLIVER GOLDSMITH 133 
 
 in a moody fit of abstraction ; at length recollecting himself, he 
 sprang up, and advancing, exclaimed, with what Boswell calls 
 his usual " frankness and simplicity," " Well, you acquitted 
 yourself in this conversation better than I shoul.d have done, 
 for I should have bowed and stammered through the whole of 
 it." He afterwards explained his seeming inattention, by say- 
 ing that hi^ mind was completely occupied about his play, and 
 by fears lest Johnson, in his present state of royal excitement, 
 would fail to furnish the much-desired prologue. 
 
 How natural and truthful is this explanation. Yet Boswell 
 presumes to pronounce Goldsmith's inattention affected; and 
 attributes it to jealousy. " It was strongly suspected," says 
 he, " that he was fretting with chagrin and envy at the singular 
 honor Dr. Johnson had lately enjoyed." It needed the little- 
 ness of mind of Boswell to ascribe such pitiful motives to Gold- 
 smith, and to entertain such exaggerated notions of the honor 
 paid to Dr. Johnson. 
 
 " The Good-natured Man " was now ready for performance, 
 but the question was, how to get it upon the stage. The af- 
 fairs of Covent Garden, for which it had been intended, were 
 thrown in confusion by the recent death of Rich, the manager. 
 Dniry Lane was under the management of Garrick, but a feud, 
 it will be recollected, existed between him and the poet, from the 
 animadversions of the latter on the mismanagement of theatrical 
 affairs, and the refusal of the former to give the poet his vote 
 for the secretaryship of the Society of Arts. Times, how- 
 ever, were changed. Goldsmith, when that feud took place, 
 was an anonymous writer, almost unknown to fame, and of no 
 circulation in society. Now he had become a literary lion ; he 
 was a member of the Literary Club ; he was the associate of 
 Johnson, Burke, Topham Beauclerc, and other magnates — in a 
 word, he had risen to consequence in the public eye, and of 
 course was of consequence in the eyes of David Garrick. Sir 
 Joshua Reynolds saw the lurking scruples of pride existing be- 
 tween the author and actor, and thinking it a pity that two 
 men of such congenial talents, and who might be so serviceable 
 to each other, should be kept asunder by a worn-out pique, 
 exerted his friendly offices to bring them together. The meet- 
 ing took place in Reynolds's house in Leicester Square. Gar- 
 
134 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 
 
 rick, however, could not entirely put off the mock majesty of 
 the stage ; he meant to be civil, but he was rather too gracious 
 and condescending. Tom Davies, in his " Life of Garrick," 
 gives an amusing picture of the coming together of these 
 punctilious parties. "The manager," says he, "was fully 
 conscious of his (Goldsmith's) merit, and perhaps more osten- 
 tatious of his abilities to serve a dramatic author than became 
 a man of his prudence ; Goldsmith was, on his side, as fully 
 persuaded of his own importance and independent greatness. 
 Mr. Garrick, who had so long been treated with the compli- 
 mentary language paid to a successful patentee and admired 
 actor, expected that the writer would esteem the patronage of 
 his play a favor ; Goldsmith rejected all ideas of kindness in a 
 bargain that was intended to be of mutual advantage to both 
 parties, and in this he was certainly justifiable ; Mr. Garrick 
 could reasonably expect no thanks for the acting a new play, 
 which he would have rejected if he had not been convinced it 
 would have amply rewarded his pains and expense. I believe 
 the manager was willing to accept the play, but he wished to 
 be courted to it ; and the doctor was not disposed to purchase 
 his friendship by the resignation of his sincerity." They sepa- 
 rated, however, with an understanding on the part of Gold- 
 smith that his play would be acted. The conduct of Garrick 
 subsequently proved evasive, not through any lingerings of past 
 hostility, but from habitual indecision in matters of the kind, 
 and from real scruples of delicacy. He did not think the piece 
 likely to succeed on the stage, and avowed that opinion to 
 Reynolds and Johnson ; but hesitated to say as much to Gold- 
 smith, through fear of wounding his feelings. A further mis- 
 understanding was the result of this want of decision and 
 frankness ; repeated interviews and some correspondence took 
 place without bringing matters to a point, and in the meantime 
 the theatrical season passed away. 
 
 Goldsmith's pocket, never well supplied, suffered grievously 
 by this delay, and he considered himself entitled to call upon the 
 manager, who still talked of acting the play, to advance him 
 forty pounds upon a note of the younger Newbery. Garrick 
 readily complied, but subsequently suggested certain important 
 alterations in the comedy as indispensable to its success ; these 
 
OLIVER GOLDSMITH 135 
 
 were indignantly rejected by the author, but pertinaciously in- 
 sisted on by the manager. Garrick proposed to leave the 
 matter to the arbitration of Whitehead, the laureate, who 
 ofl&ciated as his " reader " and elbow critic. Goldsmith was 
 more indignant than ever, and a violent dispute ensued, which 
 was only calmed by the interference of Burke and Reynolds. 
 
 Just at this time, order came out of confusion in the affairs 
 of Covent Garden. A pique having risen between Colman and 
 Garrick, in the course of their joint authorship of " The 
 Clafldestine Marriage," the former had become manager 'and 
 part proprietor of Covent Garden, and was preparing to open 
 a powerful competition with his former colleague. On hearing 
 of this. Goldsmith made overtures to Colman ; who, without 
 waiting to consult his fellow proprietors, who were absent, 
 gave instantly a favorable reply. Goldsmith felt the contrast 
 of this warm, encouraging conduct, to the chilling delays and 
 objections of Garrick. He at once abandoned his piece to the 
 discretion of Colman. " Dear sir," says he in a letter dated 
 Temple Garden Court, July 9th, " I am very much obliged to 
 you for your kind partiality in my favor, and your tenderness 
 in shortening the interval of my expectation. That the play 
 is liable to many objections I well know, but I am happy that 
 it is in hands the most capable in the world of removing them. 
 If then, dear sir, you will complete your favor by putting the 
 piece into such a state as it may be acted, or of directing me 
 how to do it, I shall ever retain a sense of your goodness to 
 me. And indeed, though most probably this be the last I 
 shall ever write, yet I can't help feeling a secret satisfaction 
 that poets for the future are likely to have a protector who 
 declines taking advantage of their dreadful situation ; and 
 scorns that importance which may be acquired by trifling with 
 their anxieties." 
 
 The next day Goldsmith wrote to Garrick, who was at 
 Litchfield, informing him of his having transferred his piece to 
 Covent Garden, for which it had been originally written, and 
 by the patentee of which it was claimed, observing, "as I 
 found you had very great difl&culties about that piece, I com- 
 plied with his desire. ... I am extremely sorry that you 
 should think me warm at our last meeting ; your judgment 
 
136 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 
 
 certainly ought to be free, especially in a matter which must 
 in some measure concern your own credit and interest. I as- 
 sure you, sir, I have no disposition to differ with you on this or 
 any other account, but am, with an high opinion of your 
 abilities, and a very real esteem, sir, your most obedient humble 
 servant. Oliver Goldsmith." 
 
 In his reply, Garrick observed, "I was, indeed, much hurt 
 that your warmth at our last meeting mistook my sincere and 
 friendly attention to your play for the remains of a former 
 misunderstanding, which I had as much forgot as if it had 
 never existed. What I said to you at my own house I now 
 repeat, that I felt more pain in giving my sentiments than you 
 possibly would in receiving them. It has been the business, 
 and ever will be, of my life to live on the best terms with men 
 of genius ; and I know that Dr. Goldsmith will have no reason 
 to change his previous friendly disposition towards me, as I 
 shall be glad of every future opportunity to convince him how 
 much I am his obedient servant and well-wisher. D. Gareick." 
 
 CHAPTER XXI 
 
 More hack authorship — Tom Davies and the Roman History — Can- 
 onbury Castle — Political authorship — Pecuniary temptation — 
 Death of Newbery the elder 
 
 Though Goldsmith's comedy was now in train to be per- 
 formed, it could not be brought out before Christmas ; in the 
 meantime, he must live. Again, therefore, he had to resort 
 to literary jobs for his daily support. These obtained for him 
 petty occasional sums, the largest of which was ten pounds, 
 from the elder Newbery, for an historical compilation ; but 
 this scanty rill of quasi patronage, so sterile in its products, 
 was likely soon to cease ; Newbery being too ill to attend to 
 business, and having to transfer the whole management of it 
 to his nephew. 
 
 At this time Tom Davies, the sometime Roscius, sometime 
 bibliopole, stepped forward to Goldsmith's relief, and proposed 
 that he should undertake an easy popular history of Rome in 
 
OLIVER GOLDSMITH 137 
 
 two volumes. An arrangement was soon made. Goldsmith 
 undertook to complete it in two years, if possible, for two 
 hundred and fifty guineas, and forthwith set about his task 
 with cheerful alacrity. As usual, he sought a rural retreat 
 during the summer months, where he might alternate his 
 literary labors with strolls about the green fields. " Merry 
 Islington " was again his resort, but he now aspired to better 
 quarters than formerly, and engaged the chambers occupied 
 occasionally by Mr. Newbery, in Canonbury House, or Castle, 
 as ii; is popularly called. This had been a hunting lodge of 
 Queen Elizabeth, in whose time it was surrounded by parks 
 and forests. In Goldsmith's day, nothing remained of it but an 
 old brick tower ; it was still in the country, amid rural scenery, 
 and was a favorite nestling-place of authors, publishers, and 
 others of the literary order.^ A number of these he had for 
 fellow occupants of the castle ; and they formed a temporary 
 club, which held its meetings at the Crown Tavern, on the 
 Islington lower road ; and here he presided in his own genial 
 style, and was the life and delight of the company. 
 
 The writer of these pages visited old Canonbury Castle some 
 years since, out of regard to the memory of Goldsmith. The 
 apartment was still shown which the poet had inhabited, 
 consisting of a sitting-room and small bedroom, with panelled 
 wainscots and Gothic windows. The quaintness and quietude 
 of the place were still attractive. It was one of the resorts of 
 citizens on their Sunday walks, who would ascend to the top of 
 the tower and amuse themselves with reconnoitring the city 
 through a telescope. Not far from this tower were the gardens 
 of the White Conduit House, a Cockney Elysium, where Gold- 
 smith used to figure in the humbler days of his fortune. In 
 the first edition of his " Essays " he speaks of a stroll in these 
 
 1 ** See on the distant slope, ma.iestic shows 
 Old Canonbury 's tower, an ancient pile 
 To various fates assigned ; and where by turns 
 Meanness and grandeur have alternate reigned ; 
 Thither, in latter days, hath genius fled 
 From yonder city, to respire and die. 
 There the sweet bard of Auburn sat, and tuned 
 The plaintive moanings of his village dirge. 
 There learned Chambers treasured lore for men, 
 And Newbery there his A B C's for babes." 
 
138 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 
 
 gardens, where he at that time, no doubt, thought himself in 
 perfectly genteel society. After his rise in the world, however, 
 he became too knowing to speak of such plebeian haunts. 
 In a new edition of his " Essays," therefore, the White Conduit 
 House and its garden disappears, and he speaks of " a stroll 
 in the Park." 
 
 While Goldsmith was literally living from hand to mouth 
 by the forced drudgery of the pen, his independence of spirit 
 was subjected to a sore pecuniary trial. It was the opening of 
 Lord North's administration, a time of great political excite- 
 ment. The public mind was agitated by the question of 
 American taxation, and other questions of like irritating ten- 
 dency. " Junius " and Wilkes and other powerful writers 
 were attacking the administration with all their force ; Grub- 
 street was stirred up to its lowest depths ; inflammatory talent 
 of all kinds was in full activity, and the kingdom was deluged 
 with pamphlets, lampoons, and libels of the grossest kinds. 
 The ministry were looking anxiously round for literary support. 
 It was thought that the pen of Goldsmith might be readily 
 enlisted. His hospitable friend and countryman, Robert 
 Nugent, politically known as Squire Gawky, had come out 
 strenuously for colonial taxation; had been selected for a lord- 
 ship of the board of trade, and raised to the rank of Baron 
 Nugent and Viscount Clare. His example, it was thought, 
 would be enough of itself, to bring Goldsmith into the minis- 
 terial ranks ; and then what writer of the day was proof against 
 a full purse or a pension? Accordingly one Parson Scott, 
 chaplain to Lord Sandwich, and author of Anti-Sejanus, Pan- 
 urge, and other political libels in support of the administration, 
 was sent to negotiate with the poet, who at this time was 
 returned to town. Dr. Scott, in after years, when his political 
 subserviency had been rewarded by two fat crown livings, used 
 to make, what he considered, a good story out of this embassy 
 to the poet. " I found him," said he, " in a miserable suit of 
 chambers in the Temple. I told him my authority : I told 
 how I was empowered to pay most liberally for his exertions ; 
 and, would you believe it ! he was so absurd as to say ' I can 
 earn as much as will supply my wants without writing for 
 any party ; the assistance you offer is therefore unnecessary to 
 
OLIVER GOLDSMITH 139 
 
 me ; ' — and so I left him in his garret ! " Who does not admire 
 the sturdy independence of poor Goldsmith toiling in his garret 
 for nine guineas the job, and smile with contempt at the indig- 
 nant wonder of the political divine, albeit his subserviency was 
 repaid by two fat crown livings ? 
 
 Not long after this occurrence, Goldsmith's old friend, though 
 frugal-handed employer, Newbery, of picture-book renown, 
 closed his mortal career. The poet has celebrated him as the 
 friend of all mankind ; he certainly lost nothing by his friend- 
 ship. He coined the brains of his authors in the times of their 
 exigency, and made them pay dear for the plank put out to 
 keep them from drowning. It is not likely his death caused 
 much lamentation among the scribbling tribe ; we may express 
 decent respect for the memory of the just, but we shed tears 
 only at the grave of the generous. 
 
 CHAPTER XXII 
 
 Theatrical manoeuvring — The comedy of False Delicacy — First per- 
 formance of The Good-natured Man — Conduct of Johnson — Con- 
 duct of the author — Intermeddling of the press 
 
 The comedy of " The Good-natured Man " was doomed to 
 experience delays and difficulties to the very last. Garrick, 
 notwithstanding his professions, had still a lurking grudge 
 against the author, and tasked his managerial arts to thwart 
 him in his theatrical enterprise. For this purpose he under- 
 took to build up Hugh Kelly, Goldsmith's boon companion of 
 the Wednesday Club, as a kind of rival, Kelly had written a 
 comedy called " False Delicacy," in which were embodied all 
 the meretricious qualities of the sentimental school. Garrick, 
 though he had decried that school, and had brought out his 
 comedy of " The Clandestine Marriage " in opposition to it, 
 now lauded "False Delicacy" to the skies, and prepared to 
 bring it out at Drury Lane with all possible stage effect. He 
 even went so far as to write a prologue and epilogue for it, and 
 to touch up some parts of the dialogue. He had become recon- 
 ciled to his former colleague, Colman, and it is intimated that 
 one condition in the treaty of peace between these potentates of 
 
140 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 
 
 the realms of pasteboard (equally prone to play into each other's 
 hands with the confederate potentates on the great theatre of 
 life) was, that Goldsmith's play should be kept back until 
 Kelly's had been brought forward. 
 
 In the meantime the poor author, little dreaming of the 
 deleterious influence at work behind the scenes, saw the ap- 
 pointed time arrive and pass by without the performance of his 
 play ; while " False Delicacy " was brought out at Drury Lane 
 (January 23, 1768) with all the trickery of managerial man- 
 agement. Houses were packed to applaud it to the echo ; the 
 newspapers vied with each other in their venal praises, and 
 night after night seemed to give it a fresh triumph. 
 
 While " False Delicacy " was thus borne on the full tide of 
 fictitious prosperity, "The Good-natured Man" was creeping 
 through the last rehearsals at Covent Garden. The success of 
 the rival piece threw a damp upon author, manager, and actors. 
 Goldsmith went about with a face full of anxiety ; Colman's 
 hopes in the piece declined at each rehearsal ; as to his fellow 
 proprietors, they declared they had never entertained any. All 
 the actors were discontented with their parts, excepting Ned 
 Shuter, an excellent low comedian, and a pretty actress named 
 Miss Walford ; both of whom the poor author ever afterward 
 held in grateful recollection. 
 
 Johnson, Goldsmith's growling monitor and unsparing casti- 
 gator in times of heedless levity, stood by him at present with 
 that protecting kindness with which he ever befriended him in 
 time of need. He attended the rehearsals ; he furnished the 
 prologue according to promise ; he pish'd and pshaw'd at any 
 doubts and fears on the part of the author, but gave him sound 
 counsel, and held him up with a steadfast and manly hand. 
 Inspirited by his sympathy, Goldsmith plucked up new heart, 
 and arrayed himself for the grand trial with unusual care. Ever 
 since his elevation into the polite world, he had improved in his 
 wardrobe and toilet. Johnson could no longer accuse him of 
 being shabby in his appearance ; he rather went to the other 
 extreme. On the present occasion there is an entry in the books 
 of his tailor, Mr. William Filby, of a suit of " Tyrian bloom, 
 satin grain, and garter blue silk breeches, .£8 2s. 7d." Thus 
 magnificently attired, he attended the theatre and watched the 
 
OLIVER GOLDSMITH 141 
 
 reception of the play, and the effect of each individual scene, 
 with that vicissitude of feeling incident to his mercurial 
 nature. 
 
 Johnson's prologue was solemn in itself, and being delivered 
 by Brinsley in lugubrious tones suited to the ghost in " Ham- 
 let," seemed to throw a portentous gloom on the audience. 
 Some of the scenes met with great applause, and at such times 
 Goldsmith was highly elated ; others went off coldly, or there 
 were slight tokens of disapprobation, and then his spirits would 
 siiTk. The fourth act saved the piece ; for Shuter, who had the 
 main comic character of Croaker, was so varied and ludicrous 
 in his execution of the scene in which he reads an incendiary 
 letter, that he drew down thunders of applause. On his coming 
 behind the scenes, Goldsmith greeted him with an overflowing 
 heart ; declaring that he exceeded his own idea of the character, 
 and made it almost as new to him as to any of the audience. 
 
 On the whole, however, both the author and his friends were 
 disappointed at the reception of the piece, and considered it a 
 failure. Poor Goldsmith left the theatre with his towering 
 hopes completely cut down. He endeavored to hide his morti- 
 fication, and even to assume an air of unconcern while among 
 his associates ; but, the moment he was alone with Dr. John- 
 son, in whose rough but magnanimous nature he reposed un- 
 limited confidence, he threw off all restraint and gave way to 
 an almost childlike burst of grief. Johnson, who had shown 
 no want of sympathy at the proper time, saw nothing in the 
 partial disappointment of overrated expectations to warrant 
 such ungoverned emotions, and rebuked him sternly for what he 
 termed a silly affectation, saying that " No man should be ex- 
 pected to sympathize with the sorrows of vanity." 
 
 When Goldsmith had recovered from the blow, he, with his 
 usual unreserve, made his past distress a subject of amusement 
 to his friends. Dining one day, in company with Dr. Johnson, 
 at the chaplain's table at St. James's Palace, he entertained the 
 company with a particular and comic account of all his feelings 
 on the night of representation, and his despair when the piece 
 was hissed. How he went, he said, to the Literary Club; 
 chatted gayly, as if nothing had gone amiss ; and, to give a 
 greater idea of his unconcern, sang his favorite song about an 
 
142 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 
 
 old woman tossed in a blanket seventeen times as high as the 
 moon. ... " All this while," added he, "I was suffering hor- 
 rid tortures, and, had I put a bit in my mouth, I verily believe 
 it would have strangled me on the spot, I was so excessively 
 ill : but I made more noise than usual to cover all that ; so they 
 never perceived my not eating, nor suspected the anguish of my 
 heart ; but, when all were gone except Johnson here, I burst 
 out a-crying, and even swore that I would never write again." 
 
 Dr. Johnson sat in amaze at the odd frankness and childlike 
 self-accusation of poor Goldsmith. When the latter had come 
 to a pause, "All this, doctor," said he dryly, "I thought had 
 been a secret between you and me, and I am sure I would not 
 have said any thing about it for the world." But Goldsmith 
 had no secrets : his follies, his weaknesses, his errors were all 
 thrown to the surface ; his heart was really too guileless and 
 innocent to seek mystery and concealment. It is too often the 
 false, designing man that is guarded in his conduct and never 
 offends proprieties. 
 
 It is singular, however, that Goldsmith, who thus in conver- 
 sation could keep nothing to himself, should be the author of a 
 maxim which would inculcate the most thorough dissimulation. 
 " Men of the world," says he in one of the papers of the Bee^ 
 " maintain that the true end of speech is not so much to express 
 our wants as to conceal them."^ How often is this quoted as 
 one of the subtle remarks of the fine witted Talleyrand ! 
 
 " The Good-natured Man " was performed for ten nights 
 in succession ; the third, sixth, and ninth nights were for the 
 author's benefit ; the fifth night it was commanded by their 
 majesties ; after this it was played occasionally, but rarely, hav- 
 ing always pleased more in the closet than on the stage. 
 
 As to Kelly's comedy, Johnson pronounced it entirely devoid 
 of character, and it has long since passed into oblivion. Yet it 
 is an instance how an inferior production, by dint of puflBng and 
 trumpeting, may be kept up for a time on the surface of popu- 
 lar opinion, or rather of popular talk. What had been done for 
 " False Delicacy " on the stage was continued by the press. 
 The booksellers vied with the manager in launching it upon the 
 town. They announced that the first impression of three thou- 
 
 1 The Bee, No. iii. 
 
OLIVER GOLDSMITH 143 
 
 sand copies was exhausted before two o'clock on the day of 
 publication ; four editions, amounting to ten thousand copies, 
 were sold in the course of the season ; a public breakfast was 
 given to Kelly at the Chapter Coffee-House, and a piece of plate 
 presented to him by the publishers. The comparative merits 
 of the two plays were continually subjects of discussion in 
 green-rooms, coffee-houses, and other places where theatrical 
 questions were discussed. 
 
 Goldsmith's old enemy, Kenrick, that " viper of the press," 
 endeavored on this as on many other occasions to detract from 
 his well-earned fame ; the poet was excessively sensitive to these 
 attacks, and had not the art and self-command to conceal his 
 feelings. 
 
 Some scribblers on the other side insinuated that Kelly had 
 seen the manuscript of Goldsmith's play, while in the hands of 
 Garrick or elsewhere, and had borrowed some of the situations 
 and sentiments. Some of the wags of the day took a mischiev- 
 ous pleasure in stirring up a feud between the two authors. 
 Goldsmith became nettled, though he could scarcely be deemed 
 jealous of one so far his inferior. He spoke disparagingly, 
 though no doubt sincerely, of Kelly's play : the latter retorted. 
 Still, when they met one day behind the scenes of Covent Gar- 
 den, Goldsmith, with his customary urbanity, congratulated 
 Kelly on his success. "If I thought you sincere, Mr. Gold- 
 smith," replied the other, abruptly, "I should thank you." 
 Goldsmith was not a man to harbor spleen or ill-will, and soon 
 laughed at this unworthy rivalship : but the jealousy and envy 
 awakened in Kelly's mind long continued. He is even accused 
 of having given vent to his hostility by anonymous attacks in 
 the newspapers, the basest resource of dastardly and malignant 
 spirits ; but of this there is no positive proof. 
 
144 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII 
 
 Burning the candle at both ends — Fine apartments — Fine furniture 
 — Fine clothes — Fine acquaintances — Shoemaker's holiday and 
 jolly pigeon associates — Peter Barlow, Glover, and the Hampstead 
 hoax — Poor friends among great acquaintances 
 
 The profits resulting from " The Good-natured Man " were 
 beyond any that Goldsmith had yet derived from his works. 
 He netted about four hundred pounds from the theatre, and 
 one hundred pounds from his publisher. 
 
 Five hundred pounds ! and all at one miraculous draught ! 
 It appeared to him wealth inexhaustible. It at once opened 
 his heart and hand, and led him into all kinds of extravagance. 
 The first symptom was ten guineas sent to Shuter for a box 
 ticket for his benefit, when " The Good-natured Man " was to 
 be performed. The next was an entire change in his domicil. 
 The shabby lodgings with Jeffs, the butler, in which he had 
 been worried by Johnson's scrutiny, were now exchanged for 
 chambers more becoming a man of his ample fortune. The 
 apartments consisted of three rooms on the second floor of No. 2 
 Brick Court, Middle Temple, on the right hand ascending the 
 staircase, and overlooked the umbrageous walks of the Temple 
 garden. The lease he purchased for <£400, and then went on to 
 furnish his rooms with mahogany sofas, card-tables, and book- 
 cases ; with curtains, mirrors, and Wilton carpets. His awkward 
 little person was also furnished out in a style befitting his 
 apartment ; for, in addition to his suit of " Tyrian bloom, 
 satin grain," we find another charged about this time, in the 
 books of Mr. Filby, in no less gorgeous terms, being " lined with 
 silk and furnished with gold buttons." Thus lodged and thus 
 arrayed, he invited the visits of his most aristocratic acquaint- 
 ances, and no longer quailed beneath the courtly eye of Beau- 
 clerc. He gave dinners to Johnson, Reynolds, Percy, Bickerstafl', 
 and other friends of note ; and supper parties to J'oung folks of 
 both sexes. These last were preceded by round games of cards, 
 at which there was more laughter than skill, and in which the 
 sport was to cheat each other ; or by romping games of forfeits 
 and blind-man's buff, at which he enacted the lord of misrule. 
 
NOS. I AND 2, BRICK COURT, LONDON 
 
OLIVER GOLDSMITH 145 
 
 Blackstone, whose chambers were immediately below, and who 
 was studiously occupied on his " Commentaries," used to com- 
 plain of the racket made overhead by his revelling neighbor. 
 
 Sometimes Goldsmith would make up a rural party, com- 
 posed of four or five of his "jolly pigeon " friends, to enjoy what 
 he humorously called a "shoemaker's holiday." These would 
 assemble at his chambers in the morning, to partake of a plenti- 
 ful and rather expensive breakfast ; the remains of which, with 
 his customary benevolence, he generally gave to some poor 
 woman in attendance. The repast ended, the party would set 
 out on foot, in high spirits, making extensive rambles by 
 foot-paths and green lanes to Blackheath, Wandsworth, Chel- 
 sea, Hampton Court, Highgate, or some other pleasant resort, 
 within a few miles of London. A simple but gay and heartily 
 relished dinner, at a country inn, crowned the excursion. In 
 the evening they strolled back to town, all the better in health 
 and spirits for a day spent in rural and social enjoyment. 
 Occasionally, when extravagantly inclined, they adjourned from 
 dinner to drink tea at the White Conduit House ; and, now and 
 then, concluded their festive day by supping at the Grecian or 
 Temple Exchange Coffee-Houses, or at the Globe Tavern, in 
 Fleet-street. The whole expenses of the day never exceeded a 
 crown, and were oftener from three and sixpence to four shill- 
 ings ; for the best part of their entertainment, sweet air, and 
 rural scenes, excellent exercise and joyous conversation, cost 
 nothing. 
 
 One of Goldsmith's humble companions, on these excursions, 
 was his occasional amanuensis, Peter Barlow, whose quaint 
 peculiarities afforded much amusement to the company. Peter 
 w^as poor but punctihous, squaring his expenses according to his 
 means. He always wore the same garb ; fixed his regular 
 expenditure for dinner at a trifling sum, which, if left to him- 
 self, he never exceeded, but which he always insisted on pay- 
 ing. His oddities always made him a welcome companion on 
 the " shoemaker's holidays." The dinner, on these occasions, 
 generally exceeded considerably his tariff; he put down, how- 
 ever, no more than his regular sum, and Goldsmith made up 
 the difference. 
 
 Another of these hangers-on, for whom, on such occasions, 
 
14:6 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 
 
 he was content to " pay the shot," was his countryman, Glover, 
 of whom mention has already been made, as one of the wags 
 and sponges of the Globe and Devil taverns, and a prime mimic 
 at the Wednesday Club. 
 
 This vagabond genius has bequeathed us a whimsical story 
 of one of his practical jokes upon Goldsmith, in the course of a 
 rural excursion in the vicinity of Londou. They had dined at 
 an inn on Hampstead Heights, and were descending the hill, 
 when, in passing a cottage, they saw through the open window 
 a party at tea. Goldsmith, who was fatigued, cast a wistful 
 glance at the cheerful tea-table. " How I should like to be 
 of that party," exclaimed he. " Nothing more easy," replied 
 Glover; "allow me to introduce you." So saying, he entered 
 the house with an air of the most perfect familiarity, though an 
 utter stranger, and was followed by the unsuspecting Goldsmith, 
 who supposed, of course, that he was a friend of the family. 
 The owner of the house rose on the entrance of the strangers. 
 The undaunted Glover shook hands with him in the most cor- 
 dial manner possible, fixed his eye on one of the company who 
 had a peculiarly good-natured physiognomy, muttered some- 
 thing like a recognition, and forthwith launched into an amus- 
 ing story, invented at the moment, of something which he 
 pretended had occurred upon the road. The host supposed the 
 new-comers were friends of his guests ; the guests, that they 
 were friends of the host. Glover did not give them time to 
 find out the truth. He followed one droll story with another ; 
 brought his powers of mimicry into play, and kept the company 
 in a roar. Tea was offered and accepted ; an hour went otf 
 in the most sociable manner imaginable, at the end of which 
 Glover bowed himself and his companion out of the house with 
 many facetious last words, leaving the host and his company to 
 compare notes, and to find out what an impudent intrusion they 
 had experienced. 
 
 Nothing could exceed the dismay and vexation of Goldsmith 
 when triumphantly told by Glover that it was all a hoax, and 
 that he did not know a single soul in the house. His first im- 
 pulse was to return instantly and vindicate himself from, all par- 
 ticipation in the jest ; but a few words from his free and easy 
 companion dissuaded him. "Doctor," said he, coolly, "we are 
 
OLIVER GOLDSMITH 147 
 
 unknown ; you quite as much as I ; if you return and tell the 
 story, it will be in the newspapers to-morrow ; nay, upon recol- 
 lection, I remember in one of their offices the face of that 
 squinting fellow who sat in the corner as if he was treasuring 
 up my stories for future use, and we shall be sure of being 
 exposed ; let us therefore keep our own counsel." 
 
 This story was frequently afterward told by Glover, with rich 
 dramatic effect, repeating and exaggerating the conversation, 
 and mimicking, in ludicrous style, the embarrassment, surprise, 
 an^ subsequent indignation of Goldsmith. 
 
 It is a trite saying that a wheel cannot run in two ruts ; nor 
 a man keep two opposite sets of intimates. Goldsmith some- 
 times found his old friends of the "jolly pigeon " order turning 
 up rather awkwardly when he was in company with his new 
 aristocratic acquaintances. He gave a whimsical account of 
 the sudden apparition of one of them at his gay apartments in 
 the Temple, who may have been a welcome visitor at his squalid 
 quarters in Green Arbor Court. " How do you think he served 
 me?" said he to a friend. "Why, sir, after staying away two 
 years, he came one evening into my chambers, half drunk, as .1 
 was taking a glass of wine with Topham Beauclerc and Gen- 
 eral Oglethorpe ; and sitting himself down, with most intolerable 
 assurance inquired after my health and literary pursuits, as if we 
 were upon the most friendly footing. I was at first so much 
 ashamed of ever having known such a fellow, that I stifled my 
 resentment, and drew him into a conversation on such topics as 
 I knew he could talk upon ; in which, to do him justice, he ac- 
 quitted himself very reputably; when all of a sudden, as if 
 recollecting something, he pulled two papers out of his pocket, 
 which he presented to me with great ceremony, saying, ' Here, 
 my dear friend, is a quarter of a pound of tea, and a half pound 
 of sugar, I have brought you ; for though it is not in my power 
 at present to pay you the two guineas you so generously lent 
 me, you, nor any man else, shall ever have it to say that I want 
 gratitude.' This," added Goldsmith, " was too much. I could 
 no longer keep in my feelings, but desired him to turn out of 
 my chambers directly ; which he very coolly did, taking up his 
 tea and sugar ; and I never saw him afterwards." 
 
148 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV 
 
 Reduced again to book-building — Rural retreat at Shoemaker's Para- 
 dise — Death of Henry Goldsmith ; tributes to his memory in the 
 Deserted Village 
 
 The heedless expenses of Goldsmith, as may easily be sup- 
 posed, soon brought him to the end of his " prize money," but 
 when his purse gave out he drew upon futurity, obtaining 
 advances from his booksellers and loans from his friends in the 
 confident hope of soon turning up another trump. The debts 
 which he thus thoughtlessly incurred in consequence of a tran- 
 sient gleam of prosperity embarrassed him for the rest of his 
 life ; so that the success of " The Good-natured Man " may be 
 said to have been ruinous to him. 
 
 He was soon obliged to resume his old craft of book-building, 
 and set about his " History of Rome," undertaken for Davies. 
 
 It was his custom, as we have shown, during the summer 
 time, when pressed by a multiplicity of literary jobs, or urged 
 to the accomplishment of some particular task, to take country 
 lodgings a few miles from town, generally on the Harrow or 
 Edgeware roads, and bury himself there for weeks and months 
 together. Sometimes he would remain closely occupied in his 
 room, at other times he would stroll out along the lanes and 
 hedge-rows, and taking out paper and pencil, note down 
 thoughts to be expanded and connected at home. His summer 
 retreat for the present year, 1768, was a little cottage with a 
 garden, pleasantly situated about eight miles from town on the 
 Edgeware road. He took it in conjunction with a Mr. Edmund 
 Bott, a barrister and man of letters, his neighbor in the Temple, 
 having rooms immediately opposite him on the same floor. 
 They had become cordial intimates, and Bott was one of those 
 with whom Goldsmith now and then took the friendly but per- 
 nicious liberty of borrowing. 
 
 The cottage which they had hired belonged to a rich shoe- 
 maker of Piccadilly, who had embellished his little domain of 
 half an acre with statues, and jets, and all the decorations of 
 landscape gardening ; in consequence of which Goldsmith gave 
 it the name of The Shoemaker's Paradise. As his fellow occu- 
 
OLIVER GOLDSMITH 149 
 
 pant, Mr. Bott, drove a gig, he sometimes, in an interval of 
 literary labor, accompanied him to town, partook of a social din- 
 ner there, and returned with him in the evening. On one occa- 
 sion, when they had probably lingered too long at the table, 
 they came near breaking their necks on their way homeward 
 by driving against a post on the side-walk, while Bott was 
 proving by the force of legal eloquence that they were in the 
 very middle of the broad Edgeware road. 
 
 In the course of this summer, Goldsmith's career of gayety 
 waai suddenly brought to a pause by intelligence of the 
 death of his brother Henry, then but forty-five years of age. 
 He had led a quiet and blameless life amid the scenes of his 
 youth, fulfilling the duties of village pastor with unaff'ected 
 piety ; conducting the school at Lissoy with a degree of indus- 
 try and ability that gave it celebrity, and acquitting himself in 
 all the duties of life with undeviating rectitude and the mildest 
 benevolence. How truly Goldsmith loved and venerated him 
 is evident in all his letters and throughout his works ; in which 
 his brother continually forms his model for an exemplification 
 of all the most endearing of the Christian virtues; yet his 
 affection at his death was embittered by the fear that he died 
 with some doubt upon his mind of the warmth of his affection. 
 Goldsmith had been urged by his friends in Ireland, since his 
 elevation in the world, to use his influence with the great, 
 which they supposed to be all powerful, in favor of Henry, to 
 obtain for him church preferment. He did exert himself as far 
 as his diffident nature would permit, but without success ; we 
 have seen that, in the case of the Earl of Northumberland, 
 when, as Lord Lieutenant of Ireland, that nobleman proffered 
 him his patronage, he asked nothing for himself, but only spoke 
 on behalf of his brother. Still some of his friends, ignorant of 
 what he had done and of how little he was able to do, accused 
 him of negligence. It is not likely, however, that his amiable 
 and estimable brother joined in the accusation. 
 
 To the tender and melancholy recollections of his early days 
 awakened by the death of this loved companion of his child- 
 hood, we may attribute some of the most heartfelt passages in 
 his " Deserted Village." Much of that poem we are told was 
 composed this summer, in the course of solitary strolls about 
 
150^ OLIVER GOLDSMITH 
 
 the green lanes and beautifully rural scenes of the neighborhood ; 
 and thus much of the softness and sweetness of English land- 
 scape became blended with the ruder features of Lissoy. It 
 was in these lonely and subdued moments, when tender regret 
 was half mingled with self-upbraiding, that he poured forth 
 that homage of the heart rendered as it were at the grave of his 
 brother. The picture of the village pastor in this poem, which 
 we have already hinted, was taken in part from the character of 
 his father, embodied likewise the recollections of his brother 
 Henry ; for the natures of the father and son seem to have been 
 identical. In the following lines, however, Goldsmith evidently 
 contrasted the quiet settled life of his brother, passed at home 
 in the benevolent exercise of the Christian duties, with his own 
 restless vagrant career : 
 
 " Remote from towns he ran his godly race, 
 Nor e'er had changed, nor wished to change his place." 
 
 To us the whole character seems traced as it were in an expia- 
 tory spirit ; as if, conscious of his own wandering restlessness, 
 he sought to humble himself at the shrine of excellence which 
 he had not been able to practise : 
 
 "At church with meek and unaffected grace, 
 His looks adorn' d the venerable place ; 
 Truth from his lips prevail'd with double sway, 
 And fools, who came to scoff, remain' d to pray. 
 The service past, around the pious man, 
 With steady zeal, each honest rustic ran ; 
 Even children follow'd, with endearing wile, 
 And pluck' d his gown, to share the good man's smile : 
 His ready smile a parent's warmth express'd. 
 Their welfare pleas'd him, and their cares distress'd ; 
 To them his heart, his love, his griefs were given. 
 But all his serious thoughts had rest in heaven. 
 
 ^ ^ ^ ¥^ ^ ^ 
 
 And, as a bird each fond endearment tries 
 To tempt its new-fledged offspring to the skies, 
 He tried each art, reprov'd each dull delay, 
 Allur'd to brighter worlds, and led the way^ 
 
OLIVER GOLDSMITH 151 
 
 CHAPTER XXV 
 
 Dinner at Bickerstaff's — Hiffernan and his impecuniosity — Kenrick's 
 epigram — Johnson's consolation — Goldsmith's toilet — The bloom- 
 colored coat — New acquaintances — The Hornecks — A touch of 
 poetry and passion — The Jessamy Bride 
 
 In October, Goldsmith returned to town and resumed his 
 usual haunts. We hear of him at a dinner given by his country- 
 man, Isaac Bickerstaff, author of "Love in a Village," "Lionel 
 andXIlarissa," and other successful dramatic pieces. The dinner 
 was to be followed by the reading by j Bickerstaff of a new 
 play. Among the guests was one Paul Hiffernan, likewise an 
 Irishman ; somewhat idle and intemperate ; who lived nobody 
 knew how nor where, sponging wherever he had a chance, and 
 often of course upon Goldsmith, who was ever the vagabond's 
 friend, or rather victim. Hiffernan was something of a physi- 
 cian, and elevated the emptiness of his purse into the dignity 
 of a disease, which he termed impecuniosity, and against which 
 he claimed a right to call for relief from the healthier purses of 
 his friends. He was a scribbler for the newspapers, and lat- 
 terly a dramatic critic, which had probably gained him an 
 invitation to the dinner and reading. The wine and wassail, 
 however, befogged his senses. Scarce had the author got into 
 the second act of his play, when Hiffernan began to nod, and at 
 length snored outright. Bickerstaff was embarrassed, but con- 
 tinued to read in a more elevated tone. The louder he read, 
 the louder Hiffernan snored ; until the author came to a pause. 
 " Never mind the brute, Bick, but go on," cried Goldsmith. 
 " He would have served Homer just so, if he were here and 
 reading his own works." 
 
 Kenrick, Goldsmith's old enemy, travestied this anecdote in 
 the following lines, pretending that the poet had compared his 
 countryman Bickerstaff to Homer. 
 
 " What are your Bretons, Romans, Grecians, 
 Compared with thorough-bred Milesians ! 
 Step into Griffin's shop, he'll tell ye 
 Of Goldsmith, Bickerstaff, and Kelly . . . 
 And, take one Irish evidence for t'other, 
 Ev'n Homer's self is but their foster brother." 
 
152 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 
 
 Johnson was a rough consoler to a man when wincing under 
 an attack of this kind. "Never mind, sir," said he to Gold- 
 smith, when he saw that he felt the sting. " A man whose 
 business it is to be talked of is much helped by being attacked. 
 Fame, sir, is a shuttlecock ; if it be struck only at one end of 
 the room, it will soon fall to the ground ; to keep it up, it must 
 be struck at both ends." 
 
 Bickerstaff at the time of which we are speaking was in high 
 vogue, the associate of the first wits of the day ; a few years 
 afterwards, he was obliged to fly the country to escape the 
 punishment of an infamous crime. Johnson expressed great 
 astonishment at hearing the offence for which he had fled. 
 " Why, sir ? " said Thrale ; " he had long been a suspected man." 
 Perhaps there was a knowing look on the part of the eminent 
 brewer, which provoked a somewhat contemptuous reply. " By 
 those who look close to the ground," said Johnson, " dirt will 
 sometimes be seen ; I hope I see things from a greater distance." 
 
 We have already noticed the improvement, or rather the in- 
 creased expense, of Goldsmith's wardrobe since his elevation 
 into polite society. " He was fond," says one of his contempo- 
 raries, " of exhibiting his muscular little person in the gayest 
 apparel of the day, to which was added a bag- wig and sword." 
 Thus arrayed, he used to figure about in the sunshine in the 
 Temple Gardens, much to his own satisfaction, but to the 
 amusement of his acquaintances. 
 
 Boswell, in his memoirs, has rendered one of his suits for 
 ever famous. That worthy, on the 16th of October in this same 
 year^ gave a dinner to Johnson, Goldsmith, Reynolds, Garrick, 
 Murphy, Bickerstaff", and Davies. Goldsmith was generally apt 
 to bustle in at the last moment, when the guests were taking 
 their seats at table, but on this occasion he was unusually early. 
 While waiting for some lingerers to arrive, " he strutted about," 
 says Boswell, " bragging of his dress, and I believe, was seriously 
 vain of it, for his mind was undoubtedly prone to such impres- 
 sions. ' Come, come,' said Garrick, ' talk no more of that. 
 You are perhaps the worst — eh, eh 1 ' Goldsmith was eagerly 
 attempting to interrupt him, when Garrick went on, laughing 
 ironically. ' Nay, you will always look like a gentleman ; but 
 I am talking of your being well or ill dressed.' * Well, let me 
 
OLIVER GOLDSMITH 153 
 
 tell you,' said Goldsmith, 'when the tailor brought home my 
 bloom-colored coat, he said, " Sir, I have a favor to beg of you ; 
 when any body asks you who made your clothes, be pleased to 
 mention John Filby, at the Harrow, in Water Lane." ' ' Why, 
 sir,' cried Johnson, ' that was because he knew the strange color 
 would attract crowds to gaze at it, and thus they might hear of 
 him, and see how well he could make a coat of so absurd a color.' " 
 
 But though Goldsmith might permit this raillery on the part 
 of his friends, he was quick to resent any personalities of the 
 kin4 from strangers. As he was one day walking the Strand 
 in grand array with bag-wig and sword, he excited the merri- 
 ment of two coxcombs, one of whom called to the other to " look 
 at that fly with a long pin stuck through it." Stung to the 
 quick. Goldsmith's first retort was to caution the passers-by to 
 be on their guard against " that brace of disguised pickpockets " 
 — his next was to step into the middle of the street, where 
 there was room for action, half-draw his sword, and beckon the 
 joker, who was armed in like manner, to follow him. This 
 was literally a war of wit which the other had not anticipated. 
 He had no inclination to push the joke to such an extreme, but 
 abandoning the ground, sneaked off with his brother wag amid 
 the hootings of the spectators. 
 
 This proneness to finery in dress, however, which Boswell 
 and others of Goldsmith's contemporaries, who did not under- 
 stand the secret plies of his character, attributed to vanity, 
 arose, we are convinced, from a widely different motive. It was 
 from a painful idea of his own personal defects, which had been 
 cruelly stamped upon his mind in his boyhood, by the sneers 
 and jeers of his playmates, and had been ground deeper into it 
 by rude speeches made to him in every step of his struggling 
 career, until it had become a constant cause of awkwardness and 
 embarrassment. This he had experienced the more sensibly 
 since his reputation had elevated him into polite society ; and 
 he was constantly endeavoring by the aid of dress to acquire 
 that personal acceptability, if we may use the phrase, which 
 nature had denied him. If ever he betrayed a little self-com- 
 placency on first turning out in a new suit, it may, perhaps, 
 have been because he felt as if he had achieved a triumph over 
 his ugliness. 
 
154 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 
 
 There were circumstances too, about the time of which we 
 are treating, which may have rendered Goldsmith more than 
 usually attentive to his personal appearance. He had recently 
 made the acquaintance of a most agreeable family from Devon- 
 shire, which he met at the house of his friend, Sir Joshua Rey- 
 nolds. It consisted of Mrs. Horneck, widow of Captain Kane 
 Horneck ; two daughters, seventeen and nineteen years of age, 
 and an only son, Charles, the Captain in Lace, as his sisters play- 
 fully and somewhat proudly called him, he having lately entered the 
 Guards. The daughters are described as uncommonly beautiful, 
 intelligent, sprightly, and agreeable. Catharine, the eldest, 
 went among her friends by the name of Little Comedy, indica- 
 tive, very probably, of her disposition. She was engaged to 
 Henry William Bunbury, second son of a Suffolk baronet. The 
 hand and heart of her sister Mary were yet unengaged, although 
 she bore the by-name among her friends of the Jessamy Bride. 
 This family was prepared, by their intimacy with Reynolds and 
 his sister, to appreciate the merits of Goldsmith. The poet 
 had always been a chosen friend of the eminent painter, and 
 Miss Reynolds, as we have shown, ever since she had heard his 
 poem of "The Traveller" read aloud, had ceased to consider 
 him ugly. The Hornecks were equally capable of forgetting 
 his person in admiring his works. On becoming acquainted 
 with him, too, they were delighted with his guileless simplicity, 
 his buoyant good-nature, and his innate benevolence, and an en- 
 during intimacy soon sprang up between them. For once poor 
 Goldsmith had met with polite society, with which he was per- 
 fectly at home, and by which he was fully appreciated; for 
 once he had met with lovely women, to whom his ugly features 
 were not repulsive. A proof of the easy and playful terms in 
 which he was with them, remains in a whimsical epistle in 
 verse, of which the following was the occasion. A dinner was 
 to be given to their family by a Dr. Baker, a friend of their 
 mother's, at which Reynolds and Angelica Kauffman were to be 
 present. The young ladies were eager to have Goldsmith of 
 the party, and their intimacy with Dr. Baker allowing them to 
 take the liberty, they wrote a joint invitation to the poet at 
 the last moment. It came too late, and drew from him the 
 following reply ; on the top of which was scrawled, This is 
 a poem ! This is a copy of verses ! 
 
MARY HORNECK 
 
 "the jessamy bkiue" 
 
OLIVER GOLDSMITH 155 
 
 *' Your mandate I got, , 
 
 You may all go to pot ; 
 
 Had your senses been right, 
 
 You'd have sent before night — 
 
 So tell Horneck and Nesbitt 
 
 And Baker and his bit, ' 
 
 And Kauffman beside, 
 
 And the Jessamy Bride, 
 
 With the rest of the crew, 
 
 The Reynoldses too, 
 
 Little Comedifs face, 
 • And the Captain iti Lace — '' 
 
 Tell each other to rue ' 
 
 Your Devonshire crew, 
 For sending so late 
 To one of my state. 
 But 'tis Reynolds's way 
 From wisdom to stray, 
 And Angelica's whim 
 To befrolic like him ; 
 wl >? l/?"""" ^f ^"^ worships, how could they be wiser 
 When both have been spoil'd in to-day's Adv7rtise7r'i' 
 
 It has been intimated that the intimacy of poor Goldsmith 
 with the Miss Hornecks, which began in so sprightly a ve„ 
 gradually assumed something of a m^ore tender nature and thai 
 he was not insensible to the fascinations of the younger sister 
 This may account for some of the phenomena wh^cirabout tl [; 
 time appeared in his wardrobe and toilet. During the fir t 
 year of his acquaintance with these lovely girls the tell t.l 
 
 nve lull suits, beside separate articles of dress. Amonc the 
 Items we find a green half^trimmed frock and breeches^ined 
 
 ^oni:i!^'^7rol,^T^^^^^^^ M.eniser, on the 
 
 " vSnwri^ Angelica, with matchless grace, 
 Paints Conway's burly form and Stanhope's face- 
 Our hearts to beauty willing homage pay ' 
 
 £ l?''^,^^??/'"^' ^"^ ^a^e our soSls away t 
 But when the likeness she hath done for thee' 
 O Reynolds! with astonishment we see ' 
 
 Forced to submit, with all our pride we' own 
 Such strength, such harmony excelled by none 
 And thou art rivalled by thyself alone.'' ' 
 
156 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 
 
 with silk ; a queen's blue dress suit ; a half-dress suit of rat- 
 teen, lined with satin ; a pair of silk stocking breeches, and 
 another pair of a bloom color. Alas ! poor Goldsmith ! how 
 much of this silken finery was dictated, not by vanity, but 
 humble consciousness of thy defects j how much of it was to 
 atone for the uncouthness of thy person, and to win favor in the 
 eyes of the Jessamy Bride ! 
 
 CHAPTER XXVI 
 
 Goldsmith in the Temple— Judge Day and Grattan — Labor and dissi- 
 pation — Publication of the Roman History — Opinions of it — His- 
 tory of Animated Nature — Temple rookery — Anecdotes of a spider 
 
 In the winter of 1768-69 Goldsmith occupied himself at his 
 quarters in the Temple, slowly " building up " his " Roman His- 
 tory." We have pleasant views of him in this learned and half- 
 cloistered retreat of wits and lawyers and legal students, in 
 the reminiscences of Judge Day of the Irish Bench, who in his 
 advanced age delighted to recall the days of his youth, when 
 he was a templar, and to speak of the kindness with which he 
 and his fellow-student, Grattan, were treated by the poet. " I 
 was just arrived from college," said he, " full freighted with 
 academic gleanings, and our author did not disdain to receive 
 from me some opinions and hints towards his Greek and Roman 
 histories. Being then a young man, I felt much flattered by 
 the notice of so celebrated a person. He took great delight in 
 the conversation of Grattan, whose brilliancy in the morning 
 of life furnished full earnest of the unrivalled splendor which 
 awaited his meridian ; and finding us dwelling together in 
 Essex Court, near himself, where he frequently visited my 
 immortal friend, his warm heart became naturally prepossessed 
 towards the associate of one whom he so much admired." 
 
 The judge goes on, in his reminiscences, to give a picture of 
 Goldsmith's social habits, similar in style to those already 
 furnished. He frequented much the Grecian Coifee-House, 
 then the favorite resort of the Irish and Lancashire Templars. 
 He delighted in collecting his friends around him at evening 
 parties at his chambers, where he entertained them with a cor- 
 
OLIVEK GOLDSMITH 157 
 
 dial and unostentatious hospitality. " Occasionally," adds the 
 judge, "he amused them with his flute, or with whist, neither 
 of which he played well, particularly the latter, but, on losing 
 his money, he never lost his temper. In a run of bad luck and 
 worse play, he would fling his cards upon the floor and exclaim, 
 ' Byefore George, I ought for ever to renounce thee, fickle, 
 faithless fortune.' " 
 
 The judge was aware, at the time, that all the learned labor 
 of poor Goldsmith upon his " Roman History " was mere hack 
 work* to recruit his exhausted finances. "His purse replen- 
 ished," adds he, "by labors of this kind, the season of relaxa- 
 tion and pleasure took its turn, in attending the theatres, 
 Ranelagh, Vauxhall, and other scenes of gayety and amuse- 
 ment. Whenever his funds were dissipated — and they fled 
 more rapidly from being the dupe of many artful persons, male 
 and female, who practised upon his benevolence — he returned 
 to his literary labors, and shut himself up from society to 
 provide fresh matter for his bookseller, and fresh supplies for 
 himself." 
 
 How completely had the young student discerned the charac- 
 teristics of poor, genial, generous, drudging, holiday-loving Gold- 
 smith ; toiling, that he might play ; earning his bread by the 
 sweat of his brains, and then throwing it out of the window. 
 
 The " Roman History " was published in the middle of May, 
 in two volumes of five hundred pages each. It was brought 
 out without parade or pretension, and was announced as for 
 the use of schools and colleges ; but, though a work written for 
 bread, not fame, such is its ease, perspicuity, good sense, and 
 the delightful simplicity of its style, that it was well received 
 by the critics, commanded a prompt and extensive sale, and 
 has ever since remained in the hands of young and old. 
 
 Johnson, who, as we have before remarked, rarely praised or 
 dispraised things by halves, broke forth in a warm eulogy of 
 the author and the work, in a conversation with Boswell, to 
 the great astonishment of the latter. " Whether we take Gold- 
 smith," said he, " as a poet, as a comic writer, or as an histo- 
 rian, he stands in the first class." Boswell. — " An historian ! 
 My dear sir, you surely will not rank his compilation of the 
 ' Roman History ' with the works of other historians of this 
 
158 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 
 
 age." Johnson. — " Why, who are before him ? " Boswell. 
 — ■ " Hume — Robertson — Lord Lyttelton." Johnson (his 
 antipathy against the Scotch beginning to rise). — "I have 
 not read Hume ; but doubtless Goldsmith's history is better 
 than the verbiage of Robertson, or the foppery of Dalrymple." 
 Boswell. — "Will you not admit the superiority of Robertson, 
 in whose history we find such penetration, such painting 1 " 
 Johnson. — " Sir, you must consider how that penetration and 
 that painting are employed. It is not history, it is imagina- 
 tion. He who describes what he never saw, draws from fancy. 
 Roberston paints minds as Sir Joshua paints faces, in a history- 
 piece ; he imagines an heroic countenance. You must look 
 upon Robertson's work as romance, and try it by that stand- 
 ard. History it is not. Besides, sir, it is the great excellence 
 of a writer to put into his book as much as his book will hold. 
 Goldsmith has done this in his history. Now Robertson might 
 have put twice as much in his book. Robertson is like a man 
 who has packed gold in wool ; the wool takes up more room 
 than the gold. No, sir, I always thought Robertson would be 
 crushed with his own weight — would be buried under his own 
 ornaments. Goldsmith tells you shortly all you want to know; 
 Robertson detains you a great deal too long. No man will 
 read Robertson's cumbrous detail a second time ; but Gold- 
 smith's plain narrative will please again and again. I would 
 say to Robertson what an old tutor of a college said to one of 
 his pupils, ' Read over your compositions, and, whenever you 
 meet with a passage which you think is particularly fine, 
 strike it out ! ' Goldsmith's abridgment is better than that of 
 Lucius Florus or Eutropius ; and I will venture to say, that if 
 you compare him with Vertot in the same places of the ' Roman 
 History,' you will find that he excels Vertot. Sir, he has the 
 art of compiling, and of saying every thing he has to say in a 
 pleasing manner. He is now writing a natural history, and 
 will make it as entertaining as a Persian tale." 
 
 The natural history to which Johnson alluded was the " His- 
 tory of Animated Nature," which Goldsmith commenced in 
 1769, under an engagement with Grifiin, the bookseller, to 
 complete it as soon as possible in eight volumes, each contain- 
 ing upwards of four hundred pages, in pica ; a hundred guineas 
 
OLIVER GOLDSMITH 159 
 
 to be paid to the author on the delivery of each volume in 
 manuscript. 
 
 He was induced to engage in this work by the urgent solici- 
 tations of the booksellers, who had been struck by the sterling 
 merits and captivating style of an introduction which he wrote 
 to Brookes's " Natural History." It was Goldsmith's intention 
 originally to make a translation of Pliny, with a popular com- 
 mentary ; but the appearance of Buffon's work induced him to 
 change his plan, and make use of that author for a guide and 
 model. 
 
 Cumberland, speaking of this work, observes : " Distress 
 drove Goldsmith upon undertakings neither congenial with his 
 studies nor worthy of his talents. I remember him when, in 
 his chambers in the Temple, he showed me the beginning of his 
 ' Animated Nature ' ; it was with a sigh, such as genius draws 
 when hard necessity diverts it from its bent to drudge for 
 bread, and talk of birds, and beasts, and creeping things, which 
 Pidock's showman would have done as well. Poor fellow, he 
 hardly knows an ass from a mule, nor a turkey from a goose, 
 but when he sees it on the table." 
 
 Others of Goldsmith's friends entertained similar ideas with 
 respect to his fitness for the task, and they were apt now and 
 then to banter him on the subject, and to amuse themselves 
 with his easy credulity. The custom among the natives of 
 Otaheite of eating dogs being once mentioned in company. Gold- 
 smith observed that a similar custom prevailed in China ; that 
 a dog-butcher is as common there as any other butcher ; and 
 that, when he walks abroad, all the dogs fall on him. Johnson. 
 — *' That is not owing to his killing dogs ; sir, I remember a 
 butcher at Litchfield, whom a dog that was in the house where 
 I lived always attacked. It is the smell of carnage which 
 provokes this, let the animals he has killed be what they may." 
 Goldsmith. — " Yes, there is a general abhorrence in animals 
 at the signs of massacre. If you put a tub full of blood into 
 a stable, the horses are likely to go mad." Johnson. — "I 
 doubt that." Gol<lsmith. — " Nay, sir, it is a fact well au- 
 thenticated." Thrale. — " You had better prove it before you 
 put it into your book on natural history. You may do it in 
 my stable if you will." Johnson. — "Nay, sir, I would not 
 
160 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 
 
 have him prove it. If he is content to take his information 
 from others, he may get through his book with little trouble, 
 and without much endangering his reputation. But if he 
 makes experiments for so comprehensive a book as his, there 
 would be no end to them ; his erroneous assertions would fall 
 then upon himself; and he might be blamed for not having 
 made experiments as to every particular." 
 
 Johnson's original prediction, however, with respect to this 
 work, that Goldsmith would make it as entertaining as a 
 Persian tale, was verified ; and though much of it was borrowed 
 from Buffon, and but little of it written from his own observa- 
 tion ; though it was by no means profound, and was chargeable 
 with many errors, yet the charms of his style and the play of 
 his happy disposition throughout have continued to render it 
 far more popular and readable than many works on the subject 
 of much greater scope and science. Cumberland was mistaken, 
 however, in his notion of Goldsmith's ignorance and lack of 
 observation as to the characteristics of animals. On the 
 contrary, he was a minute and shrewd observer of them ; but 
 he observed them with the eye of a poet and moralist as well 
 as a naturalist. We quote two passages from his works illus- 
 trative of this fact, and we do so the more readily because they 
 are in a manner a part of his history, and give us another peep 
 into his private life in the Temple ; of his mode of occupying 
 himself in his lonely and apparently idle moments, and of 
 another class of acquaintances which he made there. 
 
 Speaking in his " Animated Nature " of the habitudes of 
 rooks, " I have often amused myself," says he, " with observing 
 their plans of policy from my window in the Temple, that 
 looks upon a grove, where they have made a colony in the 
 midst of a city. At the commencement of spring the rookery, 
 which, during the continuance of winter, seemed to have 
 been deserted, or only guarded by about five or six, like old 
 soldiers in a garrison, now begins to be once more frequented ; 
 and in a short time, all the bustle and hurry of business will 
 be fairly commenced." 
 
 The other passage which we take the liberty to quote at 
 some length, is from an admirable paper in the " Bee," and 
 relates to the house spider. 
 
OLIVER GOLDSMITH 161 
 
 " Of all the solitary insects I have ever remarked, the 
 spider is the most sagacious, and its motions to me, who have 
 attentively considered them, seem almost to exceed belief. . . . 
 I perceived, about four years ago, a large spider in one comer 
 of my room making its web ; and, though the maid frequently 
 levelled her broom against the labors of the little animal, I had 
 the good fortune then to prevent its destruction, and I may say 
 it more than paid me by the entertainment it afforded. 
 
 " In three days the web was, with incredible diligence, 
 completed ; nor could I avoid thinking that the insect seemed 
 to*exult in its new abode. It frequently traversed it round, 
 examined the strength of every part of it, retired into its hole, 
 and came out very frequently. The first enemy, however, it 
 had to encounter was another and a much larger spider, which, 
 having no web of its own, and having probably exhausted all 
 its stock in former labors of this kind, came to invade the 
 property of its neighbor. Soon, then, a terrible encounter en- 
 sued, in which the invader seemed to have the victory, and the 
 laborious spider was obliged to take refuge in its hole. Upon 
 this I perceived the victor using every art to draw the enemy 
 from its stronghold. He seemed to go off, but quickly re- 
 turned ; and when he found all arts in vain, began to demolish 
 the new web without mercy. This brought on another battle, 
 and, contrary to my expectations, the laborious spider became 
 conqueror, and fairly killed his antagonist. 
 
 " Now, then, in peaceable possession of what was justly 
 its own, it waited three days with the utmost impatience, 
 repairing the breaches of its web, and taking no sustenance 
 that I could perceive. At last, however, a large blue fly fell 
 into the snare, and struggled hard to get loose. Tlie spider 
 gave it leave to entangle itself as much as possible, but it 
 seemed to be too strong for the cobweb. I must own I was 
 greatly surprised when I saw the spider immediately sally out, 
 and in less than a minute weave a new net round its captive, 
 by which the motion of its wings was stopped ; and, when it 
 was fairly hampered in this manner, it was seized and dragged 
 into the hole. 
 
 " In this manner it lived, in a precarious state ; and nature 
 seemed to have fitted it for such a life, for upon a single fl.y it 
 
162 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 
 
 subsisted for more than a week. I once put a wasp into the 
 net ; but when the spider came out in order to seize it as 
 usual, upon perceiving what kind of an enemy it had to deal 
 with, it instantly broke all the bands that held it fast, and 
 contributed all that lay in its power to disengage so formidable 
 an antagonist. When the wasp was set at liberty, I expected 
 the spider would have set about repairing the breaches that 
 were made in its net ; but those, it seems, were irreparable : 
 wherefore the cobweb was now entirely forsaken, and a new 
 one begun, which was completed in the usual time. 
 
 " I had now a mind to try how many cobwebs a single spider 
 could furnish ; wherefore I destroyed this, and the insect set 
 about another. When I destroyed the other also, its whole 
 stock seemed entirely exhausted, and it could spin no more. 
 The arts it made use of to support itself, now deprived of its 
 great means of subsistence, were indeed surprising. I have 
 seen it roll up its legs like a ball, and lie motionless for hours 
 together, but cautiously watching all the time : when a fly 
 happened to approach sufficiently near, it would dart out all at 
 once, and often seize its prey. 
 
 " Of this life, however, it soon began to grow weary, and 
 resolved to invade the possession of some other spider, since it 
 could not make a web of its own. It formed an attack upon a 
 neighboring fortification with great vigor, and at first was as 
 vigorously repulsed. Not daunted, however, with one defeat, 
 in this manner it continued to lay siege to another's web for 
 three days, and at length, having killed the defendant, actually 
 took possession. When smaller flies happen to fall into the 
 snare, the spider does not sally out at once, but very patiently 
 waits till it is sure of them ; for, upon his immediately 
 approaching, the terror of his appearance might give the cap- 
 tive strength suflicient to get loose ; the manner, then, is to 
 wait patiently, till, by ineffectual and impotent struggles, the 
 captive has wasted all its strength, and then he becomes a 
 certain and easy conquest. 
 
 " The insect I am now describing lived three years ; every 
 year it changed its skin and got a new set of legs. I have 
 sometimes plucked off a leg, which grew again in two or three 
 days. At first it dreaded my approach to its web, but at last 
 
OLIVER GOLDSMITH 163 
 
 it became so familiar as to take a fly out of my hand ; and, 
 upon my touching any part of the web, would immediately 
 leave its hole, prepared either for a defence or an attack." ^ 
 
 CHAPTER XXVII 
 
 Honors at the Royal Academy — Letter to his brother Maurice — 
 Family fortunes — Jane Contarine and the miniature — Portraits 
 and engravings — School associations — Johnson and Goldsmith in 
 Westminster Abbey 
 
 The latter part of the year 1768 had been made memorable 
 in the world of taste by the institution of the Royal Academy 
 of Arts, under the patronage of the King, and the direction of 
 forty of the most distinguished artists, Reynolds, who had 
 been mainly instrumental in founding it, had been unanimously 
 elected president, and had thereupon received the honor of 
 knighthood.^ Johnson was so delighted with his friend's 
 elevation, that he broke through a rule of total abstinence with 
 respect to wine, which he had maintained for several years, and 
 drank bumpers on the occasion. Sir Joshua eagerly sought to 
 associate his old and valued friends with him in his new honors, 
 and it is supposed to be through his suggestions tliat, on the 
 first establishment of professorships, which took place in De- 
 cember, 1769, Johnson was nominated to that of Ancient 
 Literature, and Goldsmith to that of History. They were 
 mere honorary titles, without emolument, but gave distinction, 
 from the noble institution to which they appertained. They 
 also gave the possessors honorable places at the annual banquet, 
 at which were assembled many of the most distinguished per- 
 sons of rank and talent, all proud to be classed among the 
 patrons of the arts. 
 
 The following letter of Goldsmith to his brother alludes to 
 the foregoing appointment, and to a small legacy bequeathed to 
 him by his uncle Contarine, 
 
 1 The Bee, No. iv. 
 
 2 We must apologize for the anachronism we have permitted our- 
 selves in the course of this memoir, in speaking of Reynolds as Sir 
 Joshua, when treating of circumstances which occurred prior to his 
 being dubbed; but it is so customary to speak of him by that title, 
 that we found it difticult to dispense with it. 
 
164 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 
 
 " To Mr. Maurice Goldsmith, at James Lawder's, Usq., at 
 Kilmore, near Carrich-on- Shannon. 
 
 "January, 1770. 
 
 "Dear Brother, — I should have answered your letter 
 sooner, but, in truth, I am not fond of thinking of the neces- 
 sities of those I love, when it is so very little in my power to 
 help them. I am sorry to find you are every way unprovided 
 for ; and what adds to my uneasiness is, that I have received a 
 letter from my sister Johnson, by which I learn that she is 
 pretty much in the same circumstances. As to myself, I believe 
 I could get both you and my poor brother-in-law something like 
 that which you desire, but I am determined never to ask for 
 little things, nor exhaust any little interest I may have, until 
 I can serve you, him, and myself more effectually. As yet, no 
 opportunity has offered ; but I believe you are pretty well con- 
 vinced that I will not be remiss when it arrives. 
 
 " The king has lately been pleased to make me professor of 
 Ancient History in the Royal Academy of Painting which he 
 has just established, but there is no salary annexed ; and I took 
 it rather as a compliment to the institution than any benefit to 
 myself. Honors to one in my situation are something like 
 ruffles to one that wants a shirt. 
 
 "You tell me that there are fourteen or fifteen pounds left 
 me in the hands of my cousin Lawder, and you ask me what I 
 would have done with them. My dear brother, I would by no 
 means give any directions to my dear worthy relations at Kilmore 
 how to dispose of money which is, properly speaking, more theirs 
 than mine. All that I can say is, that I entirely, and this letter 
 will serve to witness, give up any right and title to it ; and I 
 am sure they will dispose of it to the best advantage. To them 
 I entirely leave it ; whether they or you may think the whole 
 necessary to fit you out, or whether our poor sister Johnson may 
 not want the half, I leave entirely to their and your discretion. 
 The kindness of that good couple to our shattered family de- 
 mands our sincerest gratitude ; and, though they have almost 
 forgotten me, yet, if good things at last arrive, I hope one day 
 to return and increase their good-humor by adding to my own. 
 
 " I have sent my cousin Jenny a miniature picture of myself, 
 
OLIVER GOLDSMITH 165 
 
 as I believe it is the most acceptable present I can offer. I 
 have ordered it to be left for her at George Faulkner's, folded in 
 a letter. The face, you well know, is ugly enough, but it is 
 finely painted. I will shortly also send my friends over the 
 Shannon some mezzotinto prints of myself, and some more of 
 my friends here, such as Burke, Johnson, Reynolds, and Gol- 
 man. I believe I have written a hundred letters to ditierent 
 friends in your country, and never received an answer to any of 
 them. I do not know how to accpunt for this, or why they are 
 unwilling to keep up for me those regards which I must ever 
 retain for them. 
 
 " If, then, you have a mind to oblige me, you will write often, 
 whether I answer you or not. Let me particularly have the 
 news of our family and old acquaintances. For instance, you 
 may begin by telling me about the family where you reside, how 
 they spend their time, and whether they ever make mention of 
 me. Tell me about my mother, my brother Hodson and his son, 
 my brother Harry's son and daughter, my sister Johnson, the 
 family of Ballyoughter, what is become of them, where they 
 live, and how they do. You talked of being my only brother : 
 I don't understand you. Where is Charles 1 A sheet of paper 
 occasionally filled with the news of this kind would make me 
 very happy, and would keep you nearer my mind. As it is, my 
 dear brother, believe me to be 
 
 " Yours, most aftectionately, 
 
 "Oliver Goldsmith." 
 
 By this letter we find the Goldsmiths the same shifting, shift- 
 less race as formerly ; a " shattered family," scrambling on each 
 other's back as soon as any rise above the surface. Maurice is 
 " every way unprovided for " ; living upon cousin Jane and her 
 husband; and, perhaps, amusing himself by hunting otter in 
 the river Inny. Sister Johnson and her husband are as poorly 
 off as Maurice, with, perhaps, no one at hand to quarter them- 
 selves upon ; as to the rest, " what is become of them ; where 
 do they live ; how do they do ; w^hat is become of Charles ? " 
 What forlorn, hap-hazard life is implied by these questions ! 
 Can we wonder that, with all the love for his native place, 
 which is shown throughout Goldsmith's writings, he had not 
 
166 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 
 
 the heart to return there? Yet his affections are still there. 
 He wishes to know whether the Lawders (which means his 
 cousin Jane, his early Valentine) ever make mention of him ; 
 he sends Jane his miniature ; he believes "it is the most ac- 
 ceptable present he can offer ; " he evidently, therefore, does 
 not believe she has almost forgotten him, although he intimates 
 that he does : in his memory she is still Jane Contarine, as he 
 last saw her, when he accompanied her harpsichord with his 
 flute. Absence, like death, sets a seal on the image of those 
 we have loved ; we cannot realize the intervening changes which 
 time may have effected. 
 
 As to the rest of Goldsmith's relatives, he abandons his legacy 
 of fifteen pounds, to be shared among them. It is all he has 
 to give. His heedless improvidence is eating up the pay of the 
 booksellers in advance. With all his literary success, he has 
 neither money nor influence ; but he has empty fame, and he is 
 ready to participate with them ; he is honorary professor, with- 
 out pay ; his portrait is to be engraved in mezzotint, in com- 
 pany with those of his friends, Burke, Reynolds, Johnson, Col- 
 man, and others, and he will send prints of them to his friends 
 over the Channel, though they may not have a house to hang 
 them up in. What a motley letter ! How indicative of the 
 motley character of the writer ! By the by, the publication of 
 a splendid mezzotinto engraving of his likeness by Reynolds, 
 was a great matter of glorification to Goldsmith, especially as 
 it appeared in such illustrious company. As he was one day 
 walking the streets in a state of high elation, from having just 
 seen it figuring in the print-shop windows, he met a young 
 gentleman with a newly married wife hanging on his arm, whom 
 he immediately recognized for Master Bishop, one of the boys 
 he had petted and treated with sweetmeats when a humble 
 usher at Milner's school. The kindly feelings of old times re- 
 vived, and he accosted him with cordial familiarity, though the 
 youth may have found some difficulty in recognizing in the per- 
 sonage, arrayed, perhaps, in garments of Tyrian dye, the dingy 
 pedagogue of the Milners. " Come, my boy," cried Goldsmith, 
 as if still speaking to a schoolboy, " come, Sam, I am delighted 
 to see you. I must treat you to something — what shall it be 1 
 Will you have some apples?" glancing at an old woman's stall; 
 
OLIVER GOLDSMITH 167 
 
 then, recollecting the print-shop window : "Sam," said he, "have 
 you seen my picture by Sir Joshua Reynolds ? Have you seen 
 it, Sam ? Have you got an engraving ? " Bishop was caught ; 
 he equivocated ; he had not yet bought it ; but he was furnish- 
 ing his house, and had fixed upon the place where it was to be 
 hung. " Ah, Sam ! " rejoined Groldsmith reproachfully, " if your 
 picture had been published, I should not have waited an hour 
 without having it." 
 
 After all, it was honest pride, not vanity, in Goldsmith, 
 that was gratified at seeing his portrait deemed worthy of 
 bqing perpetuated by the classic pencil of Reynolds, and " hung 
 up in history " beside that of his revered friend, Johnson. 
 Even the great moralist himself was not insensible to a feeling 
 of this kind. Walking one day with Goldsmith, in Westmin- 
 ster Abbey, among the tombs of monarchs, warriors, and states- 
 men, they came to the sculptured mementos of literary worthies 
 in poets' corner. Casting his eye round upon these memorials 
 of genius, Johnson muttered in a low tone to his companion, 
 
 " Forsitan et nostrum nomen miscebitur istis." 
 
 Goldsmith treasured up the intimated hope, and shortly after- 
 wards, as they were passing by Temple-bar, where the heads 
 of Jacobite rebels, executed for treason, were mouldering aloft 
 on spikes, pointed up to the grizzly mementos, and echoed the 
 intimation, 
 
 " Forsitan et nostrum nomen miscebitur istis.'' ^ 
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII 
 
 Publication of the Deserted Village ; notices and illustrations of it 
 
 Several years had now elapsed since the publication of 
 " The Traveller," and much wonder was expressed that the 
 great success of that poem had not excited the author to fur- 
 ther poetic attempts. On being questioned at the annual din- 
 ner of the Royal Academy by the Earl of Lisburn, why he 
 neglected the Muses to compile histories and write novels, "My 
 
168 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 
 
 Lord," replied he, " by courting the Muses I shall starve, but 
 by my other labors I eat, drink, have good clothes, and can 
 enjoy the luxuries of life." So, also, on being asked by a poor 
 writer what was the most profitable mode of exercising the pen, 
 "My dear fellow," replied he, good-humoredly, "pay no regard 
 to the draggle-tailed Muses ; for my part I have found produc- 
 tions in prose much more sought after and better paid for." 
 
 Still, however, as we have heretofore shown, he found sweet 
 moments of dalliance to steal away from his prosaic toils, and 
 court the Muse among the green lanes and hedge-rows in the 
 rural environs of London, and on the 26th of May, 1770, he 
 was enabled to bring his " Deserted Village " before the public. 
 
 The popularity of " The Traveller " had prepared the way for 
 this poem, and its sale was instantaneous and immense. The 
 first edition was immediately exhausted ; in a few days a second 
 was issued; in a few days more a third, and by the 16th of 
 August the fifth edition was hurried through the press. As is 
 the case with popular writers, he had become his own rival, 
 and critics were inclined to give the preference to his first 
 poem ; but with the public at large we believe the " Deserted 
 Village " has ever been the greatest favorite. Previous to its 
 publication the bookseller gave him in advance a note for the 
 price agreed upon, one hundred guineas. As the latter was 
 returning home he met a friend to whom he mentioned the cir- 
 cumstance, and who apparently judging of poetry by quantity 
 rather than quality, observed that it was a great sum for so 
 small a poem. "In truth," said Goldsmith, "I think so too; 
 it is much more than the honest man can afford or the piece is 
 worth. I have not been easy since I received it." In fact, he 
 actually returned the note to the bookseller, and left it to him 
 to graduate the payment according to the success of the work. 
 The bookseller, as may well be supposed, soon repaid him in 
 full with many acknowledgments of his disinterestedness. This 
 anecdote has been called in question, we know not on what 
 grounds ; we see nothing in it incompatible with the character 
 of Goldsmith, who was very impulsive, and prone to acts of 
 inconsiderate generosity. 
 
 As we do not pretend in this siunmary memoir to go into a 
 criticism or analysis of any of Goldsmith's writings, we shall 
 
OLIVER GOLDSMITH 169 
 
 not dwell upon the peculiar merits of this poem ; we cannot 
 help noticing, however, how truly it is a mirror of the author's 
 heart and of all the fond pictures of early friends and early life 
 for ever present there. It seems to us as if the very last 
 accounts received from home, of his "shattered family," and 
 the desolation that seemed to have settled upon the haunts of 
 his childhood, had cut to the roots one feebly cherished hope, 
 and produced the following exquisitely tender and mournful 
 lines : 
 
 " In all my wand'rings round this world of care, 
 In all my griefs — and (iod has giv'n my share — 
 I still had hopes my latest hours to crown, 
 Amid these humble bowers to lay me down ; 
 To husband out life's taper at the close, 
 And keep the flame from wasting by repose ; 
 I still had hopes, for pride attends us still, 
 Amid the swains to show my book-learn'd skill, 
 Around my fire an ev'ning group to draw, 
 And tell of all I felt and all I saw ; 
 And as a hare, whom hounds and horns pursue, 
 Pants to the place from whence at first she flew ; 
 I still had hopes, my long vexations past, 
 Here to return — and die at home at last.'''' 
 
 How touchingly expressive are the succeeding lines, wrung 
 from a heart which all the trials and temptations and buft'etings 
 of the world could not render worldly ; which, amid a thousand 
 follies and errors of the head, still retained its childlike inno- 
 cence ; and which, doomed to struggle on to the last amidst 
 the din and turmoil of the metropolis, had ever been cheating 
 itself with a dream of rural quiet and seclusion : 
 
 *' Oh bless'd retirement ! friend to life's decline, 
 Retreats from care, that never must he mine. 
 How blest is he who crowns, in shades like these, 
 A youth of labor with an age of ease ; 
 Who quits a world where strong temptations try, 
 And, since 'tis hard to combat, learns to fly 1 
 For him no wretches, born to work and weep, 
 Explore the mine, or tempt the dangerous deep ; 
 Nor surly porter stands, in guilty state, 
 To spurn imploring famine from the gate ; 
 But on he moves to meet his latter end. 
 Angels around befriending virtue's friend ; 
 
170 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 
 
 Sinks to the grave with unperceived decay, 
 While resignation gently slopes the way ; 
 And all his prospects brightening to the last, 
 His heaven commences ere the world be past." 
 
 ISiOTE 
 
 The following article, which appeared in a London periodical, 
 shows the effect of Goldsmith's poem in renovating the fortunes 
 of Lissoy. , 
 
 " About three miles from Ballymahon, a very central town 
 in the sister kingdom, is the mansion and village of Auburn, so 
 called by their present possessor, Captain Hogan. Through 
 the taste and improvement of this gentleman, it is now a 
 beautiful spot, although fifteen years since it presented a very 
 bare and unpoetical aspect. This, however, was owing to 
 a cause which serves strongly to corroborate the assertion, that 
 Goldsmith had this scene in view when he wrote his poem of 
 ' The Deserted Village.' The then possessor. General Napier, 
 turned all his tenants out of their farms that he might inclose 
 them in his own private domain. Littleton, the mansion of the 
 general, stands not far off, a complete emblem of the desolating 
 spirit lamented by the poet, dilapidated and converted into a 
 barrack. 
 
 " The chief object of attraction is Lissoy, once the parsonage 
 house of Henry Goldsmith, that brother to whom the poet 
 dedicated his ' Traveller,' and who is represented as the village 
 pastor, 
 
 " ' Passing rich with forty pounds a year.' 
 
 " When I was in the country, the lower chambers were in- 
 habited by pigs and sheep, and the drawing-rooms by oats. 
 Captain Hogan, however, has, I believe, got it since into his 
 possession, and has, of course, improved its condition. 
 
 " Though at first strongly inclined to dispute the identity of 
 Auburn, Lissoy House overcame my scruples. As I clambered 
 over the rotten gate, and crossed the grass-grown lawn or court, 
 the tide of association became too strong for casuistry : here the 
 poet dwelt and wrote, and here his thoughts fondly recurred 
 
OLIVER GOLDSMITH 171 
 
 when composing his ' Traveller ' in a foreign land. Yonder was 
 the decent church, that literally ' topped the neighboring hill.' 
 Before me lay the little hill of Knockrue, on which he declares, 
 in one of his letters, he ha<l rather sit with a book in hand than 
 mingle in the proudest assemblies. And, above all, startlingly 
 true, beneath my feet was 
 
 " ' Yonder copse, where once the garden smiled, 
 
 And still where many a garden-flower grows wild.' 
 
 " A painting from the life could not be more exact. ' The 
 stubborn currant-bush ' lifts its head above the rank grass, and 
 the proud hollyhock flaunts where its sisters of the flower-knot 
 are no more. 
 
 " In the middle of the village stands the old ' hawthorn-tree,' 
 built up with masonry to distinguish and preserve it ; it is old 
 and stunted, and suffers much from the depredations of post- 
 chaise travellers, who generally stop to procure a twig. Oppo- 
 site to it is the village alehouse, over the door of which swings 
 ' The Three Jolly Pigeons.' Within every thing is arranged 
 according to the letter : 
 
 " ' The whitewash'd wall, the nicely-sanded floor, 
 The varnish 'd clock that click'd behind the door : 
 The chest, contrived a double debt to pay, 
 A bed by night, a chest of drawers by day ; 
 The pictures placed for ornament and use, 
 The twelve good rules, the royal game of goose.' 
 
 " Captain Hogan, I have heard, found great difficulty in ob- 
 taining ' the twelve good rules,' but at length purchased them 
 at some London bookstall to adorn the whitewashed parlor of 
 'The Three Jolly Pigeons.' However laudable this may be, 
 nothing shook my faith in the reality of Auburn so much as 
 this exactness, which had the disagreeable air of being got up 
 for the occasion. The last object of pilgrimage is the quondam 
 habitation of the schoolmaster, 
 
 " ' There, in his noisy mansion, skill'd to rule.' 
 
 It is surrounded with fragrant proofs of identity in 
 
 " ' The blossom'd furze, unprofitably gay.' 
 
172 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 
 
 There is to be seen the chair of the poet, which fell into the 
 hands of its present possessors at the wreck of the parsonage- 
 house ; they have frequently refused large offers of purchase ; 
 but more, I dare say, for the sake of drawing contributions from 
 the curious than from any reverence for the bard. The chair is 
 of oak, with back and seat of cane, which precluded all hopes 
 of a secret drawer, like that lately discovered in Gay's. There 
 is no fear of its being worn out by the devout earnestness of 
 sitters — as the cocks and hens have usurped undisputed pos- 
 session of it, and protest most clamorously against all attempts 
 to get it cleansed or to seat one's self. 
 
 " The controversy concerning the identity of this Auburn was 
 formerly a standing theme of discussion among the learned of 
 the neighborhood ; but, since the pros and cons have been all 
 ascertained, the argument has died away. Its abettors plead 
 the singular agreement between the local history of the place 
 and the Auburn of the poem, and the exactness with which the 
 scenery of the one answers to the description of the other. To 
 this is opposed the mention of the nightingale, 
 
 " ' And fill'd each pause the nightingale had made' ; 
 
 there being no such bird in the island. The objection is 
 slighted, on the other hand, by considering the passage as a 
 mere poetical license. ' Besides,' say they, ' the robin is the 
 Irish nightingale.' And if it be hinted how unlikely it was 
 that Goldsmith should have laid the scene in a place from 
 which he was and had been so long absent, the rejoinder is 
 always, * Pray, sir, was Milton in hell when he built Pande- 
 monium 'i ' 
 
 " The line is naturally drawn between ; there can be no doubt 
 that the poet intended England by 
 
 " ' The land to hast'ning ills a prey, 
 Where wealth accumulates and men decay.' 
 
 But it is very natural to suppose that, at the same time, his 
 imagination had in view the scenes of his youth, which give 
 such strong features of resemblance to the picture." 
 
OLIVER GOLDSMITH 173 
 
 Best, an Irish clergyman, told Davis, the traveller in America, 
 that the hawthorn-bush mentioned in the poem was still remark- 
 ably large. " I was riding once," said he, " with Brady, titu- 
 lar Bishop of Ardagh, when he observed to me, ' Ma foy, Best, 
 this huge overgrown bush is mightily in the way. I will order 
 it to be cut down.' — 'What, sir!' replied I, 'cut down the 
 bush that supplies so beautiful an image in the " Deserted 
 Village " ? ' — ' Ma foy ' ' exclaimed the bishop, ' is that the haw- 
 thorn-bush? Then let it be sacred from the edge of the axe, 
 and evil be to him that should cut off a branch.' " — The haw- 
 thorn-bush, however, has long since been cut up, root and 
 bralich, in furnishing relics to literary pilgrims. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIX 
 
 The Poet among the ladies; description of his person and manners — 
 Expedition to Paris with the Horneek family — The traveller of 
 twenty and the traveller of forty — Hickey, the special attorney — 
 An unlucky exploit 
 
 The " Deserted Village " had shed an additional poetic grace 
 round the homely person of the author ; he was becoming more 
 and more acceptable in ladies' eyes, and finding himself more 
 and more at ease in their society ; at least in the society of 
 those whom he met in the Reynolds circle, among whom he par- 
 ticularly affected the beautiful family of the Hornecks. 
 
 But let us see what were really the looks and manners of 
 Goldsmith about this time, and what right he had to aspire to 
 ladies' smiles ; and in so doing let us not take the sketches of 
 Boswell and his compeers, who had a propensity to represent 
 him in caricature ; but let us take the apparently truthful and 
 discriminating picture of him as he appeared to Judge Day, 
 when the latter was a student in the Temple. 
 
 "In person," says the judge, "he was short ; about five feet 
 five or six inches ; strong, but not heavy in make ; rather fair in 
 (complexion, with brown hair ; such, at least, as could be dis- 
 tinguished from his wig. His features were plain, but not 
 repulsive, — certainly not so when lighted up by conversation. 
 His manners were simple, natural, and perhaps on the whole, 
 
174 OIJVER (iOLUSMI'lil 
 
 WO may say, not poliBhod ; ^t least without the refinement and 
 ITixni lircodiii^ wliich the ex(|uiHite poh'nh of PiIh ooiripoHitioiiH 
 would lead iiH to (ixpeet. Jle was always clieerf'ul and aiii- 
 mntitd, often, indeed, boisterous in liis mirth ; entered with spirit 
 into (convivial Ho(;i<!ty ; contributed lar/jfeJy to its cnjoynients by 
 sohdity of iiiloniiatiou, and the naivetu and originality of his 
 ehiiracter ; tidiied often without premeditation, and laughed 
 loudly without r<'Ktraint." 
 
 Tiiis, it will be r(!(!olleet(!d, re})r(!Hents him as he appeared to 
 a young Templar, wlio j)robably saw liim only in Temple cof- 
 fe(5-Jious(!S, at studcints' ()uarterK, or at th(! jovial supper parties 
 given at the poet's own ehambeis ; here, of course, his mind was 
 in its rough (Iress ; his laugh may have been loud and his mirth 
 l)oiHt(u-ouH ; but we trust all th('-s(; matters ])e(;ame softcincd and 
 modified when he found himself in polite drawing-rooms and in 
 iemaht society. 
 
 Hut wiiat s;iy the ladi(^H tliemsclves of him ; and here, fortu- 
 nately, we have anothcir sketch of him, as he appeared at the 
 time to one of the Horneek circle ; in fact, we believe, to the 
 JcMsamy Hridc herself. Alter julniitting, apparently, with some 
 relu(!tanc(!, that " he was a very plain man," she goes on to say, 
 *' but had he been much more so, it was impossible not to love 
 and respect his goodness of h(!art, which l)roke out on every 
 occasion. His benevolence was un({uestionable, and htn coun- 
 taminre hore every trace of it : no one tiiat knew him intimately 
 could avoid admiring and loving his good <|ualitics." When to 
 all tliis we add the idcia of intellectual delicacy and nilinement 
 associated with him l)y his poetry and the newly-plucked bays 
 that wen^ flourishing round his ])row, W(! cannot be surprised 
 that line and fashionable ladies shouhl be proud of his atten- 
 tions, and that oven a young beauty should not be altogetluT 
 diMphiiised with the thoughts of having a man of his genius in 
 her (thains. 
 
 Wo are led to indidge souMi notions of the kind iVom linding 
 him in the month of duly, but a lew W(M'Ics alt(!r the publica- 
 tion of the " J)esert(5d Village," scitting olf on a six weeks' excur- 
 sion to Paris, in company with Mrs. Horneek and her two 
 bcjiutifid daughters. A djiy or two lud'on; his d(!parture, we 
 lind Jinotlicr new i^ala suit ehiU'L^id to him on the books of JVIr. 
 
OLIVER GOLDSMITH 175 
 
 William Filby. Were the bright eyes of the Jessamy Bride 
 responsible for this additional extravagance of wardrobe 1 Gold- 
 smith had recently been editing the works of Parnell ; had he 
 taken courage from the example of Edwin in the " Fairy 
 Tale"? — 
 
 " Yet spite of all that nature did 
 To make his uncouth form forbid, 
 
 This creature dared to love. 
 He felt the force of Edith's eyes, 
 Nor wanted hope to gain the prize 
 Could ladiea look 'within — " 
 
 ^11 this we throw out as mere hints and surmises, leaving it 
 to our readers to draw their own conclusions. It will be found, 
 however, that the poet was subjected to shrewd bantering among 
 his contemporaries about the beautiful Mary Horneck, and that 
 he was extremely sensitive on the subject. 
 
 It was in the month of June that he set out for Paris with 
 his fair companions, and the following letter was written by 
 him to Sir Joshua Reynolds, soon after the party landed at 
 Calais : 
 
 " My dear Friend, 
 
 *' We had a very quick passage from Dover to Calais, which 
 we performed in three hours and twenty minutes, all of us 
 extremely sea-sick, which must necessarily have happened, as 
 my machine to prevent sea-sickness was not completed. We 
 were glad to leave Dover, because we hated to be imposed upon ; 
 so were in high spirits at coming to Calais, where we were told 
 that a little money would go a great way. 
 
 " Upon landing, with two little trunks, which was all we 
 carried with us, we were surprised to see fourteen or fifteen 
 fellows all running down to the ship to lay their hands upon 
 them ; four got under each trunk, the rest surrounded and held 
 the hasps ; and in this manner our little baggage was conducted, 
 with a kind of funeral solemnity, till it was safely lodged at the 
 custom-house. We were well enough pleased with the people's 
 civility till they came to be paid ; every creature that had the 
 happiness of but touching our trunks with their finger expected 
 sixpence ; and they had so pretty and civil a manner of demand- 
 ing it, that there was no refusing them. 
 
176 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 
 
 " When we had done with the porters, we had next to speak 
 with the custom-house officers, who had their pretty civil way 
 too. We were directed to the Hotel d'Angleterre, where a 
 valet-de-place came to offer his service, and spoke to me ten 
 minutes before I once found out that he was speaking English. 
 We had no occasion for his services, so we gave him a little 
 money because he spoke English, and because he wanted it. I 
 cannot help mentioning another circumstance : I bought a new 
 riband for my wig at Canterbury, and the barber at Calais 
 broke it in order to gain sixpence by buying me a new one." 
 
 An incident which occurred in the course of this tour has 
 been tortured by that literary magpie, Boswell, into a proof of 
 Goldsmith's absurd jealousy of any admiration shown to others 
 in his presence. While stopping at a hotel in Lisle, they were 
 drawn to the windows by a military parade in front. The ex- 
 treme beauty of the Miss Hornecks immediately attracted the 
 attention of the officers, who broke forth with enthusiastic 
 speeches and compliments intended for their ears. Goldsmith 
 was amused for a while, but at length affected impatience at 
 this exclusive admiration of his beautiful companions, and 
 exclaimed, with mock severity of aspect, "Elsewhere I also 
 would have my admirers." 
 
 It is difficult to conceive the obtuseness of intellect necessary 
 to misconstrue so obvious a piece of mock petulance and dry 
 humor into an instance of mortified vanity and jealous self-conceit. 
 
 Goldsmith jealous of the admiration of a group of gay officers 
 for the charms of two beautiful young women ! This even out- 
 Boswells Boswell ; yet this is but one of several similar absurdi- 
 ties, evidently misconceptions of Goldsmith's peculiar vein of 
 humor, by which the charge of envious jealousy has been 
 attempted to be fixed upon him. In the present instance 
 it was contradicted by one of the ladies herself, who was 
 annoyed that it had been advanced against him. " I am sure," 
 said she, " from the peculiar manner of his humor, and assumed 
 frown of countenance, what was often uttered in jest was mis- 
 taken, by those who did not know him, for earnest." No one 
 was more prone to err on this point than Boswell. He had a 
 tolerable perception of wit, but none of humor. 
 
OLIVER GOLDSMITH 177 
 
 The following letter to Sir Joshua Reynolds was subsequently- 
 written : 
 
 " To Sir Joshua Reynolds 
 
 "Paris, July 29, (1770.) 
 
 " My dear Friend, — I began a long letter to you from 
 Lisle, giving a description of all that we had done and seen, 
 but, finding it very dull, and knowing that you would show it 
 again, I threw it aside and it was lost. You see by the top of 
 this letter that we are at Paris, and (as I have often heard you 
 say) we have brought our own amusement with us, for the 
 Ig^ies do not seem to be very fond of what we have yet seen. 
 
 " With regard to myself, I find that travelling at twenty 
 and forty are very different things. I set out with all my con- 
 firmed habits about me, and can find nothing on the Continent 
 so good as when I formerly left it. One of our chief amuse- 
 ments here is scolding at every thing we meet with, and prais- 
 ing everything and every person we left at home. You may 
 judge, therefore, whether your name is not frequently bandied 
 at table among us. To tell you the truth, I never thought I 
 could regret your absence so much as our various mortifications 
 on the road have often taught me to do. I could tell you of 
 disasters and adventures without number ; of our lying in barns, 
 and of my being half poisoned with a dish of green peas ; of our 
 quarrelling with postilions, and being cheated by our land- 
 ladies ; but I reserve all this for a happy hour which I expect 
 to share with you upon my return. 
 
 " I have little to tell you more but that we are at present all 
 well, and expect returning when we have stayed out one month, 
 which I did not care if it were over this very day. I long to 
 hear from you all, how you yourself do, how Johnson, Burke, 
 Dyer, Chamier, Colman, and every one of the club do. I wish 
 I could send you some amusement in this letter, but I protest 
 I am so stupefied by the air of this country (for I am sure it 
 cannot be natural) that I have not a word to say. I have been 
 thinking of the plot of a comedy, which shall be entitled ' A 
 Journey to Paris,' in which a family shall be introduced with a 
 full intention of going to France to save money. You know 
 there is not a place in the world more promising for that pur- 
 
178 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 
 
 pose. As for the meat of this country, I can scarce eat it ; 
 and, though we pay two good shillings a head for our dinner, I 
 find it all so tough that I have spent less time with my knife 
 than my picktooth. I said this as a good thing at the table, 
 but it was not understood. I believe it to be a good thing. 
 
 "As for our intended journey to Devonshire, I find it out of 
 my power to perform it ; for, as soon as I arrive at Dover, I in- 
 tend to let the ladies go on, and I will take a country lodging 
 somewhere near that place in order to do some business. I 
 have so outrun the constable that I must mortify a little to 
 bring it up again. For God's sake, the night you receive this, 
 take your pen in your hand and tell me something about your- 
 self and myself, if you know any thing that has happened. 
 About Miss Reynolds, about Mr. Bickerstaff, my nephew, or 
 any body that you regard. I beg you will send to Griffin the 
 bookseller to know if there be any letters left for me, and be so 
 good as to send them to me at Paris. They may perhaps be 
 left for me at the Porter's Lodge, opposite the pump in Temple 
 Lane. The same messenger will do. I expect one from Lord 
 Clare, from Ireland. As for the others, I am not much uneasy 
 about. 
 
 " Is there any thing I can do for you at Paris ? I wish you 
 would tell me. The whole of my own purchases here is one 
 silk coat, which I have put on, and which makes me look like a 
 fool. But no more of that. I find that Colman has gained his 
 lawsuit. I am glad of it. I suppose you often meet. I will 
 soon be among you, better pleased with my situation at home 
 than I ever was before. And yet I must say, that if any thing 
 could make France pleasant, the very good women with whom 
 I am at present would certainly do it. I could say more about 
 that, but I intend showing them the letter before I send it 
 away. What signifies teasing you longer with moral observa- 
 tions, when the business of my writing is over? I have one 
 thing only more to say, and of that I think every hour in the 
 day, namely that I am your most sincere and most affectionate 
 friend, 
 
 "Olivee Goldsmith. 
 
 " Direct to me at the Hotel de Daneraarc, 
 Rue Jacob, Fauxbourg St. Germains." 
 
OLIVER GOLDSMITH 179 
 
 A word of comment on this letter : 
 
 Travelling is, indeed, a very different thing with Goldsmith 
 the poor student at twenty, and Goldsmith the poet and pro- 
 fessor at forty. At twenty, though obliged to trudge on foot 
 from town to town, and country to country, paying for a supper 
 and a bed by a tune on the flute, every thing pleased, every thing 
 was good ; a truckle bed in a garret was a couch of down, and 
 the homely fare of the peasant a feast fit for an epicure. Now, 
 at forty, when he posts through the country in a carriage, with 
 fair ladies by his side, every thing goes wrong : he has to 
 quarrel with postilions, he is cheated by landladies, the hotels 
 jR-e barns, the meat is too tough to be eaten, and he is half 
 poisoned by green peas ! A line in his letter explains the 
 secret : " the ladies do not seem to be very fond of what we 
 have yet seen." " One of our chief amusements is scolding at 
 every thing we meet with, and praising every thing and every 
 person we have left at home ! " the true English travelling 
 amusement. Poor Goldsmith ! he has " all his confirmed 
 habits about him " ; that is to say, he has recently risen into 
 high life, and acquired high-bred notions ; he must be fastidious 
 like his fellow-travellers ; he dare not be pleased with what 
 pleased the vulgar tastes of his youth. He is unconsciously 
 illustrating the trait so humorously satirized by him in Bill 
 Tibbs,^ the shabby beau, who can find " no such dressing as 
 he had at Lord Crump's or Lady Crimp's " ; whose very senses 
 have grown genteel, and who no longer " smacks at wretched 
 wine or praises detestable custard." A lurking thorn, too, is 
 worrying him throughout this tour; he has "outrun the con- 
 stable " ; that is to say, his expenses have outrun his means, 
 and he will have to make up for this butterfly flight by toiling 
 like a grub on his return. 
 
 Another circumstance contributes to mar the pleasure he 
 had promised himself in this excursion. At Paris the party is 
 unexpectedly joined by a Mr. Hickey, a bustling attorney, who 
 is well acquainted with that metropolis and its environs, and 
 insists on playing the cicerone on all occasions. He and Gold- 
 smith do not relish each other, and they have several petty 
 altercations. The lawyer is too much a man of business and 
 
 1 Citizen of the World, Letter Ixxi. 
 
180 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 
 
 method for the careless poet, and is disposed to manage every 
 thing. He has perceived Goldsmith's whimsical peculiarities 
 without properly appreciating his merits, and is prone to in- 
 dulge in broad bantering and raillery at his expense, particu- 
 larly irksome if indulged in presence of the ladies. He makes 
 himself merry on his return to England, by giving the following 
 anecdote as illustrative of Goldsmith's vanity : 
 
 " Being with a party at Versailles, viewing the waterworks, 
 a question arose among the gentlemen present, whether the 
 distance from whence they stood to one of the little islands 
 was within the compass of a leap. Goldsmith maintained the 
 affirmative ; but, being bantered on the subject, and remember- 
 ing his former prowess as a youth, attempted the leap, but, 
 falling short, descended into the water, to the great amusement 
 of the company." 
 
 Was the Jessamy Bride a witness of this unlucky exploit ? 
 
 This same Hickey is the one of whom Goldsmith, sometime 
 subsequently, gave a good-humored sketch, in his poem of 
 " The Retaliation." 
 
 " Here Hickey reclines, a most blunt, pleasant creature, 
 And slander itself must allow him good nature ; 
 He cherish'd his friend, and he relish'd a bumper, 
 Yet one fault he had, and that one was a thumper. 
 Perhaps you may ask if the man was a miser ; 
 I answer No, no, for he always was wiser ; 
 Too courteous, perhaps, or obligingly fiat, 
 His very worst foe can't accuse him of that ; 
 Perhaps he confided in men as they go. 
 And so was too foolishly honest ? Ah, no ! 
 Then what was his failing ? Come, tell it, and burn ye — 
 He was, could he help it ? a special attorney." 
 
 One of the few remarks extant made by Goldsmith during 
 his tour is the following, of whimsical import, in his " Ani- 
 mated Nature." 
 
 " In going through the towns of France, some time since, 
 I could not help observing how much plainer their parrots 
 spoke than ours, and how very distinctly I understood their 
 parrots speak French, when I could not understand our own, 
 though they spoke my native language. I at first ascribed 
 it to the difierent qualities of the two languages, and was 
 
OLIVER GOLDSMITH , 181 
 
 for entering into an elalDorate discussion on the vowels and 
 consonants ; but a friend that was with me solved the difficulty 
 at once, by assuring me that the French women scarce did any 
 thing else the whole day than sit and instruct their feathered 
 pupils ; and that the birds were thus distinct in their lessons 
 in consequence of continual schooling." 
 
 His tour does not seem to have left in his memory the most 
 fragrant recollections ; for, being asked, after his return, 
 whether travelling on the Continent repaid "an Englishman 
 for the privations and annoyances attendant on it," he replied, 
 " I recommend it by all means to the sick, if they are without 
 tlSk sense of smelling, and to the poor if they are without the 
 sense of feeling ; and to both if they can discharge from their 
 minds all idea of what in England we term comfort." 
 
 It is needless to say, that the universal improvement in the 
 art of living on the Continent has at the present day taken 
 away the force of Goldsmith's reply, though even at the time it 
 was more humorous than correct. 
 
 CHAPTER XXX 
 
 Death of Goldsmith's mother — Biography of Parnell — Agreement 
 with Davies for the History of Rome — Life of Bolinghroke — The 
 Haunch of Venison 
 
 On his return to England, Goldsmith received the melan- 
 choly tidings of the death of his mother. Notwithstanding the 
 fame as an author to which he had attained, she seems to have 
 been disappointed in her early expectations from him. Like 
 others of his family, she had been more vexed by his early 
 follies than pleased by his proofs of genius ; and in subsequent 
 years, when he had risen to fame and to intercourse with the 
 great, had been annoyed at the ignorance of the world and 
 want of management, which prevented him from pushing his 
 fortune. He had always, however, been an affectionate son, 
 and in the latter years of her life, when she had become blind, 
 contributed from his precarious resources to prevent her from 
 feeling want. 
 
 He now resumed the labors of the pen, which his recent 
 
182 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 
 
 excursion to Paris rendered doubly necessary. We should have 
 mentioned a "Life of Parnell," published by him shortly after 
 the "Deserted Village." It was, as usual, a piece of job-work, 
 hastily got up for pocket-money. Johnson spoke slightingly of 
 it, and the author, himself, thought proper to apologize for its 
 meagreness ; yet, in so doing, used a simile, which for beauty 
 of imagery and felicity of language, is enough of itself to stamp 
 a value upon the essay. 
 
 "Such," says he, "is the very unpoetical detail of the life 
 of a poet. Some dates and some few facts, scarcely more inter- 
 esting than those that make the ornaments of a country tomb- 
 stone, are all that remain of one whose labors now begin 
 to excite universal curiosity. A poet, while living, is seldom 
 an object sufficiently great to attract much attention ; his real 
 merits are known but to a few, and these are generally sparing 
 in their praises. When his fame is increased by time, it is 
 then too late to investigate the peculiarities of his disposition ; 
 the dews of morning are past, and we vainly try to continue 
 the chase hy the meridian splendor. ^^ 
 
 He now entered into an agreement with Davies, to prepare 
 an abridgment in one volume duodecimo, of his " History of 
 Rome " ; but first to write a work for which there was a more 
 immediate demand. Davies was about to republish Lord Bol- 
 ingbroke's "Dissertation on Parties," which he conceived 
 would be exceedingly applicable to the affairs of the day, and 
 make a probable hit during the existing state of violent politi- 
 cal excitement ; to give it still greater effect and currency he 
 engaged Goldsmith to introduce it with a prefatory life of Lord 
 Bolingbroke. 
 
 About this time Goldsmith's friend and countryman, Lord 
 Clare, w^as in great affliction, caused by the death of his only 
 son. Colonel Nugent, and stood in need of the sympathies of a 
 kind-hearted friend. At his request, therefore, Goldsmith paid 
 him a visit at his noble seat of Gosford, taking his tasks with 
 him. Davies was in a worry lest Gosford Park should prove a 
 Capua to the poet, and the time be lost. " Dr. Goldsmith," 
 writes he to a friend, "has gone with Lord Clare into the 
 country, and I am plagued to get the proofs from him of the 
 ' Life of Lord Bolingbroke.' " The proofs, however, were fur- 
 
OLIVER GOLDSMITH 183 
 
 nished in time for the publication of the work in December. 
 The " Biography," though written during a time of pohtical 
 turmoil, and introducing a work intended to be thrown into 
 the arena of politics, maintained that freedom from party prej- 
 udice observable in all the writings of Goldsmith. It was a 
 selection of facts, drawn from many unreadable sources, and 
 arranged into a clear, flowing narrative, illustrative of the 
 career and character of one, who, as he intimates, " seemed 
 formed by nature to take delight in struggling with opposition ; 
 whose most agreeable hours were passed in storms of his own 
 creating; whose life was spent in a continual conflict of politics, 
 and* as if that was too short for the combat, has left his mem- 
 ory as a subject of lasting contention." The sum received by 
 the author for this memoir is supposed, from circumstances, to 
 have been forty pounds. 
 
 Goldsmith did not find the residence among the great un- 
 attended with mortifications. He had now become accustomed 
 to be regarded in London as a literary lion, and was annoyed, 
 at what he considered a slight, on the part of Lord Camden. 
 He complained of it on his return to town at a party of his 
 friends. "I met him," said he, "at Lord Clare's house in the 
 country ; and he took no more notice of me than if I had been 
 an ordinary man." " The company," says Boswell, " laughed 
 heartily at this piece of ' diverting simplicity.' " And foremost 
 among the laughers was doubtless the rattle-pated Boswell. 
 Johnson, however, stepped forward, as usual, to defend the 
 poet, whom he would allow no one to assail but himself ; per- 
 haps in the present instance he thought the dignity of literature 
 itself involved in the question. "Nay, gentlemen," roared he, 
 " Dr. Goldsmith is in the right. A nobleman ought to have 
 made up to such a man as Goldsmith, and I think it is much 
 against Lord Camden that he neglected him." 
 
 After Goldsmith's return to town he received from Lord 
 Clare a present of game, which he has celebrated and perpetu- 
 ated in his amusing verses entitled the " Haunch of Venison." 
 Some of the lines pleasantly set forth the embarrassment caused 
 by the appearance of such an aristocratic delicacy in the 
 humble kitchen of a poet, accustomed to look up to mutton as 
 a treat : 
 
184 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 
 
 " Thanks, my lord, for your venison ; for finer or fatter 
 Never rang'd in a forest, or smok'd in a platter : 
 The haunch was a picture for painters to study, 
 The fat was so white, and the lean was so ruddy; 
 Though my stomach was sharp, I could scarce help regretting, 
 To spoil such a delicate picture by eating : 
 I had thought in my chambers to place it in view. 
 To be shown to my friends as a piece of virtu ; 
 As in some Irish houses where things are so-so, 
 One gammon of bacon hangs up for a show ; 
 But, for eating a rasher, of what they take pride in. 
 They'd as soon think of eating the pan it was fry'd in. 
 
 But hang it — to poets, who seldom can eat, 
 Your very good mutton's a very good treat ; 
 Such dainties to them, their health it might hurt ; 
 Ws like sending them 7'uffles, when wanting a shirt.'''' 
 
 We have an amusing anecdote of one of Goldsmith's blunders 
 which took place on a subsequent visit to Lord Clare's, when 
 that nobleman was residing in Bath. 
 
 Lord Clare and the Duke of Northumberland had houses 
 next to each other, of similar architecture. Returning home 
 one morning from an early walk, Goldsmith, in one of his fre- 
 quent fits of absence, mistook the house, and walked up into 
 the duke's dining-room, where he and the duchess were about 
 to sit down to breakfast. Goldsmith, still supposing himself 
 in the house of Lord Clare, and that they were visitors, made 
 them an easy salutation, being acquainted with them, and 
 threw himself on a sofa in the lounging manner of a man per- 
 fectly at home. The duke and duchess soon perceived his 
 mistake, and, while they smiled internally, endeavored, with 
 the considerateness of well-bred people, to prevent any awkward 
 embarrassment. They accordingly chatted sociably with him 
 about matters in Bath, until, breakfast being served, they in- 
 vited him to partake. The truth at once flashed upon poor 
 heedless Goldsmith ; he started up from his free-and-eas]^ posi- 
 tion, made a confused apology for his blunder, and would have 
 retired perfectly disconcerted, had not the duke and duchess 
 treated the whole as a lucky occurrence to throw him in their 
 way, and exacted a promise from him to dine with them. 
 
OLIVER GOLDSMITH 185 
 
 This may be hung up as a companion-piece to his blunder on 
 his first visit to Northumberland House. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXI 
 
 Dinner at the Royal Academy — The Rowley controversy — Horace 
 Walpole's conduct to Chatterton — Johnson at Redcliffe Church — 
 Goldsmith's History of England — Davies's criticism — Letter to 
 Bennet Langton. 
 
 On St. George's day of this year (1771), the first annual 
 banquet of the Royal Academy was held in the exhibition 
 room ; the walls of which were covered with works of art, 
 about to be submitted to public inspection. Sir Joshua Rey- 
 nolds, who first suggested this elegant festival, presided in his 
 official character ; Drs. Johnson and Goldsmith, of course, were 
 present, as professors of the academy; and, besides the acade- 
 micians, there was a large number of the most distinguished 
 men of the day as guests. Goldsmith on this occasion drew on 
 himself the attention of the company by launching out with 
 enthusiasm on the poems recently given to the world by Chat- 
 terton, as the works of an ancient author by the name of 
 Rowley, discovered in the tower of Redcliffe Church, at Bristol. 
 Goldsmith spoke of them with rapture, as a treasure of old 
 English poetry. This immediately raised the question of their 
 authenticity ; they having been pronounced a forgery of Chat- 
 terton 's. Goldsmith was warm for their being genuine. When 
 he considered, he said, the merit of the poetry ; the acquaintance 
 with life and the human heart displayed in them, the antique 
 quaintness of the language and the familiar knowledge of his- 
 torical events of their supposed day, he could not believe it pos- 
 sible they could be the work of a boy of sixteen, of narrow 
 education, and confined to the duties of an attorney's office. 
 They must be the productions of Rowley. 
 
 Johnson, who was a stout unbeliever in Rowley, as he had 
 been in Ossian, rolled in his chair and laughed at the enthusi- 
 asm of Goldsmith. Horace Walpole, who sat near by, joined 
 in the laugh and jeer as soon as he found that the " trouvaille" 
 as he called it, "of his friend Chatterton" was in question. 
 
186 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 
 
 This matter, which had excited the simple admiration of Gold- 
 smith, was no novelty to him, he said. " He might, had he 
 pleased, have had the honor of ushering the great discovery to 
 the learned world." And so he might, had he followed his lirst 
 impulse in the matter, for he himself had been an original be- 
 liever ; had pronounced some specimen verses sent to him by 
 Chatterton wonderful for their harmony and spirit ; and had 
 been ready to print them and publish them to the world with 
 his sanction. When he found, however, that his unknown cor- 
 respondent was a mere boy, humble in sphere and indigent in 
 circumstances, and when Gray and Mason pronounced the 
 poems forgeries, he had changed his whole conduct towards the 
 unfortunate author, and by his neglect and coldness had dashed 
 all his sanguine hopes to the ground. 
 
 Exulting in his superior discernment, this cold-hearted man 
 of society now went on to divert himself, as he says, with the 
 credulity of Goldsmith, whom he was accustomed to pronounce 
 " an inspired idiot " ; but his mirth was soon dashed, for on 
 asking the poet what had become of this Chatterton, he was 
 answered, doubtless in the feeling tone of one who had experi- 
 enced the pangs of despondent genius, that " he had been to 
 London, and had destroyed himself." 
 
 The reply struck a pang of self-reproach even to the cold 
 heart of Walpole ; a faint blush may have visited his cheek at 
 his recent levity. " The persons of honor and veracity who 
 were present," said he in after years, when he found it neces- 
 sary to exculpate himself from the charge of heartless neglect 
 of genius, "will attest with what surprise and concern I thus 
 first heard of his death." Well might he feel concern. His 
 cold neglect had doubtless contributed to madden the spirit of 
 that youthful genius, and hurry him towards his untimely end ; 
 nor have all the excuses and palliations of Walpole's friends and 
 admirers been ever able entirely to clear this stigma from his 
 fame. 
 
 But what was there in the enthusiasm and credulity of 
 honest Goldsmith in this matter, to subject him to the laugh of 
 Johnson or the raillery of Walpole ? Granting the poems were 
 not ancient, were they not good ? Granting they were not the 
 productions of Rowley, were they the less admirable for being 
 
OLIVER GOLDSMITH 187 
 
 the productions of Chatterton ? Johnson himself testified to 
 their merits and the genius of their composer, when, some years 
 afterwards, he visited the tower of Redcliffe Church, and was 
 shown the coffer in which poor Chatterton had pretended to find 
 them. " This," said he, "is the most extraordinary young man 
 that has encountered my knowledge. It is wonderful how the 
 whelp has ivritten such thing s^ 
 
 As to Goldsmith, he persisted in his credulity, and had sub- 
 sequently a dispute with Dr. Percy on the subject, which inter- 
 rupted and almost destroyed their friendship. After all, his 
 enthusiasm was of a generous, poetic kind ; the poems remain 
 beatrtiful monuments of genius, and it is even now difficult to 
 persuade one's self that they could be entirely the productions 
 of a youth of sixteen. 
 
 In the month of August was published anonymously the 
 "History of England," on which Goldsmith had been for some 
 time employed. It was in four volumes, compiled chiefly, as he 
 acknowledged in the preface, from Rapin, Carle, Smollett, and 
 Hume, "each of whom," says he, "have their admirers, in pro- 
 portion as the reader is studious of political antiquities, fond 
 of minute anecdote, a warm partisan, or a deliberate reasoner." 
 It possessed the same kind of merit as his other historical com- 
 pilations ; a clear, succinct narrative, a simple, easy, and grace- 
 ful style, and an agreeable arrangement of facts ; but was not 
 remarkable for either depth of observation or minute accuracy 
 of research. Many passages were transferred, with little if any 
 alteration, from his " Letters from a Nobleman to his Son " on 
 the same subject. The work, though written without party feel- 
 ing, met with sharp animadversions from political scribblers. The 
 writer was charged with being unfriendly to liberty, disposed to 
 elevate monarchy above its proper sphere ; a tool of ministers ; 
 one who would betray his country for a pension. Tom Davies, 
 the publisher, the pompous little bibliopole of Russell-street, 
 alarmed lest the book should prove unsaleable, undertook to 
 protect it by his pen, and wrote a long article in its defence in 
 The Public Advertiser. He was vain of his critical effusion, 
 and sought by nods and winks and innuendoes to intimate his 
 authorship. " Have you seen," said he in a letter to a friend, 
 " ' An Impartial Account of Goldsmith's History of England ' 1 
 
188 .. OLIVER GOLDSMITH 
 
 If you want to know who was the writer of it, you will find 
 him in Russell-street ; — hut mum I " 
 
 The history, on the whole, however, was well received ; some 
 of the critics declared that English history had never before 
 been so 'usefully, so elegantly, and agreeably epitomized, "and, 
 like his other historical writings, it has kept its ground" in 
 English literature. 
 
 Goldsmith had intended this summer, in company with Sir 
 Joshua Reynolds, to pay a visit to Bennet Langton, at his seat 
 in Lincolnshire, where he was settled in domestic life, having 
 the year previously married the Countess Dowager of Rothes. 
 The following letter, however, dated from his chambers in the 
 Temple, on the 7th of September, apologizes for putting off the 
 visit, while it gives an amusing account of his summer occupa- 
 tions and of the attacks of the critics on his " History of 
 England " : 
 
 "My dear Sir, 
 
 " Since I had the pleasure of seeing you last, T have been 
 almost wholly in the country, at a farmer's house, quite alone, 
 trying to write a comedy. It is now finished ; but when or 
 how it will be acted, or whether it will be acted at all, are 
 questions I cannot resolve. I am therefore so much employed 
 upon that, that I am under the necessity of putting ofi* my in- 
 tended visit to Lincolnshire for this season. Reynolds is just 
 returned from Paris, and finds himself now in the case of a 
 truant that must make up for his idle time by diligence. We 
 have therefore agreed to postpone our journey till next summer, 
 when we hope to have the honor of waiting upon Lady Rothes 
 and you, and staying double the time of our late intended 
 visit. We often meet, and never without remembering you. 
 I see Mr. Beauclerc very often both in town and country. He 
 is now going directly forward to become a second Boyle : deep 
 in chemistry and physics. Johnson has been down on a visit 
 to a country parson. Doctor Taylor ; and is returned to his old 
 haunts at Mrs. Thrale's. Burke is a farmer, en attendant a 
 better place ; but visiting about too. Every soul is visiting 
 about and merry but myself. And that is hard too, as I have 
 been trying these three months to do something to make people 
 
OLIVER GOLDSMITH 189 
 
 laugh. There have I been strolling about the hedges, studying, 
 jests with a most tragical countenance. The ' Natural History ' 
 is about half finished, and I will shortly finish the rest. God 
 knows I am tired of this kind of finishing, which is but bun- 
 gling work ; and that not so much my fault as the fault of my 
 scurvy circumstances. They begin to talk in town of the 
 Opposition's gaining ground; the cry of liberty is still as loud 
 as ever. I have published, or Davies has published for me, an 
 ' Abridgment of the History of England,' for which I have been 
 a good deal abused in the newspapers, for betraying the liber- 
 ties of the people. God knows I had no thought for or against 
 libeiiy in my head ; my whole aim being to make up a book of 
 a decent size, that, as 'Squire Richard, says, would do no harm 
 to nohody. However, they set me down as an arrant Tory, and 
 consequently an honest man. When you come to look at any 
 part of it, you'll say that I am a sore Whig. God bless you, 
 and with my most respectful compliments to her Ladyship, I 
 remain, dear Sir, your most affectionate humble servant, 
 
 ^ "Oliver Goldsmith." 
 
 CHAPTER XXXII 
 
 Marriage of Little Comedy — Goldsmith at Barton — Practical jokes at 
 the expense of his toilet — Amusements at Barton — Aquatic misad- 
 venture 
 
 Though Goldsmith found it impossible to break from his 
 literary occupations to visit Bennet Langton, in Lincolnshire, 
 he soon yielded to attractions from another quarter, in which 
 somewhat of sentiment may have mingled. Miss Catherine 
 Horneck, one of his beautiful fellow-travellers, otherwise called 
 Little Comedy, had been married in August to Henry William 
 Bunbury, Esq., a gentleman of fortune, who has become cele- 
 l)rated for the humorous productions of his pencil. Goldsmith 
 was shortly afterwards invited to pay the newly married couple 
 a visit at their seat, at Barton, in Suffolk. How could he re- 
 sist such an invitation — especially as the Jessamy Bride would, 
 of course, be among the guests 1 It is true, he was hampered 
 with work ; he was still more hampered with debt ; his accounts 
 
190 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 
 
 with Newbery were perplexed ; but all must give way. New 
 advances are procured from Newbery, on the promise of a new 
 tale in the style of the " Vicar of Wakefield," of which he 
 showed him a few roughly-sketched chapters ; so, his purse 
 replenished in the old way, "by hook or by crook," he posted 
 off to visit the bride at Barton. He found there a joyous house- 
 hold, and one where he was welcomed with affection. Garrick 
 was there, and played the part of master of the revels, for he 
 was an intimate friend of the master of the house. Notwith- 
 standing early misunderstandings, a social intercourse between 
 the actor and the poet had grown up of late, from meeting to- 
 gether continually in the same circle. A few particulars have 
 reached us concerning Goldsmith while on this happy visit. We 
 believe the legend has come down from Miss Mary Horneck her- 
 self. " While at Barton," she says, " his manners were always 
 playful and amusing, taking the lead in promoting any scheme 
 of innocent mirth, and usually prefacing the invitation with 
 'Come, now, let us play the fool a little.' At cards, which was 
 commonly a round game, and the stake small, he was always 
 the most noisy, affected great eagerness to win, and teased his 
 opponents of the gentler sex with continual jest and banter on 
 their want of spirit in not risking the hazards of the game. 
 But one of his most favorite enjoyments was to romp with the 
 children, when he threw off all reserve, and seemed one of th6 
 most joyous of the group. 
 
 " One of the means by which he amused us was his songs, 
 chiefly of the comic kind, which were sung with some taste and 
 humor; several, I believe, were of his own composition, and I 
 regret that I neither have copies, which might have been 
 readily procured from him at the time, nor do I remember 
 their names." 
 
 His perfect good-humor made him the object of tricks of all 
 kinds ; often in retaliation of some prank which he himself 
 had played off. Unluckily, these tricks were sometimes made 
 at the expense of his toilet, which, with a view peradventure to 
 please the eye of a certain fair lady, he had again enriched to 
 the impoverishment of his purse. " Being at all times gay in 
 his dress," says this ladylike legend, " he made his appearance 
 at the breakfast-table in a smart black silk coat with an expen- 
 
OLIVER GOLDSMITH 191 
 
 sive pair of ruffles ; the coat some one contrived to soil, and it 
 was sent to be cleansed ; but, either by accident, or probably 
 by design, the day after it came home, the sleeves became 
 daubed with paint, which was not discovered until the ruffles 
 also, to his great mortification, were irretrievably disfigured. 
 
 " He always wore a wig, a peculiarity which those who judge 
 of his appearance only from the fine poetical head of Reynolds 
 would not suspect ; and on one occasion some person contrived 
 seriously to injure this important adjunct to dress. It was the 
 only one he had in the country, and the misfortune seemed irrepa- 
 rable until the services of Mr. Bunbury's valet were called in, 
 who, however, performed his functions so indifferently, that poor 
 Goldsmith's appearance became the signal for a general smile." 
 
 This was wicked waggery, especially when it was directed to 
 mar all the attempts of the unfortunate poet to improve his 
 personal appearance, about which Jie was at all times dubiously 
 sensitive, and particularly when among the ladies. 
 
 We have in a former chapter recorded his unlucky tumble 
 into a fountain at Versailles, when attempting a feat of agility 
 in presence of the fair Hornecks. Water was destined to be 
 equally baneful to him on the present occasion. " Some differ- 
 ence of opinion," says the fair narrator, " having arisen with 
 Lord Harrington respecting the depth of a pond, the poet re- 
 marked that it was not so deep but that, if any thing valuable 
 was to be found at the bottom, he would not hesitate to pick 
 it up. His lordship, after some banter, threw in a guinea ; 
 Goldsmith, not to be outdone in this kind of bravado, in 
 attempting to fulfil his promise without getting wet, accidentally 
 fell in, to the amusement of all present, but persevered, brought 
 out the money, and kept it, remarking that he had abundant 
 objects on whom to bestow any farther proofs of his lordship^s 
 whim or bounty." 
 
 All this is recorded by the beautiful Mary Horneck, the 
 Jessamy Bride herself; but while she gives these amusing 
 pictures of poor Goldsmith's eccentricities, and of the mis- 
 chievous pranks played off upon him, she bears unqualified 
 testimony, which we have quoted elsewhere, to the qualities of 
 his head and heart, which shone forth in his countenance, and 
 gained him the love of all who knew him. 
 
192 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 
 
 Among the circumstances of this visit vaguely called to mind 
 by this fair lady in after years, was that Goldsmith read to her 
 and her sister the first part of a novel which he had in hand. 
 It was doubtless the manuscript mentioned at the beginning of 
 this chapter, on which he had obtained an advance of money 
 from Newbery to stave off some pressing debts, and to provide 
 funds for this very visit. It never was finished. The book- 
 seller, when he came afterwards to examine the manuscript, ob- 
 jected to it as a mere narrative version of the " Good-natured 
 Man." Goldsmith, too easily put out of conceit of his writings, 
 threw it aside, forgetting that this was the very Newbery 
 who kept his " Vicar of Wakefield " by him nearly two years 
 through doubts of its success. The loss of the manuscript is 
 deeply to be regretted ; it doubtless would have been properly 
 wrought up before given to the press, and might have given us 
 new scenes in life and traits, of character, while it could not fail 
 to bear traces of his delightful style. What a pity he had not 
 been guided by the opinions of his fair listeners at Barton, 
 instead of that of the astute Mr. Newbery ! 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIII 
 
 Dinner at General Oglethorpe's — Anecdotes of the general — Dispute 
 about duelling — Ghost stories 
 
 We have mentioned old General Oglethorpe as one of Gold- 
 smith's aristocratical acquaintances. This veteran, born in 
 1698, had commenced life early, by serving, when a mere strip- 
 ling, under Prince Eugene, against the Turks. He had 
 continued in military life, and been promoted to the rank of 
 major-general in 1745, and received a command daring the 
 Scottish rebellion. Being of strong Jacobite tendencies, he was 
 suspected and accused of favoring the rebels ; and though ac- 
 quitted by a court of inquiry, was never afterwards employed ; 
 or, in technical language, was shelved. He had since been 
 repeatedly a member of parliament, and had always distinguished 
 himself by learning, taste, active benevolence, and high Tory 
 principles. His name, however, has become historical, chiefly 
 from his transactions in America, and the share he took in the 
 
OLIVER GOLDSMITH 193 
 
 settlement of the colony of Georgia. It lies embalmed in 
 honorable immortality in a single line of Pope's : 
 
 " One, driven hy strong benevolence of soul, 
 Shall fly, like Oglethorpe, from pole to pole." i 
 
 The veteran was novp" seventy-four years of age, but healthy 
 and vigorous, and as much the preux chevalier as in his younger 
 days, wlien he served with Prince Eugene. His table was often 
 the gathering-place of men of talent. Johnson was frequently 
 there, and delighted in drawing from the general details of his 
 various "experiences." He was anxious that he should give 
 the world his life. " I know no man," said he, " whose life 
 would be more interesting." Still the vivacity of the general's 
 mind and the variety of his knowledge made him skip from 
 subject to subject too fast for the lexicographer. " Oglethorpe," 
 growled he, " never completes what he has to say." 
 
 Boswell gives us an interesting and characteristic account of 
 a dinner party at the general's (April 10th, 1772), at which 
 Goldsmith and Johnson were present. After dinner, when the 
 cloth was removed, Oglethorpe, at Johnson's request, gave an 
 account of the siege of Belgrade, in the true veteran style. 
 Pouring a little wine upon the table, he drew his lines and 
 parallels with a wet finger, describing the positions of the op- 
 posing forces. "Here were we — here were the Turks," to all 
 which Johnson listened with the most earnest attention, poring 
 over the plans and diagrams with his usual purblind closeness. 
 
 In the course of conversation the general gave an anecdote of 
 himself in early life, when serving under Prince Eugene. Sit- 
 ting at table once in company with a prince of Wurtemberg, 
 the latter gave a fillip to a glass of wine, so as to make some 
 of it fly in Oglethorpe's face. The manner in which it was 
 done was somewhat equivocal. How was it to be taken by the 
 stripling officer? If seriously, he must challenge the prince; 
 but in so doing he might fix on himself the character of a draw- 
 cansir. If passed over without notice, he might be charged 
 with cowardice. His mind was made up in an instant. 
 
 1 Pope's imitation of the Second Epistle of the Second Book of 
 Horace, lines 276, 277. 
 
194 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 
 
 "Prince," said he, smiling, "that is an excellent joke ; but we 
 do it much better in England." So saying, he threw a whole 
 glass of wine in the prince's face. " II a bien fait, mon prince," 
 cried an old general present, "vous I'avez commence." (He 
 has done right, my prince; you commenced it.) The prince 
 had the good sense to acquiesce in the decision of the veteran, 
 and Oglethorpe's retort in kind was taken in good part. 
 
 It was probably at the close of this story that the officious 
 Boswell, ever anxious to promote conversation for the benefit of 
 his note-book, started the question whether duelling were con- 
 sistent with moral duty. The old general fired up in an instant. 
 " Undoubtedly," said he, with a lofty air ; " undoubtedly a man 
 has a right to defend his honor." Goldsmith immediately 
 carried the w\ar into Boswell's own quarters, and pinned him 
 with the question, " what he would do if affronted 1 " The 
 pliant Boswell, who for the moment had the fear of the general 
 rather than of Johnson before liis eyes, replied, "he should 
 think it necessary to fight." "Why, then, that solves the 
 question," replied Goldsmith. " No, sir ! " thundered out 
 Johnson ; "it does not follow that what a man would do, is 
 therefore right." He, however, subsequently went into a dis- 
 cussion to show that there were necessities in the case arising 
 out of the artificial refinement of society, and its proscription of 
 any one who should put up with an affront without fighting a 
 duel. " He then," concluded he, " who fights a duel does not 
 fight from passion against his antagonist, but out of self-defence, 
 to avert the stigma of the world, and to prevent himself from 
 being driven out of society. I could wish there were not that 
 superfluity of refinement ; but while such notions prevail, no 
 doubt a man may lawfully fight a duel." 
 
 Another question started was, whether people who disagreed 
 on a capital point could live together in friendship. Johnson 
 said they might. Goldsmith said they could not, as they had 
 not the idem velle atque idem nolle — the same likings and 
 aversions. Johnson rejoined, that they must shun the subject 
 on which they disagreed. " But, sir," said Goldsmith, " when 
 people live together who have something as to which they dis- 
 agree, and which they want to shun, they will be in the situation 
 mentioned in the story of Blue Beard : ' you may look into all 
 
OLIVER GOLDSMITH 195 
 
 the chambers but one ; ' but we should have the greatest incli- 
 nation to look into that chamber, to talk of that subject." 
 '' Sir," thundered Johnson, in a loud voice, " I am not saying 
 that you could live in friendship with a man from whom 
 you differ as to some point ; I am only saying that / could 
 do it." 
 
 Who will not say that Goldsmith had the best of this petty 
 contest ? How just was his remark ! how felicitous the illus- 
 tration of the blue chamber ! how rude and overbearing was 
 the argumentum ad hominem of Johnson, when he felt that he 
 had the worst of the argument ! 
 
 * The conversation turned upon ghosts. General Oglethorpe 
 told the story of a Colonel Prendergast, an officer in the Duke 
 of Marlborough's army, who predicted among his comrades that 
 he should die on a certain day. The battle of Malplaquet took 
 place on that day. The colonel was in the midst of it, but 
 came out unhurt. The firing had reased, and his brother 
 officers jested with him about the fallacy of his prediction. 
 " The day is not over," replied he, gravely ; " I shall die not- 
 withstanding what you see." His words proved true. The 
 order for a cessation of firing had not reached one of the French 
 batteries, and a random shot from it killed the colonel on the 
 spot. Among his effects was found a pocket-book in which he 
 had made a solemn entry, that Sir John Friend, who had been 
 executed for high treason, had appeared to him, either in a dream 
 or vision, and predicted that he would meet him on a certain 
 day (the very day of the battle). Colonel Cecil, who took 
 possession of the effects of Colonel Prendergast, and read the 
 entry in the pocket-book, told this story to Pope, the poet, in 
 the presence of General Oglethorpe. 
 
 This story, as related by the general, appears to have been 
 well received, if not credited, by both Johnson and Goldsmith, 
 each of whom had something to relate in kind. Goldsmith's 
 brother, the clergyman in whom he had such implicit confidence, 
 had assured him of his having seen an apparition. Johnson 
 also had a friend, old Mr. Cave, the printer, at St. John's Gate, 
 " an honest man, and a sensible man," who told him he had 
 seen a ghost : he did not, however, like to talk of it, and seemed 
 to be in great horror whenever it was mentioned. " And pray, 
 
196 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 
 
 sir," asked Boswell, "what did he say was the appearance?" 
 " Why, sir, something of a shadowy being." 
 
 The reader will not be surprised at this superstitious turn in 
 the conversation of such intelligent men, when he recollects that, 
 but a few years before this time, all London had been agitated 
 by the absurd story of the Cocklane ghost ; a matter which 
 Dr. Johnson had deemed worthy of his serious investigation, 
 and about which Goldsmith had written a pamphlet. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIV 
 
 Mr. Joseph Cradock — An author's confidings — An amanuensis — Life 
 at Edgeware — Goldsmith conjuring — George Colman — The Fan- 
 toccini 
 
 Among the agreeable acquaintances made by Goldsmith about 
 this time was a Mr. Joseph Cradock, a young gentleman of 
 Leicestershire, living at his ease, but disposed to "make him- 
 self uneasy " by meddling with literature and the theatre ; in 
 fact, he had a passion for plays and players, and had come up 
 to town with a modified translation of Voltaire's tragedy of 
 " Zobeide," in a view to get it acted. There was no great diffi- 
 culty in the case, as he was a man of fortune, had letters of 
 introduction to persons of note, and was altogether in a differ- 
 ent position from the indigent man of genius wiiom managers 
 might harass with impunity. Goldsmith met him at the house 
 ■ of Yates, the actor, and finding that he was a friend of Lord 
 Clare, soon became sociable with him. Mutual tastes quick- 
 ened the intimacy, especially as they found means of serving 
 each other. Goldsmith ^vrote an epilogue for the tragedy of 
 "Zobeide"; and Cradock, who was an amateur musician, ar- 
 ranged the music for the " Threnodia Augustalis," a lament on 
 the death of the Princess Dowager of Wales, the political mis- 
 tress and patron of Lord Clare, which Goldsmith had thrown 
 off hastily to please that nobleman. The tragedy was played 
 with some success at Covent-Garden ; the " Lament " was re- 
 cited and sung at Mrs. Cornelys' rooms — a very fashionable 
 resort in Soho Square, got up by a woman of enterprise of that 
 name. It was in whimsical parody of those gay and somewhat 
 
OLIVER GOLDSMITH 197 
 
 promiscuous assemblages that Goldsmith used to call the mot- 
 ley evening parties at his lodgings "little Cornelys." 
 
 The " Threnodia Augustalis " was not publicly known to be 
 by Goldsmith until several years after his death. 
 
 Cradock was one of the few polite intimates who felt more 
 disposed to sympathize with the generous qualities of the poet 
 than to sport with his eccentricities. He sought his society 
 whenever he came to town, and occasionally had him to his seat 
 in the country. Goldsmith appreciated his sympathy, and un- 
 burthened himself to him without reserve. Seeing the lettered 
 ease in which this amateur author was enabled to live, and the 
 time he could bestow on the elaboration of a manuscript, " Ah ! 
 Mr. Cradock," cried he, " think of me, that must write a volume 
 every month ! " He complained to him of the attempts made 
 by inferior writers, and by others who could scarcely come under 
 that denomination, not only to abuse and depreciate his writings, 
 but to render him ridiculous as a man ; perverting every harm- 
 less sentiment and action into charges of absurdity, malice, or 
 folly. " Sir," said he, in the fulness of his heart, "I am as a 
 lion baited by curs ! " 
 
 Another acquaintance, which he made about this time, was a 
 young countryman of the name of M'Donnell, whom he met in 
 a state of destitution, and, of course, befriended. The following 
 grateful recollections of his kindness and his merits were fur- 
 nished by that person in after years : 
 
 "It was in the year 1772," writes he, "that the death of 
 my elder brother — when in London, on my way to Ireland — 
 left me in a most forlorn sit\Jktion ; I was then about eighteen ; 
 I possessed neither friends nor money, nor the means of getting 
 to Ireland, of which or of England I knew scarcely any thing, 
 from having so long resided in France. In this situation I had 
 strolled about for two or three days, considering what to do, 
 but unable to come to any determination, when Providence di- 
 rected me to the Temple Gardens. I threw myself on a seat, 
 and, willing to forget my miseries for a moment, drew out a 
 book ; that book was a volume of Boileau. I had not been 
 there long when a gentleman, strolling about, passed near me, 
 and observing, perhaps, something Irish or foreign in my garb 
 or countenance, addressed me : ' Sir, you seem studious ; I hope 
 
198 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 
 
 you find this a favorable place to pursue it.' ' Not very studi- 
 ous, sir ; I fear it is the want of society that brings me hither ; 
 I am solitary and unknown in this metropolis ; ' and a passage 
 from Cicero — ' Oratio pro Archia ' — occurring to me, I quoted 
 it ; ' Hsec studia pronoctant nobiscum, perigrinantur, rustican- 
 tur.' ' You are a scholar, too, sir, I perceive.' ' A piece of one, 
 sir ; but I ought still to have been in the college where I had 
 the good fortune to pick up the little I know.' A good deal of 
 conversation ensued ; I told him part of my history, and he, in 
 return, gave his address in the Temple, desiring me to call soon, 
 from which, to my infinite surprise and gratification, I found 
 that the person who thus seemed to take an interest in my fate 
 was my countryman, and a distinguished ornament of letters. 
 
 " I did not fail to keep the appointment, and was received 
 in the kindest manner. He told me, smilingly, that he was 
 not rich ; that he could do little for me in direct pecuniary aid, 
 but would endeavor to put me in the way of doing something 
 for myself; observing, that he could at least furnish me with 
 advice not wholly useless to a young man placed in the heart 
 of a great metropolis. ' In London,' he continued, ' nothing 
 is to be got for nothing : you must work ; and no man who 
 chooses to be industrious need be under obligations to another, 
 for here labor of every kind commands its reward. If you 
 think proper to assist me occasionally as amanuensis, I shall 
 be obliged, and you will be placed under no obligation, until 
 something more permanent can be secured for you.' This 
 employment, which I pursued for some time, was to translate 
 passages from Buffbn, which were abridged or altered, according 
 to circumstances, for his natural history." 
 
 Groldsmith's literary tasks were fast getting ahead of him, 
 and he began now to " toil after them in vain." 
 
 Five volumes of the natural history here spoken of had long 
 since been paid for by Mr. Griffin, yet most of them were still 
 to be written. His young amanuensis bears testimony to his 
 embarrassments and perplexities, but to the degree of equa- 
 nimity with which he bore them : 
 
 "It has been said," observes he, "that he was irritable. 
 Such may have been the case at times ; nay, I believe it was 
 so j for what with the continual pursuit of authors, printers, 
 
OLIVER GOLDSMITH 199 
 
 and booksellers, and occasional pecuniary embarrassments, few 
 could have avoided exhibiting similar marks of impatience. 
 But it was never so towards me. I saw him only in his bland 
 and kind moods, with a flow, perhaps an overflow, of the milk of 
 human kindness for all who were in any manner dependent 
 upon him. I looked upon him with awe and veneration, and 
 he upon me as a kind parent upon a child. 
 
 *' His manner and address exhibited much frankness and 
 cordiality, particularly to those with whom he possessed any 
 degree of intimacy. His good-nature was equally apparent. 
 You could not dislike the man, although several of his follies 
 an4 foibles you might be tempted to condemn. He was gener- 
 ous and inconsiderate : money with him had little value." 
 
 To escape from many of the tormentors just alluded to, and 
 to devote himself without interruption to his task. Goldsmith 
 took lodgings for the summer at a farm-house near the six-mile 
 stone on the Edge ware road, and carried down his books in 
 two return post-chaises. He used to say he believed the 
 farmer's family thought him an odd character, similar to that 
 in which the Spectator appeared to his landlady and her 
 children : he was The Gentleman. Boswell tells us that he 
 went to visit him at the place in company with Mickle, trans- 
 lator of the " Lusiad." Goldsmith was not at home. Having 
 a curiosity to see his apartment, however, they went in, and 
 found curious scraps of descriptions of animals scrawled upon 
 the wall with a black lead pencil. 
 
 The farm-house in question is still in existence, though much 
 altered. It stands upon a gentle eminence in Hyde Lane, 
 commanding a pleasant prospect towards Hendon. The room 
 is still pointed out in which " She Stoops to Conquer " was 
 written ; a convenient and airy apartment, up one flight of 
 stairs. 
 
 Some matter of fact traditions concerning the author were 
 furnished, a few years since, by a son of the farmer, who was 
 sixteen years of age at the time Goldsmith resided with his 
 father. Though he had engaged to board with the family his 
 meals were generally sent to him in his room, in which he 
 passed the most of his time, negligently dressed, with his shirt 
 collar open, busily engaged in writing. Sometimes, probably 
 
200 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 
 
 when in moods of composition, he would wander into the 
 kitchen, without noticing any one, stand musing with his 
 "back to the fire, and then hurry off again to his room, no 
 doubt to commit to paper some thought wliich had struck him. 
 
 Sometimes he strolled about the fields, or was to be seen 
 loitering and reading and musing under the hedges. He was 
 subject to fits of wakefulness and read much in bed; if not 
 disposed to read, he still kept the candle burning; if he wished 
 to extinguish it, and it was out of his reach, he flung his 
 slipper at it, which would be found in the morning near the 
 overturned candlestick and daubed with grease. He was noted 
 here, as every where else, for his charitable feelings. No beg- 
 gar applied to him in vain, and he evinced on all occasions 
 great commiseration for the poor. 
 
 He had the use of the parlor to receive and entertain com- 
 pany, and was visited by Sir Joshua Reynolds, Hugh Boyd, 
 the reputed author of "Junius," Sir William Chambers, and 
 other distinguished characters. He gave occasionally, though 
 rarely, a dinner party ; and on one occasion, when his guests 
 were detained by a thunder shower, he got up a dance, and 
 carried the merriment late into the night. 
 
 As usual, he was the promoter of hilarity among the young, 
 and at one time took the children of the house to see a com- 
 pany of strolling players at Hendon. The greatest amusement 
 to the party, however, was derived from his own jokes on the 
 road and his comments on the performance, which produced 
 infinite laughter among his youthful companions. 
 
 Near to his rural retreat at Edgeware, a Mr. Seguin, an 
 Irish merchant, of literary tastes, had country quarters for his 
 family, where Goldsmith was always welcome. 
 
 In this family he would indulge in playful and even gro- 
 tesque humor, and was ready for any thing — conversation, music, 
 or a game of romps. He prided himself upon his dancing, and 
 would walk a minuet with Mrs. Seguin, to the infinite amuse- 
 ment of herself and the children, whose shouts of laughter he 
 bore with perfect good-humor. He would sing Irish songs, and 
 the Scotch ballad of " Johnny Armstrong." He took the lead 
 in the children's sports of blind man's buff, hunt the slipper, &c., 
 or in their games at cards, and was the most noisy of the party, 
 
OLIVER GOLDSMITH 201 
 
 affecting to cheat and to be excessively eager to win ; while 
 with children of smaller size he would turn the hind part of his 
 wig before, and play all kinds of tricks to amuse them. 
 
 One word as to his musical skill and his performance on the 
 flute, which comes up so invariably in all his fireside revels. 
 He really knew nothing of music scientifically ; he had a good 
 ear, and may have played sweetly ; but we are told he could 
 not read a note of music. Roubillac, the statuary, once played 
 a trick upon him in this respect. He pretended to score down 
 an air as the poet played it, but put down crotchets and semi- 
 breves at random. When he had finished, Goldsmith cast his 
 eyes over it and pronounced it correct ! It is possible that his 
 execution in music was like his style in writing ; in sweetness 
 and melody he may have snatched a grace beyond the reach of 
 art! 
 
 He was at all times a capital companion for children, and 
 knew how to fall in with their humors. " I little thought," 
 said Miss Hawkins, the woman grown, "what I should liave 
 to boast, when Goldsmith taught me to play Jack and Jill by 
 two bits of paper on his fingers." He entertained Mrs. Garrick, 
 we are told, with a whole budget of stories and songs ; delivered 
 the " Chimney Sweep " with exquisite taste as a solo ; and per- 
 formed a duet with Garrick of " Old Rose and Burn the Bellows." 
 
 " I was only five years old," says the late George Colman, 
 " when Goldsmith one evening when drinking coffee with my 
 father, took me on his knee and began to play with me, which 
 amiable act I returned with a very smart slap in the face ; it 
 must have been a tingler, for I left the marks of my little spiteful 
 paw upon his cheek. This infantile outrage was followed by 
 summary justice, and I was locked up by my father in an ad- 
 joining room, to undergo solitary imprisonment in the dark. 
 Here I began to howl and scream most abominably. At length 
 a friend appeared to extricate me from jeopardy ; it was the 
 good-natured doctor himself, with a lighted candle in his hand, 
 and a smile upon his countenance, which was still partially red 
 from the effects of my petulance. I sulked and sobbed, and he 
 fondled and soothed until I began to brighten. He seized the 
 propitious moment, placed three hats upon the carpet, and a 
 shilling under each ; the shillings, he told me, were England, 
 
202 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 
 
 France, and Spain. ' Hey, presto, cockolorum ! ' cried the 
 doctor, and, lo ! on uncovering the shillings, they were all found 
 congregated under one. I was no politician at the time, and 
 therefore might not have wondered at the sudden revolution 
 which brought England, France, and Spain all under one crown : 
 but, as I was also no conjurer, it amazed me beyond measure. 
 From that time, whenever the doctor came to visit my father, 
 
 " ' I pluck'd his gown to share the good man's smile ; ' 
 
 a game of romps constantly ensued, and we were always cordial 
 friends and merry playfellows." 
 
 Although Goldsmith made the Edgeware farm-house his head- 
 quarters for the summer, he would absent himself for weeks at 
 a time on visits to Mr. Cradock, Lord Clare, and Mr. Langton, 
 at their country-seats. He would often visit town, also, to 
 dine and partake of the public amusements. On one occasion 
 he accompanied Edmund Burke to witness a performance of 
 the Italian Fantoccini or Puppets, in Panton-street ; an exhibi- 
 tion which had hit the caprice of the town, and was in great 
 vogue. The puppets were set in motion by wires, so well con- 
 cealed as to be with difficulty detected. Boswell, with his usual 
 obtuseness with respect to Goldsmith, accuses him of being 
 jealous of the puppets! "When Burke," said he, "praised 
 the dexterity with which one of them tossed a pike, 'Pshaw,' 
 said Goldsmith with some warmth, ' I can do it better myself.' " 
 " The same evening," adds Boswell, "when supping at Burke's 
 lodgings, he broke his shin by attempting to exhibit to the 
 company how much better he could jump over a stick than the 
 puppets." 
 
 Goldsmith jealous of puppets ! This even passes in absurd- 
 ity Boswell's charge upon him of being jealous of the beauty 
 of the two Miss Hornecks. 
 
 The Panton-street puppets were destined to be a source of 
 further amusement to the town, and of annoyance to the little 
 autocrat of the stage. Foote, the Aristophanes of the English 
 drama, who was always on the alert to turn every subject of 
 popular excitement to account, seeing the success of the Fantoc- 
 cini, gave out that he should produce a Primitive Puppet-show 
 at the Haymarket, to be entitled " The Handsome Chamber- 
 
OLIVEK GOLDSMITH 203 
 
 maid, or Piety in Pattens " : intended to burlesque the senti- 
 mental comedy which Garrick still maintained at Drury-Lane. 
 The idea of a play to be performed in a regular theatre by 
 puppets, excited the curiosity and talk of the town. "Will 
 your puppets be as large as life, Mr. Foote ? " demanded a lady 
 of rank. "Oh, no, my lady"; replied Foote, ^^ not much 
 larger than Garrick:^ 
 
 CHAPTER XXXV 
 
 Broken health — Dissipation and debts — The Irish widow — Practical 
 jokes — Scrub — A misquoted pun — Malagrida — Goldsraitli proved 
 to be a fool — Distressed ballad singers — The Poet at Ranelagh 
 
 Goldsmith returned to town in the autumn (1772), with 
 his health much disordered. His close fits of sedentary applica- 
 tion, during which he in a manner tied himself to the mast, 
 had laid the seeds of a lurking malady in his system, and pro- 
 duced a severe illness in the course of the summer. Town life 
 was not favorable to the health either of body or mind. He 
 could not resist the siren voice of temptation, which, now that 
 he had become a notoriety, assailed him on every side. Accord- 
 ingly we find him launching away in a career of social dissipa- 
 tion ; dining and supping out ; at clubs, at routs, at theatres ; 
 he is a guest with Johnson at the Thrales', and an object of 
 Mrs. Thrale's lively saUies ; he is a lion at Mrs. Vesey's and 
 Mrs. Montagu's, where some of the high-bred blue-stockings 
 pronounce him a "wild genius," and others, peradventure, 
 a " wild Irishman." In the meantime his pecuniary difficulties 
 are increasing upon him, conflicting with his proneness to pleasure 
 and expense, and contributing by the harassment of his mind 
 to the wear and tear of his constitution. His "Animated 
 Nature," though not finished, has been entirely paid for, and 
 the money spent. The money advanced by Garrick on New- 
 bery's note, still hangs over him as a debt. The tale on which 
 ISTewbery had loaned from two to three hundred pounds previous 
 to the excursion to Barton, has proved a failure. The book- 
 seller is urgent for the settlement of his complicated account ; 
 the perplexed author has nothing to offer him in liquidation 
 
204 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 
 
 but the copyright of the comedy which he has in his portfolio ; 
 " Though to tell you the truth, Frank," said he, " there are 
 great doubts of its success." The offer was accepted, and, like 
 bargains wrung from Goldsmith in times of emergency, turned 
 out a golden speculation to the bookseller. 
 
 In this way Goldsmith went on " overrunning the constable," 
 as he termed it ; spending every thing in advance ; working 
 with overtasked head and weary heart to pay for past pleasures 
 and past extravagance, and at the same time incurring new 
 debts, to perpetuate his struggles and darken his future pros- 
 pects. While the excitement of society and the excitement of 
 composition conspire to keep up a feverishness of the system, 
 he has incurred an unfortunate habit of quacking himself with 
 James's powders, a fashionable panacea of the day. 
 
 A farce, produced this year by Gar rick, and entitled " The 
 Irish Widow," perpetuates the memory of practical jokes played 
 off a year or two previously upon the alleged vanity of poor, 
 simple-hearted Goldsmith. He was one evening at the house 
 of his friend Burke, when he was beset by a tenth muse, an 
 Irish widow and authoress, just arrived from Ireland, full 
 of brogue and blunders, and poetic fire and rantipole gentility. 
 She was soliciting subscriptions for her poems ; and assailed 
 Goldsmith for his patronage; the great Goldsmith — her 
 countryman, and of course her friend. She overpowered him 
 with eulogiums on his own poems, and then read some of her 
 own, with vehemence of tone and gesture, appealing continually 
 to the great Goldsmith to know how he relished them. 
 
 Poor Goldsmith did all that a kind-hearted and gallant 
 gentleman could do in such a case ; he praised her poems as far 
 as the stomach of his sense would permit : perhaps a little 
 further ; he offered her his subscription, and it was not until 
 she had retired with many parting compliments to the great 
 Goldsmith, that he pronounced the poetry which had been 
 inflicted on him execrable. The whole scene had been a hoax 
 got up by Burke for the amusement of his company, and the 
 Irish widow, so admirably performed, had been personated by 
 a Mrs. Balfour, a lady of his connection, of great sprightliness 
 and talent. 
 
 We see nothing in the story to establish the alleged vanity 
 
OLIVER GOLDSiNIITH 205 
 
 of Goldsmith, but we think it tells rather to the disadvantage 
 of Burke; being unwarrantable under their relations of friend- 
 ship, and a species of waggery quite beneath his genius. 
 
 Croker, in his notes to Boswell, gives another of these prac- 
 tical jokes perpetrated by Burke at the expense of Goldsmith's 
 credulity. It was related to Croker by Colonel 'Moore, of 
 Cloghan Castle, in Ireland, who was a party concerned. The 
 Colonel and Burke, walking one day through Leicester Square 
 on their way to Sir Joshua Reynolds's, with whom they were 
 to dine, observed Goldsmith, who was likewise to be a guest, 
 standing and regarding a crowd which was staring and shout- 
 ing at some foreign ladies in the window of a hotel, " Observe 
 Goldsmith," said Burke to O'Moore, "and mark what passes 
 between us at Sir Joshua's." They passed on and reached 
 there before him. Burke received Goldsmith with affected 
 reserve and coldness : being pressed to explain the reason, 
 " Really," said he, "I am ashamed to keep company with a 
 person who could act as you have just done in the Square." 
 Goldsmith protested he was ignorant of what was meant. 
 "Why," said Burke, " did you not exclaim as you were looking 
 up at those women, what stupid beasts the crowd must be for 
 staring with such admiration at those painted Jezebels, while a 
 man of your talents passed by unnoticed ? " " Surely, surely, 
 my dear friend," cried Goldsmith, with alarm, "surely I did 
 not say so?" "Nay," replied Burke, "if you had not said 
 so, how should I have known it ? " " That's true," answered 
 Goldsmith, "I am very sorry — it was very foolish : / do recol- 
 lect that something of the kind passed through my mind, hut 
 I did not think I had uttered itJ^ 
 
 It is proper to observe that these jokes were played off by 
 Burke before he had attained the full eminence of his social 
 position, and that he may have felt privileged to take liberties 
 with Goldsmith as his countryman and college associate. It is 
 evident, however, that the peculiarities of the latter, and his 
 guileless simplicity, made him a butt for the broad waggery 
 of some of his associates ; while others more polished, though 
 equally perfidious, are on the watch to give currency to his 
 bulls and blunders. 
 
 The Stratford jubilee, in honor of Shakspeare, where Boswell 
 
206 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 
 
 had made a fool of himself, was still in every one's mind. It 
 was sportively suggested that a fete should be held at Litch- 
 field in honor of Johnson and Garrick, and that the " Beaux' 
 Stratagem " should be played by the members of the Literary 
 Club. "Then," exclaimed Goldsmith, "I shall certainly 
 play Scrub. I should like of all things to try my hand at that 
 character." The unwary speech, which any one else might 
 have made without comment, has been thought worthy of 
 record as whimsically characteristic. Beauclerc was extremely 
 apt to circulate anecdotes at his expense, founded perhaps on 
 some trivial incident, but dressed up with the embellishments 
 of his sarcastic brain. One relates to a venerable dish of peas, 
 served up at Sir Joshua's table, which should have been green, 
 but were any other color, A wag suggested to Goldsmith, in 
 a whisper, that they should be sent to Hammersmith, as that 
 was the way to turn-em-green (Turnham-Green). Goldsmith, 
 delighted with the pun, endeavored to repeat it at Burke's 
 table, but missed the point. " That is the way to make 'em 
 green," said he. Nobody laughed. He perceived he was at 
 fault. " I mean that is the road to turn 'em green." A dead 
 pause and a stare ; " whereupon," adds Beauclerc, " he started 
 up disconcerted and abruptly left the table." This is evidently 
 one of Beauclerc's caricatures. 
 
 On another occasion the poet and Beauclerc were seated at 
 the theatre next to Lord Shelburne, the minister, whom politi- 
 cal writers thought proper to nickname Malagrida. " Do you 
 know," said Goldsmith to his lordship, in the course of conver- 
 sation, "that I never could conceive why they call you Mala- 
 grida, for Malagrida was a very good sort of man." This 
 was too good a trip of the tongue for Beauclerc to let pass : 
 he serves it up in his next letter to Lord Charlemont, as a 
 specimen of a mode of turning a thought the wrong way, pecul- 
 iar to the poet ; he makes merry over it with his witty and 
 sarcastic compeer, Horace Walpole, who pronounces it " a 
 picture of Goldsmith's whole life." Dr. Johnson alone, when 
 he hears it bandied about as Goldsmith's last blunder, growls 
 forth a friendly defence : " Sir," said he, " it was a mere 
 blunder in emphasis. He meant to say, I wonder they should 
 use Malagrida as a term of reproach." Poor Goldsmith ! On 
 
OLIVER GOLDSMITH 207 
 
 such points he was ever doomed to be misinterpreted. Rogers, 
 the poet, meeting in times long subsequent with a survivor 
 from those days, asked him what Goldsmith really was in con- 
 versation. The old conventional character was too deeply 
 stamped in the memory of the veteran to be effaced. " Sir," 
 replied the old wiseacre, " he was a fool. The right word 
 never came to him. If you gave him back a bad shilling, he'd 
 say, Why it's as good a shilling as ever was horn. You know 
 he ought to have said coined. Coined, sir, never entered his 
 head. He was a fool, sir." 
 
 We have so many anecdotes in which Goldsmith's simplicity 
 is "played upon, that it is quite a treat to meet with one in 
 which he is represented playing upon the simplicity of others, 
 especially when the victim of his joke is the " Great Cham " 
 himself, whom all others are disposed to hold so much in awe. 
 Goldsmith and Johnson were supping cosily together at a 
 tavern in Dean-street, Soho, kept by Jack Roberts, a singer at 
 Drury-lane, and a prott^gd of Garrick's. Johnson delighted in 
 these gastronomical tete-k-tetes, and was expatiating in high 
 good humor on a dish of rumps and kidneys, the veins of his 
 forehead swelling with the ardor of mastication. " These," 
 said he, "are pretty little things ; but a man must eat a great 
 many of them before he is filled." "Aye; but how many of 
 them," asked Goldsmith, with affected simplicity, " would reach 
 to the moon ? " "To the moon ! Ah, sir, that, I fear, exceeds 
 your calculation." " Not at all, sir ; I think I could tell." 
 " Pray, then, sir, let us hear." " Why, sir, one, if it ivere 
 long enough ! " Johnson growled for a time at finding himself 
 caught in such a trite schoolboy trap. " Well, sir," cried he 
 at length, " I have deserved it. I should not have provoked so 
 foolish an answer by so foolish a question." 
 
 Among the many incidents related as illustrative of Gold- 
 smith's vanity and envy is one which occurred one evening 
 when he was in a drawing-room with a party of ladies, and a 
 ballad-singer under the window struck up his favorite song of 
 " Sally Salisbury." " How miserably this woman sings ! " 
 exclaimed he. "Pray, doctor^" said the lady of the house, 
 " could you do it better ? " " Yes, madam, and the company 
 shall be judges." The company, of course, prepared to be 
 
208 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 
 
 entertained by an absurdity ; but their smiles were well nigh 
 turned to tears, for he acquitted himself with a skill and pathos 
 that drew universal applause. He had, in fact, a delicate ear 
 for music, which had been jarred by the false notes of the 
 ballad-singer; and there were certain pathetic ballads, asso- 
 ciated with recollections of his childhood, which were sure 
 to touch the springs of his heart. We have another story of 
 him, connected with ballad-singing, which is still more charac- 
 teristic. He was one evening at the house of Sir William 
 Chambers, in Berners-street, seated at a whist-table with Sir 
 William, Lady Chambers, and Baretti, when all at once he 
 threw down his cards, hurried out of the room and into the 
 street. He returned in an instant, resumed his seat, and the 
 game went on. Sir William, after a little hesitation, ventured 
 to ask the cause of his retreat, fearing he had been overcome by 
 the heat of the room. " Not at all," replied Goldsmith ; " but 
 in truth I could not bear to hear that unfortunate woman in 
 the street, half singing, half sobbing, for such tones could only 
 arise from the extremity of distress ; her voice grated painfully 
 on my ear and jarred my frame, so that I could not rest until I 
 had sent her away." It was in fact a poor ballad-singer whose 
 cracked voice had been heard by others of the party, but with- 
 out having the same effect on their sensibilities. It was the 
 reality of his fictitious scene in the story of the " Man in Bfack " ; 
 wherein he describes a woman in rags, with one child in her 
 arms and another on her back, attempting to sing ballads, but 
 with such a mournful voice that it was difficult to determine 
 whether she was singing or crying. " A wretch," he adds, 
 "who, in the deepest distress, still aimed at good-humor, was 
 an object my friend was by no means capable of withstanding." 
 The Man in Black gave the poor woman all that he had — 
 a bundle of matches.^ Goldsmith, it is probable, sent his 
 ballad-singer away rejoicing, with all the money in his pocket. 
 
 Ranelagh was at that time greatly in vogue as a place of 
 public entertainment. It was situated near Chelsea ; the prin- 
 cipal room was a rotunda of great dimensions, with an orches- 
 tra in the centre, and tiers of boxes all round. It was a place 
 to which Johnson resorted occasionally. " I am a great friend 
 
 1 Citizen of the World, Letter xxvi. 
 
OLIVER GOLDSMITH 209 
 
 to public amusements," said he, "for they keep people from 
 vice." ^ Goldsmith was equally a friend to them, though per- 
 haps not altogether on such moral grounds. He was particu- 
 larly fond of masquerades, which were then exceedingly popular, 
 and got up at Ranelagh with great expense and magnificence. 
 Sir Joshua Reynolds, who had likewise a taste for such amuse- 
 ments, was sometimes his companion, at other times he went 
 alone ; his peculiarities of person and manner would soon betray 
 him, whatever might be his disguise, and he would be singled 
 out by wags, acquainted with his foibles, and more successful 
 than himself in maintaining their incognito, as a capital sub- 
 ject to be played upon. Some, pretending not to know him, 
 would decry his writings, and praise those of his contempo- 
 raries ; others would laud his verses to the skies, but purposely 
 misquote and burlesque them ; others would annoy him with 
 parodies ; while one young lady, whom he was teasing, as he 
 supposed, with great success and infinite humor, silenced his 
 rather boisterous laughter by quoting his own line about " the 
 loud laugh that speaks the vacant mind." ^ On one occasion he 
 was absolutely driven out of the house by the persevering jokes 
 of a wag, whose complete disguise gave him no means of 
 retaliation. 
 
 His name appearing in the newspapers among the distin- 
 guished persons present at one of these amusements, his old 
 enemy, Kenrick, immediately addressed to him a copy of anony- 
 mous verses, to the following purport. 
 
 To Dr. Goldsmith ; on seeing his name in the list of mum- 
 mers at the late masquerade : 
 
 " How widely different, Goldsmith, are the ways 
 Of Doctors now, and those of ancient days ! 
 
 1 " Alas, sir! " said Johnson, speaking, when in another mood, of 
 grand houses, fine gardens, and splendid places of public amusement; 
 " alas, sir! these are only struggles for happiness. When I first entered 
 Ranelagh it gave an expansion and gay sensation to my mind, such 
 as I never experienced anywhere else. But, as Xerxes wept when he 
 viewed his immense army, and considered that not one of that great 
 multitude would be alive a hundred years afterwards, so it went to my 
 heart to consider that there was not one in all that brilliant circle that 
 was not afraid to go home and think." 
 
 2 From the Deserted Village, line 122. 
 
210 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 
 
 Theirs taught the truth in academic shades, 
 Ours in lewd hops and midnight masquerades. 
 So changed the times ! say, philosophic sage, 
 Whose genius suits so well this tasteful age, 
 Is the Pantheon, late a sink obscene, 
 Become the fountain of chaste Hippocrene ? 
 Or do thy moral numbers quaintly flow, 
 Inspired by th' Aganippe of Soho ? 
 Do wisdom's sons gorge cates and vermicelli, 
 Like beastly Bickerstaff or bothering Kelly ? 
 Or art thou tired of th' undeserved applause, 
 Bestowed on bards affecting Virtue's cause ? 
 Is this the good that makes the humble vain, 
 The good philosophy should not disdain ? 
 If so, let pride dissemble all it can, 
 A modern sage is still much less than man." 
 
 Goldsmith was keenly sensitive to attacks of the kind, and 
 meeting Kenrick at the Chapter Cotfee-honse, called him to 
 sharp account for taking such a liberty with his name, and 
 calling his morals in question, merely on account of his being 
 seen at a place of general resort and amusement. Kenrick 
 shuffled and sneaked, protesting that he meant nothing deroga- 
 tory to his private character. Goldsmith let him know, how- 
 ever, that he was aware of his having more than once indulged 
 in attacks of this dastard kind, and intimated that another such 
 outrage would be followed by personal chastisement. 
 
 Kenrick having played the craven in his presence, avenged 
 himself as soon as he was gone by complaining of his having 
 made a wanton attack upon him, and by making coarse com- 
 ments upon his writings, conversation, and person. 
 
 The scurrilous satire of Kenrick, however unmerited, may 
 have checked Goldsmith's taste for masquerades. Sir Joshua 
 Eeynolds, calling on the poet one morning, found him walking 
 about his room in somewhat of a reverie, kicking a bundle of 
 clothes before him like a foot-ball. It proved to be an expen- 
 sive masquerade dress, which he said he had been fool enough 
 to purchase, and as there was no other way of getting the worth 
 of his money, he was trying to take it out in exercise. 
 
OLIVER GOLDSMITH 211 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVI 
 
 Invitation to Christmas — Tlie sprins-volvet coat — The haymaking 
 wig — The niiscliances of loo — The lair culprit — A dance with 
 the Jessamy Bride 
 
 From the foverisli dissipations of town, Goldsmith is sum- 
 moned awiiy to partake of the genial dissipations of the country. 
 In the month of December, a letter from Mrs. Bunbury invites 
 him down to Barton, to pass the Christmas holi(Uiys. The 
 letter is written in the usual playful vein which marks his in- 
 teffjourse with this charming family. He is to come in his 
 "smart sj)ring- velvet coat," to bring a new wig to dance with 
 the iiaymakers in, and above all, to follow the advice of herself 
 and her sister (the Jessamy Bride) in playing loo. This letter, 
 which plays so archly, yet kindly, with some of poor Goldsmith's 
 peculiaiities, and bespeaks such real ladylike regard fpr him, 
 requires a word or two of annotation. The spring-velvet suit 
 alluded to, appears to have been a gallant adornment (some- 
 what in the style of the famous bloom-colored coat), in which 
 Goldsmith had figured in the preceding month of May — the 
 season of blossoms — for, on the 21st of that month, we find 
 the following entry in the chronicle of Mr. William Filby, 
 tailor: To your blue velvet suit, £'2\ 10s. 9d. Also, about 
 tiie same time, a suit of livery and a crimson collar for the serv- 
 ing man. Again we hold the Jessamy Bride responsible for this 
 gorgeous splendor of wardrobe. 
 
 The new wig no doubt is a bag-wig and solitaire, still highly 
 the mode, and in which Goldsmith is represented as figuring 
 when in full dress, equipped with his sword. 
 
 As to the dancing with the haymakers, we presume it alludes 
 to some gambol of the poet, in the course of his former visit 
 to Barton ; when he ranged the fields and lawns a chartered 
 libertine, and tumbled into the fish-ponds. 
 
 As to the suggestions about loo, they are in sportive allusion 
 to the doctor's mode of playing that game in their merry even- 
 ing parties ; affecting the desperate gambler and easy dupe ; 
 running counter to all rule ; making extravagant ventures ; re- 
 proaching all others with cowardice ; dashing at all hazards at 
 the pool, and getting himself completely loo'd, to the great 
 
212 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 
 
 amusement of the company. The drift of the fair sisters' ad- 
 vice was most probably to tempt him on, and then leave him 
 in the lurch. 
 
 With these comments we subjoin Goldsmith's reply to Mrs. 
 Bunbury, a fine piece of off-hand, humorous writing, which has 
 but in late years been given to the public, and which throws 
 a familiar light on the social circle at Barton. 
 
 " Madam, — I read your letter with all that allowance which 
 critical candor could require, but after all find so much to object 
 to, and so much to raise my indignation, that I cannot help giv- 
 ing it a serious answer. — I am not so ignorant, madam, as not 
 to see there are many sarcasms contained in it, and solecisms 
 also. (Solecism is a word that comes from the town of Soleis 
 in Attica, among the Greeks, built by Solon, and applied as we 
 use the word Kidderminster for curtains from a town also of 
 that name — but this is learning you have no taste for !) — 
 I say, madam, there are many sarcasms in it, and solecisms 
 also. But not to seem an ill-natured critic, I'll take leave to 
 quote your own words, and give you my remarks upon them as 
 they occur. You begin as follows : 
 
 " ' I hope, my good Doctor, you soon will be here, 
 And your spring-velvet coat very smart will appear, 
 To open our ball the first day of the year.' 
 
 " Pray, madam, where did you ever find the epithet ' good 
 applied to the title of doctor ? Had you called me ' learned 
 doctor,' or 'grave doctor,' or 'noble doctor,' it might be allow- 
 able, because they belong to the profession. But, not to cavil 
 at trifles, you talk of my ' spring-velvet coat,' and advise me to 
 wear it the first day in the year, that is, in the middle of win- 
 ter ! — a spring- velvet coat in the middle of winter ! ! ! That 
 would be a solecism indeed ! and yet to increase the inconsist- 
 ence, in another part of your letter you call me a beau. Now, 
 on one side or other, you must be wrong. If I am a beau, I 
 can never think of wearing a spring-velvet in winter : and if I 
 am not a beau, why then, that explains itself. But let me go 
 on to your two next strange lines : 
 
 " ' And bring with you a wig, that is modish and gay, 
 To dance with the girls that are makers of hay.' 
 
OLIVER GOLDSMITH 213 
 
 " The absurdity of making hay at Christmas you yourself 
 seem sensible of: you say your sister will laugh ; and so indeed 
 she well may ! The Latins have an expression for a contemp- 
 tuous kind of laughter, ' naso contemnere adunco ' ; that is, to 
 laugh with a crooked nose. She may laugh at you in the 
 manner of the ancients if she thinks fit. But now I come to 
 the most extraordinary of all extraordinary propositions, which 
 is, to take your and your sister's advice in playing at loo. The 
 presumption of the offer raises my indignation beyond the 
 bounds of prose ; it inspires me at once with verse and re- 
 sen tflcient. I take advice ! and from whom? You shall hear. 
 
 " First let me suppose, what may shortly be true, 
 The company set, and the word to be Loo ; 
 All smirking, and pleasant, and big with adventure, 
 And ogling the stake which is fix'd in the centre. 
 Round and round go the cards, while I inwardly damn 
 At never once finding a visit from Pam. 
 I lay down ray stake, apparently cool, 
 While the harpies about me all pocket the pool. 
 I fret in my gizzard, yet cautious and sly, 
 I wish all my friends may be bolder than I : 
 Yet still they sit snug, not a creature will aim 
 By losing their money to venture at fame. 
 'Tis in vain that at niggardly caution I scold, 
 'Tis in vain that I flatter the brave and the bold : 
 All play their own way, and they think me an ass, . . . 
 * What does Mrs. Bunbury ?'...' I, sir ? I pass.' 
 ' Pray what does Miss Horneck ? take courage, come do,' . . , 
 ' Who, I ? let me see, sir, why I must pass too.' 
 Mr. Bunbury frets, and I fret like the devil, 
 To see them so cowardly, lucky, and civil. 
 Yet still I sit snug, and continue to sigh on, 
 'Till, made by my losses as bold as a lion, 
 I venture at all, while my avarice regards 
 The whole pool as my own. . . . ' Come, give me five cards.' 
 ' Well done ! ' cry the ladies ; ' Ah, Doctor, that's good ! 
 The pool's very rich, ... ah ! the Doctor is loo'd ! ' 
 Thus foil'd in my courage, on all sides perplext, 
 I ask for advice from the lady that's next : 
 ' Pray, ma'am, be so good as to give your advice ; 
 Don't you think the best way is to venture for't twice ? ' 
 ' I advise,' cries the lady, ' to try it, I own. . . . 
 Ah ! the Doctor is loo'd ! Come, Doctor, put down.' 
 Thus, playing, and playing, I still grow more eager. 
 And so bold, and so bold, I'm at last a bold beggar. 
 
214 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 
 
 Now, ladies, I ask, if law-matters you're skill'd in, 
 
 Whether crimes such as yours should not come before Fielding : 
 
 Tor giving advice that is not worth a straw, 
 
 May well be call'd picking of pockets in law ; 
 
 And picking of pockets, with which I now charge ye, 
 
 Is, by quinto Elizabeth, Death without Clergy. 
 
 What justice, when both to the Old Bailey brought ! 
 
 By the gods, I'll enjoy it, tho' 'tis but in thought ! 
 
 Both are plac'd at the bar, with all proper decorum, 
 
 With bunches of fennel, and nosegays before 'em ; 
 
 Both cover their faces with mobs and all that, 
 
 But the judge bids them, angrily, take off their hat. 
 
 When uncover'd, a buzz of inquiry runs round, 
 
 ' Pray what are their crimes ? ' . . . 'They've been pilfering found.' 
 
 ' But, pray, who have they pilfer'd ?'...' A doctor, I hear.' 
 
 ' What, yon solemn-faced, odd-looking man that stands near I" 
 
 ' The same.' . . . ' What a pity ! how does it surprise one, 
 
 Tico handsomer culprits I never set eyes on ! ' 
 
 Then their friends all come round me with cringing and leering, 
 
 To melt me to pity, and soften my swearing. 
 
 First Sir Charles advances with phrases well-strung, 
 
 * Consider, dear Doctor, the girls are but young.' 
 
 ' The younger the worse,' I return him again, 
 
 ' It shows that their habits are all dyed in grain.' 
 
 ' But then they're so handsome, one's bosom it grieves.' 
 
 ' What signifies handsome, when people are thieves ? ' 
 
 ' But where is your justice ? their cases are hard.' 
 
 ' What signifies jifsJice.? I want the reward.'' 
 
 " ' There's the parish of Edmonton offers forty pounds ; 
 there's the parish of St. Leonard Shoreditch offers forty pounds ; 
 there's the parish of Tyburn, from the Hog-in-the-pound to St. 
 Giles's watch-house, offers forty pounds, — I shall have all that 
 if I convict them ! ' — 
 
 " ' But consider their case, ... it may yet be your own ! 
 And see how they kneel ! Is your heart made of stone ? 
 This moves : ... so at last I agree to relent. 
 For ten pounds in hand, and ten pounds to be spent.' 
 
 " I challenge you all to answer this : I tell you, you cannot. 
 It cuts deep. But now for the rest of the letter : and next — 
 but I want room — so I believe I shall battle the rest out at 
 Barton some day next week. — I don't value you all ! 
 
 " 0. G." 
 
OLIVER GOLDSMITH 215 
 
 We regret that we have no record of this Christmas visit to 
 Barton ; that the poet had no Boswell to follow at his heels, 
 and take note of all his sayings and doings. We can only pic- 
 ture him in our minds, casting off all care ; enacting the lord of 
 misrule ; presiding at the Christmas revels ; providing all kinds 
 of merriment ; keeping the card-table in an uproar, and finally 
 opening the ball on the first day of the year in his spring-velvet 
 suit, with the Jessamy Bride for a partner. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVII 
 
 Th€f5,trical delays — Negotiations with Colman — Letter to Garrick — 
 Croaking of the manager — Naming of the play — She Stoops to 
 Conquer — Foote's Primitive Puppetshow, Piety i7i Pattens — First 
 performance of the comedy — Agitation of the author — Success — 
 Colman squibbed out of town 
 
 The gay life depicted in the two last chapters, while it kept 
 Goldsmith in a state of continual excitement, aggravated the 
 malady which was impairing his constitution ; yet his increasing 
 perplexities in money matters drove him to the dissipation of 
 society as a relief from solitary care. The delays of the theatre 
 added to those perplexities. He had long since finished his new 
 comedy, yet the year 1772 passed away without his being able 
 to get it on the stage. No one, uninitiated in the interior of a 
 theatre, that little world of traps and trickery, can have any 
 idea of the obstacles and perplexities multiplied in the way of 
 the most eminent and successful author by the mismanagement 
 of managers, the jealousies and intrigues of rival authors, and 
 the fantastic and impertinent caprices of actors. A long and 
 baffling negotiation was carried on between Goldsmith and Col- 
 man, the manager of Covent-Garden ; who retained the play in 
 his hands until the middle of January, (1773,) without coming 
 to a decision. The theatrical season was rapidly passing away, 
 and Goldsmith's pecuniary difficulties were augmenting and 
 pressing on him. We may judge of his anxiety by the following 
 letter : 
 
 " To George Colman, Esq. 
 "Dear Sir, 
 
 " I entreat you'll relieve me from that state of suspense in 
 which I have been kept for a long time. Whatever objections 
 
216 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 
 
 you have made or shall make to my play, I will endeavor to 
 remove and not argue about them. To bring in any new judges 
 either of its merits or faults I can never submit to. Upon a 
 former occasion, when my other play was before Mr. Garrick, 
 he offered to bring me before Mr. Whitehead's tribunal, but I 
 refused the proposal with indignation : I hope I shall not ex- 
 perience as harsh treatment from you as from him. I have, as 
 you know, a large sum of money to make up shortly ; by 
 accepting my play, I can readily satisfy my creditor that way ; 
 at any rate, I must look about to some certainty to be prepared. 
 For God's sake take the play, and let us make the best of it, 
 and let me have the same measure, at least, which you have 
 given as bad plays as mine. 
 
 " I am your friend and servant, 
 
 " Oliver Goldsmith." 
 
 Colman returned the manuscript with the blank sides of the 
 leaves scored with disparaging comments and suggested altera- 
 tions, but with the intimation that the faith of the theatre 
 should be kept, and the play acted notwithstanding. Gold- 
 smith submitted the criticisms to some of his friends, who pro- 
 nounced them trivial, unfair, and contemptible, and intimated 
 that Colman, being a dramatic WTiter himself, might be actu- 
 ated by jealousy. The play was then sent, with Colman's 
 comments written on it, to Garrick ; but he had scarce sent it 
 when Johnson interfered, represented the evil that might result 
 from an apparent rejection of it by Covent-Garden, and un- 
 dertook to go forthwith to Colman, and have a talk with him 
 on the subject. Goldsmith, therefore, penned the following note 
 to Garrick : 
 
 " Dear Sir, 
 
 " I ask many pardons for the trouble I gave you yesterday. 
 Upon more mature deliberation, and the advice of a sensible 
 friend, I began to think it indelicate in me to throw upon you 
 the odium of confirming Mr. Colman's sentence. I therefore 
 request you will send my play back by my servant ; for having 
 been assured of having it acted at the other house, though I 
 confess yours in every respect more to my wish, yet it would be 
 
OLIVER GOLDSMITH 217 
 
 folly in me to forego an advantage which lies in my power of 
 appealing from Mr. Oolman's opinion to the judgment of the 
 town. I entreat, if not too late, you will keep this aftair a 
 secret for some time. 
 
 " I am, dear Sir, your very humble servant, 
 
 "Oliver Goldsmith." 
 
 The negotiation of Johnson with the manager of Covent- 
 Garden was effective. "Colman," he says, "was prevailed on 
 at last, by much solicitation, nay, a kind of force," to bring for- 
 wnxd the comedy. Still the manager was ungenerous ; or, at 
 least, indiscreet enough to express his opinion, that it would 
 not reach a second representation. The plot, he said, was bad, 
 and the interest not sustained; "it dwindled, and dwindled, 
 and at last went out like the snuff of a candle." The effect of 
 his croaking was soon apparent within the walls of the theatre. 
 Two of the most popular actors, Woodward and Gentleman 
 Smith, to whom the parts of Tony Lumpkin and Young Mar- 
 " low were assigned, refused to act them ; one of them alleging, 
 in excuse, the evil predictions of the manager. Goldsmith was 
 advised to postpone the performance of his play until he could 
 get these important parts well supplied. " No," said he, " I 
 would sooner that my play were damned by bad players than 
 merely saved by good acting." 
 
 Quick was substituted for Woodward in Tony Lumpkin, and 
 Lee Lewis, the harlequin of the theatre, for Gentleman Smith 
 in Young Marlow ; and both did justice to their parts. 
 
 Great interest was taken by Goldsmith's friends in the suc- 
 cess of his piece. The rehearsals were attended by Johnson, 
 Cradock, Murphy, Reynolds and his sister, and the whole 
 Horneck connection, including, of course, the Jessamy Bride, 
 whose presence may have contributed to flutter the anxious heart 
 of the author. The rehearsals went off with great applause, but 
 that Colman attributed to the partiality of friends. He con- 
 tinued to croak, and refused to risk any expense in new scenery 
 or dresses on a play which he was sure would prove a failure. 
 
 The time was at hand for the first representation, and as yet 
 the comedy was without a title. "We are all in labor for a 
 name for Goldy's play," said Johnson, who, as usual, took a 
 
218 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 
 
 kind of fatherly protecting interest in poor Goldsmith's affairs. 
 " The Old House a New Inn " was thought of for a time, but 
 still did not please. Sir Joshua Keynolds proposed " The 
 Belle's Stratagem," an elegant title, but not considered appli- 
 cable, the perplexities of the comedy being produced by the 
 mistake of the hero, not the stratagem of the heroine. The 
 name was afterwards adopted by Mrs. Cowley for one of her 
 comedies. " The Mistakes of a Night " was the title at length 
 fixed upon, to which Goldsmith prefixed the words, "She 
 Stoops to Conquer." 
 
 The evil bodings of Colman still continued : they were even 
 communicated in the box office to the servant of the Duke of 
 Gloucester, Avho was sent to engage a box. Never did the play 
 of a popular writer struggle into existence through more diffi- 
 culties. 
 
 In the mean time Foote's Primitive Puppetshow, entitled the 
 " Handsome Housemaid, or Piety in Pattens," had been brought 
 out at the Haymarket on the 15th of February. All the world, 
 fashionable and unfashionable, had crowded to the theatre. The 
 street was thronged with equipages — the doors were stormed 
 by the mob. The burlesque was completely successful, and 
 sentimental comedy received its quietus. Even Garrick, who 
 had recently befriended it, now gave it a kick, as he saw it going 
 down hill, and sent Goldsmith a humorous prologue to help his 
 comedy of the opposite school. Garrick and Goldsmith, how- 
 ever, were now on very cordial terms, to which the social meet- 
 ings in the circle of the Hornecks and Bunburys may have 
 contributed. 
 
 On the 15th of March the new comedy was to be performed. 
 Those who had stood up for its merits, and been irritated and 
 disgusted by the treatment it had received from the manager, 
 determined to muster their forces, and aid in giving it a good 
 launch upon the town. The particulars of this confederation, 
 and of its triumphant success, are amusingly told by Cumber- 
 land in his memoirs. 
 
 " We were not over sanguine of success, but peifectly deter- 
 mined to struggle hard for our author. We accordingly as- 
 sembled our strength at the Shakspeare Tavern, in a considerable 
 body, for an early dinner, where Samuel Johnson took the chair 
 
OLIVER GOLDSMITH 219 
 
 at the head of a long table, and was the life and soul of the 
 corps : the poet took post silently by his side, with the Burkes, 
 Sir Joshua Reynolds, Fitzherbert, Caleb Whitefoord, and a 
 phalanx of North British, predetermined applauders, under the 
 banner of Major Mills, ail good men and true. Our illustrious 
 president was in inimitable glee ; and poor Goldsmith that day 
 took all his raillery as patiently and complacently as my friend 
 Boswell would have done any day or every day of his life. In 
 the mean time, we did not forget our duty ; and though we had 
 a better comedy going, in which Johnson was chief actor, we 
 betfiok ourselves in good time to our separate and allotted posts, 
 and waited the awful drawing up of the curtain. As our sta- 
 tions were preconcerted, so were our signals for plaudits arranged 
 and determined upon in a manner that gave every one his cue 
 where to look for them, and how to follow them up. 
 
 "We had among us a very worthy and efficient member, 
 long since lost to his friends and the world at large, Adam 
 Drummond, of amiable memory, who was gifted by nature with 
 the most sonorous, and at the same time, the most contagious 
 laugh that ever echoed from the human lungs. The neighing 
 of the horse of the son of Hystaspes was a whisper to it ; the 
 whole thunder of the theatre could not drown it. This kind 
 and ingenious friend fairly forewarned us that he knew no more 
 when to give his fire than the cannon did that was planted on 
 a battery. He desired, therefore, to have a flapper at his elbow, 
 and I had the honor to be deputed to that office. I planted 
 him in an upper box, pretty nearly over the stage, in full view 
 of the pit and galleries, and perfectly well situated to give the 
 echo all its play through the hollows and recesses of the theatre. 
 The success of our manoeuvre was complete. All eyes were upon 
 Johnson, who sat in a front row of a side box ; and when he 
 laughed, everybody thought themselves warranted to roar. In 
 the mean time, my friend followed signals with a rattle so irre- 
 sistibly comic that, when he had repeated it several times, the 
 attention of the spectators was so engrossed by his person and 
 performances, that the progress of the play seemed likely to 
 become a secondary object, and I found it prudent to insinuate 
 to him that he might halt his music without any prejudice to 
 the author ; but alas ! it was now too late to rein him in ; he 
 
220 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 
 
 had laughed upon my signal where he found no joke, and now, 
 unluckily, he fancied that he found a joke in almost every thing 
 that was said ; so that nothing in nature could be more mal- 
 apropos than some of his bursts every now and then were. 
 These were dangerous moments, for the pit began to take 
 umbrage ; but we carried our point through, and triumphed not 
 only over Colman's judgment, but our own." 
 
 Much of this statement has been condemned as exaggerated 
 or discolored. Cumberland's memoirs have generally been char- 
 acterized as partaking of romance, and in the present instance 
 he had particular motives for tampering with the truth. He 
 was a dramatic writer himself, jealous of the success of a rival, 
 and anxious to have it attributed to the private management 
 of friends. According to various accounts, public and private, 
 such management was unnecessary, for the piece was " received 
 throughout with the greatest acclamations." 
 
 Goldsmith, in the present instance, had not dared, as on a 
 former occasion, to be present at the first performance. He 
 had been so overcome by his apprehensions that, at the prepar- 
 atory dinner, he could hardly utter a word, and was so choked 
 that he could not swallow a mouthful. When his friends 
 trooped to the theatre, he stole away to St. James's Park : there 
 he was found by a friend, between seven and eight o'clock, wan- 
 dering up and down the Mall like a troubled spirit. With dif- 
 ficulty he was persuaded to go to the theatre, where his presence 
 might be important should any alteration be necessary. He 
 arrived at the opening of the fifth act, and made his way be- 
 hind the scenes. Just as he entered there was a slight hiss at 
 the improbability of Tony Lumpkin's trick on his mother, in 
 persuading her she was forty miles off, on CrackskuU Common, 
 though she had been trundled about on her own grounds. 
 " What's that ? what's that ! " cried Goldsmith to the manager, 
 in great agitation. " Pshaw ! Doctor," replied Colman, sarcas- 
 tically, " don't be frightened at a squib, when we've been sit- 
 ting these two hours on a barrel of gunpowder ! " Though of 
 a most forgiving nature. Goldsmith did not easily forget this 
 ungracious and ill-timed sally. 
 
 If Colman was indeed actuated by the paltry motives ascribed 
 to him in his treatment of this play, he was most amply pun- 
 
OLIVER GOLDSMITH 221 
 
 ished by its success, and by the taunts, epigrams, and censures 
 levelled at him through the press, in which his false prophecies 
 were jeered at ; his critical judgment called in question ; and he 
 was openly taxed with literary jealousy. So galling and unre- 
 mitting was the fire, that he at length wrote to Goldsmith, en- 
 treating him " to take him off the rack of the newspapers " ; 
 in the mean time, to escape the laugh that was raised about 
 him in the theatrical world of London, he took refuge in Batli 
 during the triumphant career of the comedy. 
 
 The following is one of the many squibs which assailed the 
 earsjof the manager : 
 
 To George Colman, Esq., 
 
 ON THE SUCCESS OF DK. GOLDSMITH'S NEW COMEDY 
 
 " Come, Coley, doff those mourning weeds, 
 Nor thus with jokes be flamm'd ; 
 Tho' Goldsmith's present play succeeds, 
 His next may still be damn'd. 
 
 *' As this has 'scaped without a fall, 
 To sink his next prepare ; 
 New actors hire from Wapping Wall, 
 And dresses from Bag Fair. 
 
 " For scenes let tatter'd blankets fly, 
 The prologue Kelly write ; 
 Then swear again the piece must die 
 Before the author's night. 
 
 " Should these tricks fail, the lucky elf 
 To bring to lasting shame, 
 E'en write the best you can yourself. 
 And print it in his name.'''' 
 
 The solitary hiss, which had startled Goldsmith, was ascribed 
 by some of the newspaper scribblers to Cumberland himself, 
 who was " manifestly miserable at the delight of the audience, 
 or to "Ossian" Macpherson, who was hostile to the whole 
 Johnson clique, or to Goldsmith's dramatic rival, Kelly. The 
 following is one of the epigrams which appeared j 
 
222 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 
 
 " At Dr. Goldsmith's merry play, 
 All the spectators laugh, they say ; 
 The assertion, sir, I must deny, 
 For Cumberland and Kelly cry. 
 
 Bide, si sapis.''^ 
 
 Another, addressed to Goldsmith, alludes to Kelly's early 
 apprenticeship to stay-making : 
 
 "If Kelly finds fault with the shajoe of your muse, 
 And thinks that too loosely it plays. 
 He surely, dear Doctor, will never refuse 
 To make it a new Fair of Stays .^ " 
 
 Cradock had returned to the country before the production 
 of the play ; the following letter, written just after the perfor- 
 mance, gives an additional picture of the thorns which beset an 
 author in the path of theatrical literature : 
 
 "My Dear Sir, 
 
 " The play has met with a success much beyond your expec- 
 tations or mine. I thank you sincerely for your epilogue, which, 
 however, could not be used, but with your permission shall be 
 printed. The story in short is this. Murphy sent me rather 
 the outline of an epilogue than an epilogue, which was to be 
 sung by Mrs. Catley, and which she approved ; Mrs. Bulkley 
 hearing this, insisted on throwing up her part " (Miss Hard- 
 castle) " unless, according to the custom of the theatre, she were 
 permitted to speak the epilogue. In this embarrassment I 
 thought of making a quarrelling epilogue between Catley and 
 her, debating who should speak the epilogue ; but then Mrs. 
 Catley refused after I had taken the trouble of drawing it out. 
 I was then at a loss indeed ; an epilogue was to be made, and 
 for none but Mrs. Bulkley. I made one, and Colman thought 
 it too bad to be spoken; I was obliged, therefore, to try a 
 fourth time, and I made a very mawkish thing, as you'll shortly 
 see. Such is the history of my stage adventures, and which I 
 liave at last done with. I cannot help saying, that I am very 
 sick of the stage ; and though I believe I shall get three toler- 
 able benefits, yet I shall, on the whole, be a loser, even in a 
 
OLIVER GOLDSMITH 223 
 
 pecuniary light ; my ease and comfort I certainly lost while it 
 was in agitation. 
 
 " I am, my dear Cradock, your obliged and obedient servant, 
 
 " Oliver Goldsmith. 
 
 *' P. S. Present my most humble respects to Mrs. 
 Cradock." 
 
 Johnson, who had taken such a conspicuous part in promot- 
 ing the interests of poor " Goldy," was triumphant at the suc- 
 cess of the piece. " I know of no comedy for many years," 
 said^he, " that has so much exhilarated an audience ; that has 
 answered so much the great end of comedy — making an audi- 
 ence merry." 
 
 Goldsmith was happy, also, in gleaning applause from less 
 authoritative sources. Northcote, the painter, then a youth- 
 ful pupil of Sir Joshua Reynolds; and Ralph, Sir Joshua's 
 confidential man, had taken their stations in the gallery to 
 lead the applause in that quarter. Goldsmith asked North- 
 cote's opinion of the play. The youth modestly declared he 
 could not presume to judge in such matters. " Did it make you 
 laugh ? " " Oh, exceedingly ! " " That is all I require," replied 
 Goldsmith ; and rewarded him for his criticism by box-tickets 
 for his first benefit night. 
 
 The comedy was immediately put to press, and dedicated to 
 Johnson in the following grateful and aftectionate terms : 
 
 " In inscribing this slight performance to you, I do not 
 mean so much to compliment you as myself. It may do me 
 some honor to inform the public, that I have lived many years 
 in intimacy with you. It may serve the interests of mankind 
 also to inform them, that the greatest wit may be found in a 
 character, without impairing the most unaffected piety." 
 
 The copyright was transferred to Mr. Newbery, according to 
 agreement, whose profits on the sale of the work far exceeded 
 the debts for which the author in his perplexities had pre- 
 engaged it. The sum which accrued to Goldsmith from his 
 benefit nights, afforded but a slight palliation of his pecuniary 
 difficulties. His friends, while they exulted in his success, 
 little knew of his continually increasing embarrassments, and 
 of the anxiety of mind which kept tasking his pen while it 
 
224 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 
 
 impaired the ease and freedom of spirit necessary to felicitous 
 composition. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVIII 
 
 A newspaper attack — The Evans affray — Johnson's comment 
 
 The triumphant success of "She Stoops to Conquer " 
 brought forth, of course, those carpings and cavillings of under- 
 ling scribblers, which are the thorns and briers in the path of 
 successful authors. Goldsmith, though easily nettled by 
 attacks of the kind, was at present too well satisfied with the 
 reception of his comedy to heed them ; but the following 
 anonymous letter, which appeared in a public paper, was not to 
 be taken with equal equanimity : 
 
 " For the London Packet. 
 
 " TO DR. GOLDSMITH. 
 
 ''''Vous vous noyez par vanite. 
 
 " Sir, — The happy knack which you have learned of 
 puffing your own compositions, provokes me to come forth. 
 You have not been the editor of newspapers and magazines not 
 to discover the trick of literary humbug; but the gauze is so 
 thin that the very foolish part of the world see through it, and 
 discover the doctor's monkey face and cloven foot. Your poetic 
 vanity is as unpardonable as your personal. Would man be- 
 lieve it, and will woman bear it, to be told that for hours 
 the great Goldsmith will stand surveying his grotesque orang- 
 outang's figure in a pier glass 1 Was but the lovely H — k as 
 much enamored, you would not sigh, my gentle swain, in vain. 
 But your vanity is preposterous. How will this same bard of 
 Bedlam ring the changes in the praise of Goldy ! But what 
 has he to be either proud or vain of? 'The Traveller' is a 
 flimsy poem, built upon false principles — principles diamet- 
 rically opposite to liberty. What is ' The Good-natured Man ' 
 but a poor, water-gruel dramatic dose ? What is ' The De- 
 serted Village ' but a pretty poem of easy numbers, without 
 fancy, dignity, genius, or fire 1 And, pray, what may be the 
 
OLIVER GOLDSMITH 225 
 
 last speaking pantomime, so praised by the doctor himself, 
 but an incoherent piece of stuff', the figure of a woman with a 
 fish's tail, without plot, incident, or intrigue? We are made 
 to laugh at stale, dull jokes, wherein we mistake pleasantry for 
 wit, and grimace for humor ; wherein every scene is unnatural 
 and inconsistent with the rules, the laws of nature and of the 
 drama ; viz., two gentlemen come to a man of fortune's house, 
 eat, drink, &c., and take it for an inn. The one is intended as 
 a lover for the daughter ; he talks with her for some hours ; 
 and, when he sees her again in a different dress, he treats her 
 as a-bar-girl, and swears she squinted. He abuses the master 
 of the house, and threatens to kick him out of his own doors. 
 The squire, whom we are told is to be a fool, proves to be the 
 most sensible being of the piece ; and he makes out a whole 
 act by bidding his mother lie close behind a bush, persuading 
 her that his father, her own husband, is a highwayman, and 
 that he has come to cut their throats ; and, to give his cousin 
 an opportunity to go off", he drives his mother over hedges, 
 ditches, and through ponds. There is not, sweet, sucking 
 Johnson, a natural stroke in the whole play but the young 
 fellow's giving the stolen jewels to the mother, supposing her 
 to be the landlady. That Mr. Oolman did no justice to this 
 piece, I honestly allow ; that he told all his friends it would be 
 damned, I positively aver ; and, from such ungenerous insinua- 
 tions, without a dramatic merit, it rose to public notice, and it 
 is now the ton to go and see it, though I never saw a person 
 that either liked it or approved it, any more than the absurd 
 plot of Home's tragedy of 'Alonzo.' Mr. Goldsmith, correct 
 your arrogance, reduce your vanity, and endeavor to believe, as 
 a man, you are of the plainest sort ; and as an author, but a 
 mortal piece of mediocrity. 
 
 " Brise le miroir infid^le 
 Qui vous cache la verite. 
 
 "Tom Tickle." 
 
 It would be difficult' to devise a letter more calculated to 
 wound the peculiar sensibilities of Goldsmith. The attacks 
 upon him as an author, though annoying enough, he could 
 
226 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 
 
 have tolerated ; but then the allusion to his " grotesque " 
 person, to his studious attempts to adorn it ; and above all, to 
 his being an unsuccessful admirer of the lovely H — k (the 
 Jessamy Bride), struck rudely upon the most sensitive part of 
 his highly sensitive nature. The paragraph, it is said, was 
 first pointed out to him by an officious friend, an Irishman, 
 who told him he was bound in honor to resent it ; but he 
 needed no such prompting. He was in a high state of excite- 
 ment and indignation, and accompanied by his friend, who is 
 said to have been a Captain Higgins, of the marines, he repaired 
 to Paternoster-row, to the shop of Evans, the publisher, whom 
 he supposed to be the editor of the paper. Evans was sum- 
 moned by his shopman from an adjoining room. Goldsmith 
 announced his name. "I have called," added he, "in conse- 
 quence of a scurrilous attack made upon me, and an unwarrant- 
 able liberty taken with the name of a young lady. As for 
 myself, I care little ; but her name must not be sported with." 
 
 Evans professed utter ignorance of the matter, and said he 
 would speak to the editor. He stooped to examine a file of the 
 paper, in search of the offensive article ; whereupon Goldsmith's 
 friend gave him a signal, that now was a favorable moment 
 for the exercise of his cane. The hint was taken as quick 
 as given, and the cane was vigorously applied to the back of 
 the stooping publisher. The latter rallied in an instant, and, 
 being a stout, high-blooded Welshman, returned the blows with 
 interest. A lamp hanging overhead was broken, and sent down 
 a shower of oil upon the combatants ; but the battle raged with 
 unceasing fury. The shopman ran off for a constable ; but Dr. 
 Kenrick, who happened to be in the adjacent room, sallied forth, 
 interfered between the combatants, and put an end to the affray. 
 He conducted Goldsmith to a coach, in exceedingly battered 
 and tattered plight, and accpmpanied him home, soothing him 
 with much mock commiseration, though he was generally 
 suspected, and on good grounds, to be the author of the libel. 
 
 Evans immediately instituted a suit against Goldsmith for 
 an assault, but was ultimately prevailed upon to compromise 
 the matter, the poet contributing fifty pounds to the Welsh 
 charity. 
 
 Newspapers made themselves, as may well be supposed, ex- 
 
OLIVER GOLDSMITH 227 
 
 ceedingly merry with the combat. Some censured him severely 
 for invading the sanctity of a man's own house ; others accused 
 him of having, in his former capacity of editor of a magazine, 
 been guilty of the very offences that he now resented in others. 
 This drew from him the following vindication : 
 
 "To the Public. 
 
 "Lest it should be supposed that I have been willing to 
 correct in others an abuse of which I have been guilty myself, 
 I beg leave to declare, that, in all my life, I never wrote or 
 dict^-ted a single paragraph, letter, or essay in a newspaper, 
 except a few moral essays under the character of a Chinese, 
 about ten years ago, in the Ledger, and a letter, to which I 
 signed my name, in the aS'^. Jameis's Chronicle. If the liberty 
 of the press, therefore, has been abused, I have had no hand 
 in it. 
 
 "I have always considered the press as the protector of our 
 freedom, as a watchful guardian, capable of uniting the weak 
 against the encroachments of power. What concerns the pub- 
 lic most properly admits of a public discussion. But, of late, 
 the press has turned from defending public interest to making 
 inroads upon private life ; from combating the strong to over- 
 whelming the feeble. No condition is now too obscure for its 
 abuse, and the protector has become the tyrant of the people. 
 In this manner the freedom of the press is beginning to sow the 
 seeds of its own dissolution ; the great must oppose it from 
 principle, and the weak from fear ; till at last every rank of 
 mankind shall be found to give up its benefits, content with 
 security from insults. 
 
 " How to put a stop to this licentiousness, by which all are 
 indiscriminately abused, and by which vice consequently escapes 
 in the general censure, I am unable to tell ; all I could wish is, 
 that, as the law gives us no protection against the injury, so it 
 should give calumniators no shelter after having provoked cor- 
 rection. The insults which we receive before the public, by 
 being more open, are the more distressing ; by treating them 
 with silent contempt we do not pay a sufficient deference to the 
 opinion of the world. By recurring to legal redress we too 
 often expose the weakness of the law, which only serves to in- 
 
228 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 
 
 crease our mortification by failing to relieve us. In short, every 
 man should singly consider himself as the guardian of the liberty 
 of the press, and, as far as his influence can extend, should 
 endeavor to prevent its licentiousness becoming at last the 
 grave of its freedom. 
 
 "Oliver Goldsmith." 
 
 Boswell, who had just arrived in town, met with this article 
 in a newspaper which he found at Dr. Johnson's. The doctor 
 was from home at the time, and Bozzy and Mrs. Williams, in a 
 critical conference over the letter, determined from the style 
 that it must have been written by the lexicographer himself. 
 The latter on his return soon undeceived them. " Sir," said he 
 to Boswell, " Goldsmith would no more have asked me to have 
 wrote such a thing as that for him, than he would have asked 
 me to feed him with a spoon, or do any thing else that denoted 
 his imbecility. Sir, had he shown it to any one friend, he would 
 not have been allowed to publish it. He has, indeed, done it 
 very well ; but it is a foolish thing well done. I suppose he has 
 been so much elated with the success of his new comedy, that 
 he has thought every thing that concerned him must be of 
 importance to the public." 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIX 
 
 Boswell in Holy-Week — Dinner at Oglethorpe's — Dinner at Paoli's — 
 The policy of truth — Goldsmith affects independence of royalty — 
 Paoli's compliment — Johnson's eulogium on the fiddle — Question 
 about suicide — Boswell' s subserviency 
 
 The return of Boswell to town to his task of noting down 
 the conversations of Johnson, enables us to glean from his jour- 
 nal some scanty notices of Goldsmith. It was now Holy-Week, 
 a time, during which Johnson was particularly solemn in his 
 manner and strict in his devotions. Boswell, who was the imi- 
 tator of the great moralist in every thing, assumed, of course, an 
 extra devoutness on the present occasion, " He had an odd mock 
 solemnity of tone and manner," said Miss Burney, (afterwards 
 Madame D'Arblay,) "which he had acquired from constantly 
 
OLIVER GOLDSMITH 229 
 
 thinking, and imitating Dr. Johnson." It would seem that he 
 undertook to deal out some second-hand homilies, a la Johnson, 
 for the edification of Goldsmith during Holy- Week. The poet, 
 whatever might be his religious feeling, had no disposition to be 
 schooled by so shallow an apostle. " Sir," said he in reply, 
 " as I take my shoes from the shoemaker, and my coat from 
 the tailor, so I take my religion from the priest." 
 
 Boswell treasured up the reply in his memory or his memo- 
 randum book. A few days afterwards, the 9th of April, he 
 kept Good Friday with Dr. Johnson, in orthodox style ; break- 
 fasted with him on tea and crossbuns ; went to church with 
 liifEi morning and evening ; fasted in the interval, and read with 
 him in the Greek Testament : then, in the piety of his heart, 
 complained of the sore rebuff he had met with in the course of 
 his religious exhortations to the poet, and lamented that the 
 latter should indulge in " this loose way of talking." " Sir," 
 replied Johnson, "Goldsmith knows nothing — he has made 
 up his mind about nothing." 
 
 This reply seems to have gratified the lurking jealousy of 
 Boswell, and he has recorded it in his journal. Johnson, how- 
 ever, with respect to Goldsmith, and indeed with respect to 
 every body else, blew hot as well as cold, according to the hu- 
 mor he was in. Boswell, who was astonished and piqued at the 
 continually increasing celebrity of the poet, observed some time 
 after to Johnson, in a tone of surprise, that Goldsmith had 
 acquired more fame than all the officers of the last war who 
 were not generals. "Why, sir," answered Johnson, his old 
 feeling of good-will working uppermost, "you will find ten 
 thousand fit to do what they did, before you find one to do 
 what Goldsmith has done. You must consider that a thing is 
 valued according to its rarity. A pebble that paves the street 
 is in itself more useful than the diamond upon a lady's finger." 
 
 On the 13th of April we find Goldsmith and Johnson at the 
 table of old General Oglethorpe, discussing the question of the 
 degeneracy of the human race. Goldsmith asserts the fact, and 
 attributes it to the influence of luxury. Johnson denies the 
 fact ; and observes, that even admitting it, luxury could not be 
 the cause. It reached but a small proportion of the human 
 race. Soldiers, on sixpence a day, could not indulge in lux- 
 
230 OLIVEK GOLDSMITH 
 
 uries ; the poor and laboring classes, forming the great mass 
 of mankind, were out of its sphere. Wherever it could reach 
 them, it strengthened them and rendered them prolific. The 
 conversation was not of particular force or point as reported by 
 Boswell ; the dinner party was a very small one, in which there 
 was no provocation to intellectual display. 
 
 After dinner they took tea with the ladies, where we find 
 poor Goldsmith happy and at home, singing Tony Lumpkin's 
 song of the "Three Jolly Pigeons," and another, called the 
 " Humors of Ballamaguery," to a very pretty Irish tune. It 
 was to have been introduced in " She Stoops to Conquer," but 
 was left out, as the actress who played the heroine could not 
 sing. 
 
 It was in these genial moments that the sunshine of Gold- 
 smith's nature would break out, and he would say and do a 
 thousand whimsical and agreeable things that made him the 
 life of the strictly social circle. Johnson, with whom conver- 
 sation was every thing, used to judge Goldsmith too much by 
 his own colloquial standard, and undervalue him for being less 
 provided than himself with acquired facts, the ammunition of 
 the tongue and often the mere lumber of the memory ; others, 
 however, valued him for the native felicity of his thoughts, 
 however carelessly expressed, and for certain good-fellow quali- 
 ties, less calculated to dazzle than to endear. "It is amaz- 
 ing," said Johnson one day, after he himself had been talking 
 like an oracle ; " it is amazing how little Goldsmith knows; he 
 seldom comes where he is not more ignorant than any one 
 else." "Yet," replied Sir Joshua Reynolds, with affectionate 
 promptness, "there is no man whose company is more 
 liked,:' 
 
 Two or three days after the dinner at General Oglethorpe's, 
 Goldsmith met Johnson again at the table of General Paoli, the 
 hero of Corsica. Martinelli, of Florence, author of an Italian 
 history of England, was among the guests ; as was Boswell, to 
 whom we are indebted for minutes of the conversation which 
 took place. The question was debated whether Martinelli 
 should continue his history down to that day. "To be sure 
 he should," said Goldsmith. "No, sir," cried Johnson; "it 
 would give great oftence. He would have to tell of almost all 
 
OLIVER GOLDSMITH 231 
 
 the living great what they did not wish told." Goldsmith. — 
 " It may, perhaps, be necessary for a native to be more cau- 
 tious ; but a foreigner, who comes among us without prejudice, 
 may be considered as holding the place of a judge, and may 
 speak his mind freely." Johnson. — " Sir, a foreigner, when 
 he sends a work from the press, ought to be on his guard 
 against catching the error and mistaken enthusiasm of the 
 people among whom he happens to be." Goldsmith. — " Sir, 
 he wants only to sell his liistory, and to tell truth ; one an 
 honest, the other a laudable motive." Johnson. — " Sir, they 
 are both laudable motives. It is laudable in a man to wish to 
 liv^ by his labors ; but he should write so as he may live by 
 them, not so as he may be knocked on the head. I would 
 advise him to be at Calais before he publishes his history of 
 the present age. A foreigner who attaches himself to a politi- 
 cal party in this country, is in the worst state that can be 
 imagined ; he is looked upon as a mere intermeddler. A native 
 may do it from interest." Boswell. — "Or principle." Gold- 
 smith. — " There are people who tell a hundred political lies 
 every day, and are not hurt by it. Surely, then, one may 
 tell truth with perfect safety." Johnson. — " Why, sir, in 
 the first place, he who tells a hundred lies has disarmed the 
 force of his lies. But, besides, a man had rather have a hun- 
 dred lies told of him, than one truth which he does not wish to 
 be told." Goldsmith. — " For my part, I'd tell the truth, and 
 shame the devil." Johnson. — "Yes, sir, but the devil will be 
 angry. I wish to shame the devil as much as you do, but I 
 should choose to be out of the reach of his claws." Goldsmith. 
 — " His claws can do you no hurt where you have the shield 
 of truth " 
 
 This last reply was one of Goldsmith's lucky hits, and closed 
 the argument in his favor. 
 
 " We talked," writes Boswell, " of the king's coming to see 
 Goldsmith's new play." " I wish he would," said Goldsmith, 
 adding, however, with an affected indifference, " not that it 
 would do me the least good." "Well, then," cried Johnson, 
 laughing, " let us say it would do him good. No, sir, this 
 affectation will not pass ; — it is mighty idle. In such a state 
 as ours, who would not wish to please the chief magistrate ? " 
 
232 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 
 
 " I do wish to please him," rejoined Goldsmith. " I remem- 
 ber a line in Dry den : 
 
 " ' And every poet is the monarch's friend.' 
 
 It ought to be reversed." " Nay," said Johnson, " there are 
 finer lines in Dryden on this subject : 
 
 " ' For colleges on bounteous kings depend, 
 And never rebel was to arts a friend.' " 
 
 General Paoli observed that " successful rebels might be." 
 " Happy rebellions," interjected Martinelli. " We have no 
 such phrase," cried Goldsmith. " But have you not the 
 thing?" asked Paoli. "Yes," replied Goldsmith, "all our 
 happy revolutions. They have hurt our constitution, and ivill 
 hurt it, till we mend it by another happy revolution." This 
 was a sturdy sally of Jacobitism, that quite surprised Boswell, 
 but must have been relished by Johnson. 
 
 General Paoli mentioned a passage in the play, which had 
 been construed into a compliment to a lady of distinction, whose 
 marriage with the Duke of Cumberland had excited the strong 
 disapprobation of the king as a mesalliance. Boswell, to draw 
 Goldsmith out, pretended to think the compliment unintentional. 
 The poet smiled and hesitated. The general came to his relief. 
 "Monsieur Goldsmith," said he, "est comme la mer, qui jette 
 des perles et beau coup d'autres belles choses, sans s'en apper- 
 cevoir." (Mr. Goldsmith is like the sea, which casts forth 
 pearls and many other beautiful things without perceiving it.) 
 
 " Tr^s-bien dit, et tr^s-dl^gamment " (very well said, and 
 very elegantly), exclaimed Goldsmith ; delighted with so beau- 
 tiful a compliment from such a quarter. 
 
 Johnson spoke disparagingly of the learning of a Mr. Harris, 
 of Salisbury, and doubted his being a good Grecian. " He is 
 what is much better," cried GoldsmitJ;i, with prompt good 
 nature, "he is a worthy, humane man." "Nay, sir," rejoined 
 the logical Johnson, " that is not to the purpose of our argu- 
 ment ; that will prove that he can play upon the fiddle as well 
 as Giardini, as [well as it will prove] that he is an eminent Gre- 
 cian." Goldsmith found he had got into a scrape, and seized 
 
OLIVER GOLDSMITH 233 
 
 upon Giardini to help him out of it. " The greatest musical 
 performers," said he, dexterously turning the conversation, 
 " have but small emoluments ; Giardini, I am told, does not 
 get above seven hundred a year." " That is indeed but little 
 for a man to get," observed Johnson, " who does best that which 
 so many endeavor to do. There is nothing, I think, in which 
 the power of art is shown so much as in playing on the fiddle. 
 In all other things we can do something at first. Any man 
 will forge a bar of iron, if you give him a hammer ; not so well 
 as a smith, but tolerably. A man will saw a piece of wood, 
 and, make a box, though a clumsy one ; but give him a fiddle 
 and a fiddlestick, and he can do nothing." 
 
 This, upon the whole, though reported by the one-sided Bos- 
 well, is a tolerable specimen of the conversations of Goldsmith 
 and Johnson ; the former heedless, often illogical, always on the 
 kind-hearted side of the question, and prone to redeem himself 
 by lucky hits ; the latter closely argumentative, studiously sen- 
 tentious, often profound, and sometimes laboriously prosaic. 
 
 They had an argument a few days later at Mr. Thrale's table, 
 on the subject of suicide. " Do you think, sir," said Boswell, 
 " that all who commit suicide are mad ? " " Sir," replied John- 
 son, " they are not often universally disordered in their intellects, 
 but one passion presses so upon them that they yield to it, and 
 commit suicide, as a passionate man will stab another. I have 
 often thought," added he, " that after a man has taken the reso- 
 lution to kill himself, it is not courage in him to do any thing, 
 however desperate, because he has nothing to fear." "I don't 
 see that," observed Goldsmith. " Nay, but my dear sir," re- 
 joined Johnson, "why should you not see what every one else 
 does ? " "It is," replied Goldsmith, " for fear of something that 
 he has resolved to kill himself; and will not that timid dispo- 
 sition restrain him?" "It does not signify," pursued Johnson, 
 *' that the fear of something made him resolve ; it is upon the 
 state of his mind, after the resolution is taken, that I argue. 
 Suppose a man, either from fear, or pride, or conscience, or 
 whatever motive, has resolved to kill himself ; when once the 
 resolution is taken he has nothing to fear. He may then go 
 and take the King of Prussia by the nose at the head of his 
 army. He cannot fear the rack who is determined to kill him- 
 
234 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 
 
 self." Boswell reports no more of the discussion, though Gold- 
 smith might have continued it with advantage : for the very- 
 timid disposition, which through fear of something was impel- 
 ling the man to commit suicide, might restrain him from an act, 
 involving the punishment of the rack, more terrible to him than 
 death itself. 
 
 It is to be regretted in all these reports by Boswell, we have 
 scarcely any thing but the remarks of Johnson ; it is only by 
 accident that he now and then gives us the observations of 
 others, when they are necessary to explain or set off those of 
 his hero. " When in that ^reseTzce," says Miss Burney, " he 
 was unobservant, if not contemptuous of every one else. In 
 truth, when he met with Dr. Johnson, he commonly forbore 
 even answering any thing that was said, or attending to any 
 thing that went forward, lest he should miss the smallest sound 
 from that voice, to which he paid such exclusive, though 
 merited, homage. But the moment that voice burst forth, the 
 attention which it excited on Mr. Boswell, amounted almost to 
 pain. His eyes goggled with eagerness ; he leant his ear almost 
 on the shoulder of the doctor ; and his mouth dropped open to 
 catch every syllable that might be uttered ; nay, he seemed not 
 only to dread losing a word, but to be anxious not to miss a 
 breathing ; as if hoping from it latently, or mystically, some 
 information." 
 
 On one occasion the doctor detected Boswell, or Bozzy, as he 
 called him, eavesdropping behind his chair, as he was convers- 
 ing with Miss Burney at Mr. Thrale's table. " What are you 
 doing there, sir ? " cried he, turning round angrily, and clapping 
 his hand upon his knee. "Go to the table, sir." 
 
 Boswell obeyed with an air of affright and submission, which 
 raised a smile on every face. Scarce had he taken his seat, 
 however, at a distance, than impatient to get again at the side 
 of Johnson, he rose and was running off in quest of something 
 to show him, when the doctor roared after him authoritatively, 
 " What are you thinking of, sir ? Why do you get up before 
 the cloth is removed 1 Come back to your place, sir ; " — and 
 the obsequious spaniel did as he was commanded. — " Running 
 about in the middle of meals ! " muttered the doctor, pursing 
 his mouth at the same time to restrain his rising risibility. 
 
OLIVER GOLDSMITH 235 
 
 Boswell got another rebuff from Johnson, which would have 
 demolished any other man. He had been teasing him with 
 many direct questions, such as What did you do, sir ? — What 
 did you say, sir ? until the great philologist became perfectly 
 enraged. " I will not be put to the question I " roared he. 
 " Don't you consider, sir, that these are not the manners of a 
 gentleman 1 I will not be baited with rvhat and why ; What 
 is this 1 What is that ? Why is a cow's tail long 1 W^hy is a 
 fox's tail bushy ? " " Why, sir," replied pil-garlick, " you are so 
 good that I venture to trouble you." " Sir," replied Johnson, 
 " my being so good is no reason why you should be so ^7^." 
 "You have but two topics, sir," exclaimed he on another occa- 
 sion, " yourself and me, and I am sick of both." 
 
 Boswell's inveterate disposition to toad was a sore cause of 
 mortification to his father, the old laird of Auchinleck (or Affleck). 
 He had been annoyed by his extravagant devotion to Paoli, but 
 then he was something of a military hero ; but this tagging at 
 the heels of Dr. Johnson, whom he considered a kind of peda- 
 gogue, set his Scotch blood in a ferment. " There's nae hope 
 for Jamie, mon," said he to a friend ; " Jamie is gaen clean 
 gyte. What do you think, mon *? He's done wi' Paoli ; he's 
 off wi' the land-louping scoundrel of a Corsican ; and whose tail 
 do you think he has pinn'd himself to now, mon 1 A doininie, 
 mon ; an auld dominie : he keeped a schiile, and cau'd it an 
 acaadamy." 
 
 We shall show in the next chapter that Jamie's devotion to 
 the dominie did not go unrewarded. 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 Changes in the Literary Club — Johnson's objection to Garrick — 
 Election of Boswell 
 
 The Literary Club (as we have termed the club in Gerard- 
 street, though it took that name some time later) had now been 
 in existence several years. Johnson was exceedingly chary at 
 first of its exclusiveness, and opposed to its being augmented 
 in number. Not long after its institution, Sir Joshua Reynolds 
 was speaking of it to Garrick. " I like it much," said little 
 
236 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 
 
 David, briskly; "I think I shall be of you." "When Sir 
 Joshua mentioned this to Dr. Johnson," says Boswell, " he was 
 much displeased with the actor's conceit. ' He'll he of us ? ' 
 growled he. ' How does he know we will permit him 1 The 
 first duke in England has uo right to hold such language.'" 
 
 When Sir John Hawkins spoke favorably of Garrick's pre- 
 tensions, "Sir," replied Johnson, "he will disturb us by his 
 buffoonery." In the same spirit he declai-ed to Mr. Thrale, 
 that if Gar rick should apply for admission, he would black-ball 
 him. "Who, sir?" exclaimed Thrale, with surprise; "Mr. 
 Garrick — your friend, your companion — black-ball him ! " 
 " Why, sir," replied Johnson, " I love my little David dearly 
 — better than all or any of his flatterers do ; but surely one 
 ought to sit in a society like ours, 
 
 " ' Unelbowed by a gamester, pimp, or player.' " 
 
 The exclusion from the club was a sore mortification to Gar- 
 rick, though he bore it without complaining. He could not 
 help continually to ask questions about it — what was going 
 on there — whether he was ever the subject of conversation. 
 By degrees the rigor of the club relaxed : some of the members 
 grew negligent. Beauclerc lost his right of membership by 
 neglecting to attend. On his marriage, however, with Lady 
 Diana Spencer, daughter of the Duke of .Marlborough, and re- 
 cently divorced from Viscount Bolingbroke, he had claimed and 
 regained his seat in the club. The number of members had 
 likewise been augmented. The proposition to increase it origi- 
 nated with Goldsmith. "It would give," he thought, "an 
 agreeable variety to their meetings ; for there can be nothing 
 new amongst us," said he ; "we have travelled over each other's 
 minds." Johnson was piqued at the suggestion. " Sir," said 
 he, "you have not travelled over my mind, I promise you." 
 Sir Joshua, less confident in the exhaustless fecundity of his 
 mind, felt and acknowledged the force of Goldsmith's suggestion. 
 Several new members, therefore, had been added ; the first, to 
 his great joy, was David Garrick. Goldsmith, who was now 
 on cordial terras with him, had zealously promoted his election, 
 and Johnson had given it his warm approbation. Another new 
 member was Beauclerc's friend. Lord Charleraont ; and a still 
 
OLIVER GOLDSMITH 237 
 
 more important one was Mr., afterwards Sir William, Jones, 
 the famous Orientalist, at that time a young lawyer of the Tem- 
 ple and a distinguished scholar. 
 
 To the great astonishment of the club, Johnson now proposed 
 his devoted follower, Boswell, as a member. He did it in a 
 note addressed to Goldsmith, who presided on the evening of 
 the 23d of April. The nomination was seconded by Beauclerc. 
 According to the rules of the club, the ballot would take place 
 at the next meeting (on the 30th) ; there was an intervening 
 week, therefore, in which to discuss the pretensions of the can- 
 didate. We may easily imagine the discussions that took place. 
 Boswell had made himself absurd in such a variety of ways, 
 that the very idea of his admission was exceedingly irksome to 
 some of the members. " The honor of being elected into the 
 Turk's Head Club," said the Bishop of St. Asaph, " is not in- 
 ferior to that of being representative of Westminster and Sur- 
 rey : " what had Boswell done to merit such an honor 1 What 
 chance had he of gaining it ? The answer was simple : he had 
 been the persevering worshipper, if not sycophant, of Johnson. 
 The great lexicographer had a heart to be won by apparent 
 affection ; he stood forth authoritatively in support of his vassal. 
 If asked to state the merits of the candidate, he summed them 
 up in an indefinite but comprehensive word of his own coining : 
 he was cluhahle. He moreover gave significant hints that if 
 Boswell were kept out he should oppose the admission of any 
 other candidate. No further opposition was made ; in fact 
 none of the members had been so fastidious and exclusive in 
 regard to the club as Johnson himself; and if he were pleased, 
 they were easily satisfied : besides, they knew that with all his 
 faults, Boswell was a cheerful companion, and possessed lively 
 social qualities. 
 
 On Friday, when the ballot was to take place, Beauclerc gave 
 a dinner, at his house in the Adelphi, where Boswell met several 
 of the members who were favorable to his election. After 
 dinner the latter adjourned to the club, leaving Boswell in com- 
 pany with Lady Di Beauclerc until the fate of his election 
 should be known. He. sat, he says, in a state of anxiety which 
 even the charming conversation of Lady Di could not entirely 
 dissipate. It was not long before tidings were brought of his 
 
238 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 
 
 election, and he was conducted to the place of meeting, where, 
 beside the company he had met at dinner, Burke, Dr. Nugent,- 
 Garrick, Goldsmith, and Mr. William Jones were waiting to 
 receive him. The club, notwithstanding all its learned dignity 
 in the eyes of the world, could at times " unbend and play the 
 fool " as well as less important bodies. Some of its jocose con- 
 versations have at times leaked out, and a society in which 
 Goldsmith could venture to sing his song of " an old woman 
 tossed in a blanket," could not be so very staid in its gravity. 
 We may suppose, therefore, the jokes that had been passing 
 among the members while awaiting the arrival of Boswell. 
 Beauclerc himself could not have repressed his disposition for 
 a sarcastic pleasantry. At least we have a right to presume 
 all this from the conduct of Dr. Johnson himself. 
 
 With all his gravity he possessed a deep fund of quiet humor, 
 and felt a kind of whimsical responsibility to protect the club 
 from the absurd propensities of the very questionable associate 
 he had thus inflicted on them. Kising, therefore, as Boswell 
 entered, he advanced with a very doctorial air, placed himself 
 behind a chair, on which he leaned as on a desk or pulpit, and 
 then delivered, ex cathedra^ a mock solemn charge, pointing out 
 the conduct expected from him as a good member of the club ; 
 what he was to do, and especially what he was to avoid ; in- 
 cluding in the latter, no doubt, all those petty, prying, question- 
 ing, gossiping, babbling habits which had so often grieved the 
 spirit of the lexicographer. It is to be regretted that Boswell 
 has never thought proper to note down the particulars of this 
 charge, which, from the well known characters and positions of 
 the parties, might have furnished a parallel to the noted charge 
 of Launcelot Gobbo to his dog. 
 
 CHAPTER XLI 
 
 Dinner at Dilly's — Conversations on natural history — Intermeddling 
 of Boswell — Dispute about toleration — Johnson's rebuff to Gold- 
 smith; his apology — Man-worship — Doctors Major and Minor — A 
 farewell visit 
 
 A FEW days after the serio-comic scene of the elevation of 
 Boswell into the Literary Club, we find that indefatigable 
 
OLIVER GOLDSMITH 239 
 
 biographer giving particulars of a dinner at the Dillys, book- 
 sellers, in the Poultry, at which he met Goldsmith and John- 
 son, with several other literary characters. His anecdotes of 
 the conversation, of course, go to glorify Dr. Johnson ; for, as 
 he observes in his biography, " his conversation alone, or what 
 led to it, or. was interwoven with it, is the business of this 
 work." Still, on the present as on other occasions, he gives 
 unintentional and perhaps unavoidable gleams of Goldsmith's 
 good sense, which show that the latter only wanted a less preju- 
 diced and more impartial reporter, to put down the charge of col- 
 loquial incapacity so unjustly fixed upon him. The conversation 
 turned upon the natural history of birds, a beautiful subject, on 
 which the poet, from his recent studies, his habits of observa- 
 tion, and his natural tastes, must have talked with instruction 
 and feeling ; yet, though we have much of what Johnson said, 
 we have only a casual remark or two of Goldsmith. One was 
 on the migration of swallows, which he pronounced partial; 
 " the stronger ones," said he, " migrate, the others do not." 
 
 Johnson denied to the brute creation the faculty of reason. 
 "Birds," said he, "build by instinct; they never improve; 
 they build their first nest as well as any one they ever build." 
 "Yet we see," observed Goldsmith, "if you take away a bird's 
 nest with the eggs in it, she will make a slighter nest and lay 
 again." " Sir," replied Johnson, " that is because at first she 
 has full time, and makes her nest deliberately. In the case 
 you mention, she is pressed to lay, and must, therefore, make 
 her nest quickly, and consequently it will be slight." " The 
 nidification of birds," rejoined Goldsmith, "is what is least 
 known in natural history, though one of the most curious things 
 in it." While conversation was going on in this placid, agree- 
 able and instructive manner, the eternal meddler and busy- 
 body, Boswell, must intrude, to put it in a brawl. The Dillys 
 were dissenters ; two of their guests were dissenting clergy- 
 men ; another, Mr. Toplady, was a clergyman of the established 
 church. Johnson, himself, was a zealous, uncompromising 
 churchman. None but a marplot like Boswell would have 
 thought, on such an occasion, and in such company, to broach 
 the subject of religious toleration ; but, as has been well ob- 
 served, "it was his perverse inclination to introduce subjects 
 
240 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 
 
 that he hoped would produce difference and debate." In the 
 present instance he gained his point. An animated dispute 
 immediately arose, in which, according to Boswell's report, 
 Johnson monopolized the greater part of the conversation ; not 
 always treating the dissenting clergymen with the greatest 
 courtesy, and even once wounding the feelings of the mild and 
 amiable Bennet Langton by his harshness. 
 
 Goldsmith mingled a little in the dispute and with some 
 advantage, but was cut short by flat contradictions when most 
 in the right. He sat for a time silent but impatient under such 
 overbearing dogmatism, though Boswell, with his usual misin- 
 terpretation, attributes his "restless agitation " to a wish to get 
 in and shine. " Finding himself excluded," continues Boswell, 
 "he had taken his hat to go away, but remained for a time 
 with it in his hand, like a gamester, who, at the end of a long 
 night, lingers for a little while to see if he can have a favorable 
 opportunity to finish with success." Once he was beginning 
 to speak when he was overpowered by the loud voice of John- 
 son, who was at the opposite end of the table, and did not 
 perceive his attempt ; whereupon he threw down, as it were, his 
 hat and his argument, and, darting an angry glance at Johnson, 
 exclaimed in a bitter tone, " Take it.'' 
 
 Just then one of the disputants was beginning to speak, when 
 Johnson uttering some sound, as if about to interrupt him. 
 Goldsmith, according to Boswell, seized the opportunity to vent 
 his own envi/ and spleen under pretext of supporting another 
 person. " Sir," said he to Johnson, " the gentleman has heard 
 you patiently for an hour ; pray allow us now to hear him." 
 It was a reproof in the lexicographer's own style, and he may 
 have felt that he merited it ; but he was not accustomed to be 
 reproved. " Sir," said he, sternly, " I was not interrupting the 
 gentleman ; I was only giving him a signal of my attention. 
 Sir, you are impertinent.'' Goldsmith made no reply, but after 
 some time went away, having another engagement. 
 
 That evening, as Boswell was on the way with Johnson and 
 Langton to the club, he seized the occasion to make some dis- 
 paraging remarks on Goldsmith, which he thought would just 
 then be acceptable to the great lexicographer. " It was a pity," 
 he said, "that Goldsmith would, on every occasion, endeavor to 
 
OLIVER GOLDSMITH 241 
 
 shine, by which he so often exposed himself." Langton con- 
 trasted him with Addison, who, content with the fame of his 
 writings, acknowledged himself unfit for conversation ; and on 
 being taxed by a lady with silence in company, replied, " Madam, 
 I have but nine pence in ready money, but I can draw for a 
 thousand pounds." To this Boswell rejoined, that Goldsmith 
 had a great deal of gold in his cabinet, but w^as always taking 
 out his purse. "Yes, sir," chuckled Johnson, "and that so 
 often an empty purse." 
 
 By the time Johnson arrived at the club, however, his angry 
 feelings had subsided, and his native generosity and sense of 
 justice had got the uppermost. He found Goldsmith in com- 
 pany with Burke, Garrick, and other members, but sitting 
 silent and apart, "brooding," as Boswell says, "over the repri- 
 mand he had received." Johnson's good heart yearned towards 
 him ; and knowing his placable nature, " I'll make Goldsmith 
 forgive me," whispered he ; then, with a loud voice, " Dr. Gold- 
 smith," said he, "something passed to-day where you and I 
 dined — / ash your pardonJ^ The ire of the poet was extin- 
 guished in an instant, and his grateful aft'ection for the mag- 
 nanimous though sometimes overbearing moralist, rushed to his 
 heart. "It must be much from you, sir," said he, " that I take 
 ill!" "And so," adds Boswell, "the difl'erence was over, and 
 they were on as easy terms as ever, and Goldsmith rattled away 
 as usual." We do not think these stories tell to the poet's 
 disadvantage, even though related by Boswell. 
 
 Goldsmith, with all his modesty, could not be ignorant of 
 his proper merit ; and must have felt annoyed at times at being 
 undervalued and elbowed aside, by light-minded or dull men, 
 in their blind and exclusive homage to the literary autocrat. 
 It was a fine reproof he gave to Boswell on one occasion, for 
 talking of Johnson as entitled to the honor of exclusive supe- 
 riority. " Sir, you are for making a monarchy what should be 
 a republic." On another occasion, when he was conversing in 
 company with great vivacity, and apparently to the satisfaction 
 of those around him, an honest Swiss who sat near, one George 
 Michael Moser, keeper of the Royal Academy, perceiving Dr. 
 Johnson rolling himself as if about to speak, exclaimed, " Stay, 
 stay ! Toctor Shonson is going to say something." "And are 
 
242 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 
 
 you sure, sir," replied Goldsmith, sharply, "that you can 
 comprehend what he says % " 
 
 This clever rebuke, which gives the main zest to the anec- 
 dote, is omitted by Boswell, who probably did not perceive the 
 jDoint of it. 
 
 He relates another anecdote of the kind on the authority 
 of Johnson himself. The latter and Goldsmith were one 
 evening in company with the Rev. George Graham, a master 
 of Eton, who, notwithstanding the sobriety of his cloth, had 
 got intoxicated " to about the pitch of looking at one man and 
 talking to another." "Doctor," cried he in an ecstasy of 
 devotion and good-will, but goggling by mistake upon Gold- 
 smith, "I should be glad to see you at Eton." "I shall be 
 glad to wait upon you," replied Goldsmith. " No, no ! " cried 
 the other eagerly ; " 'tis not you I mean. Doctor Minor^ 'tis 
 Doctor Major there." " You may easily conceive," said 
 Johnson in relating the anecdote, "what eft'ect this had upon 
 Goldsmith, who was irascible as a hornet." The only comment, 
 however, which he is said to have made, partakes more of 
 quaint and dry humor than bitterness : " That Graham," said 
 he, "is enough to make one commit suicide." What more 
 could be said to express the intolerable nuisance of a consum- 
 mate hore ? 
 
 We have now given the last scenes between Goldsmith and 
 Johnson which stand recorded by Boswell. The latter called 
 on the poet a few days after the dinner at Dilly's, to take leave 
 of him prior to departing for Scotland ; yet, even in this last 
 interview, he contrives to get up a charge of "jealousy and 
 envy." Goldsmith, he would fain persuade us, is very angry 
 that Johnson is going to travel with him in Scotland ; and 
 endeavors to persuade him that he will be a dead weight " to 
 lug along through the Highlands and Hebrides." Any one 
 else, knowing the character and habits of Johnson, would have 
 thought the same ; and no one but Boswell would have supposed 
 Ms office of bear-leader to the ursa major a thing to be envied.^ 
 
 1 One of Peter Pindar's (Dr. Wolcot) most amusing jeux d'esprit is 
 his congratulatory epistle to Boswell on this tour, of which we subjoin 
 a few lines. 
 
 " O Boswell, Bozzy, Bruce, whate'er thy name, 
 Thou mighty shark for anecdote and fame ; 
 
OLIVER GOLDSMITH 243 
 
 CHAPTER XLII 
 
 Project of a Dictionary of Arts and Sciences — Disappointment — 
 Negligent authorship — Application for a pension — Beattie's Essay 
 on Truth — Public adulation — A high-minded rebuke 
 
 The works which Goldsmith had still in hand being already 
 paid for, and the money gone, some new scheme must be 
 devised to provide for the past and the future — for impending 
 debts which threatened to crush him, and expenses which were 
 continually increasing. He now projected a work of greater 
 compass than any he had yet undertaken ; a " Dictionary 
 of* Arts and Sciences" on a comprehensive scale, which was 
 to occupy a number of volumes. For this he received prom- 
 ises of assistance from several powerful hands. Johnson 
 was to contribute an article on ethics ; Burke, an abstract of 
 his "Essay on the Sublime and Beautiful," an essay on the 
 Berkeleyan system of philosophy, and others on political 
 science ; Sir Joshua Reynolds, an essay on painting ; and Gar- 
 rick, while he undertook on his own part to furnish an essay 
 on acting, engaged Dr. Burney to contribute an article on 
 music. Here was a great array of talent positively engaged, 
 while other writers of eminence were to be sought for the vari- 
 ous departments of science. Goldsmith was to edit the whole. 
 An undertaking of this kind, while it did not incessantly task 
 and exhaust his inventive powers by original composition, 
 would give agreeable and profitable exercise to his taste and 
 judgment in selecting, compiling, and arranging, and he calcu- 
 lated to diffuse over the whole the acknowledged graces of his 
 style. 
 
 Thou jackal, leading lion Johnson forth, 
 To eat M'Pherson 'midst his native north ; 
 To frighten grave professors with his roar, 
 And shake the Hebrides from shore to shore. 
 
 v^ ^ "Tf: "Sf: T^ 
 
 Bless'd be thy labors, most adventurous Bozzy, 
 
 Bold rival of Sir John and Dame Piozzi ; 
 
 Heavens ! with what laurels shall thy head be crown'd ! 
 
 A grove, a forest, shall thy ears surround ! 
 
 Yes! whilst the Rambler shall a comet blaze, 
 
 And gild a world of darkness with his rays, 
 
 Thee, too, that world with wonderment shall hail. 
 
 A lively, bouncing cracker at his tail! " 
 
244 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 
 
 He drew up a prospectus of the plan, which is said by 
 Bishop Percy, who saw it, to have been written with uncommon 
 abiUty, and to have had that perspicuity and elegance for 
 which his writings are rem^arkable. This paper, unfortunately, 
 is no longer in existence. 
 
 Goldsmith's expectations, always sanguine respecting any 
 new plan, were raised to an extraordinary height by tlie 
 present project ; and well they might be, when we consider the 
 powerful coadjutors already pledged. They were doomed, 
 however, to complete disappointment. Davies, the bibliopole 
 of Russell-street, lets us into the secret of this failure. " The 
 booksellers," said he, "notwithstanding they had a very good 
 opinion of his abilities, yet were startled at the bulk, import- 
 ance, and expense of so great an undertaking, the fate of which 
 was to depend upon the industry of a man with whose indolence 
 of temper and method of procrastination they had long been 
 acquainted," 
 
 Goldsmith certainly gave reason for some such distrust by 
 the heedlessness with which he conducted his literary undertak- 
 ings. Those unfinished, but paid for, would be suspended to 
 make way for some job that was to provide for present neces- 
 sities. Those thus hastily taken up would be as hastily ex- 
 ecuted, and the whole, however pressing, would be shoved aside 
 and left "at loose ends," on some sudden call to social enjoy- 
 ment or recreation. 
 
 Cradock tells us that on one occasion, when Goldsmith was 
 hard at work on his natural history, he sent to Dr. Percy and 
 himself, entreating them to finish some pages of his work which 
 lay upon his table, and for which the press was urgent, he be- 
 ing detained by other engagements at Windsor. They met by 
 appointment at his chambers in the Temple, where they found 
 every thing in disorder, and costly books lying scattered about 
 on the tables and on the floor ; many of the books on natural 
 history which he had recently consulted lay open among un- 
 corrected proof-sheets. The subject in hand, and from which 
 he had suddenly broken off, related to birds. " Do you know 
 any thing about birds ? " asked Dr. Percy, smiling. " Not an 
 atom," replied Cradock; "do you?" "Not I! I scarcely 
 know a goose from a swan : however, let us try what we can 
 
OLIVER GOLDSMITH 245 
 
 do." They set to work and completed their friendly task. 
 Goldsmith, however, when he came to revise it, made such 
 alterations that they could neither of them recognize their own 
 share. The engagement at Windsor, which had thus caused 
 Goldsmith to break off suddenly from his multifarious engage- 
 ments, was a party of pleasure with some literary ladies. Another 
 anecdote was current, illustrative of the carelessness with which 
 he executed works requiring accuracy and research. On the 22d 
 of June he had received payment in advance for a " Grecian 
 History " in two volumes, though only one was finished. As 
 he was pushing on doggedly at the second volume. Gibbon, the 
 hisforian, called in. "You are the man of all others I wish to 
 see," cried the poet, glad to be saved the trouble of reference to 
 his books. " What was the name of that Indian king who 
 gave Alexander the Great so much trouble T' "Montezuma," 
 replied Gibbon, sportively. The heedless author was about 
 committing the name to paper without reflection, when Gibbon 
 pretended to recollect himself, and gave the true name, Porus. 
 
 This story, very probably, was a sportive exaggeration ; but 
 it was a multiplicity of anecdotes like this and the preceding 
 one, some true and some false, which had impaired the con- 
 fidence of booksellers in Goldsmith, as a man to be relied on for 
 a task requiring wide and accurate research, and close and long 
 continued application. The project of the " Universal Diction- 
 ary," therefore, met with no encouragement, and fell through. 
 
 The failure of this scheme, on which he had built such 
 spacious hopes, sank deep into Goldsmith's heart. He was 
 still further grieved and mortified by the failure of an effort 
 made by some of his friends to obtain for him a pension from 
 government. There had been a talk of the disposition of the 
 ministry to extend the bounty of the crown to distinguished 
 literary men in pecuniary difficulty, without regard to their 
 political creed : when the merits and claims of Goldsmith, how- 
 ever, were laid before them, they met no favor. The sin of 
 sturdy independence lay at his door. He had refused to become 
 a ministerial hack when offered a carte blanche by Parson 
 Scott, the cabinet emissary. The wondering parson had left 
 him in poverty and "^^8 garret,^^ and there the ministry were 
 disposed to suffer him to remain. 
 
246 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 
 
 In the mean time Dr. Beattie comes out with his " Essay on 
 Truth," and all the orthodox world are thrown into a paroxysm 
 of contagious ecstasy. He is cried up as the great champion of 
 Christianity against the attacks of modern philosophers and in- 
 fidels ; he is feted and flattered in every way. He receives at 
 Oxford the honorary degree of doctor of civil law, at the same 
 time with Sir Joshua Reynolds. The king sends for him, praises 
 his essay, and gives him a pension of two hundred pounds. 
 
 Goldsmith feels more acutely the denial of a pension to him- 
 self when one has thus been given unsolicited to a man he 
 might without vanity consider so much his inferior. He was 
 not one to conceal his feelings. " Here's such a stir," said he 
 one day at Thrale's table, " about a fellow that has written one 
 book, and I have written so many ! " 
 
 " Ah, Doctor ! " exclaimed Johnson, in one of his caustic 
 moods, " there go two and forty sixpences, you know, to one 
 guinea." This is one of the cuts at poor Goldsmith in which 
 Johnson went contrary to head and heart in his love for saying 
 what is called a "good thing." No one knew better than him- 
 self the comparative superiority of the writings of Goldsmith ; 
 but the jingle of the sixpences and the guinea was not to be 
 resisted. 
 
 " Every body," exclaimed Mrs. Thrale, " loves Dr. Beattie, 
 but Goldsmith, who says he cannot bear the sight of so much 
 applause as they all bestow upon him. Did he not tell us so 
 himself no one would believe he was so exceedingly ill-natured." 
 
 He told them so himself because he was too open and unre- 
 served to disguise his feelings, and because he really considered 
 the praise lavished on Beattie extravagant, as in fact it was. 
 It was all, of course, set down to sheer envy and uncharitable- 
 ness. To add to his annoyance, he found his friend, Sir Joshua 
 Reynolds, joining in the universal adulation. He had painted 
 a full length portrait of Beattie decked in the doctor's robes in 
 which he had figured at Oxford, with the "Essay on Truth" 
 under his arm and the angel of truth at his side, while Voltaire 
 figured as one of the demons of infidelity, sophistry, and false- 
 hood, driven into utter darkness. 
 
 Goldsmith had known Voltaire in early life ; he had been his 
 admirer and his biographer; he grieved to find him receiving 
 
OLIVER GOLDSMITH 247 
 
 such an insult from the classic pencil of his friend. "It is un- 
 worthy of you," said he to Sir Joshua, "to debase so high a 
 genius as Voltaire before so mean a writer as Beattie. Beattie 
 and his book will be forgotten in ten years, while Voltaire's 
 fame will last for ever. Take care it does not perpetuate this 
 picture to the shame of such a man as you." This noble and 
 high-minded rebuke is the only instance on record of any 
 reproachful words between the poet and the painter ; and we 
 are happy to find that it did not destroy the harmony of their 
 intercourse. 
 
 CHAPTER XLIII 
 
 Toil without hope — Tlie Poet in the green-room ; in the flower gar- 
 den at Vanxhall; dissipation without gayety — Cradock in town; 
 friendly sympathy ; a parting scene ; an invitation to pleasure 
 
 Thwarted in the plans and disappointed in the hopes which 
 had recently cheered and animated him, Goldsmith found the 
 labor at his half-finished tasks doubly irksome from the con- 
 sciousness that the completion of them could not relieve him 
 from his pecuniary embarrassments. His impaired health, also, 
 rendered him less capable than formerly of sedentary application, 
 and continual perplexities disturbed the flow of thought neces- 
 sary for original composition. He lost his usual gayety and 
 good-humor, and became, at times, peevish and irritable. Too 
 proud of spirit to seek sympathy or relief from his friends, for 
 the pecuniary difficulties he had brought upon himself by his 
 errors and extravagance; and unwilling, perhaps, to make 
 known their amount, he buried his cares and anxieties in his 
 own bosom, and endeavored in company to keep up his usual 
 air of gayety and unconcern. This gave his conduct an ap- 
 pearance of fitfulness and caprice, varying suddenly from moodi- 
 ness to mirth, and from silent gravity to shallow laughter ; 
 causing surprise and ridicule in those who were not aware of the 
 sickness of heart which lay beneath. 
 
 His poetical reputation, too, was sometimes a disadvantage 
 to him ; it drew upon him a notoriety which he was not always 
 in the mood or the vein to act up to. " Good heavens, Mr. 
 Foote," exclaimed an actress at the Hay market theatre, " what 
 
248 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 
 
 a humdrum kind of man Dr. Goldsmith appears in our green- 
 room compared with the figure he makes in his poetry ! " " The 
 reason of that, madam," replied Foote, "is because the Muses 
 are better company than the players." 
 
 Beauclerc's letters to his friend. Lord Charlemont, who was 
 absent in Ireland, give us now and then an indication of the 
 whereabout of the poet during the present year. " I have been 
 but once to the club since you left England," writes he ; " we 
 were entertained, as usual, with Goldsmith's absurdity." With 
 Beauclerc every thing was absurd that was not polished and 
 pointed. In another letter he threatens, unless Lord Charle- 
 mont returns to England, to bring over the whole club, and let 
 them loose upon him to drive him home by their peculiar habits 
 of annoyance — Johnson shall spoil his books ; Goldsmith shall 
 2?ull his flowers; and last, and most intolerable of all, Boswell 
 shall — talk to him. It would appear that the poet, who had 
 a passion for flowers, was apt to pass much of his time in the 
 garden when on a visit to a country seat, much to the detriment 
 of the flower-beds and the despair of the gardener. 
 
 The summer wore heavily away with Goldsmith. He had 
 not his usual solace of a country retreat ; his health was im- 
 paired and his spirits depressed. Sir Joshua Reynolds, who 
 perceived the state of his mind, kindly gave him much of his 
 company. In the course of their interchange of thought. Gold- 
 smith suggested to him the story of Ugolino, as a subject for 
 his pencil. The painting founded on it remains a memento of 
 their friendship. 
 
 On the 4th of August we flnd them together at Vauxhall ; at 
 that time a place in high vogue, and which had once been to 
 Goldsmith a scene of oriental splendor and delight. We have, 
 in fact, in the " Citizen of the World," a picture of it as it had 
 struck him in former years and in his happier moods. " Upon 
 entering the gardens," says the Chinese philosopher, " I found 
 every sense occupied with more than expected pleasure ; the 
 lights every where glimmering through the scarcely-moving 
 trees ; the full-bodied concert bursting on the stillness of the 
 night ; the natural concert of the birds in the more retired part 
 of the grove, vieing with that which was formed by art ; the 
 company gayly dressed, looking satisfaction, and the tables 
 
OLIVER GOLDSMITH 249 
 
 spread with various delicacies, all conspired to fill my imagina- 
 tion with the visionary happiness of the Arabian lawgiver, and 
 lifted me into an ecstasy of admiration." ^ 
 
 Every thing now, however, is seen with different eyes ; with 
 him it is dissipation without pleasure ; and he finds it impossible 
 any longer, by mingling in the gay and giddy throng of appar- 
 ently prosperous and happy beings, to escape from the carking 
 care which is clinging to his heart. 
 
 His kind friend, Cradock, came up to town towards autumn, 
 when all the fashionable world was in the country, to give his 
 wife. the benefit of a skilful dentist. He took lodgings in 
 Norfolk- street, to be in Goldsmith's neighborhood, and passed 
 most of his mornings with him. " I found him," he says, 
 "much altered and at times very low. He wished me to look 
 over and revise some of his works ; but, with a select friend or 
 two, I was more pressing that he should publish by subscription 
 his two celebrated poems of the ' Traveller ' and the ' Deserted 
 Village,' with notes." The idea of Cradock was, that the sub- 
 scription would enable wealthy persons, favorable to Goldsmith, 
 to contribute to his pecuniary relief without wounding his pride. 
 " Goldsmith," said he, " readily gave up to me his private copies, 
 and said, ' Pray do what you please with them.' But whilst he 
 sat near me, he rather submitted to than encouraged my zealous 
 proceedings. 
 
 " I one morning called upon him, however, and found him 
 infinitely better than I had expected ; and, in a kind of exulting 
 style, he exclaimed, ' Here are some of the best of my prose 
 writings ; / have been hard at work since midnight, and I 
 desire you to examine them.' 'These,' said I, 'are excellent 
 indeed.' ' They are,' replied he, 'intended as an introduction to 
 a body of arts and sciences.' " 
 
 Poor Goldsmith was, in fact, gathering together the fragments 
 of his shipwreck ; the notes and essays, and memoranda col- 
 lected for his dictionary, and proposed to found on them a work 
 in two volumes, to be entitled " A Survey of Experimental 
 Philosophy." 
 
 The plan of the subscription came to nothing, and the pro- 
 jected survey never was executed. The head might yet devise, 
 
 1 Citizen of the World, Letter Ixxi. 
 
250 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 
 
 but the heart was failing him ; his talent at hoping, which gave 
 him buoyancy to carry out his enterprises, was almost at an end. 
 
 Cradock's farewell scene with him is told in a simple but 
 touching manner. 
 
 " The day before I was to set out for Leicestershire, I insisted 
 upon his dining with us. He replied, ' I will, but on one con- 
 dition, that you will not ask me to eat any thing.' ' Nay,' 
 said I, ' this answer is absolutely unkind, for I had hoped, as we 
 are supplied from the Crown and Anchor, that you would have 
 named something you might have relished.' 'Well,' was the 
 reply, ' if you will but explain it to Mrs. Cradock, I will cer- 
 tainly wait upon you.' 
 
 " The doctor found, as usual, at my apartments, newspapers 
 and pamphlets, and with a pen and ink he amused himself as 
 well as he could. I had ordered from the tavern some fish, a 
 roasted joint of lamb, and a tart ; and the doctor either sat 
 down or walked about just as he pleased. After dinner he took 
 some wine with biscuits ; but I was obliged soon to leave him for a 
 while, as I had matters to settle prior to my next day's journey. 
 On my return coffee was ready, and the doctor appeared more 
 cheerful (for Mrs, Cradock was always rather a favorite with 
 him), and in the evening he endeavored to talk and remark as 
 usual, but all was force. He stayed till midnight, and I in- 
 sisted on seeing him safe home, and we most cordially shook 
 hands at the Temple gate." Cradock little thought that this 
 was to be their final parting. He looked back to it with 
 mournful recollections in after years, and lamented that he had 
 not remained longer in town, at every inconvenience, to solace 
 the poor broken-spirited poet. 
 
 The latter continued in town all the autumn. At the open- 
 ing of the Opera House, on the 20th of November, Mrs. Yates, 
 an actress whom he held in great esteem, delivered a poetical 
 exordium of his composition. Beauclerc, in a letter to Lord 
 Charlemont, pronounced it very good, and predicted that it 
 would soon be in all the papers. It does not appear, however, 
 to have bsen ever published. In his fitful state of mind Goldsmith 
 may have taken no care about it, and thus it has been lost to 
 the world, although it was received with great applause by a 
 crowded and brilliant audience. 
 
OLIVER GOLDSMITH 251 
 
 A gleam of sunshine breaks through the gloom that was 
 gathering over the poet. Towards the end of the year he 
 receives another Christmas invitation to Barton. A country- 
 Christmas ! with all the cordiality of the fireside circle, and 
 the joyous revelry of the oaken hall — what a contrast to the 
 loneliness of a bachelor's chambers in the Temple ! It is not to 
 be resisted. But how is poor Goldsmith to raise the ways and 
 means ! His purse is empty ; his booksellers are already in 
 advance to him. As a last resource, he applies to Garrick. 
 Their mutual intimacy at Barton may have suggested him as 
 an alternative. The old loan of forty pounds has never been 
 paicT; and Newbery's note, pledged as a security, has never 
 been taken up. An additional loan of sixty pounds is now 
 asked for, thus increasing the loan to one hundred ; to insure 
 the payment, he now offers, besides Newbery's note, the trans- 
 fer of the comedy of the " Good-natured Man" to Drury Lane, 
 with such alterations as Garrick may suggest. Garrick, in re- 
 ply, evades the offer of the altered comedy, alludes significantly 
 to a new one which Goldsmith had talked of writing for him, 
 and offers to furnish the money required on his own acceptance. 
 
 The reply of Goldsmith bespeaks a heart brimful of gratitude 
 and overflowing with fond anticipations of Barton and the smiles 
 of its fair residents. "My dear friend," wTites he, "I thank 
 you. I wish I could do something to serve you. I shall have 
 a comedy for you in a season, or two at farthest, that I believe 
 will be worth your acceptance, for I fancy I will make it a fine 
 thing. You shall have the refusal. ... I will draw upon 
 you one month after date for sixty pounds, and your acceptance 
 will be ready money, part of which I want to go down to Bar- 
 ton with. May God preserve my honest little man, for he has 
 my heart. Ever, 
 
 "Oliver Goldsmith." 
 
 And having thus scrambled together a little pocket-money, 
 by hard contrivance, poor Goldsmith turns his back upon care 
 and trouble, and Temple quarters, to forget for a time his deso- 
 late bachelorhood in the family circle and a Christmas fireside 
 at Barton. 
 
252 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 
 
 CHAPTER XLIV 
 
 A return to drudgery; forced gayety; retreat to the country; the 
 poem of Retaliation — Portrait of Garrick ; of Goldsmith ; of Rey- 
 nolds — Illness of the Poet; his death; grief of his friends — A last 
 word respecting the Jessamy Bride 
 
 The Barton festivities are over; Christmas, with all its 
 home-felt revelry of the heart, has passed like a dream ; the 
 Jessamy Bride has beamed her last smile upon the poor poet, 
 and the early part of 1774 finds him in his now dreary bach- 
 elor abode in the Temple, toiling fitfully and hopelessly at a 
 multiplicity of tasks. His "Animated Nature," so long de- 
 layed, so often interrupted, is at length announced for publica- 
 tion, though it has yet to receive a few finishing touches. He is 
 preparing a third " History of England," to be compressed and 
 condensed in one volume, for the use of schools. He is revising 
 his " Inquiry into Polite Learning," for which he receives the 
 pittance of five guineas, much needed in his present scantiness 
 of purse ; he is arranging his " Survey of Experimental Philos- 
 ophy," and he is translating the " Comic Romance " of Scarron. 
 Such is a part of the various labors, of a drudging, depressing 
 kind, by which his head is made weary and his heart faint. 
 " If there is a mental drudgery," says Sir Walter Scott, " which 
 lowers the spirits and lacerates the nerves, like the toil of a 
 slave, it is that which is exacted by literary composition, when 
 the heart is not in unison with the work upon which the head 
 is employed. Add to the unhappy author's task sickness, 
 sorrow, or the pressure of unfavorable circumstances, and the 
 labor of the bondsman becomes light in comparison." Goldsmith 
 again makes an eftbrt to rally his spirits by going into gay 
 society. " Our club," writes Beauclerc to Charlemont, on the 
 12th of February, " has dwindled away to nothing. Sir Joshua 
 and Goldsmith have got into such a round of pleasures that 
 they have no time." This shows how little Beauclerc was the 
 companion of the poet's mind, or could judge of him below the 
 surface. Reynolds, the kind participator in joyless dissipation, 
 could have told a different story of his companion's heart-sick 
 gayety. 
 
OLIVER GOLDSMITH 253 
 
 In this forced mood Goldsmith gave entertainments in his 
 chambers in the Temple ; the last of which was a dinner to 
 Johnson, Reynolds, and others of his intimates, who partook 
 with sorrow and reluctance of his imprudent hospitality. The 
 first course vexed them by its needless profusion. When a 
 second, equally extravagant, was served up, Johnson and Rey- 
 nolds declined to partake of it ; the rest of the company, under- 
 standing their motives, followed their example, and the dishes 
 went from the table untasted. Goldsmith felt sensibly this 
 silent and well-intended rebuke. 
 
 The gayeties of society, however, cannot medicine for any 
 length of time a mind diseased. Wearied by the distractions 
 and harassed by the expenses of a town life, which he had not 
 the discretion to regulate, Goldsmith took the resolution, too 
 tardily adopted, of retiring to the serene quiet, and cheap and 
 healthful pleasures of the country, and of passing only two 
 months of the year in London. He accordingly made arrange- 
 ments to sell his right in the Temple chambers, and in the 
 month of March retired to his country quarters at Hyde, there 
 to devote himself to toil. At this dispirited juncture, when 
 inspiration seemed to be at an end, and the poetic fire extin- 
 guished, a spark fell on his combustible imagination and set it 
 in a blaze. 
 
 He belonged to a temporary association of men of talent, some 
 of them members of the Literary Club, who dined together 
 occasionally at the St. James's Coffee-house. At these dinners, 
 as usual, he was one of the last to arrive. On one occasion, when 
 lie was more dilatory than usual, a whim seized the company 
 to write epitaphs on him, as " The late Dr. Goldsmith," and 
 several were thrown off in a playful vein, hitting off his pecu- 
 liarities. The only one extant was written by Garrick, and has 
 been preserved, very probably, by its pungency : 
 
 " Here lies poet Goldsmith, for shortness called Noll, 
 Who wrote like an angel, but talked like poor poll." 
 
 Goldsmith did not relish the sarcasm, especially as coming 
 from such a quarter. He was not very ready at repartee ; but 
 he took his time, and in the interval of his various tasks, con- 
 cocted a series of epigrammatic sketches, under the title of 
 
254 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 
 
 "Retaliation," in which the characters of his distinguished in- 
 timates were admirably hit off, with a mixture of generous 
 praise and good-humored raillery. In fact the poem, for its 
 graphic truth ; its nice discrimination ; its terse good sense, 
 and its shrewd knowledge of the world, must have electrified 
 the club almost as much as the first appearance of " The Trav- 
 eller," and let them still deeper into the character and talents 
 of the man they had been accustomed to consider as their butt. 
 " Retaliation," in a word, closed his accounts with the club, 
 and balanced all his previous deficiencies. 
 
 The portrait of David G-arrick is one of the most elaborate 
 in the poem. When the poet came to touch it off, he had 
 some lurking piques to gratify, which the recent attack had 
 revived. He may have forgotten David's cavalier treatment of 
 him, in the early days of his comparative obscurity ; he may 
 have forgiven his refusal of his plays ; but Garrick had been 
 capricious in his conduct in the times of their recent inter- 
 course : sometimes treating him with gross familiarity, at other 
 times affecting dignity and reserve, and assuming airs of supe- 
 riority ; frequently he had been facetious and witty in company 
 at his expense, and lastly he had been guilty of the couplet 
 just quoted. Goldsmith, therefore, touched off the lights and 
 shadows of his character with a free hand, and, at the same 
 time, gave a side hit at his old rival, Kelly, and his critical 
 persecutor, Kenrick, in making them sycophantic satellites of 
 the actor. Goldsmith, however, was void of gall even in his 
 revenge, and his very satire was more humorous than caustic : 
 
 " Here lies David Garrick, describe him who can, 
 An abridgment of all that was pleasant in man ; 
 As an actor, confess'd without rival to shine ; 
 As a wit, if not first, in the very first line : 
 Yet, with talents like these, and an excellent heart, 
 The man had his failings, a dupe to his art. 
 Like an ill-judging beauty, his colors he spread, 
 And beplaster'd with rouge his own? natural red. 
 On the stage he was natural, simple, affecting ; 
 'Twas only that when he was off he was acting. 
 With no reason on earth to go out of his way, 
 He turn'd and he varied full ten times a day : 
 Though secure of our hearts, yet confoundedly sick 
 If they were not his own by finessing and trick : 
 
OLIVER GOLDSMITH 255 
 
 He cast off his friends as a huntsman his pack, 
 For he knew, when he pleased, he could whistle them back. 
 Of praise a mere glutton, he swallow'd what came, 
 And the puff of a dunce, he mistook it for fame ; 
 Till his relish, grown callous almost to disease, 
 Who pepper' d the highest was surest to please. 
 But let us be candid, and speak out our mind, 
 If dunces applauded, he paid them in kind. 
 Ye Kenricks, ye Kellys, and Woodfalls so grave, 
 What a commerce was yours, while you got and you gave ! 
 How did Grub-street re-echo the shouts that you raised, 
 While he was be-Rosciused and you were be-praised ! 
 But peace to his spirit, wherever it flies, 
 To act as an angel and mix with the skies : 
 Those poets who owe their best fame to his skill, 
 Shall still be his flatterers, go where he will ; 
 Old Shakspeare receive him with praise and with love, 
 And Beaumonts and Bens be his Kellys above." 
 
 This portion of " Retaliation " soon brought a retort from 
 Garrick, which we insert, as giving something of a likeness of 
 Goldsmith, though in broad caricature : 
 
 *' Here, Hermes, says Jove, who with nectar was mellow, 
 Go fetch me some clay — I will make an odd fellow : 
 Right and wrong shall be jumbled, much gold and some dross, 
 Without cause be he pleased, without cause be he cross ; 
 Be sure, as I work, to throw in contradictions, 
 A great love of truth, yet a mind turn'd to fictions ; 
 Now mix these ingredients, which, warm'd in the baking, 
 Turn'd to learnmg and gaming^ religion and raking. 
 With the love of a wench let his writings be chaste ; 
 Tip his tongue with strange matter, his lips with fine taste ; 
 That the rake and the poet o'er all may prevail. 
 Set fire to the head and set fire to the tail ; 
 Tor the joy of each sex on the world I'll bestow it. 
 This scholar, rake. Christian, dupe, gamester, and poet. 
 Though a mixture so odd, he shall merit great fame. 
 And among brother mortals be Goldsmith his name ; 
 When on earth this strange meteor no more shall appear, 
 You, Hermes, shall fetch him, to make us sport here." 
 
 The charge of raking, so repeatedly advanced in the fore- 
 going lines, must be considered a sportive one, founded, per- 
 haps, on an incident or two within Garrick's knowledge, but 
 not borne out by the course of Goldsmith's life. He seems to 
 
256 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 
 
 have had a tender sentiment for the sex, but perfectly free 
 from libertinism. Neither was he an habitual gamester. The 
 strictest scrutiny has detected no settled vice of the kind. He 
 was fond of a game of cards, but an unskilful and careless 
 player. Cards in those days were universally introduced into 
 society. High play was, in fact, a fashionable amusement, as 
 at one time was deep drinking ; and a man might occasionally 
 lose large sums, and be beguiled into deep potations, without 
 incurring the character of a gamester or a drunkard. Poor 
 Goldsmith, on his advent into high society, assumed fine notions 
 with fine clothes ; he was thrown occasionally among high 
 players, men of fortune who could sport their cool hundreds as 
 carelessly as his early comrades at Ballymahon could their half- 
 crowns. Being at all times magnificent in money matters, he 
 may have played with them in their own way, without consider- 
 ing that what was sport to them to him was ruin. Indeed part 
 of his financial embarrassments may have arisen from losses of 
 the kind, incurred inadvertently, not in the indulgence of a 
 habit. " I do not believe Goldsmith to have deserved the name 
 of gamester," said one of his contemporaries ; " he liked cards 
 very well, as other people do, and lost and won occasionally ; but 
 as far as I saw or heard, and I had many opportunities of hear- 
 ing, never any considerable sum. If he gamed with any one, it 
 was probably with Beauclerc, but I do not know that such was 
 the case." 
 
 " Retaliation," as we have already observed, was thrown off 
 in parts, at intervals, and was never completed. Some char- 
 acters, originally intended to be introduced, remained unat- 
 tempted ; others were but partially sketched — such was the one 
 of Reynolds, the friend of his heart, and which he commenced 
 with a felicity which makes us regret that it should remain 
 unfinished. 
 
 " Here Reynolds is laid, and to tell you my mind, 
 He has not left a wiser or better behind. 
 His pencil was striking, resistless, and grand ; 
 His manners were gentle, complying, and bland ; 
 Still born to improve us in every part, 
 His pencil our faces, his manners our heart. 
 To coxcombs averse, yet most civilly steering. 
 When they judged without skill he was still hard of hearing : 
 
OLIVER GOLDSMITH 257 
 
 When they talked of their Raphaels, Correggios, and stuff. 
 He shifted his trumpet, and only took snuff. 
 By flattery unspoiled ' ' 
 
 The friendly portrait stood unfinished on the easel ; the hand 
 of the artist had failed ! An access of a local complaint, under 
 which he had suffered for some time past, added to a general 
 prostration of health, brought Goldsmith back to town before 
 he had well settled himself in the country. The local com-, 
 plaint subsided, but was followed by a low nervous fever. He 
 was not aware of his critical situation, and intended to be at 
 thQ.club on the 25th of March, on which occasion Charles Fox, 
 Sir Charles Bunbury (one of the Horneck connection), and two 
 other new members were to be present. In the afternoon, how- 
 ever, he felt so unwell as to take to his bed, and his symptoms 
 soon acquired sufficient force to keep him there. His malady 
 fluctuated for several days, and hopes were entertained of his 
 recovery, but they proved fallacious. He had skilful medical 
 aid and faithful nursing, but he would not follow the advice of 
 his physicians, and persisted in the use of James's powders, 
 which he had once found beneficial, but which were now injuri- 
 ous to him. His appetite was gone, his strength failed him, 
 but his mind remained clear, and was perhaps too active for his 
 frame. Anxieties and disappointments which had previously 
 sapped his constitution, doubtless aggravated his present com- 
 plaint and rendered him sleepless. In reply to an inquiry of 
 his physician, he acknowledged that his mind was ill at ease. 
 This was his last reply : he was too weak to talk, and in gen- 
 eral took no notice of what was said to him. He sank at last 
 into a deep sleep, and it was hoped a favorable crisis had arrived. 
 He awoke, however, in strong convulsions, which continued 
 without intermission until he expired, on the fourth of April, 
 at five o'clock in the morning ; being in the forty-sixth year of 
 his age. 
 
 His death was a shock to the literary world, and a deep 
 affliction to a wide circle of intimates and friends ; for, with all 
 his foibles and peculiarities, he was fully as much beloved as he 
 was admired. Burke, on hearing the news, burst into tears. 
 Sir Joshua Reynolds threw by his pencil for the day, and 
 grieved more than he had done in times of great family dis- 
 
258 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 
 
 tress. " I was abroad at the time of his death," writes Dr. 
 M'Donnell, the youth whom when in distress he had employed 
 as an amanuensis, " and I wept bitterly when the intelligence 
 first reached me. A blank came over my heart as if I had lost 
 one of my nearest relatives, and was followed for some days by 
 a feeling of despondency." Johnson felt the blow deeply and 
 gloomily. In writing some time afterwards to Boswell, he ob- 
 served, " Of poor Dr. Goldsmith there is little to be told more 
 than the papers have made public. He died of a fever, made, I 
 am afraid, more violent by uneasiness of mind. His debts 
 began to be heavy, and all his resources were exhausted. Sir 
 Joshua is of opinion that he owed no less than two thousand 
 pounds. Was ever poet so trusted before ? " 
 
 Among his debts were seventy-nine pounds due to his tailor, 
 Mr. William Filby, from whom he had received a new suit but 
 a few days before his death. "My fother," said the younger 
 Filby, " though a loser to that amount, attributed no blame to 
 Goldsmith ; he had been a good customer, and had he lived, 
 would have paid every farthing." Others of his tradespeople 
 evinced the same confidence in his integrity, notwithstanding 
 his heedlessness. Two sister milliners in Temple Lane, who 
 had been accustomed to deal with him, were concerned when 
 told, some time before his death, of his pecuniary embarrass- 
 ments. "Oh, sir," said they to Mr. Cradock, "sooner persuade 
 him to let us work for him gratis than apply to any other ; we 
 are sure he will pay us when he can." 
 
 On the stairs of his apartment there was the lamentation of 
 the old and infirm, and the sobbing of women ; poor objects of 
 his charity, to whom he had never turned a deaf ear, even when 
 struggling himself with poverty. 
 
 But there was one mourner, whose enthusiasm for his memory, 
 could it have been foreseen, might have soothed the bitterness 
 of death. After the coffin had been screwed down, a lock of his 
 hair was requested for a lady, a particular friend, who wished 
 to preserve it as a remembrance. It was the beautiful Mary 
 Horneck — the Jessamy Bride. The coffin was opened again, 
 and a lock of hair cut off*; which she treasured to her dying 
 day. Poor Goldsmith ! could he have foreseen that such a 
 memorial of him was to be thus cherished ! 
 
OLIVER GOLDSMITH 259 
 
 One word more concerning this lady, to whom we have so 
 often ventured to advert. She survived ahiiost to the present 
 day. Hazlitt met her at Northcote's painting-room, about 
 twenty years since, as Mrs. Gwyn, the widow of a General 
 Gwyn of the army. She was at that time upwards of seventy 
 years of age. Still, he said, she was beautiful, beautiful even 
 in years. After she was gone, Hazlitt remarked how handsome 
 she still was. "I do not know," said Northcote, "why she is 
 so kind as to come to see me, except that I am the last link in 
 the chain that connects her with all those she most esteemed 
 when young — Johnson, Reynolds, Goldsmith — and remind 
 her of the most delightful period of her life." "Not only so," 
 observed Hazlitt, " but you remember what she was at twenty ; 
 and you thus bring back to her the triumphs of her youth — 
 that pride of beauty, which must be the more fondly cherished 
 as it has no external vouchers, and lives chiefly in the bosom of 
 its once lovely possessor. In her, however, the Graces had tri- 
 umphed over time ; she was one of Ninon de I'Enclos's people, 
 of the last of the immortals. I could almost fancy the shade 
 of Goldsmith in the room, looking round with complacency." 
 
 The Jessamy Bride survived her sister upwards of forty 
 years, and died in 1840, within a few days of completing her 
 eighty-eighth year. " She had gone through all the stages of 
 life," says Northcote, "and had lent a grace to each." How- 
 ever gayly she may have sported with the half-concealed 
 admiration of the poor awkward poet in the heyday of her youth 
 and beauty, and however much it may have been made a subject 
 of teasing by her youthful companions, she evidently prided 
 herself in after years upon having been an object of his affec- 
 tionate regard ; it certainly rendered her interesting throughout 
 life in the eyes of his admirers, and has hung a poetical wreath 
 above her grave. 
 
 CHAPTER XLV 
 
 The funeral — The monument — The epitaph — Concluding remarks 
 
 In the warm feeling of the moment, while the remains of 
 the poet were scarce cold, it was determined by his friends to 
 honor them by a public funeral and a tomb in Westminster 
 
260 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 
 
 Abbey. His very pall-bearers were designated : Lord Shelburne, 
 Lord Lowth, Sir Joshua Reynolds ; the Hon. Mr. Beauclerc, 
 Mr. Burke, and David Garrick. This feeling cooled down, 
 however, when it was discovered that he died in debt, and had 
 not left wherewithal to pay for such expensive obsequies. 
 Five days after his death, therefore, at five o'clock of Saturday 
 evening, the 9 th of April, he was privately interred in the 
 burying-ground of the Temple Church ; a few persons attending 
 as mourners, among whom we do not find specified any of his 
 peculiar and distinguished friends. The chief mourner was 
 Sir Joshua Reynolds's nephew, Palmer, afterwards Dean of 
 Cashel. One person, however, from whom it was but little to 
 be expected, attended the funeral and evinced real sorrow on 
 the occasion. This was Hugh Kelly, once the dramatic rival 
 of the deceased, and often, it is said, his anonymous assailant 
 in the newspapers. If he had really been guilty of this basest 
 of literary off'ences, he was punished by the stings of remorse, 
 for we are told that he shed bitter tears over the grave of the 
 man he had injured. His tardy atonement only provoked the 
 lash of some unknown satirist, as the following lines will 
 show : 
 
 "Hence Kelly, who years, without honor or shame. 
 Had been sticking his bodkin in Oliver's fame, 
 Who thought, like the Tartar, by this to inherit 
 His genius, his learning, simplicity, spirit ; 
 Now sets every feature to weep o'er his fate. 
 And acts as a mourner to blubber in state." 
 
 One base wretch deserves to be mentioned, the reptile 
 Kenrick, who, after having repeatedly slandered Goldsmith, 
 while living, had the audacity to insult his memory when dead. 
 The following distich is sufficient to show his malignancy, and 
 to hold him up to execration : 
 
 " By his own art, who justly died, 
 A blund'ring, artless suicide : 
 Share, earthworms, share, since nov^^ he's dead, 
 His megrim, maggot-bitten head." 
 
 This scurrilous epitaph produced a burst of public indigna- 
 
goldsmith's burial place 
 
DIAGRAM OF THE POETS CORNER 
 
 , WESTMINSTEK ABBEY 
 
OLIVER GOLDSMITH 261 
 
 tion, that awed for a time even the infamous Kenrick into 
 silence. On the other hand, the press teemed with tributes 
 in verse and prose to the memory of the deceased ; all evincing 
 the mingled feeling of admiration for the author and affection 
 for the man. 
 
 Not long after his death the Literary Club set on foot a sub- 
 scription, and raised a fund to erect a monument to his memory, 
 in Westminster Abbey. It was executed by Nollekens, and 
 consisted simply of a bust of the poet in profile, in high relief, 
 in a medallion, and was placed in the area of a pointed arch, 
 over the south door in Poets' Corner, between the monu- 
 ments of Gay and the Duke of Argyle. Johnson furnished a 
 Latin epitaph, which was read at the table of Sir Joshua Key- 
 nolds, where several members of the club and other friends of 
 the deceased were present. Though considered by them a 
 masterly composition, they thought the literary character of the 
 poet not defined with sufficient exactness, and they preferred 
 that the epitaph should be in English rather than Latin, as 
 " the memory of so eminent an English writer ought to be per- 
 petuated in the language to which his works were likely to be 
 so lasting an ornament." • 
 
 These objections were reduced to writing, to be respectfully 
 submitted to Johnson, but such was the awe entertained of his 
 frown, that every one shrank from putting his name first to the 
 instrument ; whereupon their names were written about it in a 
 circle, making what mutinous sailors call a Bound Robin, John- 
 son received it half graciously, half grimly. " He was willing," 
 he said, " to modify the sense of the epitaph in any manner the 
 gentlemen pleased ; hut he never would consent to disgrace the 
 walls of Westminster Abbey ivith an English inscription.'^ 
 Seeing the names of Dr. Warton and Edmund Burke among 
 the signers, "he wondered," he said, "that Joe Warton, a 
 scholar by profession, should be such a fool ; and should have 
 thought that Mund Burke would have had more sense." The 
 following is the epitaph as it stands inscribed on a white 
 marble tablet beneath the bust : 
 
262 OLIVEll GOLDSMITH 
 
 "OLIVARII GOLDSMITH, 
 
 Poetse, Physici, Historici, 
 Qui nullum fer6 scribendi genus 
 
 Non tetigit, 
 Nullum quod tetigit non ornavit : 
 Sive risus essent movendi, 
 Sive lacrymse, 
 Affectuum potens at lenis dominator : 
 Ingenio sublimis, vividus, versatilis, 
 Oratione grandis, nitidus, venustus : 
 Hoc monumento meraoriam coluit 
 Sodalium amor, 
 Amicorum fides, 
 Lectorum veneratio. 
 Natus in Hibernia Fornise Longfordiensis, 
 In loco cui nomen Pallas, 
 Nov. XXIX, MDCCxxxi. ; 
 Eblanse Uteris institutas ; 
 Obiit Londiui, 
 
 April IV, MDCCLXXIV."! 
 
 We shall not pretend to follow these anecdotes of the life 
 of Goldsmith with any critical dissertation on his writings ; 
 
 1 The following translation is from Croker's edition of Boswell's 
 Johnson : 
 
 OF OLIVER GOLDSMITH — 
 
 A Poet, Naturalist, and Historian, 
 
 Who left scarcely any style of writing 
 
 untouched, 
 
 And touched nothing that he did not adorn ; 
 
 Of all the passions. 
 
 Whether smiles were to be moved 
 
 or tears, 
 
 A powerful yet gentle master ; 
 
 In genius, sublime, vivid, versatile. 
 
 In style, elevated, clear, elegant — 
 
 The love of companions, 
 
 The fidelity of friends. 
 
 And the veneration of readers. 
 
 Have by this monument honored the memory. 
 
 He was born in Ireland, 
 
 At a place called Pallas, 
 
 [In the parish] of Forney, [and county] of Longford, 
 
 On the 29th Nov., 1731, 
 
 Educated at [the University of] Dublin, 
 
 And died in London, 
 
 4th April, 1774. 
 
, OLIVER GOLDSMITH 263 
 
 their merits have long since been fully discussed, and their sta- 
 tion in the scale of literary merit permanently established. 
 They have outlasted generations of works of higher power 
 and wider scope, and will continue to outlast succeeding gener- 
 ations, for they have that magic charm of style by which works 
 are embalmed to perpetuity. Neither shall we attempt a regu- 
 lar analysis of the character of the- poet, but will indulge in a 
 few desultory remarks in addition to those scattered throughout 
 the preceding chapters. 
 
 Never was the trite, because sage apothegm, that " The child 
 is father to the man," more fully verified than in the case of 
 Goldsmith. He is shy, awkward, and blundering in childhood, 
 yet full of sensibility ; he is a butt for the jeers and jokes of 
 his companions, but apt to surprise and confound them by sud- 
 den and witty repartees ; he is dull and stupid at his tasks, 
 yet an eager and intelligent devourer of the travelling tales and 
 campaigning stories of his half military pedagogue ; he may be 
 a dunce, but he is already a rhymer ; and his early scintillations 
 of poetry awaken the expectations of his friends. He seems 
 from infancy to have been compounded of two natures, one 
 bright, the other blundering ; or to have had fairy gifts laid in 
 his cradle by the "good people" who haunted his birth-place, 
 the old goblin mansion on the banks of the Inny. 
 
 He carries with him the wayward elfin spirit, if we may so 
 term it, throughout his career. His fairy gifts are of no avail 
 at school, academy, or college : they unfit him for close study 
 and practical science, and render him heedless of every thing 
 that does not address itself to his poetical imagination and 
 genial and festive feelings ; they dispose him to break away 
 from restraint, to stroll about hedges, green lanes, and haunted 
 streams, to revel with jovial companions, or to rove the country 
 like a gipsy in quest of odd adventures. 
 
 As if confiding in these delusive gifts, he takes no heed of the 
 present nor care for the future, lays no regular and solid foun- 
 dation of knowledge, follows out no plan, adopts and discards 
 those recommended by his friends, at one time prepares for the 
 ministry, next turns to the law, and then fixes upon medicine. 
 He repairs to Edinburgh, the great emporium of medical science, 
 but the fairy gifts accompany him ; he idles and frolics away 
 
264 OLIVER GOLDSMITH , 
 
 his time there, imbibing only such knowledge as is agreeable to 
 him ; makes an excursion to the poetical regions of the High- 
 lands ; and having walked the hospitals for tlie customary time, 
 sets off to ramble over the Continent, in quest of novelty rather 
 than knowledge. His whole tour is a poetical one. He fancies 
 he is playing the philosopher while he is really playing the 
 poet ; and though professedly he attends lectures and visits for- 
 eign universities, so deficient is he on his return, in the studies 
 for which he set out, that he fails in an examination as a sur- 
 geon's mate ; and while figuring as a doctor of medicine, is out- 
 vied on a point of practice by his apothecary. Bafiled in every 
 regular pursuit, after trying in vain some of the humbler call- 
 ings of commonplace life, he is driven almost by chance to the 
 exercise of his pen, and here the fairy gifts come to his assist- 
 ance. For a long time, however, he seems unaware of the 
 magic properties of that pen : he uses it only as a make-shift 
 until he can find a legitimate means of support. He is not 
 a learned man, and can write but meagrely and at second-hand 
 on learned subjects ; but he has a quick convertible talent that 
 seizes lightly on the points of knowledge necessary to the illus- 
 tration of a theme : his writings for a time are desultory, the 
 fruits of what he has seen and felt, or what he has recently and 
 hastily read ; but his gifted pen transmutes every thing into 
 gold, and his own genial nature reflects its sunshine through his 
 pages. 
 
 Still unaware of his powers he throws off his writings 
 anonymously, to go with the writings of less favored men ; 
 and it is a long time, and after a bitter struggle with poverty 
 and humiliation, before he acquires confidence in his literary 
 talent as a means of support, and begins to dream of 
 reputation. 
 
 From this time his pen is a wand of power in his hand, and 
 he has only to use it discreetly, to make it competent to all his 
 wants. But discretion is not a part of Goldsmith's nature ; 
 and it seems the property of these fairy gifts to be accompanied 
 by moods and temperaments to render their effect precarious. 
 The heedlessness of his early days ; his disposition for social en- 
 joyment ; his habit of throwing the present on the neck of the 
 future, still continue. His expenses forerun his means ; he 
 
OLIVER GOLDSMITH 265 
 
 incurs debts on the faith of what his magic- pen is to produce, 
 and then, under the pressure of his debts, sacrifices its pro- 
 ductions for prices far below their vahie. It is a redeeming 
 circumstance in his prodigality, that it is lavished oftener upon 
 others than upon himself: he gives without thought or stint, 
 and is the continual dupe of his benevolence and his trustful- 
 ness in human nature. We may say of him as he says of one 
 of his heroes, " He could not stifle the natural impulse which 
 he had to do good, but frequently borrowed money to relieve the 
 distressed ; and when he knew not conveniently where to bor- 
 roijt, he has been observed to shed tears as he passed through 
 the wretched suppliants who attended his gate." . . . 
 
 " His simplicity in trusting persons whom he had no previous 
 reasons to place confidence in, seems to be one of those lights 
 of his character which, while they impeach his understanding, 
 do honor to his benevolence. The low and the timid are ever 
 suspicious ; but a heart impressed with honorable sentiments, 
 expects from others sympathetic sincerity."^ 
 
 His heedlessness in pecuniary matters, which had rendered 
 his life a struggle with poverty even in the days of his obscu- 
 rity, rendered the struggle still more intense when his fairy gifts 
 had elevated him into the society of the wealthy and luxurious, 
 and imposed on his simple and generous spirit fancied obliga- 
 tions to a more ample and bounteous display. 
 
 " How comes it," says a recent and ingenious critic,^ " that 
 in all the miry paths of life which he had trod, no speck ever 
 sullied the robe of his modest and graceful Muse. How amidst 
 all that love of inferior company, which never to the last for- 
 sook him, did he keep his genius so free from every touch of 
 vulgarity ? " 
 
 We answer that it was owing to the innate purity and good- 
 ness of his nature ; there was nothing in it that assimilated to 
 vice and vulgarity. Though his circumstances often compelled 
 him to associate with the poor, they never could betray him 
 into companionship with the depraved. His relish for humor 
 and for the study of character, as we have before observed, 
 brought him often into convivial company of a vulgar kind ; 
 
 1 Goldsmith's Life of Nash. 
 
 2 Bulwer Lytton, Edinburgh Review, Vol. Ixxxvii. 
 
266 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 
 
 but he discriminated between their vulgarity and their amus- 
 ing qualities, or rather wrought from the whole those familiar 
 pictures of life which form the staple of his most popular writ- 
 ings. 
 
 Much, too, of this intact purity of heart may be ascribed to 
 the lessons of his infancy under the paternal roof; to the gentle, 
 benevolent, elevated, unworldly maxims of his father, who " pass- 
 ing rich with forty pounds a year," infused a spirit into his child 
 which riches could not deprave nor poverty degrade. Much of his 
 boyhood, too, had been passed in the household of his uncle, the 
 amiable and generous Contarine ; where he talked of literature 
 with the good pastor, and practised music with his daughter, 
 and delighted them both by his juvenile attempts at poetry. 
 These early associations breathed a grace and refinement into 
 his mind and tuned it up, after the rough sports on the 
 green, or the. frolics at the tavern. These led him to turn 
 from the roaring glees of the club, to listen to the harp of 
 his cousin Jane ; and from the rustic triumph of " throwing 
 sledge," to a stroll with his flute along the pastoral banks of 
 the Inny. 
 
 The gentle spirit of his father 'walked with him through life, 
 a pure and virtuous monitor ; and in all the vicissitudes of his 
 career, we find him ever more chastened in mind by the sweet 
 and holy recollections of the home of his infancy. 
 
 It has been questioned whether he really had any religious 
 feeling. Those who raise the question have never considered 
 well his writings ; his " Vicar of Wakefield," and his pictures of 
 the Village Pastor, present religion under its most endearing 
 forms, and with a feeling that could only flow from the deep 
 convictions of the heart. When his fair travelling companions 
 at Paris urged him to read the Church Service on a Sunday, he 
 replied that " he was not worthy to do it." He had seen in 
 early life the sacred ofiices performed by his father and his 
 brother, with a solemnity which had sanctified them in his mem- 
 ory ; how could he presume to undertake such functions 1 His 
 religion has been called in question by Johnson and by Boswell : 
 he certainly had not the gloomy hypochondriacal piety of the 
 one, nor the babbling mouth-piety of the other ; but the spirit 
 of Christian charit} breathed forth in his writings and illus- 
 
OLIVER GOLDSMITH 267 
 
 trated in his conduct, give us reason to believe he had the in- 
 dwelling religion of the soul. 
 
 We have made sufficient comments in the preceding chapters 
 on his conduct in elevated circles of Jiterature and fashion. The 
 fairy gifts which took him there were not accompanied by the 
 gifts and graces necessary to sustain him in that artificial sphere. 
 He can neither play the learned sage with Johnson, nor the fine 
 gentleman with Beauclerc : though he has a mind replete with 
 wisdom and natural shrewdness, and a spirit free from vul- 
 garity. The blunders of a fertile but hurried intellect, and the 
 awkward display of the student assuming the man of fashion, 
 fix on him a character for absurdity and vanity which, like the 
 charge of lunacy, it is hard to disprove, however weak the 
 grounds of the charge and strong the facts in opposition to it. 
 
 In truth, he is never truly in his place in these learned and 
 fashionable circles, which talk and live for display. It is not 
 the kind of society he craves. His heart yearns for domestic 
 life; it craves familiar, confiding intercourse, family firesides, 
 the guileless and happy company of children ; these bring out 
 the heartiest and sweetest sympathies of his nature. 
 
 " Had it been his fate," says the critic we have already 
 quoted, " to meet a woman who could have J^oved him, despite 
 his faults, and respected him despite his foibles, we cannot but 
 think that his life and his genius would have been much more 
 harmonious ; his desultory affections would have been concen- 
 tred, his craving self-love appeased, his pursuits more settled, 
 his character more solid. A nature like Goldsmith's, so affec- 
 tionate, so confiding — so susceptible to simple, innocent enjoy- 
 ments — so dependent on others for the sunshine of existence, 
 does not flower if deprived of the atmosphere of home." 
 
 The cravings of his heart in this respect are evident, we 
 think, throughout his career ; and if we have dwelt with more 
 significancy than others, upon his intercourse with the beauti- 
 ful Horneck family, it is because we fancied we could detect, 
 amid his playful attentions to one of its members, a lurking 
 sentiment of tenderness, kept down by conscious poverty and a 
 humiliating idea of personal defects. A hopeless feeling of this 
 kind — - the last a man would communicate to his friends — 
 might account for much of that fitfulness of conduct, and that 
 
268 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 
 
 gathering melancholy, remarked, but not comprehended by his 
 associates, during the last year or two of his life ; and may 
 have been one of the troubles of the mind which aggravated his 
 last illness, and only terminated with his death. 
 
 We shall conclude these desultory remarks, with a few which 
 have been used by us on a former occasion. From the general 
 tone of Goldsmith's biography, it is evident that his faults, at 
 tlie worst, were but negative, while his merits were great and 
 decided. He was no one's enemy but his own ; his errors, in 
 the main, inflicted evil on none but himself, and were so blended 
 with humorous, and even affecting circumstances, as to disarm 
 anger and conciliate kindness. Where eminent talent is united 
 to spotless virtue, we are awed and dazzled into admiration, 
 but our admiration is apt to be cold and reverential; while 
 there is something in the harmless infirmities of a good and 
 great, but erring individual, that pleads touchingly to our nature ; 
 and we turn more kindly towards the object of our idolatry, 
 when we find that, like ourselves, he is mortal and is frail. 
 The epithet so often heard, and in such kindly tones, of " poor 
 Goldsmith," speaks volumes. Few, who consider the real com- 
 pound of admirable and whimsical qualities which form his 
 character, would \vish to prune away its eccentricities, trim its 
 grotesque luxuriance, and clip it down to the decent formalities 
 of rigid virtue. " Let not his frailties be remembered," said 
 Johnson ; " he was a very great man." But, for our part, we 
 rather say, " Let them be remembered," since their tendency is 
 to endear; and we question whether he himself would not feel 
 gratified in hearing his reader, after dwelling with admiration 
 on the proofs of his greatness, close the volume with the kind- 
 hearted phrase, so fondly and familiarly ejaculated, of " Poor 
 Goldsmith." 
 
NOTES 
 
 Page xxix. Both James Prior and John Forster each wrote a volu- 
 minous life of Goldsmith. 
 
 xxix. The Inns of Court, composed of the Inner Temple, Middle 
 Temple, Lincoln's Inn, and Gray's Inn, constitute the legal university 
 of London for granting permission to practise the profession of law. 
 
 3. Prior traced the Goldsmith family to an English origin. The 
 earliest ancestor of the poet of whom anything is known, was John 
 Goldsmyth, who in 154:1 held an office at Galway. 
 
 3. The "Man in Black " refers to the History of the Man in lilack, 
 No. xxvii., Goldsmith's Letters of a Citizen of the World. 
 
 12. Mr. Dobson, in his Life of Goldsmith, notes that " in the lives of 
 Forster and Prior, the year of admission is given as 1745 ; but this has 
 been shown . . . to be an error." 
 
 12. A pensioner, one who pays his own way through college. Irving 
 explains the term " sizer " in the following paragraph. 
 
 12. The window frame may now be seen in Trinity College library. 
 
 14. Although Burke and Goldsmith were at Trinity College at the 
 same time, there is no evidence that they were associates or even ac- 
 quaintances. It was not until after 1760, in London, that they became 
 intimates in the famous Literary Club. Burke (1729-1797) became the 
 most commanding figure in English politics. We, as Americans, should 
 remember him as one of our truest and firmest friends in the Ante- 
 Revolutionary days. Englishmen recall with gratitude that he advo- 
 cated a policy of justice by which they afterward profited in the ruling 
 of their colonies. 
 
 21 . Tony Lumpkin and his associates appear in She Stoops to Con- 
 quer, Act. I. Scene 2. The song that Tony sings contains three stanzas, 
 of which Irving quotes the last, probably thinking the first two would 
 touch Goldsmith's life too closely. 
 
 21. A *' jorum " is a large bowl of punch. 
 
 25. Lenten entertainment is suggestive of fasting or frugal living. 
 
 31 . A turn-spit-dog was a heavy, short dog trained to turn a tread- 
 mill-wheel by which a spit (a sharp bar of wood or iron on which meat 
 was roasted) was turned. 
 
 35. The use of Latin in lectures still had a tenacious hold in the uni- 
 versities. Johnson refused to ** disgrace the walls of Westminster with 
 an English inscription " for an epitaph on Goldsmith. 
 
 40. In the seventeenth century the Dutch people had a mania for 
 
 269 
 
270 NOTES 
 
 raising rare and fancy species of tulip bulbs. Prices for some bulbs 
 rose as high as five hundred pounds. Finally the craze so spread over 
 Europe that it became a menace to business and to government. The 
 tulip trade was then put under governmental control. 
 
 44. There is no evidence at Padua University that Goldsmith took 
 a doctor's degree there. His degree, in all probability, was conferred 
 by his friends as one of their periodical jokes on the "Philosophic 
 Vagabond." 
 
 47. Anodyne is any medicine that relieves pain ; here anodyne neck- 
 lace is used in a humorous sense for a hangman's rope. 
 
 52. Goldsmith's statement about Dryden's indigence is overdrawn. 
 Dryden did lead a disturbed life in politics and at home, but that he 
 suffered from want of a good living is not well established. 
 
 58. The Padareen mare was " a celebrated Irish racer." — Citizen 
 of the World, Letter V. 
 
 58. "The music of Mattel is dissonance to what I felt when our old 
 dairy maid sung me into tears with Johnny Armstrong's Last Good- 
 night, or the Cruelty of Barbara Allen." — The Bee, No. ii. 
 
 60. Prior gives an account of Raleigh's passion that explains this 
 allusion. " Sir Walter's History of the World sold very slowlie at 
 first, and the booksellers complained of it, and told him that he should 
 be a loser by it, which put Sir Walter in a passion. He said, that since 
 the world did not understand it, they should not have his second part, 
 which he took before his face, and threw it into the fire, and burnt it." 
 
 61. The union between Ireland and England took effect by Parlia- 
 mentary enactment January 1, 1801. 
 
 67. Coromandel is the eastern seacoast of the Indian peninsula. 
 
 78. The royal martyr was Charles I, who was beheaded in 1649. 
 His good rules were : Urge no healths ; Profane no divine ordinances ; 
 Touch no state matters ; Reveal no secrets ; Pick no quarrels ; Make 
 no companions ; Maintain no ill opinions ; Keep no bad company ; En- 
 courage no vice ; Make no long meals ; Repeat no grievances ; Lay no 
 wagers. 
 
 80. Mr. Dobson says the Inquiry was published in April. Gold- 
 smith was not writing the Inquiry when Dr. Percy called on him 
 (page. 72), but was correcting the proofs. See Dobson's Life of Gold- 
 smith, page 65. 
 
 80. Formerly it was the practice to lead condemned crimnals to 
 Tyburn prison, tied to the end of a cart. 
 
 82. The Provoked Husband, a comedy, was begun by Sir John Van- 
 burgh (1672-1728), but was completed by Colley Cibber (1671-1757) in 
 1728. It was considered by Johnson as being worthy of comparison 
 with Goldsmith's the Good-natured Man. 
 
 84. The sub-title of the Citizen of the World is " Letters from a Chi- 
 nese Philosopher residing in London, to his Friends in the East." 
 Read Chapter V., Dobson's Life of Goldsmith, for the characteristics of 
 the Citizen. 
 
NOTES 271 
 
 85. Irving strains the word "note," although the men named were 
 of the better sort of hack writers. One of them, William Guthrie, 
 was the author of A Historical and Geographical Grammar, which was 
 very popular in its day, and A History of the World from the Creation 
 to the Present Time. Arthur Murphy, an actor and dramatist, wrote 
 a pleasing comedy, Three Weeks after Marriage. Christopher Smart, 
 a man subject to occasional tits of insanity, is unknown except as a 
 butt in literature. Isaac Bickerstaff wrote a number of comedies that 
 were popular in their day. 
 
 87. The allusion in "rode and tied " is to an old method of travel- 
 ling when two persons had only one horse between them. One would 
 ride a given time, then, after tying the horse, would walk. His com- 
 panion, coming to the place where the horse was tied, would ride a 
 giveo time, long enough to pass his fellow-traveller on foot. So they 
 went on to their journey's end. There is probably a further allusion 
 in Garrick's remark, as he gained fame and fortune in London before 
 his master, Johnson. 
 
 88. "Great Cham" is the title of a prince of Tartary; it is now 
 written "khan." 
 
 93. The quotation is from Cowper's History of John Gilpin : 
 
 " Thus all through merry Islington 
 These gambols he did play." 
 
 95. Johnson, out of the generosity of his heart, befriended several 
 pensioners besides Anna Williams. 
 
 101. A ".bishop " is " a hot drink made with bitter oranges, cloves, 
 and port wine." 
 
 103. Johnson's pension of three hundred pounds was granted by 
 Lord Bute in 1762. 
 
 105. Dr. Semple in his edition of Irving's Goldsmith has the follow- 
 ing note on the sale of the Vicar of Wakefield : 
 
 "The discoveries of Mr. Charles Welsh, author of A Bookseller of 
 the Last Century, have seriously disturbed the traditional story of the 
 sale. In an account book of Benjamin Collins, printer, marked ' Ac- 
 count of copies, their cost and value, 1764,' Mr. Welsh found the fol- 
 lowing entry : 'Vicar of Wakefield, 2 vols., 12 mo., l/3rd, B. Collins 
 bought of Dr. Goldsmith, the author, Oct. 28, 1762, £ 21.' From another 
 account book of Collins's it appears that Mr. Strahan, a printer, and 
 the firm of Carnan and Newbery were also the purchasers of a third 
 each. Johnson's story, of which there were several versions differing 
 in details, cannot be literally true. Johnson probably sold to Newbery 
 one-third interest at the rate of sixty pounds for the whole, and carried 
 the proceeds to Goldsmith. The transaction took place before Bos- 
 well's acquaintance with Johnson began. Moreover, the book must 
 have been finished in 1762, unless Goldsmith sold it before it was 
 written — a supposition unlikely, though not impossible, in view of 
 
272 • NOTES 
 
 Goldsmith's known laxity in money matters. But Johnson gives no 
 exact date. It is probable, therefore, that the Vicar lay unpublished 
 lor four years, instead of two." 
 
 106. Boswell credits Johnson with writing line 420, and the conclud- 
 ing: ten lines of the poem of the Traveller. 
 
 109. Nil te qusesiveris extra, Seek for nothing outside yourself. 
 
 113. Philautos, Philalethes, Phileleutheros, Philanthropos, mean, 
 respectively: Lover of Self, Lover of Truth, Lover of Freedom, Lover 
 of Man. 
 
 125. There is similarity in thought between Johnson's description of 
 Goldsmith's conversational powers and Garrick's description in verse 
 on page 253. 
 
 128. The quotation is from Johnson's tablet in the Poets' Corner, 
 Westminster Abbey. 
 
 129. " Tun of man," a description of Falstaff. 
 
 137. Irving's account of his visit to Cauonbury Castle appears in 
 "The Poor Devil Author" in his Tales of a Traveller. 
 
 142. This very apt quotation from Talleyrand, the French states- 
 man, is a miich-chased saying. Cunningham, one of Goldsmith's 
 editors, has traced it to Young's poetry, thence to Dr. Smith's ser- 
 mons. Nevertheless, Talleyrand deserves the credit of it, as it fits 
 him. 
 
 145. Blackstone's successor under Goldsmith's apartments, Mr. 
 Children, made a similar complaint. Goldsmith, like Johnson, al- 
 though living in the midst of the law, does not appear to have held a 
 very high opinion of the lawyers of the day, for we find him saying in 
 the Good-natured Man that "lawyers are always more ready to get 
 a man into trouble, than out of it." 
 
 153. Filby's given name was William, not John, as written by Bos- 
 well. 
 
 167. Forsitan et nostrum nomen tniscebitur istis, Perhaps our name 
 will be enrolled with these also. 
 
 172. Macaulay's opinion on the controversy is given as follows in 
 his Life of Goldsmith : " The village in its happy days is a true Eng- 
 lish village. The village in its decay is an Irish village. The felicity 
 and the misery which Goldsmith has brought close together belong to 
 two different countries, and to two different stages in the progress of 
 society. He had assuredly never seen in his native island such a rural 
 paradise, such a seat of plenty, content, and tranquillity as his 
 'Auburn.' He had assuredly never seen in England all the inhabit- 
 ants of such a paradise turned out of their homes in one day and 
 forced to emigrate in a body to America. The hamlet he had probably 
 seen in Kent ; the ejectment he had probably seen in Munster ; but by 
 joining the two, he had produced something which never was, and 
 never will be seen in any part of the world." 
 
 174. To be crowned with a wreath of bay leaves was a sign of 
 victory. 
 
NOTES 273 
 
 182. The soldiers of Hannibal, who wintered in Capua after the vic- 
 tory of Cannae, were debilitated by their riotous living iu that city. 
 
 185. Trouvaille, a discovery; a "find." 
 
 188. En attendant, while waiting. 
 
 193. Preux chevalier, a gallant knight. 
 
 19S. " Drawcansir " is the name of a braggart in Villiers' drama, 
 the Rehearsal. 
 
 " I drink, I huff, I strut, look big and stare ; 
 All this I can do, because I dare." — Act IV. Scene 1. 
 
 195. Argumentum ad hominem, "an argument drawn from premises 
 which, whether true or not, ought to be admitted by the person to 
 whom they are addressed." — Century Dictionary. 
 
 T98. ' IIsBC studia pronoctant nobiscum,' etc.. These studies are with 
 us by night, in our wanderings, and in our country life. 
 
 201. The allusion is probably to the game in which one amuses chil- 
 dren by sticking a bit of paper on each forefinger, and then, after 
 throwing the hands in the air, replaces not the forefingers but the 
 second finger of each hand, so that Jack and Jill mysteriously disap- 
 pear. This jingle accompanies the movements: 
 
 *' Two little blackbirds sitting on a hill. 
 One named Jatik, the other named Jill. 
 Fly away Jack ! Fly away Jill ! 
 Come back J'ack ! Come back Jill! " 
 
 205. In the London Magazine for 1700, page 451, is an account of the 
 Stratford jubilee, written and signed by Boswell. He says: "Of the 
 most remarkable masks upon this occasion was James Boswell, Esq., 
 in the di-ess of an armed Corsicau chief. He entered the amphitheatre 
 about twelve o'clock. On the front of his cap was embroidered in gold 
 letters. Viva la Liberia ; and on one side of it was a handsome blue 
 feather and cockade, so that it had an elegant, as well as war-like, 
 appearance. He wore no mask, saying that it was not proper for a 
 gallant Corsican. As soon as he came into the room he drew universal 
 attention." The jubilee was held September 6 to 8, 1769. 
 
 206. Scrub is a character in Farquhar's comedy, Beaux' Stratagem. 
 His duties, as described by himself, were : "On a Monday I drive the 
 coach, of a Tuesday I drive the plough, on Wednesday I follow the 
 hounds, a Thursday I dun the tenants, on Friday I go to market, on 
 Saturday I draw warrants, and a Sunday I draw beer." — Act III. 
 Scene 3. On all days he was " consumedly in love." 
 
 213. Loo was the popular game with cards in Goldsmith's time. 
 " The highest card in the game of IjOO is the knave of clubs, or some- 
 times the knave of the trump suit." 
 
 215. Stow, the antiquarian, says, " At the feast of Christmas, in 
 the King's court, there was always appointed, on All-Hallow's Eve 
 
274 NOTES 
 
 (Oct. 31), a master of mirth and fun." The reign of the Lord of Mis- 
 rule extended to the feast of Purification, Candlemas (Feb. 2). 
 
 219. "I observed here and there many in the habits of servants, 
 with a blown bladder, fastened like a flail to the end of a short stick, 
 which they carried in their hands. In each bladder was a quantity of 
 dried peas, or little pebbles, as I was afterwards informed. With these 
 bladders they now and then flapped the mouths and ears of those who 
 stood near them, of which pz'actice I could not then conceive the mean- 
 ing ; it seems the minds of these people are so taken up with intense 
 speculations, that they can neither speak, nor attend the discourses of 
 others, without being roused by some external taction upon the organs 
 of speech and hearing; for which reason, those persons who are able to 
 afford it always keep a flapper (the original is climenole) in their family 
 as one of their domestics ; nor even walk abroad, or make visits, with- 
 out him. And the business of this officer is, when two or three or more 
 persons are in company, gently to strike with his bladder the mouth of 
 him who is to speak, and the right ear of him or them to whom the 
 speaker addresses himself." — Gulliver's Travels, " A Voyage to La- 
 puta," Chapter II. 
 
 222. Ride si sapis, If you are wise, laugh. 
 
 223. Dobson's Life of Goldsmith, page 172, explains that Goldsmith 
 had the " substantial gratification of some four or five hundred pounds, 
 to which must be added a further amount from the publication of the 
 play in book form." 
 
 224. Vous vous noyez par vanite. You injure yourself with your 
 vanity. 
 
 224. "Bedlam" is a contraction or corruption of ''Bethlehem," 
 London, the name of a religious house, converted into a hospital for 
 lunatics ; hence a " Bard of Bedlam " means a mad poet. 
 
 225. Brise le miroir, etc.. Break the false mirror which hides the 
 truth from you. 
 
 238. Ex cathedra, from the chair; with authority. 
 
 238. It is Launce of Shakespeare's Tivo Gentlemen of Verona, not 
 Launcelot Gobbo of the Merchant of Venice, who charges his dog with 
 a lank of sympathy. 
 
 255. "Bens" refers to Ben Jonson. The allusion may be to those 
 who gathered at the Mermaid Tavern in the days of the Elizabethan 
 drama. 
 
 257. On account of his deafness, in his later years, Reynolds had to 
 use an ear-trumpet. 
 
EXPLANATORY INDEX 
 
 Addison, Joseph (1672-1719) : with Richard Steele, Addison is chiefly 
 knoAvn as the editor of the Spectator. The Campaign celebrates 
 the victory of the Duke of Blenheim. When Addison was requested 
 to celebrate the victory in verse, by the Right Honorable Henry 
 •Boyle, at the solicitation of Lord Halifax and Godolphin, Earl of 
 Sidney, he was living in a garret w^ three flights of stairs, over a 
 small shop in the Haymarket. 
 
 ^sculapius : the fabled god of medicine. 
 
 .ffisop : a writer of fables, often pictured in old books as unusually ugly 
 and repulsive. 
 
 Antiqua mater : the ancient mother ; here the mother of literature. 
 
 Aristophanes : the comedian of the Greek drama. 
 
 Armstrong, Johnny: a Scottish outlaw, famous in Scottish ballad 
 poetry. Every good book of ballads contains some verses about 
 him. 
 
 Baretti, Joseph (1719-1789) : an Italian who came to England in 1750. 
 Through his translations of one of Johnson's articles into Italian, 
 the two became intimate, and he helped Johnson in preparing the 
 dictionary. 
 
 Berkeley, George (1685-1753) : Bishop of Cloyne, is remembered chiefly 
 for his philosophical theory that the external world exists only in 
 the imagination. It was he also who deprecated the spread of 
 printing, because printing would help to disseminate heretical 
 theories. 
 
 Blackstone, Sir William (1723-1780) : the author of Commentaries op. 
 the Laios of England. 
 
 Boileau (1636-1711) : the French critic and poet, who was the literary 
 lawgiver of his time. Through Edmund Waller he laid down 
 the principles of writing followed by the school of Pope. 
 
 Bolingbroke, Henry St. John, Viscount Bolingbroke (1678-1751) : he 
 published his Dissertation in 1735. His caution about reading 
 party pamphlets may be applied to his own writings (for he was 
 an unprincipled man) ; " Read them with suspicion, for they deserve 
 to be suspected ; pay no regards to the epitaphs given, nor to the 
 judgments passed; neglect all declamation; weigh the reasoning, 
 and advert to facts." The basis of the thought in Pope's Essay 
 on Man is found in Bolingbroke 's philosophy. 
 
 Boswell, James (1740-1795) : James Boswell's fame rests on one book, 
 
 275 
 
276 EXPLANATORY INDEX 
 
 his Life of Johnson, but that book is the greatest book of its kind 
 in all literature. He was educated for the law at the universities 
 of Edinburgh and Glasgow, and was admitted to the Scottish bar 
 in 1766 and to the English bar in 1786. In 1763 he met Johnson for 
 the first time, and was ever after Johnson's most devoted admirer. 
 Johnson became fond of him, accompanied him on a tour of the 
 Hebrides, had him elected a member of the "Club" in 1773, and 
 approved of him as his biographer. Johnson and Boswell 
 were in company only two years, yet in that short intercourse, 
 Boswell, with the assistance of Johnson, who gave his biographer 
 the details of his early life, so saw into the heart and mind of his 
 hero that he was enabled to write a book that has won for him the 
 title of the "Prince of Biographers." See Macaulay's Essay on 
 Boswell' s Johnson and Carlyle's Essay on Johnson, for contrast- 
 ing views of Boswell. 
 
 Boyd, Hugh: was overcredited with the authorship of "Junius." 
 
 Boyle, Robert (1627-1691) : the discoverer of "Boyle's law" in chem- 
 istry and physics. 
 
 Buffon (1707-1788) : the first volume of his great natural history ap- 
 peared in 1749. He may be called the father of modern natural 
 history. 
 
 Burney, Dr. (1726-1814) : a composer and historian of music. He was 
 the father of Frances Burney, Madame d'Arblay, author of 
 Evelina, and of the lively, gossipy Diary and Letters of Madame 
 d'Arblay. 
 
 Bute, Lord : the third Earl of Bute, John Stuart, was the prime min- 
 ister of England in 1762-1763. 
 
 Butler, Samuel (1612-1680) : the author of Hudibras, " a long and 
 voluble lampoon, in which the typical Puritan is described as a 
 hunchback monster, a pedantic, stubborn, and frowsy country 
 justice." Butler, like Dryden, tried to set his sails to all the 
 political winds of his day, but, unlike Dryden, was not suc- 
 cessful in making good headway into a favorable berth. It is 
 probably not true that Butler often lacked the necessaries of life. 
 
 Cave, Edward (1691-1754) : best known as the founder of the Gentle- 
 man's Magazine. Johnson spoke of him as the owner of " one of 
 the most successful and lucrative pamphlets which literary history 
 has on record." He was the first publisher to give Johnson regular 
 employment. 
 
 Chamier, Andrew (1725-1780) : ChamiQr, who was a personal friend of 
 Johnson, was of Huguenot descent, and had been a stock broker. 
 He was a man of liberal education. " He acquired such a fortune 
 as enabled him, though young, to quit business and become, what 
 indeed he seemed by nature fitted for, a gentleman." — Hill's 
 Boswell's Johnson, with note from Hawkins's Johnson. 
 
 Charlemont, Lord (1728-1799) : an Irish statesman and a member of 
 the Club. 
 
EXPLANATORY INDEX 277 
 
 Chatterton, Thomas (1752-1770) : " the marvellous hoy," wrote the 
 Rowley poems when he was sixteen years of age. Read pages 330- 
 337 in Saintsbury's History of Eighteenth Century Literature for 
 an interesting short account of the Rowley and the Ossian j)oems. 
 
 Chesterfield, Philip Dormer Stanhope, Earl of (1694-1773) : Lord Ches- 
 terfield is best known by his Letters to His Son, written to train 
 his boy in refined manners and good sense. It has been asserted 
 that they " teach the manners of a dancing-master and the morals 
 of a courtesan," but this is far overdrawn. Johnson was not far 
 wrong, however, when he said, " Take out the immorality, and it 
 should be put into the hands of every young gentleman." Macaulay 
 wrote of Chesterfield as " the most distinguished orator in the Upper 
 House and the undisputed sovereign of wit and fashion." The 
 •iamous letter written by Johnson to Chesterfield, on Johnson's com- 
 pleting his dictionary, is well worth reading. 
 
 Clairon (1723-1803) : a famous French actress, much admired by Gar- 
 rick and Goldsmith. Goldsmith, in the Bee, praises her for her 
 power of expressing emotions by her bodily movements. Garrick 
 pleased her so much by a declamatory effort that she " catched 
 Garrick in her arms and kissed him." 
 
 Cock Lane Ghost : in London in 1762, the Cock Lane Ghost was a great 
 mystery. The daughter of a man named Parsons amused herself 
 by rapping on a board concealed in bed. The amusement was so 
 great and the belief that the house was haunted was so wide, 
 that Parsons made personal use of it. He claimed that the spirit 
 which haunted the house was the spirit of a woman murdered by 
 a man named Kent, against whom Parsons had a personal grudge. 
 The matter was ended by Kent's being vindicated and Parsons's 
 being pilloried. Macaulay unjustly makes Johnson a believer in 
 the story ; but as a matter of fact, Johnson investigated the hoax 
 and reported it an imposition. 
 
 Cockney Elysium : " Cockney " is the term applied to a person born in 
 the city of London, and who is unhappy out of the sound of the Bow 
 Bells, as Bow Church is nearly in the centre of old London. Elysium 
 was the blessed fields of the dead in Greek mythology. See note 
 on White Conduit House. 
 
 Coffee Houses : clubs, which were prevalent in the days of Goldsmith, 
 generally met in some coffee-house, or tavern, for the purpose of 
 talking, debating, and reading the newest pamphlet or the latest 
 issues of the periodicals. Here, over a "basin" of tea or coffee 
 or a glass of wine, and often more substantial refreshments, the 
 members indulged in criticism, gossip, and controversy. Among 
 the famous houses were : the Grecian, so named from the Greek 
 who owned it; Button's in Covent Garden, a favorite resort of 
 Addison, Steele, Pope, and Swift; The Cocoa Tree, the resort of 
 the Tory politicians ; St. James, the Whig stronghold; and Will's 
 Coffee House. 
 
278 EXPLANATORY INDEX 
 
 Colman, George (1732-1794) : a dramatist and theatrical manager. 
 
 Colman, George (1762-1836) : an actor, as was his father. 
 
 Covent Garden : originally the garden of the convent of Westminster. 
 The theatre in Bow Street, near Covent Garden, was built in 1731 
 and afterward was owned by Colman. 
 
 Croker, John Wilson (1780-1857) : an editor of Boswell's Johnson, 
 published in 1831. 
 
 Dalrymple, Sir David (1726-1792) : the author of Memorials and Let- 
 ters relating to the History of Britain in the Reign of Charles II. 
 
 Diderot (1713-1784) : a French philosopher, noted chiefly as the editor 
 of the Encyclopidie, a voluminous work written to exalt scientific 
 knowledge. 
 
 Drury Lane: a street in London, famous even to-day for the Drury 
 Lane Theatre. It was in this theatre that Garrick began the 
 Shakespearian revival in 1747. 
 
 Dryden (1631-1700) : John Dryden was the foremost man of letters of 
 the period following Milton. His dramas are not acted, and are but 
 little read to-day, but his poems, especially his satires, have an 
 enduring place in English letters. 
 
 Dyer, Samuel (1725-1772) : a translator of Plutarch's Lives. Dr. Percy 
 told Malone " that they all at the Club had such a high opinion of 
 Mr. Dyer's knowledge and respect for his judgment as to appeal to 
 him constantly, and that his sentence was final." Burke described 
 him as " a man of profound and general erudition ; his sagacity 
 and judgment were fully equal to the extent of his learning." — 
 Prior's Malone. Dyer joined the Club in 1764. 
 
 Eugene, Prince (16G3-1736) : the leading imperial general in the War 
 of the Spanish Succession, in which he shared the honors with 
 the English general, the Duke of Marlborough. He was the hero 
 and the darling of the Tory party. In 1717 he besieged and took 
 Belgrade, held by the Turks. 
 
 Eutropius (fourth century a.d.) : author of a history of Rome from its 
 founding to 364 a.d. 
 
 Falstaff : the fat, witty, cowardly companion of Prince Hal, afterward 
 Henry V., of Shakespeare's Henry IV. and the Merry Wives of 
 Windsor. 
 
 Fellow: in university life, afelloio is one who receives an income from 
 a bequest or endowment for his expenses. A scholarship is the 
 term usually applied to such assistance when given to undergradu- 
 ates; 2i fellowship is applied to graduates. 
 
 Florus, Lucius (second century a.d.) : author of a short History of 
 Rome. 
 
 Fontenelle (1657-1757) : a French writer, chiefly of philosophy. His 
 life was so long that he was called upon to write about seventy 
 eulogies on members of the French Academy. 
 
 Fox, Charles (1749-1806) : a prominent English statesman and orator 
 of the time of the American ReA^olution. His father was Lord 
 
EXPLANATORY INDEX 279 
 
 Holland. Macaulay's Essay on Lord Holland contains interesting 
 character sketches of both men. 
 
 Garrick, David (1716-1779) : Garrick was the foremost actor of his age, 
 and one of the greatest of all English actors. With Johnson, 
 whose friend and pupil he was, he came to London in 1737 for the 
 purpose of studying law. But he soon gave up the idea of be- 
 coming a barrister to follow his natural bent. His influence on 
 the stage was ever good and purifying. For a generation he was 
 the leader of the English stage, and was, in a large measure, re- 
 sponsible for the Shakespearian revival of his day. For his memo- 
 rial at Lichfield, Johnson wrote these words: " I am disappointed 
 by that stroke of death which has eclipsed the gaiety of nations, 
 and impoverished the public stock of harmless pleasure." See 
 Goldsmith's lines on Garrick, page 254, 
 
 Gay, John (1685-1732) : an English poet who left in a secret drawer in a 
 chair some manuscript poems, which were discovered nearly ninety 
 years after the poet's death. They were published in 1820 as Gay's 
 Chair Poems. 
 
 Giardini: an Italian violinist who became popular and wealthy in 
 London. 
 
 Gibbon, Edward (1734-1794) : author of the History of the Decline and 
 Fall of the Roman Empire. 
 
 Goethe (Johann Wolfgang von Goethe) (1749-1832) : the most illus- 
 trious name in German literature. His greatest work is Faust, but 
 his genius covered a wide field in both prose and poetry. 
 
 Grainger, James (1721-1766): a Scottish physician, a West Indian 
 planter, and a tedious poet. 
 
 Grattan, Henry (1746-1820) : an eminent Irish statesman and orator. 
 
 Gray, Thomas (1716-1771) : the author of the Elegy in a Country 
 Churchyard, who is considered, next to Milton, the most learned of 
 all English poets. 
 
 Grub-street: this street, which now bears the more pretentious name 
 of Milton Street, was for many years the dwelling-place of hack 
 writers. 
 
 Hazlitt, William (1778-1830) : an English critic and essayist. 
 Henriade " : an epic poem by Voltaire. 
 
 Hogarth, William (1697-1764) : the most eminent painter and engraver 
 of " picture dramas" of the day. Irving sufficiently describes him 
 as " the moralist and philosopher of the pencil." His most famous 
 works, the "Harlot's Progress," the "Rake's Progress," and 
 " Marriage a la Mode," are pictures that depict vice and misery of 
 low London life at that time. " The hatred of vice, the contempt 
 of shams, urged Hogarth to give us portraits, perhaps more real 
 than life, of auctioneers and art-charlatans, foreign adventurers, 
 brutal judges, insolent and foolish lords and ladies, and of the 
 immoral world in which they throve." —John La Farge. 
 
 Holy-week : the week before Easter. 
 
280 EXPLANATORY INDEX 
 
 Hume, David (1711-1776) : a Scotchman; the first historian of England 
 who attempted to trace the course of English history to its causes. 
 He was an ardent Tory. 
 
 Hystaspes: Darius I was the son of Hystaspes. Seven princes of 
 Persia agreed that lie should be king whose horse neighed first at 
 the rising of the sun. Darius's groom contrived that his horse 
 should neigh first, and so Darius was proclaimed king. 
 
 Ishmaelite: an outcast. Ishmael's " hand will be against every man, 
 and every man's hand against him." — Gen. xvi. 12. 
 
 Johnson, Samuel (1709-1784) : Dr. Johnson, the literary dictator of 
 his time, was famous as a lexicographer, essayist, critic, and con- 
 versationalist. On account of his great classical erudition, his use 
 of polysyllabic words and involved sentence structure, his works, 
 with the exception of his Oriental tale, Rasselas, and the Lives 
 of the Poets, are little read. His fame rests largely on his striking 
 personality, his innate goodness, and his saving common sense. No 
 man in English literature is so thoroughly known as Johnson, who 
 has been presented to us as a living being in the greatest biography 
 in any language, Boswell's Life of Johnson. 
 
 Jonson, Ben (1573-1637) : next to Shakespeare, Jonson was the great- 
 est dramatist of the age of Elizabeth and James I. 
 
 Junius: in the middle of the eighteenth century there appeared a 
 series of very able letters on the political conditions and politicians 
 of the time, signed " Junius." It is not positively known who wrote, 
 these letters, but investigations seem to point almost conclusively 
 to Sir Philip Francis. 
 
 Eauffman, Angelica (1746-1807) : a Swiss painter who resided in 
 London from 1765 to 1781. Sir Joshua Reynolds was an admirer 
 of her work, and it is said that he was an ardent admirer of the 
 woman herself. 
 
 Kelly, Hugh : see Chapter XXII. 
 
 La Mancha : Don Quixote de la Mancha is the hero of Cervantes's novel, 
 Don Quixote. Don Quixote was much given to making ridiculous 
 sallies into the world, always with lugubrious endings. 
 
 Langton : see page 100. 
 
 "Lethe": a farce of Garrick's, in which a poet attempts to drown 
 the sorrows of a condemned play. 
 
 " Lusiad " : " The song of the Lusians," or the Portuguese. The Lusiad, 
 the national epic of Portugal, by Camoens, describes the first 
 voyages of Vasco da Gama, who sailed to India in 1497. 
 
 Ljrttelton, Lord (1709-1773) : the author of Letters from a Persian to 
 his Friend at Ispahan. " He was a virtuous politician, who rose 
 to be Chancellor of the Exchequer ; he was the founder of a house 
 that has never ceased to hold a responsible place in the country ; 
 he was the friend of great poets and divines, and something of a 
 poet himself, while his life comprised all that was elegant and 
 amiable in man." 
 
EXPLANATORY INDEX 281 
 
 Malagrida: a Jesuit; " was put to death at Lisbon in 1761, nominally 
 on a charge of heresy, but in reality on a suspicion of his having 
 sanctioned, as confessor to one of the conspirators, an attempt to 
 assassinate King Joseph of Portugal." — Hill's BosweWs Johjison, 
 IV., 174, note 5. "His name is become proverbial among us to 
 express duplicity." — Wraxall's Memoirs. 
 
 Mason, William (1725-1797) : the intimate friend of Gray, and the 
 author of the Life and Letters of Gray. Horace Walpole wrote 
 to Mason concerning the Life: "You have fixed the method of 
 biography, and whoever will write a life well, must imitate you." 
 — Walpole's Letters, VL, 211. Boswell took Mason's Gray as the 
 model for his Johnson: "I have resolved to adopt and enlarge 
 upon the excellent plan of Mr. Mason in his Memoirs of Gray." 
 
 Mitre Tavern: in a court off Fleet Street. Fleet Street was John- 
 son's "favorite street," and Mitre Tavern his "favorite resort." 
 
 Montagu, Elizabeth Bobinson (1720-1800) : an author and a social 
 leader. The five literary women whom Johnson commended were 
 Mrs. Montagu, Mrs. Lenox, Miss Burney (Madame d'Arblay), Miss 
 Hannah More, and Mrs. Carter. Of Mrs. Montagu, he said to 
 Boswell, "Mrs. Montagu is a very extraordinary woman; she has 
 a constant stream of conversation and it is always impregnated ; it 
 has always meaning." 
 
 Montaigne, Michel de (1533-1592) : an illustrious French essayist. 
 
 Newbery, John M. (1713-1767) : the man who may be called the father 
 of children's books. It was for him, probably, that Goldsmith 
 wrote the ever popular nursery tale of Goody Two Shoes. 
 
 Newgate: the famous London prison, not far from St. Paul's Church. 
 
 Newton, Sir Isaac (1642-1727) : the discoverer of the law of gravita- 
 tion. There is no reason to believe that his powers declined to 
 dimness in his old age. 
 
 Ninon de I'Enclos: a French woman famous for her beauty both in 
 youth and in old age. She lived until she was ninety. 
 
 Northcote, James (1746-1831) : a distinguished landscape and portrait 
 painter. 
 
 Northumberland, Duke of: Sir Hugh Smithson was made Duke of 
 Northumberland in 1766. His son founded the Smithsonian Insti- 
 tute in America. 
 
 Old Bailey: the principal court of London. 
 
 Orrery, Lord (John Boyle, Lord Orrery) (1707-1762) : a writer of little 
 moment and less mental caliber. He was, however, intimate with 
 Pope, Johnson, and Swift. A series of letters forming a life of 
 Swift, and a book of travels in Italy, are his chief contributions 
 to literature. 
 
 Ossian : the Ossian poems were a literary hoax. James Macpherson 
 (1738-1796) was a Scotch schoolmaster who, in 1762, published 
 Fingal, an Ancient Epic Poem,, as a translation from Ossian, a 
 Gaelic bard of early days in Scotland. Macpherson gained much 
 
282 EXPLANATORY INDEX 
 
 glory and popularity out of the publication, while alive, and had 
 the honor of being buried near Johnson in Westminster Abbey. 
 
 Ofcway (1G52-1685) : Saintsbury, in his History of Eighteenth Century 
 Literature, says that Otway's Orphan is "the first domestic 
 tragedy — that is to say, the first in which royal personages do not 
 hold the leading parts — which had been produced since the days 
 of Elizabeth." The manner of Otway's death was pathetic in the 
 extreme. He ventured out, on the point of starvation, to beg for 
 bread, and " died at a baker's shop, being too weak to swallow 
 the first mouthful." Irving, Goldsmith, and Carlyle evidently be- 
 lieve that the public was to be blamed for its non-support of the 
 dramatist ; but it is not unlikely that such sympathy is wasted, for 
 there is evidence that Otway's poverty was due to his own mis- 
 management and dissolute habits. 
 
 0. S. — Old Style : after the calendar year of Julius Caesar was adopted 
 it was discovered, by more accurate astronomical observations, that 
 the true solar or tropical year was 365 days, 5 hours, 48 minutes, 
 and 57 seconds ; whence it fell short of the Julian computation of 
 365 days and 6 hours by an interval of 11 minutes, 3 seconds. 
 In the course of 130 years, therefore, the tropical year began a year 
 earlier than the civil, or fell a day behind it. In the time of Pope 
 Gregory XIII., a.d. 1582, the vernal equinox was found to be on the 
 11th of March, having fallen back ten days from the civil calendar. 
 In order to restore the equinox to its former place, the 21st, Pope 
 Gregory left out 10 days in October, from the 5th to the 15th day of 
 that month ; whence the 22d day of December became the first of 
 January, a.d. 1853, which was the first year of the Gregorian era. 
 By 1751, when the English Parliament adopted the new reckon- 
 ing of time, the deficiency amounted to 11 days, and now the defi- 
 ciency amounts to 72 days, so that January 1 of the Old Calendar is 
 January 13 of the New. Russia and Greece still use the Old Style 
 Calendar. 
 
 Pantheon : a disreputable concert hall opened in 1772. 
 
 Paoli, General (1725-1807) : the head of the Corsican government, then 
 at war with Genoa. He came to England in 1769, the year in which 
 Boswell made a "fool of himself" at the Shakespeare jubilee. 
 One account says that Boswell had " Paoli and Liberty " on his 
 cap. 
 
 Parnell, Thomas (1679-1718) : an Irishman, educated at Trinity College, 
 Dublin ; a minor poet of some note. 
 
 Paternoster Eow: a short street in Loudon just north of St. Paul's, 
 and running into Cheapside. It was famous in the eighteenth cen- 
 tury as a street of book-shops. 
 
 Percy, Thomas (1729-1811) : the editor of Reliques of Ancient English 
 Poetry; that is, ballad poetry. By descent he was connected with 
 the Percy family of ballad fame. 
 
 "Rake's Progress": one of Hogarth's "picture dramas" of eight 
 
EXPLANATORY INDEX 283 
 
 scenes, showing the degeneration of a rich young man from dissipa- 
 tion to madness. 
 
 Ranelagh, Vauxhall: next to the coffee-houses and the Chibs, the 
 most unique feature of eighteenth-century Eugland was the gar- 
 dens, wliere the fashionable world was wont to gather to see 
 extravagant and grotesque shows and dances. Chapter xxxv, 
 page 209, gives a brief description of Ranelagh. Prior quotes the 
 following description of Vauxhall in 1760 from Dodsley's Environs 
 of London: "In the midst of a garden is a superb orchestra, con- 
 taining a fine organ, with a band of music, and some of the best 
 voices. In most of the boxes are pictures painted from designs of 
 Hayman*' and Hogarth "on subjects of humor well adapted to 
 the place. The trees are scattered with pleasing confusion : there 
 ate several noble vistas through very tall trees, the spaces between 
 being filled up with neat hedges ; and on the inside are planted 
 Howers and sweet-smelling shrubs." See also Chapter xliii for a 
 description of Vauxhall by Goldsmith. Dobson's Eighteenth Cen- 
 tury Vignettes contains an interesting account of both Ranelagh 
 and Vauxhall. 
 
 Raphael (1483-1520) : the noted Italian painter. The allusion is to 
 the stork standing awkwardly on one leg, in his drawing entitled 
 " The Draught of Fishes." 
 
 Reviews and Magazines: The Monthhj Revieio, a Whig paper, con- 
 taining some literary miscellany, was founded in 1749, and lasted 
 until 1845. Griffiths was its editor until 1803. The Critical Re- 
 view, of which Smollett was the first editor, lived from 1756 to 
 1817. It was similar to the Monthly Review, but was, as Irving- 
 says, " a formidable Tory rival " to that periodical. Other shorter- 
 lived periodicals of the day were The Rambler, The Adventurer, 
 The World, and The Literary Magazine. The Idler, edited by 
 Johnson, was written to continue the work of The Spectator, " to 
 create a sound public taste and to foster morality and elegance in 
 polite literature." The Gentleman's Magazine was founded in 
 1731 as a monthly magazine of literary miscellany and news. The 
 Rambler, a semi-weekly paper, edited by Johnson, lived from 
 March, 1750, to March, 1752. The Adventurer (November, 1752- 
 March, 1754), The Idler (April, 1758-July, 1758), were edited re- 
 spectively by Hawksworth, a servile ape of Johnson, and by 
 Johnson. 
 
 Raynolds, Sir Joshua (1723-1792) : the most celebrated of English por- 
 trait painters, and "the finest gentleman of his age." He 
 painted the portraits of Burke, Johnson, Boswell, and Goldsmith, 
 of the ''Club." His house was the centre of art and literature, 
 and his own critical and literary work had no small value. His 
 Discourses on Painting are highly esteemed to-day. 
 
 Robertson, William (1721-1793) : next to Hume, Robertson was the 
 most noted Scotch historian of the day. Saintsbury speaks of 
 
284 EXPLANATORY INDEX 
 
 Robertson as a more careful historian than Hume. In his own day 
 lie was admired for his elegant style. 
 
 Rogers, Samuel (1763-1855) : a minor English poet (here called the 
 "Nestor of British literature " after Nestor, the sage, in Homer's 
 Iliad). On account of his age and wisdom, he was regarded as 
 an authority in literary matters. 
 
 " Bosciad " : Charles Churchill wrote a satire on the actors of the day, 
 and called it the Rosciad, i.e., the song of Roscius, a celebrated 
 Roman comedian. 
 
 Sb. George's Day: April 23. 
 
 Sancho Panza : squire to the chivalrous Don Quixote. He is charac- 
 terized by his common sense, by a plain way of looking at things, 
 and of speaking about them. Sancho's love for his master and 
 his fidolity have become proverbial. 
 
 Savage, Richard (1698-1743) : of note in this book because Johnson 
 wrote his biography, and because his poem. The Wanderer, was a 
 prototype of Goldsmith's Traveller. 
 
 Scarron, Paul (1610-16()0) : a popular French burlesque writer. 
 
 Selwyn, George (1719-1791) : a man about town and a wit of the day. 
 
 Shirley, James (1.596-1(566) : a dramatist of little note. 
 
 Smollett, Dr. Tobias (1721-1777) : Richardson, Fielding, and Smollett 
 were the three greatest novelists of the eighteenth century. Smol- 
 lett, the least distinguished of the three, is best remembered for 
 his novels, Roderick Random and Humphrey Clinker, now little 
 read. 
 
 Society of Arts : founded in 1753, and afterward known as the Royal 
 Society. 
 
 Steevens, George (1736-1800) : known chiefly as a student and annotator 
 of Shakespeare's plays. 
 
 Sterne, Lawrence (1713-1768) : author of Tristram Shandy and the 
 Sentimental Jouimey. 
 
 Strephon: a shepherd lover in Sir Philip Sidney's Arcadia ; a stock 
 name for a sentimental lover. 
 
 Swift, Jonathan (1667-1745) : the greatest prose satirist in English 
 literature. He was celebrated in church, political, and literary 
 affairs. " His great genius was employed chiefly in a battle 
 against the hard conditions of this life, against the dishonesty 
 and selfishness of the society amid which he moved, and against 
 the political opponents that he hated." " With his social instincts 
 ungratified, his ambitions thwarted, his affections starved, he lived 
 in constantly failing health for years, until insanity clouded his 
 brain, and a lethargy which had for two years held his body inac- 
 tive finally culminated in death." — A. P. Walker. 
 
 Thrale, Henry (1724-1781) : a London brewer, of who.se house at 
 Streatham, Johnson was an inmate for sixteen years. Mrs. Thrale 
 was a woman of some talent. After her husband's death, she 
 married an Italian musician, Gabriel Piozzi, and lived in Italy 
 
EXPLANATORY INDKX 285 
 
 for several years. In 1780 she published her A?iscdote8 of Johnson, 
 a companion book to iioHwell's Life of Johnson, and in 1788 slie 
 issued the Letfer.s of Johnson,. She died in 1821. 
 
 Toplady, Augustus (1740-1778) : to be n^ mo in bo red as th(! author of 
 tlie sacred hymn " Kock oi' Ages," and ol other scarcely less laujous 
 liymns. 
 
 Ugolino : Ugolino, Count of Gheradesca, deserted his city, Pisa, in its 
 war with Genoa in 1284. In 1288 a conspiracy was formed against 
 him, and he was cast, with his two sons and two grandsons, into 
 tlie tower of (Tualandi, where they all starved to deatli. Dante 
 tells the story in his Infern,o, canto xxxiii. Th(f j)icturo is said to 
 have been painted without a thought of Ugolino, but was so named 
 when either Hurke or (Joldsmith comnnuited on the similarity 
 •l)etween the painting and the description. 
 
 Usher, Archbishop (158()-l()r)()) : an eminent Irish divine, who, before 
 the days of modern science, computed that the world was made 
 4004 years before Christ, 
 
 Versailles: the town of Versailles is eleven miles southwest of Paris. 
 It was here that Louis XIV. of France built the court palace at a 
 cost of ,^50,000,000. 
 
 Vertot (l()5r>-17."55) : a French historian who wrote a History of the, 
 Revo/ at Ions of tha Roman Republic. 
 
 Vesey, Elizabeth (1715-1701): "Hannah More in 1783 {Memoirs, I., 
 28(5) describes Mrs. Vesey's pleasant parties. It is a select society 
 which meets at her house every Tuesday, on the day on which the 
 Turk's Head Club (the literary club) dine together. In the evening 
 they all nuiet at Mrs. Vesey's, with the addition of such company 
 as it is difficult to find elsewhere." — Hill's IJoswall's Johnson, 
 HI., 424, note. *i. 
 
 Voltaire (l(i!)4-1778) : the author of eighty volumes of history, phi- 
 losophy, drama, and essays. He is generally rank(;d as the most 
 brilliant of French men of letters. Goldsmith could not have met 
 Voltaire in Paris, as Voltaire at this time was on one of his peri- 
 odic exiles. The error in (xoldsmith's memoirs is indicative of his 
 haste or carelessness. Just where he met Voltaire it is difficult to 
 say — probably at Voltaire's home at Geneva. 
 
 Walpole, Horace (1717-1707): tin-, son of the great Whig statesman 
 Robert VViilj)ole, Loi'd Orford, and the author of niitny minor writ- 
 ings. His literary fame rests on his C'astla of Otrunto, a romance 
 of the ultra-romantic school, and on his Letters, which are valuable 
 as giving light on the life and manners of his day. 
 
 Warburton, William (1008-1770) : Bishop of (iloucester from 1759. 
 
 White Conduit House: "White Conduit House, Islington, from the 
 extreme pleasantness of its situation, for many years a very attrac- 
 tive place of resort for the London p(»i)ulace in their recreative 
 excursions." — Goldsmith's Works, Prior's edition, I., 37, note. 
 See page 144- 
 
286 EXPLANATORY INDEX 
 
 Whitehead, William (1715-1785) : appointed poet-laureate of England 
 in 1758. His only claim to remembrance is that he was a poet- 
 laureate, without honor or worth. 
 
 Wilkes, John (1727-1797) : a political agitator, attacking all that seemed 
 unjust to human liberty, reviling the king, belittling the adminis- 
 tration, and advocating free representation to constituencies. He 
 was elected to Parliament, was expelled, was reelected again and 
 again, until finally in 1775 he had become a popular hero and was 
 elected mayor of London. His life forms one of the interesting 
 chapters in the history of the rise of modern democracy. 
 
 Wolcot, John (1738-1819) : an English satirist who wrote Bozzy and 
 Piozzi. 
 
 Woodfal, William : the printer of the Letters of Junivs. 
 
 Written mountains : in Goldsmith's time certain inscriptions discovered 
 on the hillsides around Mt. Sinai were believed to contain impor- 
 tant information concerning Biblical events. Recent intei'preta- 
 tion of the signs, however, shows that they have no such value. 
 
CRITICAL NOTES AND SUGGESTIVE 
 QUESTIONS 
 
 Chapter I. Gather from the first paragraph what will be Irving's 
 attitude toward Goldsmith's life and character. In the opening chap- 
 ter, note such words as "magic gift," " fairies," " whimsical," as key- 
 words. Compare the opening chapter of Irving's Life of Goldsmith 
 with the first chapter of Dobson's Life of Goldsmith. What differ- 
 ences do you find ? Are Irving's anecdotes pertinent? Was Goldsmith's 
 early environment unusual? Compare Irving's and Goldsmith's early 
 life. Why should Irving be so sympathetic in sketching Goldsmith's 
 early life? Read Goldsmith's The Deserted Village, after reading this 
 chapter. Reread the poem after you have read Chapter xxviii, before 
 you make an estimate of the poem or of the influence of Goldsmith's 
 eai-ly life upon it. Read The Traveller also soon after beginning the 
 Life. 
 
 Chapter II. Find other examples of noted men who have seemingly 
 failed to profit by university training. Compare Irving, Whittier, 
 Franklin, Cooper, Bryant, and Goldsmith to see if scholarship and 
 learning have made them popular. Of what value was Goldsmith's 
 "wandering propensity"? Many men who have not been diligent 
 students in their prescribed courses in college, have been great readers. 
 Did Goldsmith belong to that class ? Why should Goldsmith long for 
 a " motley company " ? Verify the closing paragraph of this chapter 
 as you read the rest of the book. 
 
 Chapter III. Why should a biographer quote from the works and 
 the letters of his subject? Are the letters that Irving quotes mostly 
 personal letters ? Why should Irving speak of Goldsmith's " whimsical 
 benevolence" on page 17? Is the instance cited by Goldsmith on page 
 24 " whimsical " ? How does the letter to his mother reflect both the 
 light and shadow, the humor and pathos, of his life? Does Irving 
 generalize or comment much on the character and deeds of Goldsmith? 
 Should a biographer attempt much explanation ? Describe Goldsmith's 
 humor as you see it illustrated in the chapter. How has Irving given 
 new and direct interest to this " second sally in quest of adventure " ? 
 
 Chapter IV. Why is the thought of Goldsmith's friends and relatives 
 mapping out a course of life for him, a humorous one? Does Irving 
 appear to regard Goldsmith's frailties as frailties of the Irish people 
 in general? What is Goldsmith's judgment of himself in the 
 
 287 
 
288 CRITICAL NOTES AND SUGGESTIVE QUESTIONS 
 
 Bryaatou letter? Always estimate the various experiences of Gold- 
 smith, as the one with the Duke of Hamilton in this chapter. Would 
 an impartial or less sympathetic biographer close this chapter as 
 Irving does? 
 
 Gliapter V. When beginning this chapter it will be profitable to read 
 or reread the Vicar of Wakefield, to see how Goldsmith turned raw 
 experience into finished literary product. What serious facts of life 
 did Goldsmith observe on this his last "sally"? Irving, in another 
 chapter, calls this tour a "poetical one." Explain. How did Gold- 
 smith see " both sides of the picture " of mankind ? Can humorous or 
 pathetically humorous writing, teach us right conduct ? In this respect, 
 compare Irving's Ichabod Crane and Goldsmith's " Vagabond." What 
 advance is made in the biography in this chapter ? 
 
 Chapter VI. Read De Quincey's Confessions of an Opium-eater, for 
 a description of De Quincey's night wanderings in London. Read, in 
 Macaulay's Life of Johnson, and on pages 87 and 88 of this book, about 
 Johnson's coming to London. Why was London life so trying to a man 
 of Goldsmith's temperament? Was London life as necessary for Gold- 
 smith as for Johnson ? Read Johnson's London. Was London a " tender 
 nurse" to Goldsmith? As you read the book see whether Goldsmith's 
 best work was done in the town or in the country. Was Goldsmith's 
 failure in dealing with the practical affairs of life due to his vanity? 
 
 Chapter VII. Some of the most successful writers in the Reviews 
 were those, who, if called upon, could write caustic political papers. 
 Why was Goldsmith unfit to write such articles ? Was his judgment 
 *' well instructed " enough to write general criticisms? Did Goldsmith 
 have fewer and poorer chances to succeed in life than Burns ? Whittier ? 
 Franklin? Were there other writers of Goldsmith's time who gained a 
 foothold with less difi&culty than did Goldsmith ? Why ? Was Griffith 
 the cause of Goldsmith's misfortune? Is Irving too lenient toward 
 Goldsmith's failings? Do you agree with Irving that Goldsmith had 
 " sound, easy good sense " ? 
 
 Chapter VIII. To understand this chapter the tenth paragraph of 
 Macaulay's Life of Johyison should be read. Had Goldsmith accom- 
 plished anything in literature, that he should complain of the treat- 
 ment of literary men ? Is Irving j ustified in giving in this chapter the 
 extract from the Inquiry, " published some years afterward " ? 
 
 Chapter IX. How is the letter to Jane Lawder " full of character " ? 
 What circumstances in Goldsmith's life were of use in preparing the 
 Inquiry? Why should he desire the Oriental appointment? What 
 writing of Goldsmith's has a foreigner for the chief personage? Did 
 Johnson write anything with an Oriental background? Thomas 
 Moore ? Why was public attention drawn to the Orient at this time ? 
 Make a summary of Goldsmith's estimates of himself as found on 
 pages 35, 64, 70, 75, and elsewhere. 
 
 Chapter X. Can you draw a reasonable conclusion, based upon 
 what you know about Goldsmith, as to why the Coromandel enterprise 
 
CRITICAL NOTES AND SUGGESTIVE QUESTIONS 289 
 
 failed ? Do you agree with Irving in condoning tlie pawning of the 
 clothes? The letter in this chapter is one of the best in the book, 
 and should be read with care. Is Goldsmith's judgment of youth 
 and education based upon his own experiences? Apply his own 
 criticisms on romances and novels to the Vicar of Wakefield. Was 
 this letter written in a passing mood, or is it deeply characteristic of 
 the man ? 
 
 Chapter XI. What was there in Goldsmith's character and bearing 
 that caused him to make enemies ? 
 
 Chapter XII. Compare again the coming of Johnson and Goldsmith 
 to London. Through the rest of the book you should make careful 
 note of the influence of Johnson on Goldsmith. How did Johnson and 
 Goldsmith differ in nature? Are Goldsmith's works more widely read 
 tO'^ay than Johnson's? Why? Why did Johnson have a greater in- 
 fluence in his day than Goldsmith ? 
 
 Chapter XIII. Is Irving's reason for the slow growth of Goldsmith's 
 reputation applicable to literary efforts of to-day? Name authors 
 who were popular in their own day, and are still popular. Did Gold- 
 smith as a writer belong to the dominant classical school of his day ? 
 He has been called a transition writer between the school of Pope and 
 the coming romantic school of Burns and Wordsworth. How is this 
 true? Is Irving right in saying that Boswell had a " deleterious effect ' ' 
 upon Goldsmith's reputation? Compare Macaulay's and Irving's 
 estimates of Boswell. Try to determine whether Boswell's opinion 
 of Goldsmith was an independent opinion, or an echo of Johnson's 
 opinion. 
 
 Chapter XIV. Why introduce the anecdote of Hogarth and the 
 street scene? Is Irving correct in his comparison of painting and 
 writing? Does he seem over-anxious to show an affinity between 
 Goldsmith and Reynolds? How does Macaulay account for Johnson's 
 carelessness in manners and personal appearance? How do you 
 account for Goldsmith's awkwardness? Why should Irving delight 
 in telling about Langton and Beauclerc? What connection has this 
 description of the two men with Goldsmith? Ask yourself as you 
 read, "Did Goldsmith profit by his membership in the Club ? " 
 
 Chapter XV. Hoav does this chapter mark a transition in Gold- 
 smith's career? Do the contemporary criticisms of The Traveller hold 
 good to-day? How do you reconcile the statements on page 93 about 
 Goldsmith's reputation, with Irving's exuberant critical citations in 
 this chapter ? What effect did the publication of this poem have on 
 Goldsmith's life? Read the poem to discover whether the descriptive 
 or the moralizing passages are the better. Are those parts of Gold- 
 smith's writings that are based upon his experiences better than those 
 based upon his reading and his philosophy? 
 
 Chapter XVI. Consider whether Goldsmith would have bettered 
 his literary product had he been more " knowing and worldly." Were 
 the " peculiar merits of poor Goldsmith " " little understood by the 
 
290 CRITICAL NOTES AND SUGGESTIVE QUESTIONS 
 
 biographers of the day " ? Read Little Goody Two Shoes to detect 
 the " Goldsmithian " quality. What facts in Goldsmith's early life 
 made him susceptible to fairy tales'? Look up the lives of the Grimm 
 brothers and Hans Andersen to see if the best writers of fairy tales 
 are men of genius in other lines. How did Swift's Gulliver's Travels, 
 become a children's book? The abrupt ending to this chapter seems 
 to indicate that even Irving has difficulty in apologizing for his sub- 
 ject's failure in medicine. 
 
 Chapter XVII. Did Milton receive as much for Paradise Lost as 
 Goldsmith did for the Vicar of Wakefield :? What are the elements in 
 the Vicar of Wakefield that have caused it to be "translated into 
 almost every language"? Is it contradictory that a domestic novel 
 like this should be written by a bachelor? From the close of the 
 chapter, what do you think was the new trend of the drama ? What 
 in Goldsmith's experiences and temperament fitted him to write come- 
 dies in the new style ? Are Goldsmith's comedies put upon the stage 
 to-day ? 
 
 Chapter XVIII. How do you interpret the epithet " poor " Gold- 
 smith, so constantly used by Irving? Is it necessary for a person to be 
 a "good reasoner" to be an able talker? Goldsmith certainly had 
 a wealth of experience and varied themes for conversation. Would 
 another person have been able to make better use of them ? Why was 
 Dr. Johnson so able in conversation? Was Irving successful as a 
 public speaker? Are the anecdotes of the "intellectual collisions" 
 in Goldsmith's favor? If possible, look up other conversational tilts 
 between Goldsmith and Johnson in BoswelVs Life of Johnson. Why 
 should Boswell speak of " honest " Goldsmith ? Is Johnson to be com- 
 mended for refuting Goldsmith's attempts at argument? In this chap- 
 ter, and elsewhere in the book, note the difference between Johnson and 
 Goldsmith in conversation. It may be of interest to you to read Robert 
 Louis Stevenson's " Talks and Talkers " in his Memoirs and Portraits. 
 Dr. Henry van Dyke has a charming essay on " Talkability " in his 
 Fisherman's Luck. 
 
 Chapter XIX. How did Goldsmith profit by mingling in these " mot- 
 ley circles " ? Was Irving himself a frequenter of motley company in 
 his early life ? Shakespeare's comedies and comic scenes indicate that 
 he also knew the motley crowd. What scenes from Goldsmith's come- 
 dies or the Vicar of Wakefield may be reminiscences of this desire to 
 mingle with the ordinary crowd? Is the most spontaneous form of 
 literature the most enduring ? Did Irving make use of his personal ex- 
 perience in his humorous writings ? 
 
 Chapter XX. Why relate the incident of Johnson and the King at 
 the beginning of this chapter ? No incident could serve better to show 
 Johnson's servile Jacobinism. From what you know of Goldsmith, do 
 you think his explanation, or Boswell's explanation of Goldsmith's 
 silence during the conversation between the King and Johnson, the more 
 reasonable ? In the exchange of letters between Goldsmith and Garrick 
 
CRITICAL NOTES AND SUGGESTIVE QUESTIONS 291 
 
 you will note the stately style of letter-writers of that day, especially in 
 the leave-taking. It would be an excellent plan to read Goldsmith's vari- 
 ous letters in the book at a sitting, to get a new point of view of the man. 
 
 Chapter XXI. Irving's description of his visit to old Canonbury 
 Castle puts us in close personal touch with his subject. Irving has 
 three delightful essays on other visits to homes of great authors: one 
 to Stratford, the home of Shakespeare; one to Abbotsford, the home 
 of Scott; and one to Newstead, the home of Byron. Was it really 
 the " sturdy independence " of Goldsmith that caused him to refuse to 
 write for any political party? Was he too " honest," too "indolent," 
 too " ignorant," to serve a party? What English men of letters have 
 served political parties with their pens? Can you name any political 
 papers that rank to-day as literature? 
 
 Chapter XXII. How do you account for Garrick's treatment of Gold- 
 smith? What makes The Good-natured Man more of a closet play 
 than an acting play ? Does Goldsmith's humorous work abound more 
 in comical situations and incidents, or in humorous characterizations 
 and happy "conceits"? Ask yourself the same question concerning 
 Irving's humorous work. What were the causes of the partial failure 
 of the play ? 
 
 Cliapter XXIII. Explain the chapter title, " Burning the candle at 
 both ends." Does Irving make excuses for Goldsmith's want of dis- 
 cretion ? Does the humor of it all appeal to Irving ? Does this chap- 
 ter make a necessary step in the biography? Does it add to your 
 knowledge of Goldsmith's chai'acter? 
 
 Chapter XXIV. Although this is a short chapter, it is an important 
 one. Here we see the ennobling influence of sorrow and kinship, the re- 
 membrances of early experiences, the quiet influence of home and the 
 passing of many of the strong emotions, written down in moments of 
 tranquillity. 
 
 Chapters I, XXIV, and XXVIII should be read consecutively to see 
 the Deserted Village in the making. 
 
 Chapter XXV. Discuss the question Irving raises in the last sen- 
 tence of this chapter. The Jessamy Bride is given much attention, 
 probably too much, in the book. Read in Irving's own life of his 
 affection for Matilda Hoffman, to see why Irving should be attracted 
 to Goldsmith's futile love affair. Irving and Goldsmith are two of the 
 most lovable bachelors in literature. 
 
 Chapter XXVI. What necessary qualifications of a historian did 
 Goldsmith lack? From the comments made by Johnson on Gold- 
 smith's Rome, Avhat do you think was Johnson's idea as to the proper 
 method of writing history ? Are the great histories written in a " pleas- 
 ing manner" ? Was the atmosphere of Goldsmith's day conducive to 
 good historical writing? Ask your teacher of history how Hume, 
 Robertson, Lord Lyttelton, rank to-day as historians. Could Gold- 
 smith have written a pleasing and acceptable history of his own time ? 
 Note whether Johnson's criticisms of Goldsmith's work are generally 
 
292 CRITICAL NOTES AND SUGGESTIVE QUESTIONS 
 
 as kind and as considerate as his criticisms in this chapter. What 
 qualifications had Goldsmith for making a natural history " as interest- 
 ing as a Persian tale" ? What gives their peculiar charm to the ex- 
 tracts from Animated Nature f Is there more of the poet or of the 
 scientist in the extract? 
 
 Chapter XXVII. Does Irving use the word " motley " when speaking 
 of Goldsmith's character to suggest that Goldsmith was a fool in finan- 
 cial matters ? Do you find a touch of vanity in this letter, or in other 
 letters of Goldsmith? 
 
 Chapter XXVIII. As Goldsmith's life and literary career centre in 
 the Deserted Village, every reader of Irviug's Life of Goldsmith should 
 know that poem by heart. Irving's own good sense and judgment 
 have kept him from becoming rhapsodical in his criticism. He sees 
 clearly the essential connection between Goldsmith's life and the en- 
 during elements in the poem, and brings out the connection by two wisely 
 chosen extracts. Retrace your own information about the poem and 
 the author to see how Goldsmith has transformed his "motley" ex- 
 perience into enduring literature. Out of the heart of the author came 
 this poem which has always made a strong appeal to the hearts of men. 
 What marks the Deserted Village as characteristic, in substance, of 
 the new school of romantic poetry? Is it labor lost to attempt to 
 identify Auburn with Lissoy? If the poem were merely local and 
 personal, would it have the universal and permanent interest that it 
 has ? Read Johnson's poem London, to see why it has lost caste, while 
 the Deserted Village holds its popularity. 
 
 Chapter XXIX. Was Irving well enough acquainted with the Eng- 
 lish people to make the comment about " the true English travelling 
 amusement"? Is Judge Day's sketch of Goldsmith's looks and man- 
 ners tempered too much with friendship ? Note that he speaks well of 
 Goldsmith's "solidity of information" and of his talking "without 
 premeditation." Have you had contradictory evidence on these 
 points? 
 
 Chapter XXX. What blunder in Goldsmith's early life do you recall 
 when you read of his ludicrous mistake at the house of the Duke of 
 Northumberland? Do Goldsmith's blunders lessen your respect for 
 him? What effect did his blunders have on his companions and his 
 victims ? What works of Goldsmith did his friends commend the most ? 
 Do those judgments stand to-day? 
 
 Chapter XXXI. Read one or two of Chatterton's poems, as the 
 Ballade of Charitie, to see why Goldsmith should have admired the 
 " marvellous boy." Why should Goldsmith have persisted in his cre- 
 dulity? Has Goldsmith's History of Eiigland "kept its ground " in 
 English literature ? If Goldsmith was a " sore Whig," can you account 
 for it? Could Goldsmith write an impartial history of England? 
 What misstatements of historical facts does he make in his Deserted 
 Village 9 For the answer to this last question, read the notes to the 
 poem in Hales's Longer English Poems. 
 
CRITICAL NOTES AND SUGGESTIVE QUESTIONS 293 
 
 Chapter XXXII. This is another chapter of anecdotes which adds 
 but little to our information, but much to our understanding of Gold- 
 smith. We certainly enjoy reading about Goldsmith's romping with 
 the children, and we can readily imagine the pleasure they had with 
 the good-natured man. The question may well be raised whether Gold- 
 smith's biographer has overdone the relating of anecdotes about the 
 Jessamy Bride. 
 
 Chapter XXXIII. Justify the introduction of the first three topics 
 in this chapter. Cite other instances given by Irving when Goldsmith 
 had the better of Johnson in argument. Is there any inconsistency in 
 superstition among intelligent men? Could this whole chapter have 
 been omitted without loss? Does it add to our information about 
 Goldsmith? 
 
 Ckapter XXXIV. Is the ease with which Goldsmith made acquaint- 
 ances worth noting ? Did he make enemies with eqiial alacrity ? What 
 contrasts do you note in Goldsmith's treatment of Cradock and M'Don- 
 nell? How do you account for Goldsmith's desire to retreat to the 
 countryside? Was he a man of the town as Johnson was? If you 
 read She Stoops to Conquer, notice whether the country life at Hyde 
 Lane probably influenced any passages in this comedy. Is She Stoops 
 to Conquer played on the stage to-day? 
 
 Chapter XXXV. Was Burke's joke on Goldsmith commendable in 
 Burke? Does the joke "establish the alleged vanity of Goldsmith," 
 or is Irving overdesirous of exonerating Goldsmith in this respect? 
 Apparently, Goldsmith profited by his own blunders, to the extent of 
 working some of them up into literature; but that he ever learned 
 anything from such jokes as Burke's is not so apparent. It is not im- 
 probable that his friends thought their jokes might make for instruc- 
 tion as well as for amusement. Is it evident that the jokes played 
 on Goldsmith were prompted by a malicious spirit? Irving had an 
 opportunity here to tell in a cutting way how Boswell's own vanity 
 caused him to " make a fool of himself," but he probably thought 
 Boswell's foolishness was apparent enough in his treatment of Gold- 
 smith. How was the Malagrida joke " a picture of Goldsmith's whole 
 life " ? Irving's attempt to defend Goldsmith's self-consciousness is 
 entirely overbalanced by the numerous incidents that he gives, showing 
 too plainly that Goldsmith was extremely self-conscious, if not vain. 
 
 Chapter XXXVI. A supplementary reading of Irving's Christmas 
 stories will be found interesting. Goldsmith's happy " hits " in his 
 "occasional" poems, as quoted in this book and as printed in his 
 works, are well worth reading. What are the requirements for writing 
 a good "occasional" poem? Our own American poet. Holmes, was 
 usually happy in writing such poems. The concluding paragraph of 
 this chapter is one of Irving's pleasing bits of imagination. 
 
 Chapter XXXVII. When Johnson said that the great end of comedy 
 is to make an audience merry, did he take into account such plays 
 as The Merchant of Venice? The fact that Cumberland says that 
 
294 CRITICAL NOTES AND SUGGESTIVE QUESTIONS 
 
 *• all eyes were upon Johnson " is probably as good proof as we have 
 of Johnson's power to make or mar a piece of literature at that time. 
 What treatment had Goldsmith received before, from friends or foes, 
 which should make him so agitated on this occasion ? Summarize the 
 influences explained in this chapter, that tended to make Goldsmith so 
 susceptible to excitement. 
 
 Chapter XXXVIII. Was a newspaper attack a thing of more 
 moment in Goldsmith's day than it is in ours ? Does Goldsmith's letter 
 balance the attack on Evans? Certainly "poor Goldsmith's" con- 
 duct appears ridiculous enough as related in this chapter. Does John- 
 son censure the contest with Evans, or Goldsmith's letter to the public ? 
 Would Irving have been justified in omitting the incidents of this 
 chapter ? Does Irving consider the letter a vindication ? 
 
 Chapter XXXIX. If Johnson "blew hot as well as cold, according 
 to the humor he was in," can we depend on his judgments of Gold- 
 smith? Does Irving delight as much in belittling Boswell, as he does 
 in extolling Goldsmith ? Which of the two estimates of Goldsmith, 
 that Johnson expresses to Boswell, is the truer? What lines from the 
 Deserted Village are allied in thought to Goldsmith's assertion that 
 the human race degenerates as luxury increases ? Compare Reynolds's 
 and Johnson's opinious of Goldsmith. In the debate between Johnson 
 and Goldsmith, do you see a reason why Goldsmith should be called 
 " honest " ? Is Johnson logical in this argument with Goldsmith? In 
 this chapter Irving, with loving kindness, sets Goldsmith in sharp con- 
 trast to both Boswell and Johnson. 
 
 Chapter XL. If Goldsmith was vain, what epithet can you apply to 
 Johnson's assertion that Goldsmith had not travelled over Johnson's 
 mind ? Why was it an honor to be a member of the Club ? Was 
 Goldsmith a " clubable man" ? Does Irving give a candid and un- 
 biassed opinion of Boswell in this chapter? Do you suppose that jokes 
 were played on Goldsmith alone ? Summarize Irving's opinion of Bos- 
 well. If possible, read Carlyle's and Macaulay's opinions of the same 
 men in their essays on Johnson. Why should Boswell, if he were so 
 foolish a man, be able to write the best biography ever written? 
 
 Chapter XLI. Is it improbable that Boswell, who gives us so good 
 a picture of Johnson, gives us a less truthful picture of Goldsmith? 
 Were his gleams of Goldsmith's good sense " unintentional and per- 
 haps unavoidable"? Have Goldsmith's biographers, who have been 
 " less prejudiced and more impartial," been able to contradict the 
 general statements and incidents concerning Goldsmith made by Bos- 
 well ? Was Boswell's judgment perverted whenever his favorite, John- 
 son, was likely to be found in the wrong? Irving's comments on the 
 stories as told by Boswell are well worth discussing. 
 
 Chapter XLIL Was it " sturdy independence "or an indolent dis- 
 position that made Goldsmith undeserving of a pension ? In this chap- 
 ter we catch a glimpse of Goldsmith's religion, if it may be so called. 
 His depreciation of Beattie's Essays and his praise of Voltaire seem to 
 
CRITICAL NOTES AND SUGGESTIVE QUESTIONS 295 
 
 show that he was not in agreement with the orthodox religion of the 
 day. His comparison between Beattie and Voltaire is hardly so much 
 a matter of foresight as a matter of irritation. 
 
 Chapter XLIII. Here Irving sketches, with loving i^athos and humor, 
 Goldsmith's last Christmas. Nowhere in the life of Goldsmith are we 
 more inclined to lament his poverty and to forgive his heedlessness. 
 Only a writer who had drawn a Rip Van Winkle and an Ichabod Crane 
 could write the Barton story without some sharp words of censure for 
 his hero's conduct. It was the winter of discontent in Goldsmith's 
 life, but Irving would make of it a joyous summer. 
 
 Chapter XLIV. Discuss the quotation from Sir Walter Scott. Many 
 great books have been written while the author was in ill-health or 
 weired down by sorrow. Bryant translated Homer's Iliad and 
 Odyssey while grieving for his dead wife; Longfellow translated 
 Dante's Divine Comedy alter his wife's death; Stevenson was in ill- 
 health all his life ; Poe was certainly dogged by as many pains as was 
 Goldsmith ; Pope's life was " one long disease " ; Milton had his family 
 troubles; and Dante was a "man of sorrows." Was Goldsmith's life 
 so much oppressed by "sickness, sorrow, or the pressure of unfavorable 
 circumstances " that any or all of them can be urged as an excuse for 
 his partial failure ? The Jessamy Bride's request for a lock of hair has 
 an interesting counterpart in Irving's own life, of which he must have 
 been thinking when he wrote this chapter ; for in his own desk, at the 
 time of his death, was found a lock of Matilda Hoffman's hair. 
 
 Chapter XLV. Discuss the question whether Goldsmith's frailties 
 should be remembered or forgotten. Verify Irving's assertion that 
 Goldsmith's heart yearned for domestic life. Compare Goldsmith's 
 and Burns's religious life. Gather from Irving's concluding remarks 
 his explanation of Goldsmith's failures and successes. 
 
MAP OF LONDON. 
 
 London in 1780. — Co vent Garden and Westward, 
 
 By employing a ruler to determine the boundaries of the lettered and numbered 
 
 sections, the following places may be located : — 
 
 Button's Coffee House, J, 8. 
 Cock Lane, 7?, 4. 
 Covent Garden, J, g. 
 Drury Lane, I., 7. 
 Drury Lane Theatre, K", 7. 
 Fleet St., P,6. 
 Grub St., IV, 2. 
 Johnson's Homes : 
 
 Exeter St., K, 8. 
 
 Woodstock St., Hanover Sq., B, 8. 
 
 Castle St., //, 8. 
 
 Strand, H, J, 10. 
 
 Holbourn, N, 4. 
 
 Fetter Lane, O, 5, 6. 
 
 Gray's Inn, M, 3. 
 
 Inner Temple Lane, N, 8 
 
 Johnson's Ct., Fleet St., P, 6. 
 
 Bo.t Ct., Fleet St., P, 6. 
 Leicester House, F, 9. 
 Literary Club : 
 
 Gerrard St., F, 9. 
 
 St. James's St., C, 12. 
 Mitre Tavern, Fleet St., P, 6. 
 Newgate, S, 5. 
 Royal Exchange, X, V, 6. 
 St. James's Sq., D, 12. 
 
 From A. P. Walker's edition of Macaulay's " Life of Johnson." 
 
I W I VQ I tv I CO I O 
 
298 GENERAL QUESTIONS FOR REVIEW 
 
 GENERAL QUESTIONS FOR REVIEW 
 
 Find illustrations of Goldsmith's humor as related by Irving. Find 
 illustrations of Irving's humor in the book. Irving is often indignant 
 at the way in which Goldsmith's friends treated him; find examples. 
 Summarize the instances of Goldsmith's heedlessness. Cite incidents 
 in Goldsmith's life that he used in his writings. What opinion of him- 
 self is apparent in Goldsmith's letters? Make a list of Goldsmith's 
 writings, and give Irving's estimate of each. Discuss the question 
 whether Johnson's friendship was of any real benefit to Goldsmith. 
 What traits of character were common to all the Goldsmiths ? W^hat 
 is the principle on which Irving writes Goldsmith's life ? Compare the 
 opinions of Goldsmith held by the various members of the Literary 
 Club? What characteristics of Goldsmith appeal most strongly to 
 Irving? Why should Irving be called the American Goldsmith? Did 
 Irving have any of the frailties of Goldsmith ? Cite instances where 
 Irving apologizes for or excuses Goldsmith's conduct. Are the scenes 
 always warranted ? 
 
 Summarize Irving's opinion of Boswell. What is Irving's opinion of 
 Johnson? What was Goldsmith's opinion of Johnson? What was 
 Johnson's opinion of Goldsmith? Give Boswell's opinion of Gold- 
 smith. Give an account of the Literary Club. Give illustrations of 
 Goldsmith's " sound, good sense." How did Goldsmith extract " sweets 
 from that worldly experience which to others yields nothing but bitter- 
 ness"? Summarize Goldsmith's continental tour, and explain again 
 how it was a " poetical tour." How does Irving explain the popularity 
 of Goldsmith's writings? Is Goldsmith more lovable for his writings 
 or for his personality ? What chances had Goldsmith for making his 
 life pecuniarily successful ? How did Goldsmith's early environment 
 influence his later life? Summarize the influence upon Goldsmith 
 of the following persons : his uncle Contarine, his cousin Jane, his 
 father, his brother Henry, his schoolmaster Thomas Byrne, the Jes- 
 samy Bride. What are some of the epithets that Irving applies to 
 Goldsmith? Discuss the following points: 1. "Discretion is not a 
 part of Goldsmith's nature": 2. "His disposition for social enjoy- 
 ment " ; 3. " He is the continual dupe of his benevolence and his trust- 
 fulness in human nature " ; 4. "The innate purity and goodness of his 
 nature"; 5. " A nature like Goldsmith's . . . doesnot flower if deprived 
 of the atmosphere of home " ; 6. " His faults, at the worst, were but 
 negative, while his merits were great and decided." 
 
MAR 9 1904