Class. liodk . I'KESENTEU BY V OLIVER GOLDSMITH After the painting by Sir Joshua Reynolds, in the National Portrait Gallery IRVING'S OLIVER GOLDSMITH A BIOGRJPHr f3<^^ ^ fei Edited With Introduction and Notes BY CHARLES ROBERT GASTON < Teacher of English, Richmond Hill High School New York City ENGLISH CLASSICS *, " GINN & COMPANY BOSTON . NEW YORK • CHICAGO • LONDON cl^oSi V. T?, 1 03 c^ Copyright, 1903, by CHARLES ROBERT GASTON ALL RIGHTS RESERVED 35-" [Permission to reprint the Oliver Goldsmith has been granted by Geo. P. Putnam's Sons, publishers of the authorized and complete editions of Irving's works.] TO JAMES MORGAN HART BY WHOM THE EDITOR HAS BEEN LED TO A FINER APPRECIATION OF WASHINGTON IRVING PREFACE The introductory matter in this volume aims to induce in the average high-school pupil the right attitude with which to begin reading the biography. The annotation is thought to be not over-elaborate nor too scant. The student is encouraged to work out for himself points the significance of which he might miss without aid. (See remarks at the top of page 355.) The topics and questions, which are inserted at the ends of the chapters, will accomplish their purpose if they arouse a class to enthusiastic discussion of the biography or direct the individual reader to a clear and comprehensive view of Irving's work. The chronological table is meant for reference. Included in the table are the dates of issue of the college entrance texts published during the period 1728-1859. The editor has kept in mind throughout the book the fact that this biography is set down in the college entrance list for reading rather than study. Nevertheless, he has believed that probably most school courses will devote a month to the Oliver Goldsmith^ and that in such cases the line between reading and study ought not to be sharply drawn. If so much time is allowed, this edition will suggest ways of spend- ing it advantageously. If less time is apportioned to the vii viii PREFACE volume, the topics and questions and the notes regarding Irving's vocabulary need not be considered fully. The text is, in the main, that of a late authorized edition published by G. P. Putnam's Sons, who have obligingly granted permission to reprint. Some of the differences noted between the latest text and the first edition are men- tioned on page 363. The three different biographies of Goldsmith by Irving are described in the footnote, page xii. Brooklyn, September 16, 1903, ^1 CONTENTS Introduction : Page I. Irving and his Oliver Goldsmith xi II. Chronological Table xxiv III. Note concerning the Topics and Questions xxix Author's Preface 3 Oliver Goldsmith : A Biography 5 General Topics • 351 Notes 355 IX INTRODUCTION I. IRVING AND HIS OLIVER GOLDSMITH It might seem a remarkable fact that in 1848, when he was over sixty years old, Washington Irving thought his popularity as a writer had ended, but that only a few years later, after the republication of his works had been undertaken by Mr. George P. Putnam, large sums were made from the widely extending sale. Yet this feeling of the author is perfectly natural when the characteristics of the man are considered. Irving was of a shrinking, delicately grained disposition. His life from beginning to end was marked by unobtrusive attention to letters, and his years of maturity were made notable by a sunny, wholesome, literary productiveness. The strange thing might seem to be that a man of so well-regulated a life as Irving's could sympathize with an Oliver Goldsmith, palliate his many heedless blunders, and even apologize for his apparently inexcusable irregularities. Irving had so hearty a regard for the subject of his biog- raphy that it is doubtful whether any person not already hopelessly callous can close the volume without sharing in the author's bias toward the gifted but unfortunate poet, essayist, novelist, and writer of dramas, "Poor Goldsmith." It will be of interest to find but, first, what started Irving into the project of a biography of Goldsmith; in the second place, how long he was in completing the work; thirdly, what success the book met ; fourthly, what incidents in his career and what characteristics of his genius corresponded, however slightly, with those in the life and character of xi xii INTRODUCTION Goldsmith ; and, lastly, what was the general course of Irv- ing's tranquil literary life. Answers to these questions will explain sufficiently what should be known about Irving by every school reader of the Oliver Goldsmith. The first three queries may be answered quite briefly. The biography of Washington Irving by his nephew, Mr. Pierre M. Irving, throws li^ht on the subject. In August, 1849, Washington Irving called at the office of his nephew, and " speaking of his fagging at the Life of Goldsmith,'^ two or three chapters of which he had still to write, said that it had taken more time than he could afford — had plucked the heart out of his summer; and after all he could only play with the subject. He had no time to finish it off as he wished." Irving was at this time making a revised edition of his works and had brought out all but two volumes, A Chronicle of the Conquest of Granada and The Alhambras, Yet he had interrupted the preparation of this new edition and the composition of his Life of Washington in order to take up the Goldsmith. '' It was a sudden literary freak," says Pierre Irving, " similar to that which had induced him, when first in Spain, to break off from Columbus in order to begin the chronicles of Granada, and had subsequently drawn him aside to his Moorish Chronicles." 1 This title, which is a handy designation chosen by Washington Irving's nephew and which is the form usually quoted, is inaccurate. Washington Irving wrote, besides an inconsequential abridgment published in Paris in 1825 and in Philadelphia in 1830, two distinct biographies of Goldsmith, The first, entitled, The Life of Oliver Goldsmith, was published in 1840 (Harper & Bros.) ; it is part of an i8mo two-volume edition of Goldsmith's writings. The "bio- graphical sketch," as it is called in the table of contents, contains one hundred seventy-nine pages, not divided into chapters. The second, published in 1849 (Geo. P. Putnam), is entitled Oliver Goldsmith: A Biography. This is the book included in the uniform entrance requirements for 1906, 1907, and 1908. It is, in the first edition, a i2mo volume of three hundred eighty -two pages, divided into forty-five chapters. Copies of both these books have been used freely by the present editor in the Astor Library, to the officers of which institution, especially Mr. L. S. Judd, acknowledgments are gratefully made for numerous cpurtesies. INTRODUCTION xill This " sudden freak " to take up the life of Goldsmith had its origin in the interest which Irving took in Forster's biography of Goldsmith. One day when Irving was looking at Forster's new book, in the office of Mr. George P. Putnam, he said that he believed he would himself write a life of Goldsmith. He had previously, in 1825, made, as he says himself, " a mere modification of an interesting Scottish memoir" of Goldsmith for a Paris edition of Goldsmith's works, and this sketch had already in America been com- pletely rewritten and prefixed to selections from Goldsmith in Harper's " Family Library." It was therefore not diffi- cult for the author to get to work on the proposed larger biography, which the publisher heartily urged him to under- take. Inside of two months, says Mr. Putnam, the first sheets of the Oliver Goldsmith were in the printer's hands, and the volume was published in two or three weeks. When the book came out, Mr. Pierre Irving congratulated his uncle on the quality of his work, whereupon Washington Irving replied that he had been afraid to look at it since completion, because he had never done anything else in such a hurry. He felt that he ought to have had more time for it. He complained that he had knocked off the work in an offhand manner which was not characteristic of most of his writing. Though written hurriedly, the Oliver Goldsmith had an immediate and wide popularity. A first edition of twenty- five hundred was all disposed of by September 19, 1849, and a second edition of two thousand was well under way. Highly commendatory reviews were partly responsible for this success. In a review published by the Tribune^ Mr. George Ripley, the literary editor of that paper, said among other things, " With a genial admiration of Goldsmith, with a cor- dial appreciation of the spirit of his writings, and with many similar intellectual tendencies, Irving has portrayed the varied picture of Goldsmith's life with a grace and elegance that xiv INTRODUCTION make his narrative as charming a piece of composition as can be found in the whole range of his former works." In conclusion Mr. Ripley added that there could not be a more admirable description of the influence of Irving's own writ- ings than that author had given of Goldsmith in the open- ing paragraph of the biography. When reviews like these were freely contributed to contemporary periodicals, it is no wonder that the volume w^as an immediate success from the point of view of the publisher. Why, in the fourth place, the sage of Sunnyside was able to write successfully the life of Oliver Goldsmith is not diffi- cult to understand. Irving had sympathy and penetration. His knack for catching the spirit of the life of any character in whom he was interested was remarkable. Even in the case of Columbus and Washington, about the details of whose lives much has been learned by the painstaking his- torians of later years, Irving was able to comprehend the essential man and to present a faithful and true conception. In his Oliver Goldsmith, also, by this same insight into human motives, Irving has presented a picture that remains an adequate and trustworthy delineation of the man Oliver Goldsmith, even though later biographers may have added a few details regarding the mere facts in his life. There were, too, a few special reasons, due to similarity of temperament and external circumstance, why Irving wrote sympathetically and understandingly concerning Goldsmith. Both were men who shrunk from giving pain to others, who unconsciously imparted good humor and kindliness to any circle in which they happened to be. Yet both were modest and rather retiring in company. Neither had the slightest taste for political life. Both were of an independent spirit. " Who does not admire the sturdy independence of poor Goldsmith toiling in his garret for nine guineas the job ? " says Irving, in Chapter XXI of his biography, regarding INTRODUCTION XV the rejection by Goldsmith of a tempting offer to earn liberal pay by writing for the party of Lord North. Again, both were of generous instincts. To be sure, Irving was the better balanced ; he knew better how to control his impulses. It was the lack of balance which made glaring defects in Goldsmith's character. Yet in all these respects the authors had similar tendencies in character. In external circumstances, the superficial points of dif- ference appear more striking than those of resemblance. Goldsmith and Irving, for example, both traveled widely on the Continent, but there was a vast difference in the cir- cumstances of their travels. Goldsmith journeyed through many cities and towns on foot and penniless, gaining his subsistence by means of his songs and his flute, or stopping at universities to dispute for a dinner and a night's lodging with any who would offer themselves as disputants. In this manner, according to his biographers, though the facts can- not be proved by indisputable records, he made his way first through Flanders and northern France, and then from Marseilles through part of southern France and Piedmont and some of the Italian states. Irving, on the other hand, journeyed here and there on the Continent in comfortable circumstances and, at one period of his life, with the recog- nition everywhere that comes to a diplomatist in the service of a powerful government. The contrast between Irving's journey from Madrid to Versailles in 1843, and Goldsmith's wandering journey of 1755 is remarkable. Irving's quiet, happy journey is seen from such extracts as this from a let- ter to one of his nieces : " I must tell you that I have thus far enjoyed my journey extremely. I do not know when scenery had a more vivifying effect on my feelings than in passing from the dreary, parched wastes of the Castles to the green mountains and valleys of the Basque provinces. The nights were superb, a full moon lighting up splendid xvi INTRODUCTION mountain scenery ; the air bland, and fresh, and balmy, instead of the parching airs of Madrid. The first sight of the sea, too, and the inhaling of the sea-breeze, brought a home feeling that was quite reviving. You cannot imagine how beautiful France looks to me, with her orchards and vineyards, and groves, and green meadows, after naked, sterile Spain. I feel confident I shall return from this excursion with a stock of health and good spirits to carry me through the winter." Of similar tone is this extract three months later, on his return to Madrid: "I arrived in Madrid about ten days since, after a somewhat rapid journey; but I had the mail carriage to myself^ and was enabled to make myself comfortable.^^ And this : " I was cordially welcomed back by my brother diplomatists, and really had a home feel- ing on finding myself once more among them." Contrast these with Goldsmith's account of his journey of 1755 seen in the passage from The Traveller, quoted at the end of Chapter XV of Irving's Oliver Goldsmith^ and in the various passages of The Vicar of Wakefield which Irving regards as autobiographical, though William Black, in the English Men of Letters, Goldsmith (page 17), remarks that the adventures described in Chapter XX of The Vicar of Wakefield cannot be assumed without question to be drawn from Goldsmith's own life. On the whole, with respect to external conditions, as seen in travel abroad, Irving would hardly be expected to comprehend Goldsmith. There is, nevertheless, a basis for sympathy even in the matter of their travels. The mere fact of Irving's having gained the wider knowledge of life which is secured best by extensive travel would prevent him from taking a purely insular and prejudiced view of Goldsmith. His residence also for a considerable time in England and his familiarity there with the haunts of Goldsmith would help to let him into the secrets of Goldsmith's life. INTRODUCTION xvii In another respect the two men were entirely similar in the externals of life. Neither married. Irving sorrowed deeply over the death of her whom he loved when he was a young man, and always remained true to the love of his early manhood. Goldsmith, after he had won success as an author, became tenderly attached to a beautiful young woman, to whom his devotion was steadfast. This likeness in celibacy probably accounts for the nature of numerous references to the Jessamy Bride in Irving's biography of Goldsmith, and constitutes a bond of sympathy between the two men. Finally, in the consideration of the one question that remains of the five asked at the beginning, there may be presented a short narrative of the life of Irving as an author, not intended in any sense to take the place of a reading of the biography by Charles Dudley Warner, or of the somewhat discursive, but thoroughly entertaining Life and Letters of Lrving by Pierre M. Irving. Washington Irving, named after George Washington, whom the patriot father of Washington Irving greatly admired, was born in New York, April 3, 1783, at a time when the center of population was near Trinity Church, when Chambers Street was at the edge of the thickly settled portion of the city, and when there were no authors of distinction in Amer- ica, For the city of his birth he always had a warm affec- tion. While in Paris in 1824 he longed to be once more in New York, and wrote to a friend, " There is a charm about that little spot of earth, that beautiful city and its environs, that has a perfect spell over my imagination. The bay, the rivers and their wild and woody shores, the haunts of my boyhood, both on land and water, absolutely have a witchery over my mind. I thank God for my having been born in so beautiful a place, among such beautiful scenery ; I am con- vinced I owe a vast deal of what is good and pleasant in my xviii INTRODUCTION nature to the circumstance." To the New Yorker it is a source of pride that Irving in the later years of his life was not without honor in his native city — he refused a nomina- tion for Mayor — and that at the present time the general esteem in which his memory is held has led to the erec- tion of a statue in one of the most beautiful spots of New York City. From 1802, when he first began to write, until 18 18, when the Irving brothers went into bankruptcy in London, the story of Washington Irving's life has to do merely with the trifling, unsettled experiments of a sociably inclined young bachelor. His first venture as an author was a series of letters signed "Jonathan Oldstyle," contributed to the Morn- ing Chronicle. These, although they were plainly imitations of the Spectator essays, attracted considerable attention. They consisted of satirical comments on theaters and actors and on plays that were presented at the time in New York. Irving had become a law clerk in the office of Josiah Ogden Hoffman, but felt little inclination for serious study of the law. He was weakly in body. He liked excursions in the Hudson River region and up the Mohawk better than the reading of law books. In spite of much outdoor life he remained in poor health, so that his brothers, who were pros- pering in business, sent him abroad in 1804. The captain of the sailing vessel on which he took passage remarked on seeing the young man's consumptive look, " There 's a chap who will go overboard before we get across." Instead, he grew somewhat better, and spent nearly two years in Europe. He traveled with much enjoyment through France, Italy, the Netherlands, and England, without making any contribu- tions. to literature. He returned to New York in February, 1806. For nine years he remained in America, and in an off- hand, casual mode turned out some of his best writings. INTRODUCTION xix During these years he was a favorite in the society of Bal- timore, Washington, Albany, and New York. He experi- mented with his pen as a means of diversion rather than as a settled occupation ; he had not yet made up his mind to take authorship seriously as a profession. Among the works of these nine years are his writings in Salmagundi^ a period- ical the purpose of which was " to instruct the young, reform the old, correct the town, and castigate the age." Salma- gundi ^z.s astonishingly popular, considering the careless air of superiority which marked its utterances. In this period- ical Irving was associated with his brother William and with his friend Paulding. In 1809 he published in Philadelphia A History of New York, by Diedrich Knickerbocker, his most original work. It won him instant popularity as an author. It had no value as an accurate picture of the Dutch in New York, but it came in the course of time somehow to be considered a faithful delineation of early Dutch manners. Its all-pervasive humor has not yet lost its savor. He wrote nothing else of importance during this period, but for the most part spent his time easily in social pleasures, though he gave some slight attention to the business affairs of his brothers. In 18 15 he sailed again for Europe, where he remained seventeen years. The death of Miss Matilda Hoffman, v.hom he loved, may perhaps account for the checking of his literary effort in the years that followed the publication of the History of New York. After his arrival in England, he struggled during the next two or three years with business matters, mainly in London, doing his best to assist his invalid brother, Peter, in the reverses which overtook the commercial house in which the brothers were partners. The time passed drearily. " His letters for two years are burdened with harassments in uncongenial details and unsuccessful struggles." He had no more liking for the details of business life than had XX INTRODUCTION Nathaniel Hawthorne, who, it will be recalled, made his escape about twenty-five years later from his position in the Boston Custom House as from a prison. In August, 1818, after Washington and Peter Irving had taken advantage of the bankruptcy law in London, Wash- ington, at the age of thirty-five, settled definitely on litera- ture as a profession. From now until 1826, he wrote whenever he was strong enough and was in the mood, completing in this time several of his most characteristically humorous works. His Sketch-Book was published both in America and in Eng- land. From the publisher, Murray, he received two hundred pounds for the English copyright. Everywhere he was wel- comed with honor. To his joy he became the breadwinner of the Irving brothers. He, who before had been merely the dabbler, was now recognized by the family as the effective worker. His travels at this period included journeys to Dres- den and Paris with somewhat prolonged stays. Carlyle says that Irving was a good deal of a lion in Paris. His repu- tation reached everywhere. The Edinburgh Review hailed him as a writer of " great purity and beauty of diction." All English people were reading his latest book. In Italy, an English lady and her daughter stopped in one of the galler- ies before a bust of General Washington. '' Who was this Washington?" asked the daughter. "Why, the author of the Sketch-Book, of course," answered the mother. Irving's friends and acquaintances included most of the well-known English writers of the early nineteenth century ; Sir Walter Scott was a particularly enthusiastic admirer. After the Sketch-Book came, in 1822, Bracebridge Hall, which added to Irving's English reputation. In 1824 there was published a collection of short sketches, Tales of a Traveller, in which some of Irving's best work appeared ; certainly the " artistic " touch which he himself felt to be here is present, and makes this group of little stories deservedly popular to-day. Still, INTRODUCTION xxi some of the critics began to ask for something of a new style from Irving. This the distinguished author, always sensitive to the slightest adverse criticism, undertook to furnish in his His- tory of the Life and Voyages of Christopher Columbus^ for the writing of which he qualified himself thoroughly by a resi- dence at Madrid from February, 1826, to September, 1829. The publisher Murray paid Irving thirty-one hundred and fifty pounds for the English copyright of the life of Columbus, which was published in February, 1828. Other books dur- ing this most productive period were Chronicle of the Con- quest of Grafiada and Voyages of the Companions of Columbus. Irving wrote also The Alhambra at this time, but it was not published till later. The volume on the conquest of Granada brought the author two thousand guineas. The letters during this Madrid residence reveal the customary delightful social relations into which Irving entered wher- ever he happened to be, and make clear how completely and with what zest the author entered into the spirit of old Spain. Urged by his friends, Irving accepted the appointment of Secretary of Legation to the Court of St. James and once more returned to London. Oxford conferred upon him the degree of D.C.L., but modest Irving never made use of this adornment. In the course of his residence in England as Secretary of Legation, he appears to have taken more interest in politics than ever before ; he wanted to know the latest news regarding political events in all countries and watched the newspapers eagerly for the latest develop- ments. When the Reform Bill was up for consideration in , Parliament he earnestly hoped it would pass. Two literary incidents shortly before his return to America were a second visit to Stratford and a last talk with Sir Walter Scott, who said to him, " The times are changed, my good fellow, since xxii INTRODUCTION we went over the Eildon Hills together. It is all nonsense to tell a man that his mind is not affected when his body is in this state." It was not long before the valiant struggle of Scott against disease had ended. Irving, however, returned to America before the death of his generous admirer and friend. In May, 1832, Irving was royally welcomed to New York. Public dinners were given in his honor; authors, business men, and men prominent in political life vied with one another in paying tribute to the most distinguished American author of the day, who had been absent from his native country seventeen years, during which he had won international reputation. Irving's mind had been for some time set upon a return to New York. He longed for a home in which he could gather his brothers and their children in domestic comfort and happiness. Soon he chose the " Sunnyside " farm which is now the goal for literary pilgrimages. At Sunnyside he brought together the Irving family, and Sunny- side became, in the words of Charles Dudley Warner, " the dearest spot on earth to him; it was his residence, from which he tore himself with reluctance, and to which he returned with eager longing; and here, surrounded by rela- tives whom he loved, he passed nearly all the remainder of his years, in as happy conditions, I think, as a bachelor ever enjoyed." He took the greatest pleasure in enlarg- ing the buildings, in improving the grounds, in making the house and the surroundings more and more comfortable and beautiful. In fact, because he spent so much money in this agreeable work and because he never seems to have known in just what enterprises it was well to invest his earnings, he had to devote himself to writing all the rest of his life. Among the works that brought him substantial sums after his return to America were Tour on the Prairies, the INTRODUCTION xxiii outcome of an extended journey as far west as Arkansas, Recollections of Abbotsford and JVewstead Abbey, Legends of the Conquest of Spain, Astoria, Oliver Goldsmith, and Mahomet and his Successors. It will be noticed that, although these are noteworthy volumes, there is no work here by which Irving is popularly known. The tirfie of his most distinc- tive productiveness was nearly over ; there remained only one notable book to complete, his Life of Washiitgton. This was long delayed. In accordance with his ingrained aversion to party honors, he had rejected an offer of the secretaryship of the Navy under President Van Buren, but permitted himself to be appointed, in 1842, minister to Spain. This honor he accepted as a recognition by his countrymen of his contributions to the history of Spain. The nomination was made at the suggestion of Daniel Webster, was heartily supported by Henry Clay, and was confirmed by the votes of both parties. His residence abroad at this time lasted till 1846, when he returned for good. His services as a diplomatist in a quiet way were most effective. Little needs to be said regarding the last happy years at Sunnyside. If the student is wont to feel from reading the lives of many English authors that the lot of a writer^ as in the cases of Goldsmith, Johnson, Burns, and even Scott — is at best but a hard struggle, ended with ease and com- fort far in the distance, certainly it is a refreshing contrast to learn of the happy domestic tranquillity of Irving's last years at Sunnyside. He was admired by his fellow-citizens, adored by his kin. His strength was failing, yet he kept writing, and he had the triumphant pleasure of seeing the Life of Washington well received. He died at Sunnyside, November 28, 1859, in the seventy-seventh year of a happy, perhaps not virile, but unquestionably productive and hon- orable life. XXIV INTRODUCTION > a Q 8 « & S 1 o !f/zi? Freedom of Parthia o H en < .s 4-> > < erf w H Q ■s ■73 0) T3 75 a 5 1 C! -t-> 1 - < Ci o 0) 2 CD ^1 ^ t o Oh 1-1 • Jo CO <-)■ ^ s a) <3 erf o H . Pi < frf H ►J o Oh o ^^ 1 >^ o o s o ■5 o c rG 1 o - i2 <-> a o d a i bS C is 1 q « 1 ^ ^ .■§ -^ Si S^ (D ^ ^ s Pi C c> -u O O -J^ (/3 t« tn .rj ^^^ d t/5 ll 3 en 04 O s E o o ^o 1— , 1— > t^ ^S - W H M M o6 iri ro M 00 c5n M to 00 On 1 M M N ro ^ -*- ^ Tt- LTl U"! U-» u-i VO vO f^ t^ t^ f^ 1:^ !>. I>» t^ f^ t^ J^ tv. M H M W M M (H MM M M M ^ i -(-> c ^ , C (3 < .s bjo E^ •d o en O !3 P bo .# 5 en <1) ^ be (D O ^ (U - .s ": "^ rt C 3 T3 1 2 1 1 o .13 o 57 (in fe O P^ o PQ 9i a 1-1 o o (rf w > o Ci o o o If) M t3 w o U '.B H '^ Si OJ W H > CT' 0) o u S ^ < S u ll O t— > OO 4 i^i Cs N vri vd t^ o6 M N ro t}- «s to ^ -^ ir-1 uo ii~i i/~i u-v \0 M3 vO vO l^ t^ 1^ I^ X^ 1^ r^ f^ t^ r^ t^ t^ t^ M HI M M l-l M M M M M M M M INTRODUCTION xxv 5 S -^ • ^ "S ■> _biO ^ T3 P 8 g rw C Ph -^H §^ « tS (^ s -6 ^ I ?^ >41 <^i fls s •Vi •K. « sr &• !< Vil ■» •K. ^ o s s >, ■a '> ^ 0) C n 5 ^ -tj ■ ^ ,^ ^ <3 8 'id ^ 5? ^ C Ph ^ ni i ►*« K5> s j^ ;j ^ t> -S k5j ►^ ■^ ^ ^ ^ H . I •J-1 00 ON o o p-t H ^ V) ^ Oj S bo ^ .c. g ^ fn M cj I . ^l ^ . 1 a-s-H I s all TS k CD d I g I S cS I I II 5 Q' II I 1 P I I ^ I i rt vO l~^ Cd On O m M vo vo vo vo t^ t-^ r^ f^ t^ 1-^ t^ 1^ r^ f^ M M M HI HI HI M 'fi 1 ^ ^1 s: ^ M XXVI INTRODUCTION ?N "Si S ^ C5 ^ ^^ •^ a n o c en C ri« M f, a, O l^ W •*« « .^ -^ Q <3 s" 0) rt ?? rt pq W Oh O O K c*: „ u CJ rO dJ *K> ^ ? o 8 o ■?: 'a P-I 8 ^ ^ <1 tn +-> a; ^^ UJ m ?. . V -^ •« "t^' o PL, O pq (3 ^ S '3 uT 4-> O o c o u pq ■5 ci "X} c c a; H -i-> o O 3 o O O o o 00 H 00 o w to od t^ CTv 6 .!, !>, ON o ON O O M hH t^ r^ t^ ^ s « . ^ .8 >-) ^ b ^ •5 1 k5J <5 •^ ^ g k ^J « (^ (J ■«> 2 ^ •l-»~ '3 a o O o ^ Q ■^ (/) (Ji 00 M Cs o M O M N M (N 00 00 00 00 O ■z > A ^ ^ o O > O % 2: cu K ;? CO •4-1 < rt > c )H O pq ^ ^ :3 o ^ Q 0) t^ &. o <-5 3 !v W ^ i1 -t-j 8 <^ >o -f: s ^, o oo 0\ t< M 4 r^ O f5 O O 00 00 00 O J3 o Ti , (U G rt O a, o a~ <1) >-i <+H 7^ o c o 3 (U 0) 03 o c/) te o uri 00 h^ ^ ^ 5 1 k 53 ^ %i ^o ^) f^ cJ ^ N (N 00 00 INTRODUCTION xxvu ^ ^ •S (3 s 8 nds ding, ■^ ^ -si 5 t^ •2 y !:; h '^. js ►-S a o ^ ^ u r^ CO M r^ N IN CO r<^ 00 oo 00 00 *^ (Ih s5 ^^ o tN m 'Ji ^ ,^ ^-s !>: <-i f^l 03 ^ ■^ ^ O > o ;4 ^ ^ o 0) < E « ,<3 >>• ^ e; ^ ^ ? Co J? rs ^ s 05 •!^ s? »S. >o ^ ^ s 1 a i <-5 rt t^ K ^ X d rt "^ d OJ Id , '5; •^ a ^ C\3 (D ^3 tuO 0) p:i 1=1 id -t-> Q _ a § CO <5 C/2 CO a^ !a S «3 <-> ^ ^ 5i "^ s ii" ^ k ?^ <^ ^ If) ITl C! rt ^ ^ ^ H oJ C 00 c S 00 00 H w M ro ^ r^ On ^ -o S "-A . ^ «^ -^ "^ p^ Life Con Voy lum ej 00 00 M <» n m fvi (1) ;h '^ -^ ^ =j ••~ CD w ■Td <+H . s m be P^ 0) ba n .H tA3 ^ tu j« 8 > Ph ^ 1 ? Td OJ Td P-. 5 c 'cfi 0) P^ H -^ 00 w in VO !>. N 1 M to ro fO '^ ^ 00 00 00 00 00 ;^ o 00 00 XXVlll INTRODUCTION a o « <0 1 s hJ -5; >^ .< < Pi w ►3 "to <» S k s ^ ^ ^ ^^^ < U o^ oT s^ +-> 2 i-t ^ IS < ■4- ^ CO 00 M M CO 00 H -Is. -Ji V ^ Pi .^ o ^ ^ H ^ ►."^ ^ '^ tn C ^3 V 5 »— 1 <-) iJ-i tr> un en 00 CO 00 CO M H M M si "a •v> o ■1° g kSJ > Pi t— 1 <-> 1 -§" o ^ •f-l 1 ^ g ^ o C/3 < "to ^ 00 Wl CO M 1 >J-v u-1 OO IH 1 Q OO w INTRODUCTION xxix III. NOTE CONCERNING THE TOPICS AND QUESTIONS The topics and questions in this edition are intended primarily to furnish a basis for lively and entertaining discussions in class. Very likely not every pupil will be able to answer every question or discuss every topic. Yet it is thought that by topics such as these all the pupils will gain a thorough knowledge of the contents of Irving's Oliver Gold- smithy and that at the same time they will have pleasure from the study. There is no reason why oral and written composition based on a charm- ing piece of literature like the Oliver Goldsmith should not be entered upon by the preparatory-school student with enthusiasm, and continued throughout with cumulative zeal. Though the material offered for the study will be found most satisfactory for class use where one pupil will be familiar with the subject-matter of qne topic, another pupil with that of another topic, the questions and topics are such that a student might read the book by himself and find sufficient direction for a thorough and enjoyable reading. In the study of these topics and questions, it is hoped that the pupil will have access to at least the following books : — Goldsmith's com- plete works ; H. A. Dobson's Life of Goldsmith ; Boswell's Life offohn- son ; Histories of English and American Literature ; Encyclopaedia or Century Dictionary of Names ; a. biographical dictionary, as for example Lippincott's ; The Life and Letters of Lrving, by Pierre M. Irving ; and Irving's complete works. If, in addition, the student can have the pleas- ure of consulting Irving's principal sources, he will count himself fortu- nate. These sources are The Life of Oliver Goldsmith, by James Prior, in two volumes (London, John Murray, 1837) ; and The Life and Adven- tures of Oliver Goldsmith, by John Forster, in four books (London, Bradbury and Evans, 1848). Unfortunately not many libraries contain these interesting old books, though later editions are sometimes available. OLIVER GOLDSMITH A BIOGRAPHY By WASHINGTON IRVING AUTHOR'S PREFACE In the 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 con- tained 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 uninteresting 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 presump- tion in me to undertake the subject after it had been thus felicitously treated, did I not stand committed by my pre- vious sketch. That sketch now appeared too meagre 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 cir- cumstances I have again taken up the subject, and gone into it with more fulness than formerly, omitting none of the facts which I considered illustrative of the life and character 3 4 AUTHOR'S PREFACE of the poet, and giving them in as graphic a style as I could command. Still the hurried manner in which I have had to do this amidst the pressure of other claims on my attention, and with the press dogging at my heels, has pre- vented me from giving some parts of the subject the thor- ough handling I could have wished. Those who would like to see it treated still more at large, with the addition of critical disquisitions and the advantage of collateral facts, would do well to refer themselves to Mr. Prior's circum- stantial volumes, or to the elegant and discursive pages of Mr. Forster. For my own part, I can only regret my shortcomings in what to me is a labor of love ; for it is a tribute of gratitude to the memory of an author whose writings w^ere the delight of my childhood, and have been a source of enjoyment to me throughout life ; and to whom, of all others, I may address the beautiful apostrophe of Dante to Virgil, — Tu se' lo mio maestro, e '1 mio autore : Tu se' solo colui, da cu' io tolsi Lo hello stile, che m' ha fatto onore. W. L SUNNYSIDE, August I, 1849. OLIVER GOLDSMITH CHAPTER I Birth and Parentage — Characteristics of the Goldsmith Race — Poetical Birth- place — Goblin House — Scenes of Boyhood — Lissoy — Picture of a Coun- try Parson — Goldsmith's Schoolmistress — Byrne, the Village Schoolmaster — Goldsmith's Hornpipe and Epigram — Uncle Contarine — School Studies and School Sports — Mistakes of a Night. There are few writers for whom the reader feels such personal kindness as for Oliver Goldsmith, for few have so eminently possessed the magic gift of identifying themselves with their writings. We read his character in every page, and grow into familiar intimacy with him as we read. The S artless benevolence that beams throughout his works ; the whimsical, yet amiable views of human life and human nature ; the unforced humor, blending so happily with good feeling and good sense, and singularly dashed at times with a pleasing melancholy ; even the very nature of his mellow, lo and flowing, and softly-tinted style, — all seem to bespeak his moral as well as his intellectual qualities, and make us love the man at the same time that we admire the author. While the productions of writers of loftier pretension and more sounding names are suffered to moulder on our shelves, 15 those of Goldsmith are cherished and laid in our bosoms. We do not quote them with ostentation, but they mingle^ with our minds, sweeten our tempers, and harmonize our thoughts ; they put us in good-humor with ourselves and with the world, and in so doing they make us happier and 20 better men. 5 6 OLIVER GOLDSMITH An acquaintance with the private biography of Goldsmith lets us into the secret of his gifted pages. We there dis- cover them to be little more than transcripts of his own heart and picturings of his fortunes. There he shows him- 5 self the same kind, artless, good-humored, excursive, sensible, whimsical, intelligent 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 ludicrous scenes and ridiculous incidents 10 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 loth of November, 1728, at the hamlet of Pallas, or Pallasmore, county of Long- 15 ford, in Ireland. He sprang from a respectable, but by no means a thrifty stock. Some families seem to inherit kind- liness and incompetency, and to hand down virtue and pov- erty from generation to generation. Such was the case with the Goldsmiths. *' They were always," according to 20 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 anything but what they ought." — " They were remarkable," says another statement, " for their worth, but of no cleverness in the ways of the 25 world." Oliver Goldsmith will be found faithfully to inherit the virtues and weaknesses of his race. His father, the Rev. Charles Goldsmith, with hereditary improvidence, married when very young and very poor, and starved along for several years on a small country curacy 30 and the assistance of his wife's friends. His whole income, eked out by the produce of some fields which he farmed, and of some occasional duties performed for his wife's uncle, the rector of an adjoining parish, did not exceed forty pounds. " And passing rich with forty pounds a year." POETICAL BIRTHPLACE j He inhabited an old, half rustic mansion, that stood on a rising ground in a rough, lonely part of the country, over- looking a low tract occasionally flooded by the river Inny. In this house Goldsmith was born, and it was a birth- place worthy of a poet ; for, by all accounts, it was haunted 5 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 10 delight in old, crazy, deserted mansions for 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 jackboots, which, in his efforts at hard rid- 15 ing, 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 cir- 20 cumstances of his father. By the death of his wife's uncle he succeeded to the rectory of Kilkenny West; and, aban- doning 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 25 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 30 and the heart. Lissoy is confidently cited as the original of his "Auburn" 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 8 OLIVER GOLDSMITH Wakefield "; and his father himself, with his learned sim- plicity, his guileless wisdom, his amiable piety, and utter ignorance of the world, has been exquisitely portrayed in the worthy Dr. Primrose. Let us pause for a moment, and 5 draw from Goldsmith's writings one or two of those pic- tures 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 respects, is a counterpart of Goldsmith himself, — "my father, lo the younger son of a good family, was possessed of a small living in the church. His education was above his for- tune, and his generosity greater than his education. Poor as he was, he had his flatterers poorer than himself : for every dinner he gave them, they returned him an equivalent 15 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 repeated the jest of the two scholars and one pair of breeches, and the company 20 laughed at that ; but the story of Taffy 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 world, and he fancied all the world loved him. " As his fortune was but small, he lived up to the very 25 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 30 improve our understanding. 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 HIS FATHER 9 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 thousands before we were taught the necessary qualifications of getting a farthing." In the " Deserted Village " we have another picture of 5 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-remembered beggar was his guest. Whose beard, descending, swept his aged breast; 10 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, 15 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." 20 The family of the worthy pastor consisted of five sons and three daughters. Henry, the eldest, was the good man's 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 25 than Henry, who was the guide and protector of his child- hood, and to whom he was most tenderly attached through- out life. Oliver's education began when he was about three years old ; that is to say, he was gathered under the wings of one 30 of those good old motherly dames, found in every village, who cluck together the whole callow brood of the neighbor- hood, to teach 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 35 lO OLIVER GOLDSMITH 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 5 he was one of the dullest boys she had ever dealt with, insomuch that she had sometimes doubted whether it was possible to make anything 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 10 the fancy. At §ix years of age he passed into the hands of the village schoolmaster, one Thomas (or, as he was commonly and irreverently named, Paddy) Byrne, a capital tutor for a poet. He had been educated for a pedagogue, but had 15 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 20 have had him and his school in view in the following sketch in his " Deserted Village " : — 1 *•&' " Beside yon straggling fence that skirts the way, With blossom'd furze unprofitably gay, There, in his noisy mansion, skill'd to rule, 25 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 ; 30 Full well they laugh'd with counterfeited glee 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, 35 The love he bore to learning was in fault ; The village all declared how much he knew, FIRST ATTEMPTS AT VERSE , II 'T was 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 ; 5 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 lo 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 which he would deal forth to his wondering scholars when he ought 15 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 20 superstitious. He was deeply versed in the fairy super- stitions 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 25 easy transition, extended to the histories of robbers, pirates, smugglers, and the whole race of Irish rogues and rapparees. Everything, 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 30 apt to be overrun, if not choked, by the weeds of his quick ' irnagination. (^Another trait of his motley preceptor, Byrne, was a dispo- sition to dabble in poetry, and this likewise was caught by his pupil, ^efore he was eight years old. Goldsmith had 35 12 OLIVER GOLDSMITH contracted a habit of scribbling verses on small scraps of paper, which, in a little while, he would throw into the fire. A few of these sibylline leaves, however, were rescued from the flames and conveyed to his mother. The good woman 5 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 suit- able to his talents. The worthy man was already straitened by the costs of instruction of his eldest son Henry, and had lo 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. 15 A severe attack of the small-pox caused him to be taken from under the care of his story-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 Re v. Mr. Griflin, schoolmasteijofJEljghin, 20 in Roscommon, and became an inmate in the house of his uncle, Joim Goldsmith, Esq., of Ballyoughter, in that vicinity. He now entered upon studies of a higher order, but without making any uncommon progress. Still a care- less, easy facility of disposition, an amusing eccentricity of 25 manners, and a vein of quiet and peculiar humor, rendered him a general favorite, and a trifling incident 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 30 to dance. One of the company, named Cummings, played on the violin. In the course of the evening Oliver under- took a hornpipe. His short and clumsy figure, and his face pitted and discolored with the small-pox, rendered him a ludicrous figure in the eyes of the musician, who made TRANSFERRED TO NEW SCHOOLS 13 merry at his expense, dubbing him his little ^sop. Gold- smith was nettled by the jest, and, stopping short in the hornpipe, exclaimed, — " Our herald hath proclaimed this saying, See ^sop dancing, and his monkey playing." 5 The repartee was thought wonderful for a boy of nine years old, and Oliver became forthwith the wit and the bright genius 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 10 circumstances would not afford it, several of his relatives, spurred on by the representations of his mother, agreed to contribute towards the expense. The greater part, how- ever, was borne by his uncle, the Rev. Thomas Contarirje, This worthy man had been the college companion of Bishop 15 Berkeley, and was possessed of moderate means, holding the living of Carrick-on-Shannon. He had married the sister of Goldsmith's father, but was now a widower, with an only child, a daughter, named Jane. Contarine was a kind-hearted man, with a generosity beyond his means. He took Gold- 20 smith 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. 25 Fitted out in a great measure by this considerate relative, Oliver was now transferred^,iQ_S£llQflJ^_ol^Jiigh£E,or^^^^ 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 30 Rev. Patrick Hughes. Even at these schools his proficiency does appear not to have been brilliant. He was indolent and careless, however, 14 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 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. i^ He exercised himself with 5 pleasure in reading 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.) lo The career of his brother Henry at the University was enough to stimulate him to exertion. He seemed to be realizing all his father's hopes, and was winning collegiate honors that the good man considered indicative of his future success in life. 15 In the meanwhile, Oliver, if not distinguished among his 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 20 him to harbor resentment. He was the leader of all boy- ish sports and athletic amusements, especially ball-playing, and he was foremost in all mischievous pranks. Many years afterward, an old man. Jack Fitzimmons, one of the directors of the sports, and keeper of the ball-court at Bally- 25 mahon, used to boast of having been schoolmate of " Noll Goldsmith," as he called him, and would dwell with vain- glory on one of their exploits, in robbing the orchard of Tirlicken, an old family residence of Lord Annaly. The exploit, however, had nearly involved disastrous conse- 30 quences ; for the crew of juvenile depredators were cap- tured, like Shakspeare and his deer-stealing colleagues ; and nothing but the respectability of Goldsmith's connec- tions saved him from the punishment that would have awaited more plebeian delinquents. MISTAKES OF A NIGHT 15 An amusing incident is related as occurring in Gold- smith'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. Gold- smith procured a horse for the journey, and a friend fur- 5 nished him with a guinea for travelling expenses. He was but a stripling of sixteen, 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 10 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 15 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 wiUing 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 20 mansion of Mr. Featherstone. Goldsmith accordingly rode up to what he supposed to be an inn, ordered his horse to be taken to the stable, 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 25 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 dis- 3° tinguished cast. The owner of the house, however, soon discovered his whimsical mistake, s^nd, being a man of humor, determined to indulge it, especially as he accidentally learned that this intruding guest was the son'pf an old acquaintance. l6 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 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 sup- per was served, he most condescendingly insisted that the 5 landlord, his wife and daughter should partake, and ordered a bottle of wine to crown the repast and benefit the house. His last flourish was on going to bed, when he gave espe- cial orders to have a hot cake at breakfast. His confusion and dismay, on discovering the next morning that he had lo 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 15 of " She Stoops to Conquer, or the Mistakes of a Night." TOPICS AND QUESTIONS 1. How does the opening paragraph differ from the kind of opening usually adopted in school papers for a short biographical sketch ? 2. Goldsmith's schooling. 3. Mention four eighteenth-century writers of loftier pretensions than Oliver Goldsmith. 4. What writings of Goldsmith are most frequently quoted ? 5. How far may the inmost details of a distinguished literary man's life be revealed with propriety ? 6. From the details given in Chapter I, show how Byrne was a good tutor for a boy inclined to poetry. 7. Explain why Goldsmith was popular among his schoolmates. Do the same characteristics which made him popular usually make a student popular now.'' CHAPTER II Improvident Marriages in the Goldsmith Family — Goldsmith at the Univer- sity — 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 distinguished himself at the examinations, and obtained a scholarship in 1743. This is a collegiate distinction which 5 serves as 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 for\yard for that comfortable provision, a fellowship, and thence to higher dignities and emoluments. 10 Henry, however, had the improvidence or the " unworldli- ness " of h'is race : returning to the country during the suc- ceeding vacation, he married for love, relinquished, of course, all his collegiate prospects and advantages, set up a school in his father's neighborhood, and buried his talents and 15 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 20 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 25 17 l8 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 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 pro- 5 mote 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 benig- nity of the man, was recalled and repented of almost as lo 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- 15 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 20 income of his tithes until the marriage portion should be paid. In the mean time, as his living did not amount to ;^2oo per annum, he had to practise the strictest economy to pay off gradually this heavy tax incurred by his nice sense of honor. 25 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 nth June, 1745, \irmg his residence in Scotland his convivial talents gained him at one time attentions in a high quarter, which, PLANS FOR STUDY ON THE CONTINENT 47 however, he had the good sense to appreciate correctly. " I have spent," says he, in one of his letters, "more than a fortnight every second 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 5 calling as a physician." Here we again find the origin of another passage in his autobiography, under the character of the " Man in Black," wherein that worthy figures as a flatierer to a great man. "At first," says he, "I was sur- prised that the situation of a flatterer at a great man's table 10 could be thought disagreeable ; there was no great trouble in listening attentively when his lordship spoke, and laugh- ing when he looked round for applause. This, even good manners might have obliged me to perform. I found, how- ever, too soon, his lordship was a greater dunce than myself, 15 and from that moment flattery was at an end. I now rather aimed at setting him right than at receiving his absurdities 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. 20 Every time I now opened my lips in praise, my falsehood went to my conscience ; his lordship soon perceived me to be very unfit 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 25 had not the least harm in me." After spending two winters at Edinburgh, Goldsmith prepared 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, 30 where the great Farheim, Petit, and Du Hamel de Monceau instruct their pupils in all the branches of medicine. They speak French, and consequently I shall have much the advan- tage of most of my countrymen, as I am perfectly acquainted 48 OLIVER GOLDSMITH with that language, and few who leave Ireland are so. I shall spend the spring and summer in Paris, and the begin- ning of next winter go to Leyden. The great Albinus is still alive there, and 't will be proper to go, though only to 5 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 for the last sum that I hope I shall ever trouble you for; 'tis £'20. And now, dear sir, let me here acknowledge 10 the humility of the station in which you found me ; let me tell how I was despised by most, and hateful to myself. Poverty, hopeless 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 IS 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 20 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. 25 Medical instruction, it will be perceived, was the ostensi- ble motive for this visit to the Continent, but the real one, in all probability, was his long-cherished desire to see for- eign parts. This, however, he would not acknowledge even to himself, but sought to reconcile his roving propensities 30 with some grand moral purpose. " I esteem the traveller who instructs the heart," says he, in one of his subsequent writings, "but I despise him who only indulges the imagina- tion. A man who leaves home to mend himself and others, is a philosopher; but he who goes from country to country. THE LAST SALLY UPON THE WORLD 49 guided by the blind impulse of curiosit}^, is only a vaga- bond." He, of course, was to travel as a philosopher, and in truth his outfits for a Continental tour were in character. "I shall carry just £^:^ to France," said he, "with good store of clothes, shirts, &c., and that with economy will 5 suffice." He forgot to make mention of his flute, which it will be found had occasionally to come in play when econ- omy could not replenish his purse, nor philosophy find him a supper. Thus slenderly provided with money, prudence or experience, and almost as slightly guarded against " hard 10 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 anticipating the checkered ills in store for him ; little think- ing when he penned his valedictory letter to his good uncle 15 Contarine, 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. TOPICS AND QUESTIONS 1. Goldsmith's residence in Scotland. 2. Early instances of his carelessness in money-matters. 3. Why did he decide to go to the Continent ? What itinerary did he plan for himself? Did he carry out his plans? [Glance through subsequent chapters.] 4. Why is it an " insupportable drudgery " to flatter our " intimate acquaintances " ? Is flattery ever permissible ? What is the sincerest flattery? CHAPTER V The agreeable Fellow-Passengers — Risks from Friends picked up by the Way- side — 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 Philosophic Vagabond. His usual indiscretion attended Goldsmith at the very outset 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 agree- 5 able passengers, whose acquaintance he had probably made at the inn. He was 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 conti- nent. Scarcely had the ship been two days at sea, when she lo 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 even- 15 ing, when, in the midst of their hilarity, the door was burst open, and a sergeant and twelve grenadiers entered with fixed bayonets, and took the whole convivial party prisoners. It seems that the agreeable companions with whom our greenhorn had struck up such a sudden intimacy, were 20 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 fort- 25 night. With his customary facility, however, at palliating his 50 SKETCHES OF HOLLAND 5 I misadventures, he found everything 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, 5 and in nine days he arrived at Rotterdam, whence he pro- ceeded, without any more deviations, to Leyden. He gives a whimsical picture, in one of his letters, of the appearance of the Hollanders. "The modern Dutchman is quite a different creature from him of former times : he in every- la thing imitates a Frenchman 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 15 hair he wears a half-cqcked narrow hat laced with black ribband ; 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 20 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 25, 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 3© 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 52 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 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, 5 fine houses, elegant gardens, statues, grottos, vistas, pre- sent themselves ; but when you enter their towns, you are charmed beyond description. No misery is to be seen here ; every one is usefully employed." And again, in his noble description in " The Traveller " : — lo " 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, 15 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. 20 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, 25 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 30 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 precarious remittances should arrive. He had a good friend on these occasions in a fellow-student and countryman, named Ellis, who afterwards rose to eminence 35 as a physician. He used frequently to loan small sums to SHIFTS AS A STUDENT 53 Goldsmith, which were always scrupulously paid. Ellis dis- covered 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 peculiarities of Goldsmith, an ele- vation of mind was to be noted ; a philosophical tone and 5 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 10 up among the Irish priests at Ballymahon. He depicts his whimsical embarrassment in this respect, in his account in the " Vicar of Wakefield " of the philosophical vagabond who went to Holland to teach the natives English, without know- ing a word of their own language. Sometimes, when sorely 15 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 unfortunate propensity, but in vain. It brought its own cure, or rather its own punishment, by stripping him 20 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 pecu- niary aid on condition of his quitting the sphere of danger. 25 Goldsmith gladly consented to leave Holland, being anxious to visit other partgi. 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 30 tulip-mania was still prevalent in Holland, and some spe- cies 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 54 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 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 5 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 shamefaced to make another appeal to his friend's liberality, he deter- lo mined 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 15 constitution, an adventurous spirit, and with that thought- less, 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 " Philosophic Vagabond " in the " Vicar 20 of Wakefield," we find shadowed out the expedients he pur- sued. " I had some knowledge of music, with a tolerable voice ; I now turned what was once my amusement into a present means of subsistence. I passed among the harm- less peasants of Flanders, and among such of the French 25 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 lodg- ing, but subsistence for the next day ; but in truth I must 30 own, whenever I attempted to entertain persons of a higher rank, they always thought my performance odious, and never made me any return for ray endeavors to please them." At Paris he attended the chemical lectures of Rouelle, then in great vogue, where he says he witnessed as bright SKETCH OF VOLTAIRE 55 a circle of beauty as graced the court of Versailles. His love of theatricals also led him to attend the performances of the celebrated actress Mademoiselle Clairon, with which he was greatly delighted. He seems to have looked upon the state of society with the eye of a philosopher, but to 5 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 quantities 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 10 few, a sure "badge of the slavery of the people." This slav- ery 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 15 privileges and freedom, who till of late received directions from the throne with implicit humility ; when this is con- sidered, I cannot help fancying that the genius of Freedom has entered that kingdom in disguise. If they have but three weak monarchs more successively on the throne, the 20 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 access to valuable society, and to have had the honor and 25 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 conversation ; which, however, was not always the case. In company which he either disliked or despised, few could 30 be more reserved than he ; but when he was warmed in dis- course, 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 56 OLIVER GOLDSMITH it had meaning, and his eye beamed with unusual bright- ness. The person who writes this memoir," continues he, " remembers to liave seen him in a select company of wits of both sexes at Paris, when the subject happened to turn 5 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 lo something of their literary pretensions, attempted to vindi- cate their poetry and learning, but with unequal abilities. The company quickly perceived that Fontenelle was superior in the dispute, and were surprised at the silence which Vol- taire had preserved all the former part of the night, particu- 1^ larly 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 2o now and then let fall the finest strokes of raillery upon his antagonist ; and his harangue lasted till three in the morn- ing. 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 25 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 amplified into his poem of " The Traveller." At Qeneva he became travelling tutor to a mongrel young 30 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 TRAVELLING SHIFTS 57 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 could always be permitted to govern himself. 5 My pupil, in fact, understood the art of guiding in money- concerns 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. 10 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 anything could be bought that would turn to account when disposed of again in London? Such curiosities on the way as could be seen 15 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." ^ 20 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 difficulties on all points of expense until 25 they reached Marseilles, where both were glad to separate. Once more on foot, but freed from the irksome duties of *' bear-leader," and with 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 Ital- 30 ian States. He had acquired, as has been shown, a habit of shifting 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 58 OLIVER GOLDSMITH country where every 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 universities and convents there are, upon certain 5 days, philosophical theses maintained against every adventi- tious 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 humili- 10 ation as in the cottages of the peasantry. "With the mem- bers of these establishments," said he, "I could converse on topics of literature, a7id then I always forgot the meanness of my circumstances y At Padua, where he remained some months, he is said 15 to have taken his medical degree. It is probable he was brought to a pause in this city by the illness of his uncle Contarine ; who had hitherto assisted him in his wander- ings by occasional, though, of course, slender remittances. Deprived of this source of supplies, he wrote to his friends 20 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 cor- respondence, that his brother-in-law actually exerted himself to raise a subscription for his assistance among his rela- 25 tives, 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 wan- 30 dering propensities of a heedless spendthrift. Thus left to his own precarious resources, Goldsmith gave up all 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 HIS MAGIC FLUTE 59 pilgrim 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 conclude by the following passage in his " Traveller " : — 5 "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, lO 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. 15 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 friok'd beneath the burden of three-score." TOPICS AND QUESTIONS 1. Goldsmith's improvidence in Holland. 2. His experiences as tutor to the stingy young man. 3. Prepare a detailed outline for a composition on his two years of roving about the Continent. Will it be better to adopt a time succession or a place order in dividing the subject ? 4. How did his imprisonment in Newcastle-upon-Tyne save his life ? 5. What is Irving's purpose in closing the chapter with a quotation .'' Why do many compositions by students, and essays or orations by well- known writers or speakers end with quotations of poetry ? Is the prac- tice one to be commended ? / 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 — Miseries of a Tutor — A Doctor in the Suburb — Poor Practice and second-hand Finery — A Tragedy in Embryo — Project of the 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, 5 and the neglect of his relatives and friends to reply to his letters, seem to have produced in hini 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 10 to him as completely a foreign land as any part of the Con- tinent, and where on earth is a penniless stranger more destitute ? His flute and his philosophy were no longer of any avail ; the English boors cared nothing for music ; there were no convents ; and as to the learned and the clergy, not 15 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 encounter, left as I was without friends, recommendations, money, or 20 impudence, and that in a country where being born an Irish- 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 prin- ciple to resist the one, and resolution to combat the other. '^ 60 LAUNCH UPON LONDON 6l He applied at one place, we are told, for employment in the shop of a country apothecary; but all his medical science gathered 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 5 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 theatricals displayed in his "Adven- tures of a Strolling Player," or may be a story suggested by them. All this part of his career, however, in which he 10 must have trod the lowest paths of humility, are only to be conjectured from vague traditions, or scraps of autobi- ography 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 15 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 20 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 distant watch-dog. How few appear in those streets, which but some few hours ago were crowded ! But who are those 25 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 30 rags, and others emaciated with disease ; the world has dis- claimed them ; society turns its back upon their distress, and has given them up to nakedness and hunger. T/iese poor shivering females have once seen happier days, and bee7i 62 OLIVER GOLDSMITH flattered into beauty. They are now turned out to meet the severity of winter. Perhaps now, lying at the doors of their betrayers, they sue to wretches whose hearts are insensible, or debauchees who may curse, but will not relieve them. 5 " 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 lo 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 15 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, 20 and even this employ he obtained with some difficulty, after a reference for a character to his friends in the University of Dublin.' yin the "Vicar of Wakefield" he makes George Primrose undergo a whimsical catechism concerning the requisites for an usher. " Have you been bred apprentice 25 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 30 school. I have been an usher in a boarding-school, myself, and may I die of an anodyne necklace, 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 " DOCTOR IN THE SUBURB 63 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 5 oddity of his manner, his dress, or his language, is a fund of eternal ridicule ; 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 10 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 15 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, 20 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 friend- ship with me during his continuance in London." 25 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 30 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 neckcloth of a fortnight's wear. 64 OLIVER GOLDSMITH Poor Goldsmith endeavored to assume a prosperous air in the eyes of his early associate. " He was practising physic," he said, "and doifig very well!^^ At this moment poverty was pinching him to the bone in spite of his practice 5 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 book- sellers, who gave him occasional, though starveling, employ- lo ment. According to tradition, however, his most efficient patron just now was a journeyman printer, one of his poor patients of Bankside, who had formed a good opinion of his talents, and perceived his poverty and his literary shifts. The printer was in the employ of Mr. Samuel Richardson, 15 the author of "Pamela," "Clarissa," and "Sir Charles Grandison"; who combined the novelist and the publisher, and was in flourishing circumstances. Through the jour- ' neyman's intervention Goldsmith is said to have become acquainted with Richardson, who employed him as reader 20 and corrector of the press, at his printing establishment 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 25 important was Dr. Young, the author of " Night Thoughts," a poem in the height of fashion. It is not probable, how- ever, that much familiarity 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 30 communion with literary men had its effect to set his imagi- nation 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 literary character. THE WRITTEN MOUNTAINS 65 " 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 full of papers, which instantly rerti'nded me of the poet in Garrick's farce of ' Lethe.' After we had 5 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 inability, 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 10 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 submitted his production, so far as he had written, to Mr. Richardson, the author of ' Clarissa,' on which I peremptorily declined offering another criticism 15 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, we are told, were added the wig and cane indis- 20 pensable 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 per- 25 sisted 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 30 Goldsmith had in contemplation at the time, "of going to decipher the inscriptions on the writte?t moimtains, though he was altogether ignorant of Arabic, or the language in which they might be supposed to be written. '* The salary 66 OLIVER GOLDSMITH of three hundred pounds," adds Dr. Farr, " which had been left for the purpose, was the temptation." This was prob- ably one of many dreamy projects with which his fervid brain was apt to teem. On such subjects he was prone to 5 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. TOPICS AND QUESTIONS 1. Tell vividly about Goldsmith's "contest of courtesy" with the patient who wanted to relieve him of his hat. In your narrative make use of a dialogue between the patient and the doctor. 2. Give an account of Goldsmith's arrival in London. ^1 I CHAPTER VII Life of a Pedagogue — Kindness to Schoolboys — Pertness in Return — Expen- sive Charities — The Griffiths and the " Monthly Review " — Toils of a Literary Hack — Rupture with the Griffiths. Among the most cordial of Goldsmith's intimates in Lon- don during this time of precarious struggle, were certain of his former fellow-students in Edinburgh. One of these was the son of a Dr\^ilner, a dissenting rninister, who kept a classical school of eminence at Peckham, in Surrey. Young 5 Milner had a favorable opinion of Goldsmith's abilities and attainments, and cherished for him that goodwill 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 10 of the school. The latter readily consented ; 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 15 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; 20 played on the .flute for their 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 25 great good-humor. Once, indeed, he was touched to the ^1 68 OLIVER GOLDSMITH quick by a piece of schoolboy pertness. After playing- on the flute, he spoke with enthusiasm of music, as delightful in itself, and as a valuable accomplishment for a gentleman, whereupon a youngster, with a glance at his ungainly per- 5 son, wished to know if he considered himself a gentleman. Poor Goldsmith, feelingly alive to the awkwardness of his appearance 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 10 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 munifi- cence, he was generally in advance of his slender salary. *' You had better, Mr. Goldsmith, let me take care of your 15 money," said Mrs. Milner one day, "as I do for some of the young gentlemen." " 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 20 bookseller, by the name of Grifliths, was proprietor. This work was an advocate for Whig principles, and had been in prosperous existence for nearly eight years. Of late, how- ever, periodicals had multiplied exceedingly, and a formi- dable Tory rival had started up in the " Critical Review," 25 published by Archibald Hamilton, a bookseller, and aided by the powerful and popular pen of Dr. Smollett. Grifliths 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 30 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 LITERARY HACK 69 his mode of life, and in April, 1757, became a contributor to the " Monthly Review," at a sinall fixed salary, with board and lodging ; and accordingly took up his abode^ with Mr. Griffiths, at the sign of the Dunciad, Paternoster Row. As usual we trace this phase of his fortunes in his semi- 5 fictitious- writings ; his sudden transmutation of the peda- gogue into the author being humorously set forth in the case of "George Primrose" in the "Vicar of Wakefield." " Come," says George's adviser, " I see you are a lad of spirit and some learning ; what do you think of commen- 10 cing author like me ? 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 opu- lence. All honest, jog-trot men, who go on smoothly and dully, and write history and politics, and are praised: men, 15 sir, who, had they been bred cobblers, would all their lives only h:.ve mended shoes, but never made them." " Find- ing " (says George) " that there was no great degree of gentility affixed to the character of an usher, I resolved to accept his proposal ; and, having the highest respect for 20 literature, hailed the antiqua mater of Grub Street with rev- erence. I thought it my glory to pursue a track which Dryden and Otway trod before me." Alas, Dryden strug- gled with indigence all his days ; and Otway, it is said, fell a victim to famine in his thirty-fifth yeair, being strangled by 25 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 30 or rather muddled with literature, too, in a business-way, altering and modifying occasionally the writings of his con- tributors, and in this he was aided by his wife, who, accord- ing to Smollett, was " an antiquated female critic and a 70 OLIVER GOLDSMITH dabbler in the * Review.' " Such was the literary vassalage to which Goldsmith had unwarily subjected himself. A diurnal drudgery was imposed on him, irksome to his indolent habits, and attended by circumstances humiliating to his pride. He 5 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 critical supervision lo of Griffiths and his wife, which grieved him ; the " illiterate, bookselling Griffiths," as Smollett ca:lled them, " who pre- sumed to revise, alter, and amend the articles contributed to their ' Review.' Thank Heaven," crowed Smollett, " the ' Critical Review ' is not written under the restraint of a 15 bookseller and his wife. Its principal writers are inde- pendent of each other, unconnected with booksellers, and unawed by old women ! " This literary vassalage, however, did not last long. The bookseller became more and more exacting. He accused 20 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 mean- ness and parsimony in her household treatment of him, and 25 both of literary meddling and marring. The engagement was broken off at the end of five months, by mutual consent, and without any violent rupture, as it will be found they afterwards had occasional dealings with each other. Though Goldsmith was now nearly thirty 3/ears of age, 30 he had produced nothing to give him a decided reputa- tion. He was as yet a mere writer for bread. The articles he had contributed to the " Review " were anonymous, and were never avowed by him. They have since been, for the most part, ascertained ; and though thrown off hastily, often I HIS EARLY WRITINGS /r treating on subjects of temporary interest, and marred by^ the Griffith interpolations, they are still characterized by his sound, easy good sense, and the genial graces of his style. Johnson observed that Goldsmith's genius flowered late ; he should have said it flowered early, but was late in bringing its fruit to maturity. TOPICS AND QUESTIONS 1. In what respects was Goldsmith a gentleman ? [Consider in this connection whether Eppie, in the novel " Silas Marner," was a lady, even though she denied all pretensions to the title.] 2. What was the nature of some of Goldsmith's early articles while he was yet " a mere writer for bread " ? What is meant by the term "writer for bread"? Do authors ever write for anything else than bread or money ? 3. In what city was the greater part of Goldsmith's life spent after his return from the two years of wandering on the Continent? What other English authors, of any period, resided in this same city ? CHAPTER VIII l*>Jewbery, of Picture-Book Memory — How to keep up Appearances — Miseries of Authorship — A poor Relation — Letter to Hodson. Being now known in the publishing world, Goldsmith began to find casual employment in various quarters ; among others he wrote occasionally for the " Literary Magazine," a produc- tion 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 chil- dren. Newbery was a worthy, intelligent, kind-hearted man, and a seasonable, though cautious friend to authors,relieving them with small loans when in pecuniary difficulties, though 10 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 15 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 mate- rials for the history of one Mr. Thomas Trip. I immediately 20 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 scanti- ness of his purse still obliged him to live in obscure lodgings somewhere in the vicinity of Salisbury Square, Fleet Street ; 25 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 72 KEEPING UP APPEARANCES 73 who have to tread the narrow path between pride and pov- erty : 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 5 of his leisure hours, conversing 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 London without being contemptible. Ten pounds will find him in clothes and linen ; he can live in a 10 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 with- out supper; and on deaii-shirt-day he may go abroad and 15 pay visits." 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 20 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 .f* we have it in his observations on the life 25 of an author in the " Inquiry into the State of Polite Learn- ing," published some years afterwards. " The author, unpatronized by the great, has naturally recourse to the bookseller. There cannot, perhaps, be imag- ined a combination more prejudicial to taste than this. It 30 is the interest of the one to allow as little for writing, and for the other to write as much as possible; accordingly, tedious compilations and periodical magazines are the result of their joint endeavors. In these circumstances the author 74 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 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 "5 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 admiration, and dictates to the rest of mankind with all the 10 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 mirth of the company. At his approach the most fat, unthinking face brightens into mali- 15 cious 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. 20 We keep him poor, and yet revile his poverty. 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 pov- 25 erty a careless fault ? No doubt he knows how to prefer a bottle of champagne to the nectar of the neighboring 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 oppor- tunity of making an elegant choice. Wit certainly is the 30 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 ingratitude of the age, even to a bookseller for redress." .... MISERIES OF AUTHORSHIP 75 " 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 pubUc he is in all respects ; for while so well able to direct others, how incapable is he frequently found of guiding 5 himself. His simplicity exposes him to all the insidious approaches of cunning : his sensibility, to the slightest inva- sions of contempt. Though possessed of fortitude to stand unmoved the expected bursts of an earthquake, yet of feel- ings so exquisitely poignant, as to agonize under the slightest 10 disappointment. Broken rest, tasteless meals, and causeless anxieties shorten life and render it unfit for active employ- ments ; prolonged vigils and intense applications still far- ther contract his span, and make his time glide insensibly away." 15 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 acquaint- ances he was making. This was enough to put the wise 20 heads at Lissoy and Ballymahon in a ferment of conjec- tures. With the exaggerated notions of provincial relatives concerning the family gj-eat 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 25 and glove with the givers of gifts and dispensers of patron- age. 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 who expected to be 30 forthwith helped into some snug by-path to fortune by one or other of Oliver's great friends. Charles was sadly dis- concerted on learning that, so far from being able to provide for others, his brother could scarcely take care of himself. 76 OLIVER GOLDSMITH He looked round with a rueful eye on the poet's quar- ters, and could not help expressing his surprise and disap- pointment at finding him no better off. " All in good time, my dear boy," replied poor Goldsmith, with infinite good- 5 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 10 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 15 reappearance 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 20 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 25 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; 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 30 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 unde ceive my friends. But, whether I eat or starve, live in a LETTEJfc TO HODSON 77 first floor or tour 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, 5 when in it, received above common civihty ; who never brought anything out of it except his brogue and his blun- ders. Surely my affection is equally ridiculous with the Scotchman's, who refused to be cured of the itch because it made him unco' thoughtful of his wife and bonny Inverary. 10 "But, now, to be serious: let me ask myself what gives me a wish to see Ireland again. The country is a fine one, perhaps ? 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 15 humble cousin, who had just folly enough to earn his din- ner. 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 20 of Usher. All their productions in learning amount to per- haps 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? Then, all at once, because you, my dear friend, and a few more who are exceptions to the 25 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 30 for Lissoy fireside, and Johnny Armstrong's 'Last Good- night' from Peggy Golden. If I climb Hampstead Hill, than where nature never exhibited a more magnificent pros- pect, I confess it fine ; but then I had rather be placed on 78 OLIVER GOLDSMITH the little mount before Lissoy gate, and there take in, me, the most pleasing horizon in nature. " Before Charles came hither, my thoughts sometimes found refuge from severer studies among my friends in 5 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 tells me, are still lean, but very rich ; others very fat, but still very poor. Nay, all the news I hear of you is, 10 that you sally out in visits among the neighbors, and some- times make a migration from the blue bed to the brown. I could from my heart wish that you and she (Mrs. Hod- son), and Lissoy and Ballymahon, and all of you, would fairly make a migration into Middlesex; though, upon second 15 thoughts, this might be attended 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 conveniently pay me a visit, if next summer I can contrive to be absent six weeks from 20 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 contributions ; neither to excite envy nor solicit favor ; in fact, my circumstances are adapted to neither. I am too poor to be gazed at, and 25 too rich to need assistance." TOPICS AND QUESTIONS 1. Goldsmith's struggle for recognition among the publishers. 2. What adverb does Irving use most frequently in order to avoid specific statements about how much time is elapsing in the biography ? 3. Is the phrase " much of his leisure hours " good English } CHAPTER IX Hackney Authorship — Thoughts of Literary Suicide — Return to Peckham — Oriental Projects — Literary Enterprise to raise Funds — Letter to Edward Mills ; to Robert Bryanton — Death of Uncle Contarine — Letter to Cousin Jane. For some time Goldsmith continued to write miscella- neously 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 5 and at the urgent importunity of his bookseller. His indo- lent 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 un- conscious charm over everything he wrote ; bringing with it 10 honeyed thoughts and pictured images which had sprung up in his mind in the sunny hours of idleness : these effu- sions, dashed off on compulsion in the exigency of the moment, were published anonymously; so that they made no collective impression on the public, and reflected no 15 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 20 induced," says he, "to show my indignation against the / public by discontinuing my efforts to please ; and was bravely resolved, Hke Raleigh, to vex them by burning my manuscripts in a passion. Upon reflection, however, I con- sidered what set or body of people would be displeased at 25 79 8o OLIVER GOLDSMITH 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 5 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." lo Circumstances occurred about this time to give a new direc- tion to Goldsmith's hopes and schemes. Having resumed for a brief period the superintendence of the Peckham school, duririg a fit of illness of Dr. Milner, that gentleman, in requital for his timely services, promised to use his influ- 15 ence 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 20 to the Indies.'* In this emergency he was driven to a more extended exercise of the pen than he had yet attempted. His skirmishing among books as a reviewer, and his dispu- tatious ramble among the schools and universities and literati of the Continent, had filled his mind with facts and 25 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 30 anxious to forestall the piracy of the Irish press; for as yet, the union not having taken place, the English law of copy- right 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 contemplated work, and LETTER TO MILLS 8 I obtain subscriptions payable in advance ; the money to be transmitted to a Mr. Bradley, an eminent bookseller 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 5 of character and interest. One was to his relative and col- lege 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 10 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 gracing the bench, or thundering at the bar : while I 15 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 20 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 resolutions may be altered with regard to your situation in life, I persuade my- self they are unalterable with respect to your friends in it. 25 I cannot think the world has taken such entire possession of that heart (once so susceptible of friendship) 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 ; 30 or setting that aside, I can demand it as a right by the most equitable law of nature : I mean that of retaliation ; for indeed you have more than your share in mine. I am a man of few professions; and yet at this very instant I cannot 82 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 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 5 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 dif- fidence or confusion. It is in short this : I am going to publish a book in London," &c. The residue of the letter lo 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 prosperous Mr. Mills, of Ros- common, though in after-years he was proud to claim relation- 15 ship 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 everybody else in the same condition. 20 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 part- 25 ner 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 fre- quently feel for my own. Indeed, my dear Bob, you don't conceive how unkindly you have treated one whose circum- 30 stances afford him few prospects of pleasure, except those reflected from the happiness of his friends. However, since you have not let me hear from you, I have in some meas- ure disappointed your neglect by frequently thinking of you. Every day or so I remember the calm anecdotes of your life, LETTER TO BRYANTON 83 from the fireside to the easy-chair ; recall the various adven- tures that first cemented our friendship ; the school, the col- lege, 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 5 once your partner. Is it not strange that two of such like affections should be so much separated, and so differently employed as we are ? You seem placed at the centre of for- tune's wheel, and, let it revolve ever so fast, are insensible of the motion. I seem to have been tied to the circumference, 10 and whirled disagreeably around, 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 15 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 ! " 20 He would, on this occasion, have doubtless written to his uncle Contarine, but that generous friend was sunk into a helpless hopeless state from which death soon released him. Cut off thus from the kind cooperation of his uncle, he addresses a letter to his daughter Jane, the companion of 25 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 30 so many years, you never heard from me, permit me, madam, to ask the same question. I have the best excuse in recrim- ination. I wrote to Kilmore from Leyden in Holland, from Louvain in Flanders, and Rouen in France, but received 84 OLIVER GOLDSMITH no answer. To what could I attribute this silence but to displeasure or forgetfulness ? Whether I was right in my conjecture I do not pretend to determine ; but this I must ingenuously own, that I have a thousand times in my turn 5 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 it, spent whole days in efforts to tear their image from my heart. Could I have succeeded, you had not now been troubled with this renewal of a dis- 10 continued 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 subject I would will- ingly turn from, and yet, 'for the soul of me,' I can't till I 15 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, 20 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 sus- picion. The most delicate friendships are always most sen- 25 sible 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 30 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 char- acter. Those who know me at all, know that I have always LETTER TO COUSIN JANE 85 been actuated by different principles from the rest of man- kind : 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, 5 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 grinning 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 cir- 10 cle 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 thousand other very silly, though very disinterested, things in my time ; and for all which no soul cares a farthing about me Is 15 it to be wondered that he should once in his life forget 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 20 in the state of my finances. I declaim against hot suppers, drink less sugar in my tea, and check my grate with brick- bats. Instead 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 25 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 specimen. Zook sharp : Mind the main cha?ice : 30 Money is money now : If you have a thousand pounds you can put your hands by your sides, and say you are worth a thou- sand pounds every day of the year : Take a farthing f'OfJi a hundred and it will be a hundred no longer. Thus, which way S6 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 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 5 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 lo loose to the luxuriance of his nature ; sitting by Kilmore fire- side, recount the various adventures of a hard-fought life ; laugh over the follies of the day ; join his flute to your harp- sichord ; and forget that ever he starved in those streets where Butler and Otway starved before him. And now I 15 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 .? His mind was too active an inhabitant not to disorder the feeble mansion of its abode ; for the richest jewels soonest 20 wear their settings. 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 tran- quillity here, which he so well deserves hereafter. But I must come to business ; for business, as one of my maxims 25 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." The booksellers in Ireland republish every performance there without making the author any con- sideration. I would, in this respect, disappoint their avarice, 30 and have all the profits of my labor to myself. I must, there- fore, 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, directions to send to him. If, in pursuance of such circulation, he should LETTER TO COUSIN JANE 8/ 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 sub- scription. If this request (which, if it be complied with, will in some measure be an encouragement to a man of learning) 5 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 10 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 15 subscribe myself, your ever affectionate and obliged kinsman, Oliver Goldsmith. Now see how I blot and blunder, when I am asking a favor." TOPICS AND QUESTIONS 1. What did Goldsmith say in his letters of this time? Does it seem strange that the letters should have been preserved ? Were they probably written with an eye to future publication ? 2. Why did Goldsmith wish a medical appointment in India ? Was he well qualified to undertake such work ? 3. Of what value are the maxims written by Goldsmith to his cousin Jane ? 4. What work did many booksellers of Goldsmith's time perform beside selling books.? CHAPTER X Oriental Appointment; and Disappointment — Examination at the College of Surgeons — How to procure a Suit of Clothes — Fresh Disappointment — 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. Milner was carried into effect, and he was actually appointed physician and surgeon to one of the factories on the coast of Coromandel. His imagina- 5 tion was immediately on fire with visions of Oriental wealth and magnificence. 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 lo 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 15 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 mean time he had to task that poor drudge, his 20 Muse, for present exigencies. Ten pounds were demanded for his appointment-warrant. Other expenses pressed hard upon him. Fortunately, though as yet unknown to fame, his literary capability was known to " the trade," and the coin- age of his brain passed current in Grub Street Archibald ORIENTAL APPOINTMENT 89 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 5 moved into a shabby first floor in a forlorn court near the Old Bailey ; there to await the time of his migration to the magnificent coast of Coromandel. Alas ! poor Goldsmith ! ever doomed to disappointment. Early in the gloomy month of November, that month of fog 10 and despondency in London, 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 candidate. The cause of this disappointment it is now impossible to ascertain. The death of his quasi patron, 15 Dr. Milner, which happened about this time, may have had some effect in producing 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 20 gives some ground to surmise that he himself was to blame. His friends learnt with surprise that he had suddenly relin- quished his appointment to India, about which he had raised such sanguine expectations : some accused him of fickle- ness and caprice ; others supposed him unwilling to tear him- 25 self from the growing fascinations of the literary society of London. In the mean time, cut down in his hopes, and humiUated in his pride by the failure of his Coromandel scheme, he sought, without consulting his friends, to be examined at 30' the College of Physicians for the humble situation of hos- pital 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 90 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 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 furnished to the "Monthly Review," Griffiths, his old task-master, was to become his 5 security to the tailor for a suit of clothes. Goldsmith said he wanted them but for a single occasion, upon 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 lo were accordingly lent to him ; the Muse was again set to her compulsory 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 15 that Goldsmith underwent his examination at Surgeons' Hall, on the 2 1 St of December, 1758. Either from a confusion of mind incident to sensitive and imaginative persons on such occasions, or from a real want of surgical science, which last is extremely probable, he failed in his examina- 20 tion, 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 reexamination, after the interval of a few months devoted to further study. Such a reexamination he never attempted, nor did he ever 25 communicate his discomfiture to any of his friends. On Christmas-Day, but four days after his rejection by the College of Surgeons, while he was suffering under the mortification of defeat and disappointment, and hard pressed for means of subsistence, he was surprised by the entrance 30 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 PUNISHMENT FOR AN ACT OF CHARITY 91 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 5 his unlucky examination at Surgeons' Hall. Without 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 10 borrowed from a neighbor a pittance to relieve his imme- diate wants, leaving as a security the books which he had recently reviewed. In the midst of these straits and harass- ments, he received a letter from Griffiths, demanding, in peremptory terms, the return of the clothes and books, or 15 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 20 reply only increased the ire of the wealthy man of trade, and drew frorh 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. The following letter from poor Goldsmith gives the most 25 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 jaii to which my own imprudences and your letter seem to point. I have seen 30 it inevitable these three or four weeks, and, by heavens ! request it as a favor — as a favor that may prevent some- thing more fatal. I have been some years struggling with 92 OLIVER GOLDSMITH a wretched being — with all that contempt that indigence brings with it — with all those passions which make con- tempt insupportable. What, then, has a jail that is for- midable ? I shall at least have the society of wretches, and 5 such is to me true society. I tell you, again and again, that I am 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 lo give some security another. No, sir ; had I been a sharper — had I been possessed of less good-nature and native gener- osity, I might surely now have been in better circumstances. " I am guilty, I own, of meannesses which poverty unavoid- ably brings with it : my reflections are filled with repentance 15 for my imprudence, but not with any remorse for being a villain : 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 ray necessities obliged me to borrow some money : whatever 20 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 detestation may inwardly 25 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 pub- 30 lished, and then, perhaps, you may see the bright side of a 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 GREEN ARBOR COURT 93 friendships only witli the dead ! I ask pardon for taking up so much time ; nor shall I add to it by any other pro- fessions than that I am, sir, your humble servant, " Oliver Goldsmith. s " P. S. — I shall expect impatiently the result of your 5 resolutions." The dispute between the poet and the publisher was afterward 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 10 parties were never really friends afterward, and the writ- ings of Goldsmith were harshly and unjustly treated in the *' Monthly Review." We have given the preceding anecdote in detail, as furnishing one of the many instances in which Goldsmith's 15 prompt and benevolent impulses outran all prudent fore- cast, 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 book- seller, and apparently admitted by him as one ot " the 20 meannesses which poverty unavoidably brings with it," resulted, as we have shown, from a tenderness of heart and generosity of hand, in which another man would have glo- ried ; but these were such natural elements with him, that he was unconscious of their merit. It is a pity that wealth 25 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 thought- less act of benevolence. They were in a very shabby house, , No. 1 2 Green Arbor Court, between the Old Bailey and Fleet 30 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 94 ■ OLIVER GOLDSMITH child about seven years of age at the time that the poet rented his apartment of 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 5 Goldsmith, who was always exceedingly fond of the society of children. He used to assemble those of the family in his room, give them cakes and sweetmeats, and set them dan- cing to the sound of his flute. He was very friendly to those around him, and cultivated a kind of intimacy with a watch- lo maker 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. 15 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. 20 Late in the evening the door was unlocked; a supper ordered by the visitor from a neighboring tavern, and Gold- smith 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 25 other mode of getting 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 Rev. Thomas Percy, after- ward Bishop of Dromore, and celebrated for his relics of 30 ancient poetry, his beautiful ballads, and other works. Dur- ing 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 GREEN ARBOR COURT 95 Goldsmith at his lodgings 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 5 tapped gently at the door, and, being desired to come in, a "^ poor, ragged little girl, of a very becoming demeanor, entered the room, and dropping a courtesy, said, ' My mamma sends her compliments, and begs the favor of you to lend her a chamber-pot full of coals.' " 10 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 Scotch woman. " By this time we were arrived as high as the stairs would 15 permit us to ascend, till we came to what he was facetiously pleased to call the first floor down the chimney ; and, knock- ing at the door, a voice from within demanded * Who 's there ? ' My conductor answered that it was him. But this not satisfying the querist, the voice again repeated the 20 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 25 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 con- fusion ; ' what does the idiot mean ? ' 'I ken what I mean, 30 weel enough,' replied the other ; ' she 's washing your twa shirts at the next door, because ' — ^ Fire and fury ! no more of thy stupid explanations,' cried he ; 'go and inform her we have company. Were that Scotch hag to be forever in my 96 OLIVER GOLDSMITH family, she would never learn politeness, nor forget that absurd poisonous accent of hers, or testify the smallest speci- men of breeding or high life; and yet it is very surprising too, as I had her from a Parliament man, a friend of mine 5 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 con- secrated by the genius and the poverty of Goldsmith, but recently obliterated in the course of modern improvements. lo The writer of this memoir visited it not many years since on a literary pilgrimage, and may be excused for repeating a description of it which he has heretofore inserted in another publication. " It then existed in its pristine state, and was a small square of tall and miserable houses, the very intes- 15 tines of which seemed turned 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 dan- gling to dry. 20 " Just as we entered the square, a scuffle took place between two viragoes about a disputed right to a wash-tub, and imme- diately 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 25 amazon took part with one or other of th^ 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 pro- creant chamber of this hive, waking with the noise, set up 30 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, 1 Citizen of the World, letter iv. 2 Tales of a Traveller. LETTER TO HIS BROTHER HENRY 97 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, — 5 "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 recom- pense I can make for being so frequently troublesome. The behavior of Mr. Mills and Mr. Lawder is a little extraordi- 10 nary. However, their answering neither you nor me is a sufficient indication 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 15 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 subscribed. 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 20 occasion for it. " 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- 25 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 disap- pointment, anguish, and study have worn me down. If I remember right, you are seven or eight years older than me, 30 yet I dare venture to say^ that, if a stranger saw us both, he 1 The " Inquiry into Polite Literature." His previous remarks apply to the subscription. 98 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 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. 5 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 10 of cool, designing beings, and have contracted all their sus- picious 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, or contribute to 15 raise its jollity. I can neither laugh nor drink; have con- tracted a hesitating, disagreeable manner of speaking, and a visage that looks ill-nature itself ; in short, I have thought myself into a settled melancholy, and an utter disgust of all that life brings with it. Whence this romantic turn that all 20 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 dissipate ? I perceive, my dear sir, that I am at intervals for indulging this splenetic manner, 25 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, how- ever, be glad to know for what particular profession he is designed. If he be assiduous and divested of strong passions 30 (for passions in 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 WORLDLY WISDOM 99 not send him there, unless you have no other trade for him but your own. It is impossible 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, s 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 lo 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 15 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 20 ridiculous— may distress, but cannot relieve him. Fru- gality, 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 25 be placed before his eyes. I had learned from books to be disinterested and generous, before I was taught from expe- rience the necessity of being prudent. I had contracted the habits and notions of a philosopher, while I was exposing myself to the approaches of insidious cunning ; and often 30 by being, even with my narrow finances, charitable to excess, I forgot the rules of justice, and pkced 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, lOO OLIVER GOLDSMITH and perhaps he may improve from my 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 5 circumstances I could not, for to behold her in distress with- out 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 lo 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 15 not to drink. My dear sir, give me some account about poor Jenny.^ Yet her husband loves her : if so, she cannot be unhappy. "I know not whether I should tell you — yet why should I conceal these trifles, or, indeed, anything from you ? 20 There is a book of mine will be published in a few days : the life of a very extraordinary man ; no less than the grisat 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. 25 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 30 have given me your opinion of the design of the heroi-comi- cal poem which I sent you. You remember I intended to in- troduce the hero of the poem as lying in a paltry ale-house. 1 His sister, Mrs. Johnston ; her marriage, Hke that of Mrs. Hodson, was private, but in pecuniary matters much less fortunate. LETTER TO HIS BROTHER HENRY lOl 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 show'd the state in which he lay ; ^ The sanded floor that grits beneath the tread, 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, lo 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 tea-cups dress'd the chimney-board.' 15 "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 : 20 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 25 the fool. Take my present follies as instances of my regard. Poetry is a much easier and more agreeable species of com- position 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 30 you, what you very well know already, I mean that I am your most affectionate friend and brother, "Oliver Goldsmith." 1 The projected poem, of which the above were specimens, appears never to have been completed. I02 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 5 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 mis- erable career was summed up by our poet in the following lines written some years after the time we are treating of, 10 on hearing that he had suddenly dropped dead in Smith- field:— " Here lies poor Ned Purdon, from misery freed, Who long was a bookseller's hack ; He led such a damnable life in this world, 15 I don't think he '11 wish to come back." The memoir and translation, though advertised to form a volume, were not published together, but appeared sepa- rately in a magazine. As to the heroi-comical poem, also, cited in the forego- 20 ing 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 subsequent morsel of the poem we have the poet himself, 25 under the euphonious 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 : 30 There, in a lonely room, from bailiffs snug, The muse 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 ! " MOCK-HEROIC POEM 103 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. TOPICS AND QUESTIONS 1. Comment on the aptness of Goldsmith's direction to his brother Henry about how to write a letter. What are the essentials of good letter writing to a friend? What are the fundamentals of good busi- ness letters ? 2. Compare the amount of time Goldsmith spent on his " Life of Vol- taire " with the time Irving spent in preparing his " Life of Goldsmith." 3. Goldsmith says that poetry is an easier species of composition than prose. Do you find this to be true ? Put in verse form a picture of Goldsmith at this period. 4. Irving suggests that Goldsmith was doomed to disappointment. Why should this be true? What do you conjecture will be some of his further disappointments in life ? 5. Why was Goldsmith rejected by the College of Surgeons? 6. Incidents in Goldsmith's life at his forlorn quarters in Green Arbor Court. Describe Green Arbor Court as seen by Irving. 7. What is meant by the mock-heroic? Write a mock-heroic account of the rejection of Goldsmith by the surgeons. [Introduce conversation.] CHAPTER XI Publication of "The Inquiry" — Attack by Griffiths' Review — Kenrick the Literary Ishmaelite — Periodical Literature — Goldsmith's Essays — Gar- rick 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 had calculated to defray the expenses of his outfit to India, and to which he had adverted in his correspondence 5 with Griffiths, 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 10 when the current productions of every country are con- stantly 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 15 peculiar charm of style inseparable from the author, it com- manded 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 20 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 25 in the "Monthly Review" to which he himself had been 104 ATTACK BY GRIFFITHS' REVIEW 105 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 meanest actions, forfeited all pretensions to honor and hon- esty," and of practising " those acts which bring the sharper 5 to the cart's tail or the pillory." It will be remembered that the Review was owned by Grifhths the bookseller, with whom Goldsmith had recently had a misunderstanding. The criticism, therefore, was no , doubt dictated by the lingerings of resentment; and the 10 imputations upon Goldsmith's character for honor and hon- esty, and the vile and mean actions hiaied 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, 15 and after the latter had made him a literary compensation. Griffiths, in fact, was sensible of the falsehood and extrava- gance of the attack, and tried to exonerate himself by declar- ing that the criticism was written by a person in his employ; but we see no difference in atrocity between him who wields 20 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 25 authors of the day. His name was Kenrick. He was origi- nally a mechanic, but, possessing 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, 30 philosophical tracts, critical dissertations, and works on phi- lology; nothing from his pen ever rose to first-rate excel- lence, or gained him a popular name, though he received from some university the degree of Doctor of Laws. Dr. Johnson I06 OLIVER GOLDSMITH characterized his literary career in one short sentence. " Sir, he is one of the many who have made themselves public without making themselves known.^^ Soured by his own want of success, jealous of the suc- 5 cess of others, his natural irritability of temper increased by habits of intemperance, he at length abandoned himself to the practice 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, lo 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, 15 "With all his rage, but not one spark of fire; Eager for slaughter, and resolved to tear From other's brows that wreath he must not wear — Next Kenrick came : all furious and replete With brandy, malice, pertness, and conceit ; 20 Unskill'd 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, 25 And mumbles, paws, and turns it — till it stinks." The British press about this time was extravagantly fruit- ful of periodical publications. That "oldest inhabitant," the " Gentleman's Magazine," almost coeval with St. John's gate which graced its title-page, had long been elbowed by 30 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." Imita- tions had sprung up on every side, under every variety of name; until British literature was entirely overrun by a 35 weedy and transient efflorescence. Many of these rival GARRICK AS A MANAGER 107 periodicals choked each other almost at the outset, 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, 5 his pure, benevolent morality, and his mellow, unobtrusive humor, did not produce equal effect at first with more gar- ish 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 on every perusal. They gradually 10 stole upon the heart of the public, were copied into numer- ous 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 auto- 15 crat of the Drama, and was doomed to experience its effect. A clamor had been raised against Garrick for exercising a despotism 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 20 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." Gold- smith, who was extremely fond of the theatre, and felt the 25 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', ip suffer from repeated corrections, 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 IC8 OLIVER GOLDSMITH the manager as well as the Muse ; who have adulation to please his vanity, powerful patrons to support their merit, or money to indemnify disappointment. Our Saxon ances- tors had but one name for a wit and a witch. I will not 5 dispute the propriety of uniting those characters 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 10 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 candle-snuffers 15 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 up in his part. I am sorry to say it, they seem to forget their 20 real characters." These strictures were considered by Garrick as intended for himself, and they were rankling in his mind when Gold- smith waited upon him and solicited his vote for the vacant secretaryship of the Society of Arts, of which the manager 25 was a member. 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 observed that he could hardly expect 30 his friendly exertions after the unprovoked attack he had made upon his management. Goldsmith 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 THE "CHINESE LETTERS" 109 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 intimate in after-years, this false step at the outset of their intercourse was never forgotten. 5 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 reputa- tion in view. Goldsmith has a good-humored hit at this 10 propensity in one of his papers in the "Bee," in which he represents Johnson, Hume, and others taking seats in the stage-coach bound for Fame, while Smollett prefers that destined for Riches. Another prominent employer of Goldsmith was Mr. John 15 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 20 " Citizen of the World." These lucubrations attracted gen- eral attention; they were reprinted 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 25 frequent 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- Ofiice Court, Fleet Street. Still he continued to look back with considerate benevo-,30 lence to the poor hostess, whose necessities he had relieved by pawning 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." no OLIVER GOLDSMITH 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 5 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 his first introduction to the club, lo by Samuel Derrick, an Irish acquaintance of some humor. On entering. Goldsmith was struck with the self-important appearance of the chairman ensconced in a large gilt chair. " This," said he, " must be the Lord Chancellor at least." " No, no," replied Derrick, " he 's only master of the rolls.''^ 1 5 — The chairman was a baker. TOPICS AND QUESTIONS 1. What are some of the elements that make Goldsmith's " peculiar charm of style " ? Does Irving show any charm of style in this biography ? 2. What made it possible for Goldsmith to move to Fleet Street ? 3. Is the pun at the end of the chapter a good one? [Compare third question, Chapter XLIV.] 4. By what means was Goldsmith introduced to the Robin Hood debating club ? 5. What should be the aim of a debating club ? What can be accomplished by such an organization ? Draw up constitution and by. laws for what you would consider an ideal debating club. CHAPTER XII New Lodgings — Visits of Ceremony — Hangers-on — Pilkington and the White Mouse — Introduction to Dr. Johnson— Davies and his Bookshop — Pretty Mrs. Davies — Foote and his Projects — Criticism of the 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 sev- eral names of note, such as Guthrie, Murphy, Christopher Smart, and Bickerstaif. He had also a numerous class of 5 hangers-on, the small fry of literature; 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 acquaint- 10 ance, 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 15 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 impatience to see them. Unfor- tunately, he had no cage to put them in, nor clothes to appear in before a lady of her rank. Two guineas would 20 be sufficient for his purpose, but where were two guineas to be procured ! The simple heart of Goldsmith was touched ; but, alas 1 he had but half a guinea in his pocket. It was unfortu- nate, but, after a pause, his friend suggested, with some 25 hesitation, " that mo'ney might be raised upon his watch : it III 112 OLIVER GOLDSMITH would but be the loan of a few hours." So said, so done ; the watch was delivered to the worthy Mr. Pilkington to be pledged at a neighboring pawnbroker's, but nothing farther was ever seen of him, the watch, or the white mice. The 5 next that Goldsmith heard of the poor shifting scapegrace, he was on his death-bed, starving 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 credulity, and lo was ultimately in some degree indemnified by its suggest- ing to him the amusing little story of Prince Bonbennin 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 sympa- 15 thies, 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 expedient ; cast down at every turn, but rising 20 again with indomitable good-humor, and still carried forward by his talent at hoping. Johnson, melancholy, and hypo- chondriacal, 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- 25 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 convivial habits ; Johnson, from his acerbity and gloom. When, in after-life, the latter heard himself spoken of as gay and frolicsome at 30 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 7niser- ahly poor, and I thought to fight my way by ?ny literature and my wit. So I disregarded all power and all authority." DR. JOHNSON 113 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 pov- erty. Goldsmith had an unfortunate facility at borrowing, and helping himself along by the contributions of his friends ; 5 no doubt trusting in his hopeful way, of one day making retribution. Johnson never hoped, and therefore never bor- rowed. In his sternest trials he proudly bore the ills he could not master. In his youth, when some unknown friend, seeing his shoes completely worn out, left a new pair at his 10 chamber-door, he disdained to accept the boon, and threw them away. Though like Goldsmith an immethodical student, he had imbibed deeper draughts of knowledge, and made himself a riper scholar. While Goldsmith's happy constitution and ic genial humors carried him abroad into sunshine and enjoy- ment, Johnson's physical infirmities and mental gloom drove him upon himself ; to the resources of reading and medita- tion ; threw a deeper though darker enthusiasm into his mind, and stored a retentive memory with all kinds of knowledge. 20 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 tragedy in his pocket ; and David Garrick, late his pupil, and several years his junior, as a companion, both 25 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 twopence halfpenny in my pocket." — " Eh, what 's that you 3c 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 ; 114 OLIVER GOLDSMITH for so poor were they in purse and credit, that after their arrival they had, with difficulty, raised five pounds, by giving their joint note to a bookseller in the Strand. Many, many years had Johnson gone on obscurely in 5 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 lo 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. 15 Yet through all the long and dreary struggle, often diseased in mind as well as in body, he had been resolutely self- dependent, and proudly self-respectful ; he had fulfilled his college vow, he had "fought his way by his literature and wit." His " Rambler " and " Idler " had made him the 20 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 25 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, 30 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 DR. JOHNSON 115 mention made of himself* in the " Bee " and the " Chinese Letters." Dr. Percy called upon Johnson to take him to Gold- smith's lodgings ; 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. 5 "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 10 in the course of frequent meetings at the shop of Davies, the bookseller, 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 specification. Mr. Thomas Davies, noted 15 in after-times as the biographer of Garrick, had originally been on the stage, and though a small man, had enacted tyrannical tragedy wdth a pomp and magniloquence beyond his size, if we may trust the description given of him by Churchill in the " Rosciad " : — 20 ** Statesman all over — in plots famous grown, I/e mouths a sentence as curs mouth a bone." 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 some- 25 what 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, 3° That fellow has a very pretty wife." - " Pretty Mrs. Davies " continued to be the loadstar of his fortunes. Her tea-table became almost as much a literary Ii6 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 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. Indeed it is suggested that she was one leading cause of his 5 habitual resort to this literary haunt. Others were drawn thither for the sake of Johnson's conversation, and thus it became 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 lo 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; 15 his broad face beaming with fun and waggery, and his satir- ical eye ever on the lookout for characters and incidents for his farces. He was struck with the odd habits and appear- ance of Johnson and Goldsmith, now so often brought together in Davies's shop. He was about to put on the stage a farce 20 called "The Orators," intended as a hit at the Robin Hood debating-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 Johnson to Davies! "Sixpence," was the reply. "Why 25 then, sir, give me leave to send your servant to purchase a shilling one. I '11 have a double quantity, for I am told Foote means to take me off as he calls it, and I am deter- mined the fellow shall not do it with impunity." Foote had no disposition to undergo the criticism of the 30 cudgel wielded by such potent hands, so the farce of " The Orators" appeared without the caricatures of the lexicog- rapher and the essayist. TOPICS AND QUESTIONS 117 I TOPICS AND QUESTIONS 1. Comparison of the struggles of Goldsmith and Johnson for literary recognition. 2. Who were some of Goldsmith's intimates in these years ? How many of them might reasonably be called famous ? Does the company Goldsmith kept indicate the kind of man he was ? 3. A study of the allusions to Goldsmith in Boswell's " Life of Johnson." [Consult index of the Boswell.] CHAPTER Xril . Oriental Projects — Literary Jobs — The Cherokee Chiefs — Merry Islington and the White Conduit House — Letters on the History of England — ■ James Boswell — Dinner of Davies — Anecdotes of Johnson and Goldsmith. Notwithstanding his growing success, Goldsmith continued to consider Uterature a mere makeshift, 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 inte- 5 rior 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," observes he, in one of his writings, " the natives extract a strong spirit lo from milk, which is a secret probably unknown to the chem- ists 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." 15 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- 20 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 mis- cellaneous knowledge, and his manners humanized by an 25 intercourse with men. He should be in some measure an enthusiast to the design ; fond of travelling, from a rapid 118 LITERARY JOBS II9 imagination and an innate 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 accession of George the Third, Goldsmith drew up a memo- 5 rial on the subject, suggesting the advantages to be derived from a mission to those countries solely for useful and sci- entific purposes; and, the better to insure success, he pre- ceded his application to the government by an ingenious essay to the same effect in the " Public Ledger." 10 His memorial and his essay were fruitless, his project most probably being deemed the dream of a visionary. Still it continued 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 15 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 20 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 25 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 30 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 120 OLIVER GOLDSMITH been observed by one of his biographers, "exhibit a nicer perception, or more delicate delineation of life and manners. Wit, humor, and sentiment pervade every page ; the vices and follies of the day are touched with the most playful 5 and diverting satire ; and English characteristics, in endless variety, are hit off with the pencil of a master." In seeking materials for his varied views of life, he often mingled in strange scenes and got involved in whimsical situ- ations. In the summer of 1762 he was one of the thousands 10 who went to see the Cherokee chiefs, whom he mentions in one of his writings. The Indians made their appearance in grand costume, hideously painted and besmeared. In the course of the visit Goldsmith made one of the chiefs a pres- ent, who, in the ecstasy of his gratitude, gave him an embrace It that left his face well bedaubed with oil and red ochre. Towards the close of 1762 he removed to "merry Isling- ton," 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 applica- 20 tion and confinement, and to be near his chief employer, Mr. Newbery, who resided in the Canonbury House. In this neighborhood he used to take his solitary rambles, some- times extending his walks to the gardens of the " White Conduit House," so famous among the essayists of the last 25 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 dis- position to oblige, he conducted them about the garden, treated them to tea, and ran up a bill in the most open- 30 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 wherewithal in his pocket. A scene of per- plexity now took place between him and the waiter, in the midst of which came up some of his acquaintances, in whose HIS "HISTORY OF ENGLAND" 121 eyes he wished to stand particularly well. This completed his mortification. There was no concealing the awkward- ness of his position. The sneers of the waiter revealed it. His acquaintances amused themselves for some time at his expense, professing their inability to relieve him. When, 5 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 oft by him for the booksellers during this growing period of his reputation, 10 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 he would read in the morning ; make a few notes; ramble with a friend into the country about the 15 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 general view of the subject, and wrote in a more free and fluent style than if 20 he had been mousing at the time among authorities. The work, like many others written by him in the earlier part of his literary career, was anonymous. Some attributed it to Lord Chesterfield, others to Lord Orrery, and others to Lord Lyttelton. The latter seemed pleased to be the puta- 25 tive father, and never disowned the bantling thus laid at his door ; and well might he have been proud to be con- sidered capable of producing 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 t»e 30 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 122 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 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 5 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; when- ever I write anything, they make a point to know nothing about it.'* lo About the beginning of 1763 he became acquainted with Boswell, whose literary gossipings were destined to have a deleterious effect upon his reputation, Boswell was at that time a young man, light, buoyant, pushing, and presump- tuous. He had a morbid passion for mingling in the society 15 of men noted for wit and learning, and had just arrived from Scotland, bent upon making his way into the literary circles of the metropolis. An intimacy with Dr. Johnson, the great literary luminary of the day, was the crowning object of his aspiring and somewhat ludicrous ambition. 20 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 as yet sufficiently renowned to excite the reverence of Boswell. " At this time," says he in his notes, " I think he had published 25 nothing with his name, though it was pretty generally under- stood 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." 30 A conversation took place at table between Goldsmith and Mr. Robert Dodsley, compiler of the well-known col- lection 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 JAMES BOSWELL 1 23 of the contrary. " It is true," said he, " we can boast of no palaces nowadays, like Dryden's ' Ode to St. CeciUa's Day,' but we have villages composed of very pretty houses." Goldsmith, however, maintained that there was nothing above mediocrity, an opinion in which Johnson, to whom it 5 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 10 for his disappointment, and to stay the stomach of his curi- osity, by giving him imitations of the great lexicographer; mouthing his words, rolling his head, and assuming as pon- derous a manner as his petty person would permit. Bos- well was shortly afterwards made happy by an introduction 15 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 Magnus Apollo. " He had sagacity enough," says he, " to cultivate assiduously the 20 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 25 ornaments 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." 30 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 124 OLIVER GOLDSMITH bounty; but who, Boswell thought, must be an irksome charge upon him. "He is poor and honest," said Gold- smith, " which is recommendation enough to Johnson." Boswell mentioned another person of a very bad character, 5 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. lo 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 writings, which some have attributed to a silly spirit of jealousy of the superior esteem evinced for the poet by 15 Dr. Johnson. We have a gleam of this in his account of the first evening he spent in company with those two emi- nent authors at their famous resort, the Mitre Tavern, in Fleet Street. This took place on the istof July, 1763. The trio supped together, and passed some time in literary con- 20 versation. 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 acquaint- 25 ance, whose intrusive sycophancy had not yet made its way into his confidential intimacy, he gave no invitation. Bos- well 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 30 an air of superiority, like that of an esoteric over an exo- teric disciple of a sage of antiquity, * I go to Miss Williams.' I confess I then envied him this mighty privilege, of which he seemed to be so proud ; but it was not long before 1 obtained the same mark of distinction." JEALOUSY OF BOSWELL 125 Obtained ! but how ? not like Goldsmith, by the force of unpretending but congenial merit, but by a course oV the most pushing, contriving, and spaniel-like subserviency. Really, the ambition of the man to illustrate his mental insignificance, by continually placing himself in juxtaposi- 5 tion with the great lexicographer, has something in it per- fectly ludicrous. Never, since the days of Don Quixote and Sancho Panza, has there been presented to the world a more whimsically contrasted pair of associates than Johnson and Boswell. 10 "Who is this Scotch cur at Johnson's heels?" asked some one when Boswell had worked his way into inces- sant companionship. " He is not a cur," replied Goldsmith, " you are too severe ; he is only a bur. Tom Davies flung him at Johnson in sport, and he has the faculty of sticking." 15 TOPICS AND QUESTIONS 1. Show how Goldsmith's method of writing his "History of Eng- land " should offer hints to you in the preparation of school compo- sitions. 2. What well-known short poem of Goldsmith's contains a refer- ence to Islington ? [See Chapter XVII of " The Vicar of Wakefield."] 3. Who was Boswell ? Why should not he and Goldsmith have found each other's company agreeable ? 4. Why might Johnson be called the Magnus Apollo of Boswell? By what other terms is Johnson referred to in Irving's " Life of Goldsmith " .? CHAPTER XIV Hogarth a Visitor at Islington ; His Character — Street Studies — Sympathies between Authors and Painters — Sir Joshua Reynolds; His Character; His Dinners — The Literary Club; Its Members — Johnson's Revels with Lankey and Beau — Goldsmith at the Club. Among the intimates who used to visit the poet occasion- ally in his retreat at Islington, was Hogarth the painter. Goldsmith had spoken well of him in his essays in the "Pub- lic Ledo:er," and this formed the first link in their friend- 5 ship. He was at this time upwards of sixty yeara of age, and is described as a stout, active, bustling little man, in a sky-blue coat, satirical and "dogmatic, yet full of real benev- olence and the love of human nature. He was the moral- ist and philosopher of the pencil; like Goldsmith he had lo sounded the depths of vice and misery, without being pol- luted 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 man- kind, yet they were all calculated, in like manner, to fill the 15 mind with instruction and precept, and to make the heart better. Hogarth does not appear to have had much of the rural feeling with which Goldsmith was so amply endowed, and may not have accompanied him in his strolls about hedges 20 and green lanes; but he was a fit companion with whom to explore the mazes of London, in which he was continually on the lookout 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 25 were quarrelling; patting one on the back who flinched, 126 SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS 12/ 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 5 Hostess." It is supposed to have been painted by Hogarth in the course of his visits to Islington, and given by him to the 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 10 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 con- stantly in sympathy, and never in collision with each other. A still more congenial intimacy of the kind was that con- 15 tracted by Goldsmith with Mr. (afterwards Sir Joshua)^ey- nolds, The latter was now about forty years of age, a few y^S" older than the poet, whom he charmed by the bland- ness and benignity of his manners, and the nobleness and generosity of his disposition, as much as he did by the 20 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 innate endowments, and equally magical in their effects. Certain graces and har- 25 monies of both may be acquired by diligent study and imita- tion, but only in a limited degree ; whereas by their natural possessors they are exercised spontaneously, almost uncon- sciously, and with ever-varying fascination. Reynolds soon understood and appreciated the merits of Goldsmith, and a 30 sincere and lasting friendship ensued between them. At Reynolds's house Goldsmith mingled in a higher range of company than he had been accustomed to. The fame of this celebrated artist, and his amenity of manners, were 128 OLIVER GOLDSMITH gathering round him men of talents of all kinds, and the increasing affluence of his circumstances enabled him to give full indulgence to his hospitable disposition. Poor Goldsmith had not yet, like Dr. Johnson, acquired reputa- 5 tion 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 journeyman tailor. One evening at a large supper-party, being called upon to give lo as a toast the ugliest man she knew, she gave Dr. Gold- smith, 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 hos- 15 pitable 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 knight- hood. " There was something singular," said he, " in the style and economy of Sir Joshua's table that contributed to 20 pleasantry and good-humor, — a coarse, inelegant plenty, without any regard to order and arrangement. At five o'clock precisely, dinner was served, whether all the invited guests had arrived or not. Sir Joshua was never so fash- ionably ill-bred as to wait an hour perhaps for two or three 25 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 uninvited. A table prepared for seven or eight was often compelled to contain fifteen or sixteen. There 30 was a consequent deficiency of knives, forks, plates, and glasses. The attendance was in the same style, and those who wisre 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 before the first course was over. THE LITERARY CLUB 129 He was once prevailed on to furnish the table with decant- ers and glasses at dinner, to save time and prevent confu- sion. These gradually were demolished in the course of service, and were never replaced. These trifling embarrass- ments, however, only served to enhance the hilarity and 5 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 con- vivial animated bustle among his guests, our host sat per- fectly composed; always attentive to what was said, never 10 minding what was ate or drank, but left every one at per- fect 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. 15 Reynolds was the first to propose a regular association of the kind, and was eagerly seconded by Johnson, who pro- posed as a model a club which he had formed many years previously in Ivy Lane, but which was now extinct. Like that club the number of members was limited to nine. 20 They were to meet and sup together once a week, on Mon- : day night, at the Turk's Head on Gerard Street, Soho, and ^ two members were to constitute a meeting. It took a regu- lar form in the year 1764, but did not receive its literary appellation until several years afterwards. 25 The original members were Reynolds, 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 30 little in poUtics 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 I30 OLIVER GOLDSMITH and instruction. Mr. (afterwards Sir John) Hawkins was admitted into this association 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 5 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 10 biography of Johnson, which appeared after the death of that eminent man. Hawkins was as mean and parsimoni- ous as he was pompous and conceited. He forbore to par- take of the suppers at the club, and begged therefore to be excused from paying his share of the reckoning. "And 15 was he excused?" asked Dr. Burney of Johnson. " Oh, yes, for no man is angry at another for being inferior to himself. We all scorned him 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 20 he has a tendency to savageness." 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 25 have left our mention of Ben net 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 30 somewhat 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, LANGTON AND JOHNSON 131 "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 5 reading 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 per- sonal appearance of an author agrees with the preconceived m ideas of his admirer. Langton, from perusing the writings of Johnson, expected to find him a decent, well-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 15 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 20 which he ever preserved. Langton went to pursue his studies at Trinity College, Oxford, where Johnson saw much of him during a visit which he paid to the University. He found him in close intimacy with Topham Beauclerc, a youth two years older 25 than himself, very gay and dissipated, and wondered what sympathies could draw two young men together of such opposite characters. On becoming acquainted with Beau- clerc he found that, rake though he was, he possessed an ardent love of literature, an acute understanding, polished 30 wit, innate gentility, and high aristocratic breeding. He was, moreover, the only son of Lord Sidney Beauclerc and grandson of the Duke of St. Albans, and was thought in some particulars to have a resemblance to Charles the 132 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 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 5 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 10 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 Bos- well on one occasion when Beauclerc and Langton, having 15 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 hel- 20 met; 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 themselves, summoning him forth to a morning ramble, his whole manner changed. "What, is it you, ye dogs?" cried he. "Faith I'll have a 25 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 30 bishop, a favorite beverage with him, grew merry over his cups, and anathematized sleep in two lines, from Lord Lans- downe's drinking-song : — " Short, very short, be then thy reign, For I' m in haste to laugh and drink again." LANGTON AND BEAUCLERC 133 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 5 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; 10 "you'll be in the * Chronicle.' " He uttered worse forebod- ings to others. " I shall have my old friend to bail out of the round-house," said he. Johnson, however, valued him- self upon having thus enacted a chapter in the " Rake's Progress," and crowed over Garrick on the occasion. "Z^ 15 durst not do such a thing ! " chuckled he ; " his wife 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, 20 however, was still the mild, enthusiastic scholar, steeped to the lips in Greek, with fine conversational powers, and an invaluable 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 25 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 30" 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 associate with George Selwyn, with 134 OLIVER GOLDSMITH Walpole, and other aristocratic wits ; a man of fashion at court ; a casual frequenter of the gaming-table ; yet, with all this, he alternated in the easiest and happiest manner the scholar and the man of letters ; lounged into the club 5 with the most perfect self-possession, bringmg with him the careless grace and polished wit " of high-bred society, but making himself cordially at home among his learned fellow- members. The gay yet lettered rake maintained his sway over John- 10 son, who was fascinated by that air of the world, that inef- fable 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 quota- tion from Pope, " has a love of folly, but a scorn of fools ; 15 everything he does shows the one, and everything he says, the other." Beauclerc delighted 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 20 in his dress, and not over-cleanly in his person. On receiv- ing 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." 25 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 '30 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 GOLDSMITH AT THE CLUB 135 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 compiling and translating, but little capable of original and still less of poetical composition." S. 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 hisv merits, nor was Burke a stranger to them ; but to the others^ he was as yet a sealed book, and the outside was not pre- 10 possessing. His ungainly person and awkward manners were against him with men accustomed to the graces of society, and he 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 15 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. TOPICS AND QUESTIONS 1. Describe the members of the club. 2. What are some of Sir Joshua Reynolds's pictures that may be seen in this country? 3. Why should the meetings of the club have become famous ? Is there any club in this country the meetings of which correspond in any sense with the meetings of the Johnson-Goldsmith club ? 4. Why does Irving give more space to Langton and Beauclerc than to the other members ? CHAPTER XV Johnson a Monitor to Goldsmith; Finds him in Distress with his Landlady; 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 5 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 heedlessness was continually plunging him. " I received one morning," says Johnson, " a message lo 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 IS arrested him for his rent, at which he was in a violent pas- sion : 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. 20 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 return ; and, having gone to a bookseller, sold it for sixty pounds. I brought Gold- smith the money, and he discharged his rent, not without 1$ rating his landlady in a high tone for having used him so ill." 136 THE "VICAR OF WAKEFIELD" 137 The novel in question was 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 Httle appreciated by 5 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 10 Israelites in Babylon. It was one of those unhappy off- springs of the Muse ushered into existence amid the dis- tortions of music. Most of the Oratorio has passed into oblivion ; but the following song from it will never die. " The wretch condemned from life to part, 15 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; 20 J^nd 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 25 the world ; Pope and other poets have taken up the places in the temple of Fame ; and as few at any period can pos- sess poetical reputation, 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, per- 30 haps that which pursues poetical fame is the wildest. What from the increased refinement of the times, from the diversity of judgment produced by opposing systems of criticism, and from the more prevalent divisions of opinion influenced by 138 OLIVER GOLDSMITH party, the strongest and happiest efforts can expect to please but in a very narrow circle." At this very time he had by him his poem of " The Trav- eller." The plan of it, as has already been observed, was 5 conceived many years before, during his travels in Switzer- land, and a sketch 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. 10 It had laid by him for several years in a crude state, and it was with extreme hesitation 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 15 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, cal- culated to cure our notions about the ardor of composition. 20 Calling 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 25 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 30 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 ASTONISHMENT OF THE CLUB 139 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 indif- ference as to its fate expressed in the dedication. "What reception a poem may find," says he, " which has neither 5 abuse, party, nor blank verse to suppo'rt it, I cannot tell, nor am I solicitous to know." The truth is, no one was more emulous and anxious for poetic fame ; and never was he more anxious than in the present instance, for it was his grand stake. Mr. Johnson aided the launching of the poem 10 by a favorable notice in the " Critical Review "; other peri- odical works came out in its favor. Some of the author's friends complained that it did not command 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 15 second edition was issued ; shortly afterwards, a third ; then a fourth; and, before the year was out, the author was pro- nounced 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 20 its effect upon the club, if we may judge from the account given by Hawkins, was almost ludicrous. They were lost in astonishment that a " newspaper essayist " and "bookseller's drudge " should have written such a poem. On the evening of its announcement to them Goldsmith had gone away early, 25 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 ele- vation of his poetry. They could scarcely believe that such magic numbers had flowed from a man to whom in general, 30 says Johnson, " it was with difficulty 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." I40 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 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 'Traveller,' 'Remote, unfriended, melancholy, slow^? 5 — do you mean tardiness of locomotion ? " — " Yes," replied Goldsmith, inconsiderately, being probably flurried at the moment. " No, sir," interposed his protecting friend John- son, "you did not mean tardiness of locomotion ; you meant that sluggishness of mind which comes upon a man in soli- lo tude." " Ah," exclaimed Goldsmith, " that was v;hat I meant." Chamier immediately believed that Johnson him- self 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 15 marked with a pencil all the verses he had contributed, nine in number, inserted towards the conclusion, and by no means the best in the poem. He moreover, with generous warmth, pronounced it the finest poem that had appeared since the days of Pope. 20 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 appearance of " The Traveller," Dr. Johnson read it aloud from beginning to end in her presence. " Well," 25 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 Dryden's care- 30 less verses." " I was glad," observed Reynolds, " to hear Charles Fox say it was one of the finest poems in the Eng- lish language." "Why was you glad?" rejoined Langton, " you surely had no doubt of this before." " No," interposed Johnson, decisively ; " the merit of ' The Traveller ' is so well INCARNATE TOADYISM I41 established 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- 5 denly elevated almost to a par with his idol. He accounted for it by concluding that much both of the sentiments and expression of the poem had been derived from conversations with Johnson. " He imitates you, sir," said this incarnation of toadyism. " Why no, sir," replied Johnson, " Jack Hawks- 10 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 15 the first year, and received some few additions and correc- tions from the author's pen. It produced a golden harvest to Mr. Newbery ; but all the remuneration on record, doled out by his niggard hand to the author, was twenty guineas! TOPICS AND QUESTIONS 1. Make an outline for a composition on Goldsmith's heedlessness. Develop the first two main divisions of your outline into an essay of about two hundred words. 2. Has the contemporary judgment of about 1765, regarding Gold- smith as the best poet of his time, been sustained? What other poets wrote at about this period ? 3. What characteristics in the man Goldsmith made possible his writing " The Traveller " ? ' 4. What was Goldsmith's pay for the two poems which made his everlasting fame "i 5. What was the first of Goldsmith's works to which he prefixed his name ? Why had his name not been printed as the author of preceding v^^orks ? 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 — Gosfield and Lord Clare — Publication of Essays — Evils of a Rising Reputation — Hangers-on — -Job- Writing — Goody Two-shoes — A Medical Campaign — Mrs. Sidebotham. Goldsmith, now that he was rising in the world, and becoming 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 5 they were but of humble pretensions, situated on what was then the library staircase, and it would appear that he was a kind of inmate with Jeffs, the 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 10 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 super- 15 visor of the poet's affairs, paid him a visit soon after he had installed himself in his new quarters, and went prying about the apartment, in his near-sighted manner, examining every- thing minutely. Goldsmith was fidgeted by this curious scrutiny, and apprehending a disposition to find fault, ex- 20 claimed, 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 quaesiveris extra," — implying 142 A TITLED PATRON 143 that his reputation rendered him independent of outward show. Happy would it have been for poor Goldsmith, could he have kept this consolatory compliment perpetu- ally in mind, and squared his expenses accordingly. Among the persons of rank who were struck with the 5 merits of the' " Traveller " was the Earl (afterwards Duke) of Northumberland. He procured several other of Gold- smith'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 office of Lord-Lieutenant of Ire- 10 land, and understanding Goldsmith 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 acquainted with the poet, and expressed a wish that the latter should wait upon him. 15 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 20 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 North- umberland House, and acquainted the servants that I had particular business with the Duke. They showed me into 25 an antechamber, where, after waiting some time, a gentle- man, very elegantly dressed, made his appearance: taking him for the Duke, I delivered all the fine things I had com- posed in order to compliment him on the honor he had done me ; when, to my great astonishment, he told me I had mis- 30 taken 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 144 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 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, 5 a witness. " Having one day," says he, " a call to make on the late Duke (then Earl) of Northumberland, I found Gold- smith waiting for an audience in an outer room : I asked him what had brought him there ; he told me, an invitation from his lordship. I made my business as short as I could, lo 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 15 him the result of his conversation. ' His lordship,' said he, 'told me he had read my poem, meaning the "Traveller,'^ and was much delighted with it; that he 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.' 20 'And what did you answer,' said I, 'to this gracious 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 25 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 30 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 affec- tion which instantly sought to advance the fortunes of a brother; but the peculiar merits of poor Goldsmith seem to INDEPENDENCE OF CHARACTER 145 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 5 John Hawkins, might lead one to suppose. Dr. Percy, the heir male of the ancient Percies, 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 Northumberland. " She was a lady," says 10 Boswell, " not only of high dignity of spirit, such as became her noble blood, but of excellent understanding and lively talents." Under her auspices a poem of Goldsmith's had an aristocratical introduction to the world. This was the beautiful ballad of "The Hermit," originally published 15 under the name of " Edwin and Angelina." It was sug- gested by an old English ballad beginning " Gentle Herds- man," shown him by Dr. Percy, who was at that time mak- ing his famous collection, entitled " Reliques of Ancient English Poetry," which he submitted to the inspection of 20 Goldsmith prior to publication. A few copies only of " The Hermit " were printed at first, with the following title- page : " Edwin and Angelina : a Ballad. By Mr. Gold- smith. Printed for the Amusement of the Countess of Northumberland." 25 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 30 much to his taste, and we do not find that he became familiar in it. He was much more at home at Gosfield, the seat of his countryman, Robert Nugent, afterwards Baron Nugent and 146 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 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-Catho- 5 lie for the Protestant 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 10 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 15 audacity of expression always gained him a hearing, though his tall person and awkward manner gained him the nick- name of Squire Gawky among the political scribblers of the day. With a patron of this jovial temperament, Gold- smith probably felt more at ease than with those of higher 20 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 25 which they lay dormant. These he published in 1765, in a collected form, under the title of "' Essays by Mr. Gold- smith." " The following Essays," observes he in his pref- ace, " have already appeared at different times, and in different publications. The pamphlets in which they were 30 inserted being generally unsuccessful, these shared the com- mon fate, without assisting the booksellers' aims, or extend- ing the author's reputation. The public were too strenuously employed with their own follies to be assiduous in estimat- ing mine ; so that many of my best attempts in this way IRISH HANGERS-ON 147 have fallen victims to the transient topic of the times — the Ghost in Cock Lane, or the Siege of Ticonderoga. " 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 5 liberal enough in this respect. Most of these essays have been regularly reprinted twice or thrice a year, and con- veyed 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 10 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, Phileleu- theros, and Philanthropos. It is time, however, at last to vindicate my claims; and as these entertainers of the pub- 15 lie, 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 20 good circulation, however, was translated into French, and has maintained 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 25 imposed upon, and a spontaneous and irresistible' propensity to give to every one who asked. The very rise in his repu- tation 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 30 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 148 OLIVER GOLDSMITH often been known to leave himself without a guinea, order to supply the necessities of others." This constant drainage of the purse therefore obliged him to undertake all jobs proposed by the booksellers, and to 5 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, 10 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 15 "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 20 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 25 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, ^O 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 Eng- lish nursery-tales. They have evidently been the sportive THE MEDICAL PROFESSION 149 productions of able writers, who would not trust their names to productions that might be considered beneath their dig- nity. The ponderous works on which they relied for immor- tality have perhaps sunk into oblivion, and carried their names down with them ; while their unacknowledged offspring, "Jack 5 the Giant Killer," " Giles Gingerbread," and " Tom Thumb," flourish in wide-spreading and never-ceasing popularity. As Goldsmith had now acquired popularity and an exten- sive acquaintance, he attempted, with the advice of his friends, to procure a more regular and ample support by resuming 10 the medical profession. He accordingly launched himself upon the town in style ; hired a man-servant ; replenished his wardrobe at considerable expense, and appeared in a pro- fessional wig and cane, purple silk small-clothes, and a scar- let roquelaure buttoned to the chin : a fantastic garb, as we 15 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 roque- laure flaunting from his shoulders, he used to strut into the 20 apartments of his patients swaying his three-cornered hat in one hand and his medical sceptre, the cane, in the other, and assuming an air of gravity and importance suited to the solem- nity of his wig ; at least, such is the picture given of him by the waiting gentlewoman who let him into the chamber of 25 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- 30 chambers and capricious 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 I50 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 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 quantity of medicine to be administered. The Doctor stood up for 5 the rights and dignities of his profession, and resented the interference of the compounder of drugs. His rights and dignities, 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 10 out of the house in a passion, " I am determined hence- forth," said he to Topham Beauclerc, "to leave off pre- scribing for friends." " Do so, my dear Doctor," was the reply ; " whenever you undertake to kill, let it be only your enemies." 15 This was the end of Goldsmith's medical career. TOPICS AND QUESTIONS 1. Was Sir John Hawkins too severe in calling Goldsmith an "idiot in the affairs of the world " ? 2. Describe Goldsmith dressed as a member of the medical profession. Tell how his medical career ended. Does it seem unlikely that a good physician could be a good poet } 3. Discuss the value of nursery tales as literature. [This, of course, presupposes an attempt to define literature.] CHAPTER XVII Publication of the " Vicar of Wakefield " ; Opinions concerning it : Of Dr. John- son ; Of Rogers the Poet ; Of Goethe ; Its Merits ; Exquisite Extract — Attack by Kenrick — Reply — Book-Building — Project of a Comedy. The success of the poem of " The Traveller," and the pop- ularity 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 5 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, 10 who had become the fortunate purchaser. Still the delay is equally unaccountable. 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 15 of " The Traveller " should be reaped. Booksellers are prone to make egregious mistakes as to the merit of works in man- uscripts ; and to undervalue, if not reject, those of classic and enduring excellence, when destitute of that false bril- liancy commonly called " effect." In the present instance, 20 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 much success. It was written and sold to a bookseller before ' The Traveller,' 25 but published after, so little expectation had the bookseller 151 152 OLIVER GOLDSMITH from it. Had it been sold after 'The Traveller/ he might have had twice as much money; though sixty guineas was no mean priced Sixty guineas for the "Vicar of Wakefield"! and this 5 could be pronounced no meari price by Dr. Johnson, at that time the arbiter of British talent, and who had had an oppor- tunity of witnessing the effect of the work upon the public mind ; for its success was immediate. It came out on the 27th of March, 1766 ; before the end of May a second edition 10 was called for; in three months more, a third; and so it went on, widening in a popularity that has never flagged. Rogers, the Nestor of British literature, whose refined purity of taste and exquisite mental organization rendered him emi- nently calculated to appreciate a work of the kind, declared 15 that of all the books which through the fitful changes of three generations he had seen rise and fall, the charm of the " Vicar of Wakefield " had alone continued as at first ; and could he revisit the world after an interval of many more generations, he should as surely look to find it undiminished. 20 Nor has its celebrity been confined to Great Britain. Though so exclusively a picture of British scenes and manners, it has been translated into almost every language, and everywhere its charm has been the same. Goethe, the great genius of Germany, declared in his eighty-first year, that it was his 25 delight at the age of twenty, that it had in a manner formed a part of his education, influencing his taste and feelings throughout life, and that he had recently read it again from beginning to end — wdth renewed delight, and with a grate- ful sense of the early benefit derived from it. 30 It is needless to expatiate upon the qualities of a work which has thus passed from country to country, and lan- guage to language, until it is now known throughout the whole reading world and is become a household book in every hand. The secret of its universal and enduring THE VICAR OF WAKEFIELD 153 popularity is undoubtedly its truth to nature, but to nature of the most amiable kind, to nature such as Goldsmith saw it. The author, as we have occasionally shown in the course of this memoir, took his scenes and characters in this, as in his other writings, from originals in his own motley experience ; 5 but he has given them as seen through the medium of his own indulgent eye, and has set them forth with the colorings of his own good head and heart. Yet how contradictory it seems that this, one of the most delightful pictures of home and homefelt happiness should be drawn by a homeless man ; 10 that the most amiable picture of domestic virtue and all the endearments of the married state should be drawn by a bachelor, who had been severed from domestic life almost from boyhood ; that one of the most tender, touching, and affecting appeals on behalf of female loveliness should have 15 been made by a man whose deficiency in all the graces of person and manner seemed to mark him out for a cynical disparager of the sex. We cannot refrain from transcribing from the work a short passage illustrative of what we have said, and which within 20 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, 25 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 30 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 154 OLIVER GOLDSMITH her seducer, and every object served to recall her sadness. But that melancholy 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 5 pleasing distress, and wept and loved her daughter as before. ' Do, my pretty Olivia,' cried she, ' let us have that melan- choly 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 manner so exquisitely pathetic lo 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 ? 15 ♦' '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.' " Scarce had the "Vicar of Wakefield" made its appearance 20 and been received with acclamation, than its author was sub- 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 25 considerable time previously for the use of the Countess of Northumberland. This brought forth the following article in a fashionable journal of the day. " To the Prifiter of the ' St. James's Chronicle.^ "Sir, — In the ' Reliques of Ancient Poetry,' published 30 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 NEWSPAPER ATTACK I 55 * Hamlet ' were parts of some ballad well known in Shaks- peare'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 5 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. He never will come again.' The lady weeps and laments her cruelty ; the friar endeavors 10 to comfort her with morality and religion, but all in vain; she expresses the deepest grief and the most tender senti- ments of love, till at last the friar discovers himself : — "* And lo ! beneath this gown of gray Thy own true love appears.' 15 " 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 20 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 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 25 flavor of champagne. " I am, sir, yours, &c., " Detector." ' This attack, supposed to be by Goldsmith's constant per- secutor, the malignant Kenrick, drew from him the following 30 note to the editor : — 156 OLIVER GOLDSMITH " Sir, — As there is nothing I dislike so much as news- paper 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 5 the book was a good one ; and I think so still. 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 10 taken a ballad I published some time ago, from one by 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 15 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 20 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. 25 "I am, sir, yours, &c., " Oliver Goldsmith." * The unexpected circulation of the " Vicar of Wakefield " enriched the publisher, but not the author. Goldsmith no doubt thought himself entitled to participate in the profits 30 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 dishonored. He continued, therefore, his usual SENTIMENTAL COMEDY 1 57 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 5 that taste and touch which are the magic of gifted minds. His terms began to be proportioned 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 10 are fixed or estimated ; and then he is, as in other profes- sions, 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 15 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 com- position," says he, in one of his essays, "has been intro- 20 duced 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 man- kind make our interest in the piece. In these plays almost all the characters are good, and exceedingly generous ; they 25 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 spec- tator is taught not only to pardon, but to applaud them in consideration of the goodness of their hearts ; so that folly, 30 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 158 OLIVER GOLDSMITH comic poet is invading the province of the tragic muse, he leaves her lively sister quite neglected. Of this, however, he is no ways solicitous, as he measures his fame by his profits 5 " 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 10 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 15 place. The comedy of the "Clandestine Marriage," the joint production of Colman and Garrick, and suggested by Hogarth's inimitable pictures of Marriage a la mode, had taken the town by storm, crowded the theatre with fashion- able audiences, and formed one of the leading literary topics 20 of the year. Goldsmith's emulation was roused by its suc- cess. The comedy was in what he considered the legitimate line, totally different from the sentimental school; it pre- sented pictures of real life, delineations of character and touches of humor, in which he felt himself calculated to 25 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-build- ing " allowed him leisure. TOPICS AND QUESTIONS 159 TOPICS AND QUESTIONS 1. How do you account for the fact that " The Vicar of Wakefield " was translated into " almost every language " ? 2. What do you find that is commendable in Goldsmith's letter to the editor of the St. James's Chronicle? Explain why the ''forms of closing " of most letters nowadays differ from the usual endings of Goldsmith's letters. 3. Would sixty guineas in our day be considered good pay for a novel reaching three editions in a few months? 4. Discuss Goldsmith's ideas on the drama. 5. Have any "egregious mistakes" regarding the value of manu- scripts been made of recent years by American publishers ? 6. " Humor at present seems to be departing from the stage." Is this true now.'' 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 mem- 5 ber of the club and the Johnson circle, without much being expected from 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 him ; but he was not prepared to move in them with confidence and suc- 10 cess. 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 15 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 vaga- bondizing. It had enriched his mind, deepened and widened 20 the benevolence of his heart, and filled his memory with enchanting pictures, but it had contributed little to disci- plining 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 25 he some time previously to his brother, "how much eight years of disappointment, anguish, and study have worn me 160 SOCIAL POSITION OF GOLDSMITH l6l down." Several 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 bookseller's hack, drudging for daily bread. Each separate walk had been beset by its peculiar thorns 5 and humiliations. It is wonderful how his heart retained its gentleness and kindness through all these trials ; how his mind rose above the " meannesses 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 corre- 10 spending to the innate grace and refinement of his intellect. He was near forty years of age when he published "The Traveller," and was lifted by it into celebrity. As is beauti- fully said of him by one of his biographers, " he has fought his way to consideration and esteem ; but he bears upon 15 him the scars of his twelve years' conflict ; of the mean sorrows through which he has passed ; and of the cheap indulgences he has sought relief and help from. There is nothing plastic in his nature now. His manners and habits are completely formed ; and in them any further success can 20 make little favorable change, whatever it may effect for his mind or genius."^ We are not to be surprised, therefore, at finding him make an awkard figure in the elegant drawing-rooms which were now open to him, and disappointing those who had formed 25 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 30 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 1 Forster's " Goldsmith." . , l62 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 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 temper- 5 ament, 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 uncommonly retentive memory with facts on all kinds of subjects ; making it a perfect colloquial armory. lo " 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 prac- 15 tice and never suffering any careless expression to escape him, he had attained an extraordinary accuracy and command of language." His conversation in all companies, according to Sir Joshua Reynolds, was such as to secure him universal attention, some- 20 thing above the usual colloquial style being always expected from him. " I do not care," said Orme, the historiati of Hindostan, " on what subject Johnson talks ; but I love better to hear him talk than anybody. He either gives you new thoughts 25 or a new coloring.*' A stronger and more graphic eulogium is given by Dr. Percy. " 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." 30 Such was the colloquial giant with which Goldsmith's celebrity and his habits of intimacy brought him into con- tinual comparison ; can we wonder that he should appear to disadvantage ? Conversation grave, discursive, and dis- putatious, such as Johnson excelled and delighted in, was to GOLDSMITH'S CONVERSATION 163 him a severe task, and he never was good at a task of any kind. He had not, like 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 lexicogra- pher, mould his ideas and balance his periods while talking. 5 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 subject in his study, with 10 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 Gold- smith when he has not a pen in his hand, or more wise 15 when he has." Yet with all this conscious deficiency he was continually getting involved in colloquial contests with Johnson 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 heedless- 20 ness which characterized him in everything else he dashed on at a venture, trusting to chance in this as in other things, and hoping occasionally to make a lucky hit. Johnson per- ceived his hap-hazard temerity, but gave him po credit for the real diffidence which lay at bottom. "The misfortune 25 of Goldsmith in conversation," 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 knowl- 30 edge to himself." And, on another occasion, he observes : "Goldsmith, rather than not talk, will talk of what he knows himself to be ignorant, which can only end in exposing him. If in company with two founders, he would fall a-talking on l64 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 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 forever attempting to shine in conversation ; he has not temper 5 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 can- lo not 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 15 gets the better, it is a very little addition to a man of his hterary 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 Reyn- 20 olds, " always appeared to be overawed by Johnson, par- ticularly 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." 25 It may not have been disgrace that he feared, but rude- ness. The great lexicographer, spoiled by the homage of society, was still more prone than himself to lose temper when the argument went against him. He could not brook appearing to he worsted, but would attempt to bear down 30 his adversary by the roUing thunder of his periods, and, when that failed, would become downright insulting. Bos- well called it " having recourse to some sudden mode of robust sophistry"; but Goldsmith designated it much more happily. "There is no arguing with Johnson," said he> FABLE OF THE LITTLE FISHES 165 "y^r, when his pistol misses fire ^ he knocks you down with the but- end ofitJ^^ In 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 5 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, Goldsmith observed that the animals introduced in them seldom talked in character. "For instance," said he, 10 "the fable of the little fishes, who saw birds fly over their heads, and, envying 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. 15 Johnson, this is not so easy as you seem to think ; for, if you v/ere 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 20 royal pensions were granted to Dr. Johnson and Dr. Sheb- beare, a punster remarked, that the king had pensioned a she-bear and a he-bear ; 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 bear but 25 the skin.^^ Goldsmith, in conversation, shone most when he least thought of shining; when he gave up all effort to appear wise and learned, or to cope with the oracular sententious- ness of Johnson, and gave way to his natural impulses./ 30 1 The following is given by Boswell, as an instance of robust sophistry : — " 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 '11 make nothing of it ; I 'd rather hear you whistle a Scotch tune.' " l66 OLIVER GOLDSMITH Even Boswell could perceive his merits on these occasions. " For my part," said he, condescendingly, " I like very well to hear ho7iest Goldsmith talk away carelessly " ; and many a much wiser man than Boswell delighted in those outpour- 5 ings 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 thoughtless garrulity there was to occasionally the gleam of the gold and the flash of the diamond. TOPICS AND QUESTIONS I. Make an outline for the life of Goldsmith from 1728 to 1767 under main headings suggested by Irving's statements in the first para- graph of this chapter. ^^ 2. Compare Goldsmith and Johnson as conversationalists. 3. What is to be gained in the art of conversation by never allowing a " careless " expression to escape one ? 4. From what does it plainly appear that Irving admires the subject of his biography ? Do you share in the admiration ? Why ? Would Irving's admiration be likely to make his statements about the life of Goldsmith unreliable ? 5. Discuss Goldsmith in society. (Chapters XVIII and XIX.) 6. Why should the literary club get into the habit of placing Gold- smith in an absurd light "i CHAPTER XIX Social Resorts — The Shilling Whist-Club — A Practical Joke — The Wednes- day 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 collo- quial 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 5 restraints by indulging his humor without control. One of them was a shilling 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 10 of a familiar, unceremonious 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 mistake a guinea instead of a shilling, 1 5 which he set down as a dead loss, for there was no likeli- hood, 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 20 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 25 his. own purse, he dismissed the Jehu with many encomiums 167 l68 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 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 5 succeeded, and the jokes by which he was assailed on every side, showed him that the whole was a hoax, and the pre- tended coachman as much a counterfeit as the guinea. He was so disconcerted, it is said, that he soon beat a retreat for the evening. lo Another of those free and easy clubs met on Wednesday 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, 15 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 Not- tingham Ale, and looking like a butt of it. Here, too, a wealthy pig-butcher, charmed, no doubt, by the mild phi- 20 lanthropy of " The Traveller," aspired to be on the most sociable footing with the author ; and here was Tom King, the comedian, recently risen to consequence by his perform- ance of Lord Ogleby in the new comedy of " The Clandestine Marriage." 25 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 Irish- man, about twenty-eight years of age, originally apprenticed to a staymaker in DubUn ; then writer to a London attorney ; 30 then a Grub-Street hack ; scribbling for magazines and news- papers. Of late he had set up for theatrical censor and satirist, and in a paper 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 HUGH KELLY — GLOVER 169 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 intro- duction to Johnson ; after sitting a short time he got up to 5 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 written more than he had read. 10 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 with- out much success. While performing at Cork, he undertook, 15 partly in jest, to restore life to the body of a malefactor, who had just been executed. To the astonishment of every one, himself 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 20 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 continued to dabble indifferently, and rather unprofitably, in physic and literature. He was a great frequenter of the Globe and Devil taverns, 25 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 char- acters of the day. , He seldom happened to have money enough to pay his reckoning, but was always sure to find 30 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. I/O OLIVER GOLDSMITH 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 Gold- 5 smith 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 10 see how civilly I '11 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- 15 butcher, scarce taking the pipe out of his mouth. "I don't see the effect of your reproof," whispered Glover. " I give it up," replied Goldsmith, with a good.-humored shrug; "I ought to have known before now there is no putting a pig in the right way." 20 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, however, was guided not by a taste for what was low, but for what was comic and characteristic. It was the feeling 25 of the artist ; 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 asso- 30 ciates was to his taste : as they became boisterous in their merriment, he was apt to become depressed. "The com- pany of fools," says he, in one of his essays, " may at first make us smile, but at last never fails of making us melan- choly." " Often he would become moody," says Glover, THE WEDNESDAY CLUB l/l *' and would leave the party abruptly to go home and brood over his misfortune." It is possible, however, that he went home for quite a different purpose : to commit to paper some scene or pas- sage suggested for his comedy of " The Good-natured Man." 5 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 ago- nies of producing a farce which subsequently set the theatres ic in a roar. TOPICS AND QUESTIONS 1. Does the incident of the counterfeit guinea seem to show a malig- nant spirit toward Goldsmith on the part of the members of the whist club? 2. Does it seem incongruous that a pig butcher should be charmed by " The Traveller " ? 3. What was a Grub-Street hack ? 4. Is it a severe criticism of a man to say that he wrote more than he read ? 5. Where and how did Goldsmith get the nickname " Noll " ? 6. Describe the members of the club that met at the Globe Tavern, How did this club differ from the literary club.? 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 Johnson, Burke, Reynolds, and others of the literary club, by whom it was heartily approved. Johnson, who was seldom 5 half-way either in censure or applause, pronounced it the best comedy that had been written since " The Provoked Hus- band," and promised to furnish the prologue. This imme- diately became an object of great solicitude with Goldsmith, knowing the weight an introduction from the Great Cham 10 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 thq. royal library at the Queen's (Bucking- ham) House, a noble collection of books, in the formation 15 of which he had assisted the librarian, 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 HI), then a young man, who sought this occasion to have a conversation with him. The conversation was 20 varied and discursive, the King shifting from subject to sub- ject 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 25 used at the levee and in the drawing-room. ' I found his Majesty wished I should talk,' said he, 'and I made it my 172 JOHNSON AND THE KING 173 business to talk. I find it does a man good to be talked to by his sovereign. 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. Profoundly monarchical in his principles, he 5 retired from the interview highly gratified with the conver- sation 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 gentleman I have ever seen." — "■ Sir," said he subsequently to Bennet Langton, " his man- 10 ners are those of as fine a gentleman as we may suppose Louis 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 15 particular of this memorable conversation. Among other questions, the King had asked him whether he was writing anything. 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 20 man," said Johnson, commenting on this speech, " could have made a handsomer compliment; and it was fit for a King to pay. It was decisive." — " But did you make no reply to this high compliment ? " asked one of the company. " No, sir," replied the profoundly deferential Johnson ; " when 25 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, 3c 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 should 1/4 OLIVER GOLDSMITH have done, for I should have bowed and stammered through the whole of it." He afterwards explained his seeming inattention by saying that his mind was completely occupied about his play, and by fears lest Johnson, in his present 5 state of royal excitement, would fail to furnish the much- desired prologue. How natural and truthful is this explanation. Yet Bos- well presumes to pronounce Goldsmith's inattention affected^ and attributes it to jealousy. " It was strongly suspected," lo says he, " that he was fretting with chagrin and envy at the singular honor Dr. Johnson had lately enjoyed." It needed the littleness of mind of Boswell to ascribe such pitiful motives to Goldsmith, and to entertain such exaggerated notions of the honor paid to Dr. Johnson. 15 "The Good-natured Man" was now ready for performance, but the question was, how to get it upon the stage. The affairs of Covent Garden, for which it had been intended, were thrown into confusion by the recent death of Rich, the manager. Drury Lane was under the management of Gar- 20 rick ; 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, however, were changed. Gold- 25 smith, 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 30 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 between the author and actor, and thinking it a pity that two men of such congenial talents, and who might be so NEGOTIATIONS WITH GARRICK 175 serviceable to each other, should be kept asunder by a worn-out pique, exerted his friendly offices to bring them together. The meeting took place in Reynolds's house in Leicester Square. Garrick, however, could not entirely put off the mock majesty of the stage ; he meant to be civil, but 5 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 man- ager," says he, "was fully conscious of his (Goldsmith's) merit, and perhaps more ostentatious of his abilities to serve 10 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 complimentary language paid to a successful patentee and admired actor, expected 15 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 20 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 25 separated, however, with an understanding on the part of Goldsmith that his play would be acted. The conduct of Garrick subsequently proved evasive, not through any linger- ings of past hostility, but from habitual indecision in matters of the kind, and from real scruples of delicacy. He did not 30 think the piece likely to succeed on the stage, and avowed that opinion to Reynolds and Johnson, — but hesitated to say as much to Goldsmith, through fear of wounding his feelings. A further misunderstanding was the result of this 176 OLIVER GOLDSMITH want of decision and frankness ; repeated interviews and some correspondence took place without bringing matters to a point, and in the mean time the theatrical season passed away. 5 Goldsmith's pocket, never well supplied, suffered griev- ously 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 sug^ 10 gested certain important alterations in the comedy as indis- pensable to its success ; these were indignantly rejected by the author, but pertinaciously insisted on by the manager. Garrick proposed to leave the matter to the arbitration of Whitehead, the laureate, who officiated as his " reader " and 15 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 20 and Garrick, in the course of their joint authorship of " The Clandestine 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 hear- ing of this, Goldsmith made overtures to Colman ; who, with- 25 out 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 30 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 LETTER TO GARRICK 1 77 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 5 this be the last I shall ever write, yet I can'l help feeling a secret satisfaction that poets for the future are likely to have a protector who declines taking advantage of their dread- ful situation — and scorns that importance which may be acquired by trifling with their anxieties." 10 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 difficulties about that piece, 15 I complied with his desire. ... I am extremely sorry that you should think me warm at our last meeting; your judg- ment certainly ought to be free, especially in a matter which must in some measure concern your own credit and interest. I assure you, sir, I have no disposition to differ with you on 20 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 25 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 busi- 30 ness, 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 I/S OLIVER GOLDSMITH me, as 1 shall be glad of every future opportunity to con- vince him how much I am his obedient servant and well- wisher. D. Garrick." TOf'ICS AND QUESTIONS 1. Is Johnson appropriately called the " Great Cham of Literature " ? 2. Explain the meaning of the term " poet laureate." Name some of the poets laureate. Are you anticipating that Goldsmith will be chosen poet laureate before his death } 3. Why does not Irving insert the dates of more of Goldsmith's letters which he quotes ? CHAPTER XXI More Hack-Authorship — Tom Davies and the Roman History — Canonbury Castle — Political Authorship — Pecuniary Temptation — Death of New- bery the Elder. Though Goldsmith's comedy was now in train to be per- •formed, it could not be brought out before Christmas ; in the mean time 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 5 pounds, from the elder Newbery, for an historical compila- tion ; 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. 10 At this time Tom Davies, the sometime Roscius, sometime bibliopole, stepped forward to Goldsmith's relief, and pro- posed that he should undertake an easy popular history of Rome in two volumes. An arrangement was soon made. Goldsmith undertook to complete it in two years, if possible, 15 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 alter- nate his literary labors with strolls about the green fields. '' Merry Islington" was again his resort, but he now aspired 20 to better quarters than formerly, and engaged the chambers occupied occasionally by Mr. Newbery, in Canonbury House, or Castle, as it 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 25 of it but an old brick tower ; it was still in the country amid 179 l8o OLIVER GOLDSMITH 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 5 Crown Tavern, on the Islington lower road; and here he pre- sided 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! 10 The apartment was still shown which the poet had inhabited, consisting of a sitting-room and small bedroom, with pan- elled 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 15 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 Goldsmith used to figure in the humbler days of his fortune. In the first edition of his 20 Essays he speaks of a stroll in these 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 25 and its garden disappears, and he speaks of " a stroll in the Park." 1 See on the distant slope, majestic shows Old Canonbury's tower, an ancient pile To various fates assigned ; and where by turns Meanness and grandeur have alternate reign'd ; 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 meanings of his village dirge. There learned Chambers treasured lore for men, And Newbery there his A-B-C's for babes. PECUNIARY TEMPTATION l8l While Goldsmith was literally living from hand to mouth by the forced drudgery of the pen, his independence of spirit v/as subjected to a sore pecuniary trial. It was the opening of Lord North's administration, a time of great political excitement. The public mind was agitated by the question 5 of American taxation, and other questions of like irritating tendency. 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 10 deluged with pamphlets, lampoons, and libels of the grossest kinds. The ministry were looking anxiously round for liter- ary support. It was thought that the pen of Goldsmith might be readily enlisted. His hospitable friend and coun- tryman, Robert Nugent, politically known as Squire Gawky, 15 had come out strenuously for colonial taxation ; had been selected for a lordship 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 ministerial ranks ; and then what writer of the day 20 was proof against a full purse or a pension? Accordingly one Parson Scott, chaplain to Lord Sandwich, and author of "Anti Sejanus Panurge," and other political libels in sup- port of the administration, was sent to negotiate with the poet, who at this time was returned to town. Dr. Scott, 25 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' 30 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 l82 OLIVER GOLDSMITH to 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 con- tempt at the indignant wonder of the political divine, albeit 5 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 10 by his friendship. 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 15 just, but we shed tears only at the grave of the generous. TOPICS AND QUESTIONS i^ Goldsmith's independence. 2. Tell what Goldsmith gained by spending the summer months mostly in the country. 3. Did Goldsmith take any part in the politics of his time.'' CHAPTER XXII Theatrical Manoeuvring— The Comedy of "False Delicacy " — First Perform- ance of " The Good-natured Man " — Conduct of Johnson — Conduct 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. Gar- rick, 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 5 he undertook 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 lo school, and had brought out his comedy of "The Clan- destine 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 15 up some parts of the dialogue. He had become reconciled to his former colleague, Colman, and it is intimated that one condition in the treaty of peace between these potentates of the realms of pasteboard (equally prone to play into each other's hands with the confederate potentates on the great 20 theatre of life) was, that Goldsmith's play should be kept back until Kelly's had been brought forward. In the mean time the poor author, little dreaming of the deleterious influence at work behind the scenes, saw the appointed time arrive and pass by without the performance 25 of his play ; while " False Delicacy " was brought out at 183 l84 OLIVER GOLDSMITH Drury Lane (January 23, 1768) with all the trickery of mana- gerial management. 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 5 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, 10 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 dis- contented with their parts, except Ned Shuter, an excellent 15 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 castigator in times of heedless levity, stood by him at 20 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 25 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 30 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, £S 2s. 7d." Thus magnificently attired, he attended the theatre and watched THEATRICAL MANCEUVRING 185 the 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 deliv- ered by Brinsley in lugubrious tones suited to the ghost in 5 " Hamlet," 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 sink. The fourth act saved the piece ; 10 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 15 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 con- sidered it a failure. Poor Goldsmith left the theatre with 20 his towering hopes completely cut down. He endeavored to hide his mortification, and even to assume an air of unconcern while among his associates ; but the moment he was alone with Dr. Johnson, in whose rough but magnani- mous nature he reposed unlimited confidence, he threw off 25 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 affecta- 30 tion, saying that " No man should be expected 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 l86 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 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 5 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 old woman tossed in a blanket seven- teen times as high as the moon " All this while," lo added he, " I was suffering horrid 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 15 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 child- like self-accusation of poor Goldsmith. When the latter had come to a pause, " All this, Doctor," said he, dryly, " I 20 thought had been a secret between you and me, and I am sure I would not have said anything 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 con- 25 cealment. 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 con- versation could keep nothing to himself, should be the author of a maxim which would inculcate the most thorough 30 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 ! INTERMEDDLING OF THE PRESS 187 " 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, having always pleased more in the closet than on 5 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 puffing and trumpeting, may be kept up for a time on the 10 surface of popular opinion, or rather of popular talk. What had been done for " False Delicacy " on the stage was con- tinued by the press. The booksellers vied with the manager in launching it upon the town. They announced that the first impression of three thousand copies was exhausted 15 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 20 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 25 from his well-earned fame ; the poet was excessively sensi- tive 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 th^ 30 hands of Garrick or elsewhere, and had borrowed some of the situations and sentiments. Some of the wags of the day took a mischievous pleasure in stirring up a feud between the two authors. Goldsmith became nettled, though he could l88 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 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 Garden, Goldsmith, with his 5 customary urbanity, congratulated Kelly on his success. " If I thought you sincere, Mr. Goldsmith," 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 lo Kelly's mind long continued. He is even accused of hav- ing 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. TOPICS AND QUESTIONS 1. Character of Garrick as brought out by Irving. Is this a just historical estimate ? 2. What does Irving mean by calling Goldsmith's nature mercurial ? 3. Mention the difficulties and the delays attending the first pres- entation of Goldsmith's play, " The Good-natured Man." Compare the first performance of this play with the first presentation of *' Hernani " in Paris. [Talk over the matter with your teacher of French or modern languages.] 4. Who were Kelly and Kenrick ? 5. Goldsmith's ingenuousness among his friends. 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 ! 5 It appeared to him wealth inexhaustible. It at once opened his heart and hand, and led him into all kinds of extrava- gance. 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 lo 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, 15 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 bookcases ; with cur- tains, mirrors, and Wilton carpets. His awkward little person 20 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 fur- nished with gold buttons." Thus lodged and thus arrayed, 25 he invited the visits of his most aristocratic acquaintances, 189 190 OLIVER GOLDSMITH and no longer quailed beneath the courtly eye of Beauclerc. He gave dinners to Johnson, Reynolds, Percy, Bickerstaff, and other friends of note ; and supper-parties to young folks of both sexes. These last were preceded by round games 5 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. Blackstone, whose chambers were imme- diately below, and who was studiously occupied on his " Com- 10 mentaries," used to complain 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 15 would assemble at his chambers in the morning, to partake of a plentiful 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 20 rambles by foot-paths and green lanes to Blackheath, Wands- worth, Chelsea, 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, 25 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 30 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 shillings ; for the best part of their entertainment, sweet' air and rural scenes, excellent exercise and joyous conversation, cost nothing. SHOEMAKER'S HOLIDAY ' 191 One of Goldsmith's humble companions, on these excur- sions, was his occasional amanuensis, Peter Barlow, whose quaint peculiarities afforded much amusement to the com- pany. Peter was poor but punctilious, squaring his expenses according to his means. He always wore the same garb ; 5 fixed his regular expenditure for dinner at a trifling sum, which, if left to himself, he never exceeded, but which he always insisted on paying. His oddities always made him a welcome companion on the " shoemaker's holidays." The dinner, on these occasions, generally exceeded considerably 10 his tariff; he put down, however, no more than his regular sum, and Goldsmith made up the difference. Another of these hangers-on, for whom, on such occa- sions, he was content to " pay the shot," was his countryman Glover, of whom mention has already been made as one of 15 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 London. They had 20 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 25 more easy," replied Glover ; " allow me to introduce you." So saying, he entered the house with an air of the most per- fect 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 30 rose on the entrance of the strangers. The undaunted Glover shook hands with him in the most cordial manner possible, fixed his eye on one of the company who had a peculiarly good- natured physiognomy, muttered something like a recognition, 192 OLIVER GOLDSMITH and forthwith launched into an amusing 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 5 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 off in the most sociable manner imaginable, at the end of which 10 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 impu- dent intrusion they had experienced. Nothing could exceed the dismay and vexation of Gold- 15 smith 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 impulse was to return instantly and vindicate him- self from all participation in the jest ; but a few words from his free-and-easy companion dissuaded him. " Doctor," said 20 he, coolly, *' we are unknown ; you quite as much as I ; if you return and tell the story, it will be in the newspapers to-morrow ; nay, upon recollection, 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, 25 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 conver- sation, and mimicking, in ludicrous style, the embarrassment, 30 surprise, and 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 sometimes found his old friends of the "jolly-pigeon" order turning up rather awkwardly when he was in company with THE UNWELCOME VISITOR 193 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, 5 sir, after staying away two years, he came one evening into my chambers, half drunk, as I was taking a glass of wine with Topham Beauclerc and General Oglethorpe ; and sitting himself down, with most intolerable assurance inquired after my health and literary pursuits, as if we were upon the most 10 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 acquitted himself very reputably ; when all of a sudden, as if recollect- 15 ing 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 gener- 20 ously 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 25 saw him afterwards." TOPICS AND QUESTIONS 1. Using the details given in Irving and filling out where necessary / from your imagination, write an account of a " shoemaker's holiday " on some specific date. [Let Goldsmith be the central personage in the rural excursion about which you write.] 2. Compare one of the scenes in " The Vicar of Wakefield " with the Glover jest. CHAPTER XXIV Reduced again to Book-building — Rural Retreat at Shoemaker's Paradise — Death of Henry Goldsmith ; Tributes to his Memory in the " Deserted Village." The heedless expenses of Goldsmith, as may easily be supposed, soon brought him to the end of his " prize-money," but when his purse gave out he drew upon futurity, obtain- ing advances from his booksellers and loans from his friends 5 in the confident hope of soon turning up another trump. The debts which he thus thoughtlessly incurred in conse- quence of a transient 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. 10 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 sum- mer-time, when pressed by a multiplicity of literary jobs, or 15 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 20 out along the lanes and hedgerows, and taking out paper and pencil, note down thoughts to be expanded and con- nected 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 25 took it in conjunction with a Mr. Edmund Botts, a barris- ter and man of letters, his neighbor in the Temple, having 194 SHOEMAKER'S PARADISE ^95 rooms immediately opposite him on the same floor. They had become cordial intimates, and Botts was one of those with whom Goldsmith now and then took the friendly but pernicious liberty of borrowing. The cottage which they had hired belonged to a rich shoe- 5 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-occupant, Mr. Botts, drove a gig, he sometimes, in an 10 interval of literary labor, accompanied him to town, partook of a social dinner there, and returned with him in the even- ing. On one occasion, 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 15 side-walk, while Botts 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 was suddenly brought to a pause by intelligence of the death 20 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 unaffected piety; conducting the school at Lissoy with a degree of industry and ability that gave it celebrity, and acquitting 25 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 through- out his works ; in which his brother continually forms his model for an exemplification of all the most endearing of the 30 Christian virtues ; yet his affection at his death was embit- tered 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 196 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 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 ; 5 we have seen that, in the case of the Earl of Northumber- land, 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 10 he was able to do, accused him of negligence. It is not Kkely, 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 15 childhood, we may attribute some of the most heartfelt pas- sages in his " Deserted Village." Much of that poem we are told was composed this summer, in the course of solitary strolls about the green lanes and beautifully rural scenes of the neighborhood ; and thus much of the softness and 20 sweetness of English landscape became blended with the ruder features of Lissoy. It was in these lonely and sub- dued 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 25 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 30 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." HENRY GOLDSMITH 197 To us the whole character seems traced as it were in an expiatory spirit; as if, conscious of his own wandering rest- lessness, he sought to humble himself at the shrine of excel- lence which he had not been able to practise : — ^ " At church with meek and unaffected grace, 5 His looks adorn'd the venerable place ; Truth from his lips prevail'd with double sway, And fools, who came to scoff, remained to pray. The service past, around the pious man. With steady zeal, each honest rustic ran ; If^ 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, I5 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.''' 20 TOPICS AND QUESTIONS 1. Irving again calls Goldsmith heedless. Why is the adjective a good characterization ? 2. Henry Goldsmith's life and character. How much older was Henry than Oliver? In what points of character did they differ? CHAPTER XXV Dinner at Bickerstaff's — Hiffernan and his Impecuniosity — Kenrick's Epi- gram — 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 coun- tryman, Isaac Bickerstaff, author of " Love in a Village," " Lionel and Clarissa," and other successful dramatic pieces. 5 The dinner was to be followed by the reading by 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 lo ever the vagabond's friend, or rather victim. Hiffernan was something of a physician, and elevated the emptiness of his purse into the dignity of a disease, which he termed impecu- niosity^ and against which he claimed a right to call for relief from the healthier purses of his friends. He was a scribbler 15 for the newspapers, and latterly a dramatic critic, which had probably gained him an invitation to the dinner and read- ing. 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. 20 Bickerstaff was embarrassed, but continued 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 25 own works." 198 GOLDSMITH'S TOILET 199 Kenrick, Goldsmith's old enemy, travestied this anecdote in the following lines, pretending that the poet had com- pared 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." Johnson was a rough consoler to a man when wincing 10 under an attack of this kind. " Never mind, sir," said he to Goldsmith, 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 15 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 20 great astonishment at hearing the offence for which he had fled. "Why, sir?" said Thrale, "he had long been a sus- pected 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 25 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 increased expense, of Goldsmith's wardrobe since his eleva-' tion into polite society. "He was fond," says one of his 30 contemporaries, " 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 200 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 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 forever famous. That worthy, on the i6th of October in 5 this same year, gave a dinner to Johnson, Goldsmith, Reyn- olds, 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 10 lingerers to arrive, "he strutted about," says Boswell, " brag- ging of his dress, and I believe was seriously vain of it, for his mind was undoubtedly prone to such impressions. ' Come, come,' said Garrick, ' talk no more of that. You are perhaps the worst — eh, eh?' Goldsmith was eagerly 15 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 tell you,' said Goldsmith, ' when the tailor brought home my bloom-colored coat, he said, " Sir, I have a favor to 20 beg of you ; when anybody 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 25 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 kind from strangers. As he was one day walking the Strand in grand array wdth bag-wig and sword, he excited 30 the merriment 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 NEW ACQUAINTANCES 20I 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 5 ground, sneaked oif 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, 10 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 boy- hood, by the sneers and jeers of his playmates, and had been ground deeper into it by rude speeches made to him in 15 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 20 acceptability y if we may use the phrase, which nature had denied him. If ever he betrayed a little self-complacency 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. 25 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 Devonshire, which he met at the house of his friend, 30 Sir Joshua Reynolds. 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 playfully and somewhat proudly called 202 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 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, indicative, very probably, of 5 her disposition. She was engaged to William Henry Bun- bury, 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 10 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 15 forgetting his person in admiring his works. On becoming acquainted with him, too, they were delighted with his guile- less simplicity, his buoyant good-nature, and his innate benevolence ; and an enduring intimacy soon sprang up between them. For once poor Goldsmith had met with 20 polite society with which he was perfectly 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 25 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 30 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 ! " A RHYMING EPISTLE 203 " 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 Comedy'' s face, And the Captain in Lace, — Tell each other to rue Your Devonshire crew, For sending so late t To one of my state. But 't is Reynolds's way From wisdom to stray, And Angelica's whim To befrolic like him ; 10 But alas ! your good worships, how could they be wiser, When both have been spoil'd in to-day's ♦ Advertiser ' ? " 1 It has been intimated that the intimacy of poor Goldsmith with the Miss Hornecks, which began in so sprightly a vein, gradually assumed something of a more tender nature, and 15 that he was not insensible to the fascinations of the younger sister. This may account for some of the phenomena which about this time appeared in his wardrobe and toilet. Dur- ing the first year of his acquaintance with these lovely girls, the tell-tale book of his tailor, Mr. William Filby, displays 20 entries of four or five full suits, besides separate articles of dress. Among the items we find a green half-trimmed frock and breeches, lined with silk; a queen 's-blue dress suit; a half-dress suit of ratteen, lined with satin ; a pair of silk stocking-breeches, and another pair of a bloom-color. Alas ! 25 1 The following lines had appeared in that day's " Advertiser," on the portrait of Sir Joshua by Angelica Kauffman : — " While fair Angelica, with matchless grace, Paints Conway's burly form and Stanhope's face ; Our hearts to beauty willing homage pay, We praise, admire, and gaze our souls away. , 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." 204 OLIVER GOLDSMITH poor Goldsmith ! how much of this silken finery was dictated, not by vanity, but humble consciousness of thy defects ; how much of it was to atone for the uncouthness of thy person, and to win favor in the eyes of the Jessamy Bride I TOPICS AND QUESTIONS 1. Goldsmith's fondness for odd clothes. 2. The story of Goldsmith and the Jessamy Bride. What recent writer of fiction has made this love story the theme of a novel ? 3. Irving as an apologist for Goldsmith's shortcomings. [Compare question 4, Chapter XVIII.] 4. Give an account of Boswell's dinner to his friends on Octo- ber 16, 1768. CHAPTER XXVI Goldsmith in the Temple — Judge Day and Grattan — Labor and Dissipation — Publication of the Roman History; Opinions of it — "History of Ani- mated 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 History. 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 5 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 10 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 15 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." 20 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 Coffee-House, then the favorite resort of the Irish and Lancashire Tem- plars. He delighted in collecting his friends around him 25 at evening parties at his chambers, where he entertained 205 2o6 OLIVER GOLDSMITH them with a cordial and unostentatious hospitality. " Occa- sionally," 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. 5 In a run of bad luck and worse play, he would fling his cards upon the floor and exclaim, ^Bye/ore George, I ought forever 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 lo hack-work to recruit his exhausted finances. " His purse replenished," adds he, "by labors of this kind, the season of relaxation and pleasure took its turn, in attending the theatres, Ranelagh, Vauxhall, and other scenes of gayety and amusement. Whenever his funds were dissipated, — 15 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 book- seller, and fresh supplies for himself." 20 How completely had the young student discerned the char- acteristics of poor, genial, generous, drudging, holiday-loving Goldsmith ; 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, 25 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 30 received by the critics, commanded a prompt and exten- sive 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 ROMAN HISTORY 207 of the author and the work, in a conversation with Boswell, to the great astonishment of the latter. " Whether we take Goldsmith," said he, " as a poet, as a comic writer, or as an historian, he stands in the first class." Boswell. " An historian ! My dear sir, you surely will not rank his compila- 5 tion of the Roman History with the works of other historians of this age." Johnson. — ''Why, who are before him?" Boswell. — " Hume — Robertson — Lord Lyttelton. " John- son (his antipathy against the Scotch beginning to rise). — " I have not read Hume ; but doubtless Goldsmith's History 10 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 .? " Johnson. — " Sir, you must consider how that penetration and that painting are employed. It is not his- 15 tory, it is imagination. He who describes what he never saw, draws from fancy. Robertson paints minds as Sir Joshua paints faces, in a history-piece ; he imagines an heroic coun- tenance. You must look upon Robertson's work as romance, and try it by that standard. History it is not. Besides, sir, 20 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, 25 I always thought Robertson would be crushed with his own weight — would be buried under his own ornaments. Gold- smith tells you shortly all you want to know; Robertson detains you a great deal too long. No man will read Robert- son's cumbrous detail a second time ; but Goldsmith's plain 30 narrative will please again and again. I would say to Robert- son 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 ! ' 208 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 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 5 compiling, and of saying everything he has to say in a pleas- ing 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 " History of Animated Nature," which Goldsmith commenced -ro in 1769, under an engagement with Griffin, the bookseller, to complete it as soon as possible in eight volumes, each containing upwards of four hundred pages, in pica ; a hun- dred guineas to be paid to the author on the delivery of each volume in manuscript. 15 He was induced to engage in this work by the urgent solicitations 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 Gold- smith's intention originally to make a translation of Pliny, 20 with a popular commentary ; 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 25 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, 30 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 "HISTORY OF ANIMATED NATURE" 209 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, Goldsmith observed that a similar custom pre- vailed in China ; that a dog-butcher is as common there as 5 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 ani- 10 mals 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." Goldsmith. — "Nay, sir, it is a fact well authenticated." 15 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 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 20 much endangering his reputation. But if he makes experi- ments 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." 25 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 Buff on, and but little of it written from his own observation, — though it was by no means profound, 30 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 2IO OLIVER GOLDSMITH 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 5 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 10 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 15 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 20 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 25 relates to the House-Spider. " 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 30 spider in one corner 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. ANECDOTES OF A SPIDER 211 *' 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, how- 5 ever, it had to encounter was another and a much larger spider, which, having no web of its own, and having proba- bly exhausted all its stock in former labors of this kind, came to invade the property of its neighbor. Soon, then, a terrible encounter ensued, in which the invader seemed to 10 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 returned ; and when he found all arts in vain, began to demolish the new web without 15 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, 20 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. The 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 25 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. 30 " In this manner it lived, in a precarious state ; and Nature seemed to have fitted it for such a life, for upon a single fly it subsisted for more than a week. I once put a wasp into the net ; but when the spider came out in order 212 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 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 5 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. 10 " 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 If. deprived of its great means of subsistence, were indeed sur- prising. 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. 20 " 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, 25 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, 30 upon his immediately approaching, the terror of his appear- ance might give the captive strength sufficient 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. ANECDOTES OF A SPIDER 213 " 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 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." TOPICS AND QUESTIONS 1. What was a Templar in the time of Goldsmith ? In the time of Richard the Lion-Hearted ? Is the term used now in the United States ? 2. How many adjectives can be applied to Goldsmith in describing his character ? 3. Was the tutor's advice to one of his pupils sound ? 4. By observation verify Goldsmith's remarks about the spider. [Find out from your science teacher whether Goldsmith's paper in the " Bee " regarding the House-Spider is scientifically accurate.] 5. Write a short essay on Vauxhall. CHAPTER XXVII Honors at the Royal Academy — Letter to his Brother Maurice — Family For- tunes — 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 memo- rable 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. Reyn- 5 olds, who had been mainly instrumental in founding it, had been unanimously elected president, and had thereupon received the honor of knighthood.^ Johnson was so de- lighted with his friend's elevation, that he broke through a rule of total abstinence with respect to wine, which he had 10 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 sup- posed to be through his suggestions that, on the first estab- lishment of professorships, which took place in December, 15 1769, Johnson was nominated to that of Ancient Literature, and Goldsmith to that of History. They were mere honor- ary 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, 20 at which were assembled many of the most distinguished persons of rank and talent, all proud to be classed among the patrons of the arts. 1 We must apologize for the anachronism we have permitted ourselves 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 difficult to dispense with it. 214 LETTER TO HIS BROTHER MAURICE 215 The following letter of Goldsmith to his brother alludes to the foregoing appointment, and to a small legacy be- queathed to him by his uncle Contarine. " To Mr. Maurice Goldsmith^ at James Lawder's^ Esq., at Kilmore, near Carrick-on- Shannon. 5 "January, 1770. " Dear Brother, — I should have answered your letter sooner, but, in truth, I am not fond of thinking of the necessities 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 10 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 think I could get both you and my poor brother-in-law something like that which you desire, 15 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 oppor- tunity has offered ; but I believe you are pretty well con- vinced that I will not be remiss when it arrives. 20 ''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 some- 25 thing 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 30 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, 2i6 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 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 neces- sary to fit you out, or whether our poor sister Johnson may 5 not want the half, I leave entirely to their and your discre- tion. The kindness of that good couple to our shattered family demands 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 10 adding to my own. " I have sent my cousin Jenny a miniature picture of myself, as I believe it is the most acceptable present I can offer. I have ordered it to be left for her at George Faulk- ner's, folded in a letter. The face, you well know, is ugly 15 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 Colman. I believe I have written a hundred letters to different friends in your country, 20 and never received an answer to any of them. I do not know how to account 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 25 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 telUng 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, 30 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. i'Vhere is Charles ? A sheet of paper occasionally A SHATTERED FAMILY 21/ 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 affectionately, "Oliver Goldsmith." By this letter we find the Goldsmiths the same shifting; 5 shiftless race as formerly ; a " shattered family," scrambUng 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 10 husband are as poorly off as Maurice, with, perhaps, no one at hand to quarter themselves upon ; as to the rest, '' what i? become of them? where do they live.? and how do they do ? what has become of Charles ? " What forlorn hap- hazard life is implied by these questions ! Can we wonder 15 that, with all the love for his native place, v/hich is shown throughout Goldsmith's writings, he had not 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 made mention of him ; he 20 sends Jane his miniature ; he believes " it is the most acceptable 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 25 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 30 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 2l8 OLIVER GOLDSMITH empty fame, and he is ready to participate with them ; he is honorary professor, without pay ; his portrait is to be engraved in mezzotint, in company with those of his friends, Burke, Reynolds, Johnson, Colman, and others, and he will 5 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 mezzo- tinto engraving of his likeness by Reynolds was a great 10 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 gentle- man with a newly married wife hanging on his arm, whom 15 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 revived, and he accosted him with cordial famil- iarity, though the youth may have found some difficulty in 20 recognizing in the personage, arrayed, perhaps, in garments of Tyrian dye, the dingy pedagogue of the Milners. " Come, my boy," cried Goldsmith, as if still speaking to a school- boy, — " come, Sam, I am delighted to see you. I must treat you to something — what shall it be? Will you have 25 some apples ? " glancing at an old woman's stall ; 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 30 was furnishing his house, and had fixed upon the place where it was to be hung. " Ah, Sam ! " rejoined Goldsmith reproachfully, " if your picture had been published, I should not have waited an hour without having it." PORTRAITS AND ENGRAVINGS 219 After all, it was honest pride, not vanity, in Goldsmith, that was gratified at seeing his portrait deemed worthy of being perpetuated by the classic pencil of Reynolds, and " hung up in history " beside that of his revered friend John- son. Even the great moralist himself was not insensible to 5 a feeling of this kind. Walking one day with Goldsmith, in Westminster Abbey, among the tombs of monarchs, war- riors, and statesmen, 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 10 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 15 aloft on spikes, pointed up to the grizzly mementos, and echoed the intimation, " Forsitan et nostrum nomen miscebitur istisJ** TOPICS AND QUESTIONS 1. Character of the Goldsmiths as presented in Oliver's letter to Maurice. 2. Was it honest pride or vanity that made Goldsmith glad to have Reynolds paint his portrait ? What are the most striking characteristics of this portrait ? [See frontispiece.] 3. When was Joshua Reynolds knighted ? 4. Describe the poets' corner in Westminster Abbey. [See diagram of the Abbey in Karl Baedeker's " London and Its Environs," § 19. On the numerous maps of London in Baedeker's guide-book will be found most of the places referred to in Irving's " Life of Goldsmith."] 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 further poetic attempts. On being questioned at the annual 5 dinner of the Royal Academy by the Earl of Lisburn, why he neglected the Muses to compile histories and write novels, " My 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 lo 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 productions in prose much more sought after and better paid for." 15 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" 20 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 25 the 1 6th 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 220 THOUGHTS OF HOME 221 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 circumstance, and who, apparently judging 5 of poetry by quantity rather than quality, observed that it was a great sum for so small a poem. " In truth," said Gold- smith, " 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 10 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 ; 15 we see nothing in it incompatible with the character of Gold- smith, who was very impulsive, and prone to acts of incon- siderate generosity. As we do not pretend in this summary memoir to go into a criticism or analysis of any of Goldsmith's writings, we 20 shall 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 forever present there. It seems to us as if the very last accounts received from home, of his " shattered 25 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, ' 3° In all my griefs — and God 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 j 35 222 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 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 ; c 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 lo from a heart which all the trials and temptations and buffet- ings of the world could not render worldly ; which, amid a thousand follies and errors of the head, still retained its child- like innocence ; and which, doomed to struggle on to the last amidst the din and turmoil of the metropolis, had ever been 15 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 be mine, How blest is he who crowns, in shades like these, A youth of labor with an age of ease ; 20 Who quits a world where strong temptations try And, since 't is hard to combat, learns to fly ! For him no wretches, born to work and weep, Explore the mine, or tempt the dangerous deep; No surly porter stands, in guilty state, 25 To spurn imploring famine from the gate; But on he moves to meet his latter end. Angels around befriending virtue's friend ; Sinks to the grave with unperceived decay. While resignation gently slopes the way ; 3c And all his prospects brightening to the last, His heaven commences ere the world be past.' Note The following article, which appeared in a London peri- odical, shows the effect of Goldsmith's poem in renovating 35 the fortunes of Lissoy. LISSOY 223 "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 5 very bare and unpoetical aspect. This, however, was owing to a cause which serves strongly to corroborate the asser- tion, 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 10 that he might enclose 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 par- 15 sonage-house of Henry Goldsmith, that brother to whom the poet dedicated his * Traveller,' and who is represented as a village pastor, ** * Passing rich with forty pounds a year.' "When I was in the country, the lower chambers were 20 inhabited 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 iden- tity of Auburn, Lissoy House overcame my scruples. As I 25 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 when composing his 'Traveller', in a foreign land. Yonder was the decent church, that 30 literally 'topped the neighboring hill.' Before me lay the little hill of Knockrue, on which he declares, in one of his letters, he had rather sit with a book in hand than mingle 224 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 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.' r "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- 10 tree,' built up with masonry to distinguish and preserve it; it is old and stunted, and suffers much from the depreda- tions of post-chaise travellers, who generally stop to procure a twigo Opposite to it is the village alehouse, over the door of which swings ' The Three Jolly Pigeons.' Within, every- 15 thing is arranged according to the letter: — " * The whitewash'd wall, the nicely-sanded floor, The varnish'd clock that click'd behind the doors The chest, contrived a double debt to pay, A bed by night, a chest of drawers by day; 20 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 obtaining 'the twelve good rules,' but at length purchased them at some London bookstall to adorn the whitewashed 25 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, 30 « < There, in his noisy mansion, skill'd to rule.* It is surrounded with fragrant proofs of identity in *' * The blossom'd furze, unprofitably gay/ THE POET'S CHAIR 225 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 5 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 possession of it, and protest most clamorously 10 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 pro?, and con^ have been all ascertained, the argument has died away. Its 15 abettors plead the singular agreement between the local his- tory 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, 26 " • 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 25 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 Pandemonium ? ' , " The line is naturally drawn between ; there can be no 30 doubt that the poet intended England by " * The land to hast'ning ills a prey, Where wealth accumulates and men decay.* 226 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 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." Best, an Irish clergyman, told Davis, the traveller in 5 America, that the hawthorn-bush mentioned in the poem was still remarkably large. " I was riding once," said he, " with Brady, titular 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 ! ' lo replied I, ' cut down the bush that supplies so beautiful an image in " The Deserted Village " ? * — ' Ma foy ! ' exclaimed the bishop, *is that the hawthorn-bush? Then let it be sacred from the edge of the axe, and evil be to him that should cut off a branch.'" — The hawthorn-bush, however, 15 has long since been cut up, root and branch, in furnishing relics to literary pilgrims. TOPICS AND QUESTIONS 1. Goldsmith's reason for writing prose hack-work rather than poet- ical efforts of lasting merit. 2. Which poem do you like better, " The Traveller " or " The Deserted Village"? Why? 3. Why does Irving call his work a "summary memoir "? 4. What does Goldsmith mean in "The Deserted Village" by his statement that for the man who retires to rural seclusion " heaven com- mences ere the world be past " ? [Compare a similar idea in the early part of " The Vision of Sir Launfal."] 5. What is Irving's purpose in appending the note to Chap- ter XXVIII ? Do you think that Auburn has been sufficiently iden- tified ? Are you convinced that Lissoy was the original of Auburn ? Does it make any difference whether Lissoy was the original or not ? CHAPTER XXIX The Poet among the Ladies ; Description of his Person and Manners — Expe dition to Paris with the Horneck 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 becom- ing 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, 5 among whom he particularly 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 10 of Boswell and his compeers, who had a propensity to repre- sent him jn caricature ; but let us take the apparently truth- ful 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 15 feet five or six inches ; strong, but not heavy in make ; rather fair in complexion, with brown hair; such, at least, as could be distinguished from his wig. His features were plain, but not repulsive, — certainly not so when lighted up by conversation. His manners were simple, natural, and 20 perhaps on the whole, we may say, not polished; at least without the refinement and good-breeding which the exqui- site polish of his compositions would lead us to expect. He was always cheerful and animated, often, indeed, boisterous in his mirth ; entered with spirit into convivial society ; con- 25 tributed largely to its enjoyments by solidity of information, 227 228 OLIVER GOLDSMITH and the naivete and originality of his character ; talked often without premeditation, and laughed loudly without restraint." This, it will be recollected, represents him as he appeared to a young Templar, who probably saw him only in Temple 5 coffee-houses, at students' quarters, or at the jovial supper- parties given at the poet's own chambers. Here, of course, his mind was in its rough dress ; his laugh may have been loud and his mirth boisterous ; but we trust all these matters became softened and modified when he found himself in lo polite drawing-rooms and in female society. But what say the ladies themselves of him ; and here, for- tunately, we have another sketch of him, as he appeared at the time to one of the Horneck circle ; in fact, we believe, to the Jessamy Bride herself. After admitting, apparently, 15 with some reluctance, 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 heart, which broke out on every occasion. His benevolence was unquestionable, and his cou7itenance bore every t?'ace of it : no 20 one that knew him intimately could avoid admiring and lov- ing his good qualities." When to all this we add the idea of intellectual delicacy and refinement associated with him by his poetry and the newly-plucked bays that were flourishing round his brow, we cannot be surprised that fine and fashion- 25 able ladies should be proud of his attentions, and that even a young beauty should not be altogether displeased with the thoughts of having a man of his genius in her chains. We are led to indulge some notions of the kind from find- ing him in the month of July, but a few weeks after the publi- 30 cation of the " Deserted Village," setting off on a six weeks' excursion to Paris, in company with Mrs. Horneck and her two beautiful daughters. A day or two before his departure, we find another new gala suit charged to him on the books of Mr. William Filby. Were the bright eyes of the Jessamy HINTS AND SURMISES 229 Bride responsible for this additional extravagance of ward- robe ? Goldsmith 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 ladies look wiihiji " 10 All 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 ban- tering among his contemporaries about the beautiful Mary Horneck, and that he was extremely sensitive on the subject. 15 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, — 20 " 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 hap- pened, as my machine to prevent sea-sickness was not com- pleted. We were glad to leave Dover, because we hated to 25, 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 3c 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 230 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 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 5 and civil a manner of demanding it, that there was no refusing them. " 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, lo 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 15 circumstance: I bought a new riband for my wig at Can- terbury, 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. Bos well, into a proof 20 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 extreme beauty of the Miss Hornecks immedi- ately attracted the attention of the officers, who broke forth 25 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 beau- tiful companions, and exclaimed, with mock severity of aspect, " Elsewhere I also would have my admirers." 30 It is difficult to conceive the obtuseness of intellect neces- sary to misconstrue so obvious a piece of mock petulance and dry humor into an instance of mortified vanity and jealous self-conceit. BOSWELL'S ABSURDITIES 23 I 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 absurdities, evidently misconceptions of Goldsmith's peculiar vein of humor, by which the charge of envious 5 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 10 often uttered in jest was mistaken, 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. The following letter to Sir Joshua Reynolds was subse- 15 quently 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, 20 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 ladies do not seem to be very fond of what we 25 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 confirmed habits about me, and can find nothing on the Continent so good as when I formerly left it. One of our 30 chief amusements here is scolding at everything we meet with, and praising everything and every person we left at home. You may judge, therefore, whether your name is 232 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 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 5 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 landladies ; but I reserve all this for a happy hour which I expect to share with you upon my return. 10 "I have httle 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 John- son, Burke, Dyer, Chamier, Colman, and every one of the (5 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 20 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 purpose. 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 25 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, 30 I intend to let the ladies go on, and I will take a country- lodging somewhere near that place in order to do some busi- ness. 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 THE CHANGES OF TWENTY YEARS 233 about yourself and myself, if you know anything that has happened. About Miss Reynolds, about Mr. Bickerstaff, my nephew, or anybody 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. 5 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 anything I can do for you at Paris ? I wish you 10 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 15 home than I ever was before. And yet I must say, that, if anything 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 teazing you longer 20 with moral observations, 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, " Oliver Goldsmith. 25 " Direct to me at the Hotel de Danemarc, Rue Jacob, Fauxbourg St. Germains A word of comment on this letter : — Travelling is, indeed, a very different thing with Gold- smith the poor student at twenty, and Goldsmith the poet ^o and Professor 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, everything pleased, everything was good ; a truckle-bed in a garret was 234 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 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, everything goes wrong : he has to quarrel with postilions, he is cheated 5 by landladies, the hotels are 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 seen." " One of our chief amuse- ments is scolding at everything we meet with, and praising 10 everything 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 15 be pleased with what pleased the vulgar tastes of his youth. He is unconsciously illustrating the trait so humorously sat- irized by him in Ned 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 20 no longer " smacks at wretched wine or praises detestable custard." A lurking thorn, too, is worrying him throughout this tour; he has "outrun the constable"; 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 25 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, 30 and insists on playing the cicerone on all occasions. He and Goldsmith do not relish each other, and they have several petty altercations. The lawyer is too much a map of business and method for the careless poet, and is dis- posed to manage everything. He has perceived Goldsmith's THE SPECIAL ATTORNEY 235 whimsical peculiarities without properly appreciating his merits, and is prone to indulge in broad bantering and raillery at his expense, particularly irksome if indulged in presence of the ladies. He makes himself merry on his return to England, by giving the following anecdote as 5 illustrative of Goldsmith's vanity: — "Being with a party at Versailles; viewing the water- works, 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 10 maintained the affirmative; but, being bantered on the sub- ject, and remembering 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? 15 This same Hickey is the one of whom Goldsmith, some time 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; 20 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 flat ? 25 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 I Then what was his failing ? Come, tell it, and burn ye — He was, could he help it ? a special attorney." 30 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 conld not help observing how much plainer their parrots 35 236 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 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 different qualities of the two languages, and was 5 for entering into an elaborate discussion on the vowels and consonants ; but a friend that was with me solved the diffi- culty at once, by assuring me that the French women scarce did anything else the whole day than sit and instruct their feathered pupils; and that the birds were thus distinct in 10 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 en 15 it," he replied, "I recommend it by all means to the sick, if they are without the sense of S77ielling, 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." 20 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. TOPICS AND QUESTIONS 1. The appearance and manners of Goldsmith about 1770. 2. What conclusions do you draw from Irving's hints in this chapter ? 3. "Why does Irving call Bos well a literary magpie ? 4. What is the difference between wit and humor? Do you find either in Irving's biography of Goldsmith ? 5. Was it good etiquette for Reynolds to show Goldsmith's letters ? 6. Anecdotes of Goldsmith's trip to the Continent in 1770. CHAPTER XXX Death of Goldsmith's Mother — Biography of Parnell — Agreement with Davies for the History of Rome — Life of BoHngbroke — 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 5 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 igno- rance of the world and want of management, which pre- vented him from pushing his fortune. He had always, 10 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 excursion to Paris rendered doubly necessary. We should 15 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. John- son spoke slightingly of it, and the author himself thought proper to apologize for its meagreness, — yet, in so doing, 20 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 interesting than those that make the ornaments of a coun- 25 try tombstone, are all that remain of one whose labors now 237 238 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 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 gener- ally sparing in their praises. When his fame is increased 5 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 cofitinue the chase by the meridian splendor.'*^ He now entered into an agreement with Davies to pre- pare an abridgment, in one volume duodecimo, of his 10 "History of Rome"; but first to write a work for which there was a more immediate demand. Davies was about to republish Lord Bolingbroke's " Dissertation on Parties," which he conceived would be exceedingly applicable to the affairs of the day, and make a probable hit during the 15 existing state of violent political excitement; to give it still greater effect and currency, he engaged Goldsmith to intro- duce it with a prefatory life of Lord Bolingbroke. About this time Goldsmith's friend and countryman. Lord Clare, was in great affliction, caused by the death of his 20 only son, Colonel Nugent, and stood in need of the sympa- thies of a kind-hearted friend. At his request, therefore. Goldsmith paid him a visit at his seat of Gosfield, taking his tasks with him. Davies was in a worry lest Gosfield Park should prove a Capua to the poet, and the time be 25 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 furnished in time for the publi- cation of the work in December. The " Biography," though 30 written during a time of political turmoil, and introducing a work intended to be thrown into the arena of politics, maintained that freedom from party prejudice observable in all the writings of Goldsmith. It was a selection of facts, drawn from many unreadable sources, and arranged into a BIOGRAPHY OF BOLINGBROKE 239 clear, flowing narrative, illustrative of the career and charac- ter 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 5 as if that was too short for the combat, has left his memory 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 10 unattended with mortifications. He had now become accus- tomed 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, 15 "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, 20 however, stepped forward, as usual, to defend the poet, whom he would allow no one to assail but himself; perhaps 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 25 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 perpetuated in his amusing verses entitled the " Haunch 30 of Venison." Some of the lines pleasantly set forth the embarrassment caused by the appearance of such an aristo- cratic delicacy in the humble kitchen of a poet, accustomed to look up to mutton as a treat : — 240 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; 5 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, lo 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; 15 Such dainties to them, their health it might hurt; // 'j like sending them ruffles, 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. 20 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 frequent fits of absence, mistook the house, and walked up into the Duke's dining-room, where he and the Duchess 25 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 perfectly at home. The Duke 30 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 invited him to 35 partake. The truth at once flashed upon poor heedless AN EMBARRASSING BLUNDER 241 Goldsmith; he started up from his free-and-easy position, made a confused apology for his blunder, and would have re- tired 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 5 them. This may be hung up as a companion-piece to his blunder on his first visit to Northumberland House. TOPICS AND QUESTIONS 1. The death of Goldsmith's mother. What appears to have been her influence over Oliver? 2. Read a few pages (as many as you can) of Boswell's " Life of Johnson," and decide whether Irving's attitude to Boswell is a fair one. [A cheap edition of Boswell's book is published by T. Y. Crowell & Company, New York.] 3. Give an account of Goldsmith's appearance in the Duke of Northumberland's dining-room. 4. How could Gosfield Park prove a Capua to Goldsmith } CHAPTER XXXI Dinner at the Royal Academy — The Rowley Controversy — Horace Walpole's Conduct to Chatterton — Johnson at RedcUffe Church — Goldsmith's His- tory 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 5 Reynolds, 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 academicians, there was a large number of the most distinguished men of the day as guests. Goldsmith 10 on this occasion drew on himself the attention of the com- pany by launching out with enthusiasm on the poems recently given to the world by Chatterton, as the works of an ancient author by the name of Rowley, discovered in the tower of Redcliffe Church, at Bristol. Goldsmith spoke 15 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 Chatterton's. Goldsmith was warm for their being genuine. When he considered, he said, the merit of the poetry, the acquaint- 20 ance with life and the human heart displayed in them, the antique quaintness of the language and the familiar knowl- edge of historical events of their supposed day, he could not believe it possible they could be the work of a boy of sixteen, of narrow education, and confined to the duties 25 of an attorney's office. They must be the productions of Rowley. 242 CHATTERTON 243 Johnson, who was a stout unbeliever in Rowley, as he had been in Ossian, rolled in his chair and laughed at the enthusiasm 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 Q\\2X\.&x\.oxs.'^ 5 was in question. This matter, which had excited the simple admiration of Goldsmith, was no novelty to him, he said. " He might, had he pleased, have had the honor of usher- ing the great discovery to the learned world." And so he might, had he followed his first impulse in the matter, for 10 he himself had been an original believer ; 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 w^orld with his sanction. When he found, however, that his unknown correspondent 15 was a mere boy, humble in sphere and indigent in circum- stances, 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. 20 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 pro- nounce ''an inspired idiot"; but his mirth was soon dashed, for on asking the poet what had become of this Chatterton, 25 he was answered, doubtless in the feeling tone of one who had experienced 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 30 at his recent levity. " The persons of honor and veracity who were present," said he in after-years, when he found it necessary to exculpate himself from the charge of heart- less neglect of genius, "will attest with what surprise and 244 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 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 5 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 10 were not ancient, were they not good.'' Granting they were not the productions of Rowley, were they the less admirable for being 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 15 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. // is wonderful how the whelp has written such things T As to Goldsmith, he persisted in his credulity, and had 20 subsequently a dispute with Dr. Percy on the subject, which interrupted and almost destroyed their friendship. After all, his enthusiasm was of a generous, poetic kind ; the poems remain beautiful monuments of genius, and it is even now difficult to persuade one's self that they could be entirely 25 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, * 30 Carte, Smollett, and Hume, " each of whom," says he, " have their admirers, in proportion as the reader is studious of political antiquities, fond of minute anecdote, a warm par- tisan, or a deliberate reasoner." It possessed the same kind of merit as his other historical compilations ; a clear, succinct THE "HISTORY OF ENGLAND" 245 narrative, a simple, easy, and graceful 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 sub- 5 ject. The work, though written without party feeling, 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 min- isters ; one who would betray his country for a pension. 10 Tom Davies, the publisher, the pompous little bibliopole of Russell Street, alarmed lest the book should prove unsalable, undertook to protect it by his pen, and wrote a long arti- cle in its defence in The Public Advertiser. He was vain of his critical effusion, and sought by nods and winks and 15 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 ' ? If you want to know who was the writer of it, you will find him in Russell Street ; — but m.um /" • 20 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 epit- omized, " and, like his other historical writings, it has kept its ground" in English literature. 25 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 30 chambers in the Temple, on the 7th of September, apologizes for putting off the visit, while it gives an amusing account of his summer occupations and of the attacks of the critics on his '' History of England " : — 246 OLIVER GOLDSMITH " My dear Sir, — " Since I had the pleasure of seeing you last, I 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 5 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 off my intended visit to Lincolnshire for this season. Reynolds is just returned from Paris, and finds himself now in the c^se 10 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 15 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. 20 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 laugh. There have I been strolling about the hedges, study- 25 ing 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 bungling work ; and that not so much my fault as the fault of my scurvy circumstances. They begin to talk in 30 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 Eng- land," for which I have been a good deal abused in the newspapers, for betraying the liberties of the people. God LETTER TO LANGTON 247 knows I had no thought for or against liberty 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 nobody. However, they set me down as an arrant Tory, and conse- quently an honest man. When you come to look at any 5 part of it, you '11 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." TOPICS AND QUESTIONS 1. Does Goldsmith state fairly what must have been his real aim in the " History of England " ? Irving says that this abridgment has kept its ground in English literature. What qualities must a history possess in order to be considered literature .? Is all written history literature 1 2. When were the two projected works that are mentioned in Gold- smith's letter to Bennet Langton finally published? CHAPTER XXXII Marriage of Little Comedy — Goldsmith at Barton — Practical Jokes at the Expense of his Toilet — Amusements at Barton — Aquatic Misadventure. Though Goldsmith found it impossible to break from his literary occupations to visit Bennet Langton, in Lincoln- shire, he soon yielded to attractions from another quarter, in which somewhat of sentiment may have mingled. Miss 5 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 celebrated for the humorous productions of his pencil. Goldsmith was shortly afterwards invited to 10 pay the newly married couple a visit at their seat, at Barton, in Suffolk. How could he resist such an invitation — espe- cially as the Jessamy Bride would, of course, be among the guests ? It is true, he was hampered with work ; he was still more hampered with debt ; his accounts with Newbery 15 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 20 visit the bride at Barton. He found there a joyous house- hold, and one where he was welcomed with affection. Gar- rick was there, and played the part of master of the revels, for he was an intimate friend of the master of the house.' Notwithstanding early misunderstandings, a social inter- 25 course between the actor and the poet had grown up of late, from meeting together continually in the same circle. A 248 VISIT TO BARTON 249 few particulars have reached us concerning Goldsmith while on this happy visit. We believe the legend has come down from Miss Mary Horneck herself. "While at Barton," she says, " his manners were always playful and amusing, taking the lead in promoting any scheme of innocent mirth, and 5 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 10 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 the most joyous of the group. " One of the means by which he amused us was his songs, 15 chiefly of the comic kind, which were sung with some taste and humor; several, I believe, were of his own composi- tion, 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." 20 His perfect good-humor made him the object of tricks of all kinds ; often in retaliation of some prank which he him- self had played off. Unluckily, these tricks were sometimes made at the expense of his toilet, which, with a view perad- venture to please the eye of a certain fair lady, he had again 25 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 expensive pair of ruffles; the coat some one contrived to soil, and it was sent to be cleansed ; but, either ,30 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. 250 OLIVER GOLDSMITH " 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 5 to dress. It was the only one he had in the country, and the misfortune seemed irreparable until the services of Mr. Bunbury's valet were called in, who, however, performed his functions so indifferently, that poor Goldsmith's appear- ance became the signal for a general smile." 10 This was wicked waggery, especially when it was directed to mar all the attempts of the unfortunate poet to im- prove his personal appearance, about which he was at all times dubiously sensitive, and particularly when among the ladies. 15 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 des- tined to be equally baneful to him on the present occa- sion. " Some difference of opinion," says the fair narrator, 20 "having arisen with Lord Harrington respecting the depth of a pond, the poet remarked that it was not so deep but that, if anything 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 25 this kind of bravado, in attempting to fulfil his promise with- out 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." 30 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 THE UNFINISHED NOVEL 25 I of his head and heart, which shone forth in his countenance, and gained him the love of all who knew him. 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 5 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 press- ing debts, and to provide funds for this very visit. It never was finished. The bookseller, when he came afterwards to 10 examine the manuscript, objected 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, forget- ting that this was the very Newbery who kept his "Vicar of Wakefield" by him nearly two years, through doubts of 15 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 of life and traits of character, while it could not fail to bear traces of his delightful style. What a pity he had 20 not been guided by the opinions of his fair listeners at Barton, instead of that of the astute Mr. Newbery ! QUESTION I. Why did all who knew Goldsmith love him ? 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 Goldsmith's aristocratical acquaintances. The veteran, born in 1698, had commenced life early, by serving, when a mere stripling, under Prince Eugene, against the Turks. He had 5 continued in military life, and been promoted to the rank of major-general in 1745, and received a command during the Scottish rebellion. Being of strong Jacobite tendencies, he was suspected and accused of favoring the rebels ; and though acquitted by a court of inquiry, was never afterwards 10 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 benev- olence, and high Tory principles. His name, however, has become historical, chiefly from his transactions in America, 15 and the share he took in the settlement of the colony of Georgia. It lies embalmed in honorable immortality in a single line of. Pope's : — " One, driven by strong benevolence of soul, Shall fly, like Oglethorpe, from pole to pole." 20 The veteran was now seventy-four years of age, but healthy and vigorous, and as much the preux chevalier as in his younger days, when 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 25 the General details of his various " experiences." He was anxious that he should give the world his life. " I know no 252 DINNER AT GENERAL OGLETHORPE'S 253 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." 5 Boswell gives us an interesting and characteristic account of a dinner-party at the General's, (April loth, 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 10 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 opposing forces. "Here were we — here were the Turks," to all which Johnson listened with the most earnest attention, poring over the plans and 15 diagrams with his usual purblind closeness. In the course of conversation the General gave an anec- dote of himself in early life, when serving under Prince Eugene. Sitting at table once in company with a prince of Wurtemberg, the latter gave a fillip to a glass of wine, so as 20 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 drawcansir. If passed over 25 without notice, he might be charged with cowardice. His mind was made up in an instant. " Prince," said he, smil- ing, "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 30 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. 254 OLIVER GOLDSMITH It was probably at the close of this story that the officious Boswell, ever anxious to promote conversation for the ben- efit of his note-book, started the question whether duelling were consistent with moral duty. The old General fired up 5 in an instant. " Undoubtedly," said he, with a lofty air ; "undoubtedly a man has a right to defend his honor." Goldsmith immediately carried the war into Boswell's own quarters, and pinned him with the question, " what he would do if affronted .? " The pliant Boswell, who for the moment 10 had the fear of the General rather than of Johnson before his 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, how- 15 ever, subsequently went into a discussion 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 20 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." 25 Another question started was, whether people who disa- greed 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 30 shun the subject on which they disagreed. " But, sir," said Goldsmith, " when people live together who have some- thing as to which they disagree, and which they want to shun, they will be in the situation mentioned in the story of Blue Beard : 'you may look into all the chambers but one'; GHOST STORIES 255 but we should have the greatest inclination to look into that chamber, to talk of that subject." " Sir," thundered John- son, 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." 5 Who will not say that Goldsmith had the best of this petty contest .'' How just was his remark ! how felicitous the illustration of the blue chamber ! how rude and over- bearing was the argumentum ad hominem of Johnson, when he felt that he had the worst of the argument ! 10 The conversation turned upon ghosts. General Ogle- thorpe 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 15 midst of it, but came out unhurt. The firing had ceased, and his brother officers jested with him about the fallacy of his prediction. "The day is not over," replied he, gravely; "I shall die notwithstanding what you see." His words proved true. The order for a cessation of firing had not 20 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, 25 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. 3° 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 256 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 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, how- 5 ever, like to talk of it, and seemed to be in great horror when- ever it was mentioned. "And pray, sir," asked Boswell, " what did he say was the appearance ? " " Why, sir, some- thing of a shadowy being." The reader will not be surprised at this superstitious turn 10 in the conversation of such intelligent men, when he recol- lects that, but a few years before this time, all London had been agitated by the absurd story of the Cock-lane ghost ; a matter which Dr. Johnson had deemed worthy of his serious investigation, and about which Goldsmith had written 15 a pamphlet. TOPICS AND QUESTIONS 1. Narrate what happened at General Oglethorpe's dinner party. 2. Are ghost stories current in the twentieth century .-' Have you ever heard of a ghost's troubling the community in which you live ? Are there any haunted houses ? [Recall the story of the Coverley ghost told about in the " Sir Roger de Coverley Papers."] 3. Discuss the superstitions that hold sway among people of your acquaintance. Why should superstitions be less common now than in the eighteenth century ? CHAPTER XXXIV Mr. Joseph Cradock — An Author's Confidings — An Amanuensis — Life at Edgeware — Goldsmith Conjuring — George Colman — The Fantoccini. Among the agreeable acquaintances made by Goldsmith about this time was a Mr. Joseph Cradock, a young gentle- man of Leicestershire, living at his ease, but disposed to " make himself uneasy," by meddling with literature and the theatre ; in fact, he had a passion for plays and players, and 5 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 difficulty in the case, as he was a man of fortune, had letters of introduction to persons of note, and was alto- gether in a different position from the indigent man of genius 10 whom 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 quickened the intimacy, especially as they found means of serving each other. Goldsmith wrote an 15 epilogue for the tragedy of "Zobeide"; and Cradock, who was an amateur musician, arranged the music for the " Thre- nodia Augustalis," a Lament on the death of the Princess Dowager of Wales, the political mistress and patron of Lord Clare, which Goldsmith had thrown off hastily to please that 20 nobleman. The tragedy was played with some success at Coyent Garden ; the Lament was recited 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 promiscuous 25 assemblages that Goldsmith used to call the motley evening parties at his lodgings " little Cornelys." 257 258 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 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 5 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 unburdened himself to him without reserve. Seeing the lettered ease in which this amateur author was JO enabled to live, and the time he could bestow on the elabo- ration of a manuscript, "Ah ! Mr. Cradock," cried he, " think of me, that must write a volume every month ! " He com- plained to him of the attempts made by inferior writers, and by others who could scarcely come under that denomination, 15 not only to abuse and depreciate his writings, but to render him ridiculous as a man ; perverting every harmless senti- ment 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 ! " 20 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 furnished by that person in after-years : — 25 " 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 situation ; 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 30 scarcely anything, 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 determi- nation, when Providence directed me to the Temple Gardens. I threw myself on a seat, and, willing to forget my miseries RECOLLECTIONS OF M'DONNELL 259 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 you find 5 this a favorable place to pursue it.' ' Not very studious, 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 : ' Hasc studia pernoctant nobiscum, peregrinantur, rusti- 10 cantur.' 'You are a schola:^, 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, 15 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 20 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 some- thing for myself; observing, that he could at least furnish me with advice not wholly useless to a young man placed in 25 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 obliga- tions to another, for here labor of every kind commands its reward. If you think proper to assist me occasionally as 30 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 Buff on, which were abridged 26o OLIVER GOLDSMITH or altered, according to circumstances, for his ' Natural History.' " Goldsmith's literary tasks were fast getting ahead of him, and he began now to " toil after them in vain." 5 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 testi- mony to his embarrassments and perplexities, but to the degree of equanimity with which he bore them : — 10 "It has been said," observes he, "that he was irritable. Such may have been the case at times ; nay, I believe it was so ; for what with the continual pursuit of authors, printers, and booksellers, and occasional pecuniary embarrassments, few could have avoided exhibiting similar marks of impa- 15 tience. 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 man- ner dependent upon him. I looked upon him with awe and veneration, and he upon me as a kind parent upon a child. 20 " 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 and foibles you might be tempted to condemn. He was gen- 25 erous 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. Gold- smith took lodgings for the summer at a farm-house near the six-mile stone on the Edgeware road, and carried down 30 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 land- lady and her children ; he was The Gentleman, Boswell tells us that he went to visit him at the place in company with LIFE AT EDGEWARE 26 1 Mickle, translator 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 5 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 Con- quer " was written ; a convenient and airy apartment, up one flight of stairs. 10 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, 15 in which he passed the most of his time, negligently dressed, with his shirt-collar open, busily engaged in writing. Some- times, probably 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 2c to his room, no doubt to commit to paper some thought which 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; 25 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 everywhere else, for his charitable 30 feelings. No beggar 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 company, and was visited by Sir Joshua Reynolds, Hugh 262 OLIVER GOLDSMITH Boyd, the reputed author of " Junius," Sir William Cham- bers, and other distinguished characters. He gave occasion- ally, though rarely, a dinner-party ; and on one occasion, when his guests were detained by a thunder-shower, he got 5 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 company of strolHng players at Hendon. The greatest amusement to the party, however, was derived from his own 10 jokes on the road and his comments on the perform- ance, 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 15 his family, where Goldsmith was always welcome. In this family he would indulge in playful and even gro- tesque humor, and was ready for anything — conversa ion, music, or a game of romps. He prided himself upon his dancing, and would walk a minuet with Mrs. Seguin, to the 20 infinite amusement 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 Arm- strong." He took the lead in the children's sports of blind- man's-buff, hunt the slipper, &c., or in their games at cards, 25 and was the most noisy of the party, 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 30 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. GEORGE COLMAN — CONJURING 263 He pretended to score down an air as the poet played it, but put down crotchets and semibreves at random. When he had finished, Goldsmith cast his eyes over it and pro- nounced it correct ! It is possible that his execution in music was like his style in writing ; in sweetness and melody s 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 have to boast when Goldsmith taught me to play Jack and Jill 10 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 performed a duet with Garrick of "Old Rose and Burn the Bellows." 15 " 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 20 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 adjoining room, to undergo solitary imprisonment in the dark. Here I began to howl and scream most abominably. At length a friend appeared to 25 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 30 moment, placed three hats upon the carpet, and a shilling under each ; the shillings, he told me, were England, France, and Spain. ' Hey, presto, cockolorum ! ' cried the Doctor, and, lo ! on uncovering the shillings, they were all found 264 OLIVER GOLDSMITH congregated under one. I was no 'j>olitician at the time, and therefore might not have wondered at the sudden revo- lution which brought England, France, and Spain all under one crown ; but, as I was also no conjurer, it amazed me 5 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." 10 Although Goldsmith made the Edgeware farm-house his headquarters 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. 15 On one occasion he accompanied Edmund Burke to wit- ness a performance of the Italian Fantoccini or Puppets, in Panton Street ; an exhibition which had hit the caprice of the town, and was in a great vogue. The puppets were set in motion by wires, so well concealed as to be with diffi- 20 culty 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 Gold- smith with some warmth^ 'I can do it better myself.' " "The 25 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 ab- 30 surdity 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 THE PUPPET-SHOW 265 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 Fantoccini, gave out that he should produce a Prim- itive Puppet-Show at the Haymarket, to be entitled " The 5 Handsome Chambermaid, or Piety in Pattens"; intended to burlesque the sentwiental comedy which Garrick still main- tained 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, 10 Mr. Foote? " demanded a lady of rank. "Oh, no, my lady," replied Foote, '■^not much larger than Garricky TOPICS AND QUESTIONS 1. Do you blame Goldsmith at this period (about 1772) for being occasionally irritable ? 2. Gather together all the bad qualities of Goldsmith thus far 'ihronicled by Irving, and all the good qualities. 3. Goldsmith's fondness for children. 4. Write a composition on how Goldsmith spent his summers for a number of years before his death. 5. New acquaintances of Goldsmith at this period. CHAPTER XXXV Broken Health — Dissipation and Debts — The Irish Widow — Practical Jokes — Scrub — A misquoted Pun — Malagrida — Goldsmith 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 application, during which he in a manner tied himself to the mast, had laid the seeds of a lurking malady in his 5 system, and produced 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. Accordingly we find him 10 launching away in a career of social dissipation ; 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 sallies ; he is a lion at Mrs. Vesey's and Mrs. Montagu's, where some of the high-bred blue-stockings 15 pronounce him a ''wild genius," and others, peradventure, a "wild Irishman." In the mean time his pecuniary diffi- culties are increasing upon him, conflicting with his prone- ness to pleasure and expense, and contributing by the harassment of his mind to the wear and tear of his consti- 20 tution. His "Animated Nature," though not finished, has been entirely paid for, and the money spent. The money advanced by Garrick on Newbery's note, still hangs over him as a debt. The tale on which Newbery had loaned from two to three /hundred pounds previous to the excursion 25 to Barton, has proved a failure. The bookseller is urgent for the settlement of his complicated account ; the perplexed 266 DISSIPATION AND DEBTS 267 author has nothing to offer him in liquidation but the copy- right 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, 5 turned out a golden speculation to the bookseller. In this way Goldsmith went on " overrunning the con- stable," as he termed it ; spending everything in advance ; working with an overtasked head and weary heart to pay for past pleasures and past extravagance, and at the same 10 time incurring new debts, to perpetuate his struggles and darken his future prospects. While the excitement of soci- ety and the excitement of composition conspire to keep up a feverishness of the system, he has incurred an unfor- tunate habit of quacking himself with James's powders, a 15 fashionable panacea of the day. A farce, produced this year by Garrick, 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 20 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 ; 25 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. 30 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 268 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 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 com- 5 pany ; 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 of Goldsmith, but we think it tells rather to the 10 disadvantage of Burke, — being unwarrantable under their relations of friendship, and a species of waggery quite beneath his genius. Croker, in his notes to Boswell, gives another of these practical jokes perpetrated by Burke at the expense of 15 Goldsmith's credulity. It was related to Croker by Colonel O'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 Reyn- olds's, with whom they were to dine, observed Goldsmith, 20 who was likewise to be a guest, standing and regarding a crowd which was staring and shouting 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 25 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 per- son who could act as you have just done in the Square." Goldsmith protested he was ignorant of what was meant. 30 " 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 PRACTICAL JOKES 269 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 recollect that something of the kind passed through my mind, but I did not think I had uttered itJ' 5 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 10 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, were on the watch to give currency to his bulls and blunders. The Stratford jubilee, in honor of Shakspeare, where Bos- 15 well had made a fool of himself, was still in every one's mind. It was sportively suggested that a fete should be held at Litchfield in honor of Johnson and Garrick, and that the " Beaux Stratagem " should be played by the mem- bers of the Literary Club. "Then," exclaimed Goldsmith, 20 " 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 25 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, 30 that they should be sent to Hammersmith, as that was the way to tur7i-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 7nake 'em green," 270 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 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 evi- 5 dently one of Beauclerc's caricatures. On another occasion the poet and Beauclerc were seated at the theatre next to Lord Shelburne, the minister, whom political writers thought proper to nickname Malagrida. " Do you know," said Goldsmith to his lordship, in the 10 course of conversation, " that I never could conceive why they call you Malagrida, /^r Malagrida was a very good sort of man." This was too good a trip of the tongue for Beau- clerc to let pass : he serves it up in his next letter to Lord Charlemont, as a specimen of a mode of turning a thought 15 the wrong way, peculiar 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 Gold- smith's last blunder, growls forth a friendly defence : " Sir," 20 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 such points he was ever doomed to be misinterpreted. Rogers, the poet, meeting in times long subsequent with a survivor from those days, 25 asked him what Goldsmith really was in conversation. u\ 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, 30 Why, it 's as good a shilling as ever was born. You know he ought to have said coined. Coined, sir, never entered his head. Ife was a fool, sir.''^ ml We have so many anecdotes in which Goldsmith's sim- plicity is played upon, that it is quite a treat to meet with BALLAD-SINGERS 2/1 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 sup- ping cosily together at a tavern in Dean Street, Soho, kept 5 by Jack Roberts, a singer at Drury Lane, and a protege of Garrick's. Johnson delighted in these gastronomical tete-a- 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 10 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 15 could tell." "Pray, then, sir, let us hear." "Why, sir, one, if it were 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 20 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 25 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 com- pany shall be judges." The company, of course, prepared to be entertained by an absurdity ; but their smiles were 30 wellnigh 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 272 OLIVER GOLDSMITH pathetic ballads, associated with recollections of his child- hood, which were sure to touch the springs of his heart. We have another story of him, connected with ballad-singing, which is still more characteristic. He was one evening at 5 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 Wil- 10 liam, 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 15 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 without having the same effect on their 20 sensibilities. It was the reality of his fictitious scene in the story of the "Man in Black"; 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 mourn- ful voice that it was difficult to determine whether she was 25 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 30 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 principal room was a Rotunda of great dimensions, with an MASQUERADING 273 orchestra in the centre, and tiers of boxes all round. It was a place to which Johnson resorted occasionally. "I am a great friend to public amusements," said he, " for they keep people from vice." ^ Goldsmith was equally a friend to them, though perhaps not altogether on such moral grounds. He 5 was particularly 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 amusements, was sometimes his companion ; at other times he w^ent alone ; his peculiarities 10 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 him- self in maintaining their incognito, as a capital subject to be played upon. Some, pretending not to know him, would 15 decry his writings, and praise those of his contemporaries ; 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 teas- ing, as he supposed, with great success and infinite humor, 20 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. 25 His name appearing in the newspapers among the distin- guished persons present at one of these amusements, his old 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." 2/4 OLIVER GOLDSMITH enemy, Kenrick, immediately addressed to him a copy of anonymous verses, to the following purport. TO DR. GOLDSMITH ON SEEING HIS NAME IN THE LIST OF MUMMERS AT THE LATE 5 MASQUERADE " How widely different, Goldsmith, are the ways Of Doctors now, and those of ancient days ! Theirs taught the truth in academic shades. Ours in lewd hops and midnight masquerades. lo 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, 15 Inspired by th' Aganippe of Soho ? Do wisdom's sons gorge cates and vermicelli, Like beastly Bickerstaffe or bothering Kelly ? Or art thou tired of th' undeserved applause, Bestowed on bards affecting Virtue's cause ? 20 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, 25 and meeting Kenrick at the Chapter Coffee-House, called him to sharp account for taking such 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 30 nothing derogatory to his private character. Goldsmith let him know, however, 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. 35 Kenrick, having played the craven in his presence, avenged himself as soon as he was gone by complaining of his having NOVEL MODE OF EXERCISE 275 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 Reynolds, calling on the poet one morning, found him walk- 5 ing about his room in somewhat of a reverie, kicking a bundle of clothes before him like a football. It proved to be an expensive masquerade dress, which he said he had been fool enough to purchase, and as there was no other way of get- ting the worth of his money, he was trying to take it out in 10 exercise. TOPICS AND QUESTIONS 1. Do you pity the Goldsmith of this chapter,'* 2. Was Goldsmith vain ? 3. Does living's attitude to Boswell when he says that Boswell •• made a fool of himself " appear biased ? 4. Give illustrations from your own experience of failures to re-tell jokes so that the point would be plain. 5. Anecdotes dealing with Goldsmith's simplicity. 6. Goldsmith's gay life as depicted in Chapters XXXV and XXXVI, CHAPTER XXXVI Invitation to Christmas — The Spring- Velvet Coat — The Haymaking Wig — The Mischances of Loo — The Fair Culprit — A Dance with the Jessamy Bride. From the feverish dissipations of town, Goldsmith is sum- moned away 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 5 holidays. The letter is written in the usual playful vein which marks his intercourse with this charming family. He is to come in his " smart spring-velvet coat," to bring a new wig to dance with the haymakers in, and above all to follow the advice of herself and her sister, (the Jessamy Bride,) in 10 playing loo. This letter, which plays so archly, yet kindly, with some of poor Goldsmith's peculiarities, and bespeaks such real lady-like regard for him, requires a word or two of annotation. The spring-velvet suit alluded to appears to have been a gallant adornment, (somewhat in the style of 15 the famous bloom-colored coat,) in which Goldsmith had fig- ured in the preceding month of May — the season of blos- soms, 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\ \os. 9^. Also, about the same time, a 20 suit of livery and a crimson collar for the serving-man. Again we hold the Jessamy Bride responsible for this gor- geous 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 25 figuring when in full dress equipped with his sword. 276 THE SPRING-VELVET COAT 277 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 allu- 5 sion to the Doctor's mode of playing that game in their merry evening parties ; affecting the desperate gambler and easy dupe ; running counter to all rule ; making extravagant ventures ; reproaching all others with cowardice ; dashing at all hazards at the pool, and getting himself completely loo'd, 10 to the great amusement of the company. The drift of the fair sisters' advice 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, 15 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, 20 that I cannot help giving 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 25 Kidderminster for curtains from a town also of that name; — but this is learning you have no taste for !) — I say, madam, that there are many sarcasms in it, and solecisms also. But not to seem an ill-natured critic, I '11 take leave to quote your own words, and give you my remarks upon them as they 30 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.' 2/8 OLIVER GOLDSMITH "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 allowable, because they belong to the profession. But, not 5 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 winter ! — a spring-velvet coat in the middle of winter ! ! ! That would be a solecism indeed ! and yet to increase the inconsistency, in another part of your letter you lo 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 : — 15 " ' And bring with you a wig, that is modish and gay, To dance with the girls that are makers of hay.' " The absurdity of making hay at Christmas you your- self seem sensible of: you say your sister will laugh; and so indeed she well may ! The Latins have an expression for 20 a contemptuous 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 25 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 resentment. I take advice ! and from whom ? You shall hear. " First let me suppose, what may shortly be true, 30 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. LETTER TO MRS. BUNBURY 279 I lay down my 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 5 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.' 10 ' 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, • 15 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 ! ' 20 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. . . 25 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. Now, ladies, I ask, if law-matters you 're skill'd in. Whether crimes such as yours should not come before Fielding: 30 For 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 ! 35 j3y the gods, I '11 enjoy it, tho' 't is 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. 40 When uncover'd, a buzz of inquiry runs round, 28o OLIVER GOLDSMITH ' 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 jnan that stands near ? ' ' The same.' . . ' What a pity ! how does it surprise one, 5 Two handsomer ctllprits 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.' 10 ' 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.' 15 • ' What sigm^es justice ? 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, — 20 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. 25 " I challenge you all to answer this : I tell you, you can- not. 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 ! O. G." 30 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 picture him in our minds, casting off all care ; enacting the lord of misrule ; presiding at the Christmas DANCE WITH THE JESSAMY BRIDE 28 1 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. TOPICS AND QUESTIONS 1. How do Goldsmith's letters to his friends compare with most of the letters sent from one friend to another in the circle of your acquaintance ? 2. Is Irving consistent in blaming Boswell for being a prying, inquisitive person, and then wishing there had been a Boswell at Barton to record Goldsmith's sayings and doings during his Christmas visit ? CHAPTER XXXVII Theatrical Delays — Negotiations with Colman — Letter to Garrick — Croaking of the Manager — Naming of the Play — " She Stoops to Conquer " — Foote's Primitive Puppet-Show, " Piety in 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, aggra- vated the malady which was impairing his constitution ; yet his increasing perplexities in money-matters drove him to 5 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 10 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 15 long and baffling negotiation was carried on between Gold- smith and Colman, 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 sea- son was rapidly passing away, and Goldsmith's pecuniary 20 difficulties were augmenting and pressing on him. We may judge of his anxiety by the following letter : — ,, ^ ^ "To Geors:e Colman, Esq. " Dear Sir, — '2 " I entreat you '11 relieve me from that state of suspense 25 in which I have been kept for a long time. Whatever 282 NEGOTIATIONS WITH COLMAN 283 objections 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. 5 Whitehead's tribunal, but I refused the proposal with indig- nation : I hope I shall not experience 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 10 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, 15 " Oliver Goldsmith." Colman returned the manuscript with the blank sides of the leaves scored with disparaging comments, and suggested alterations, but with the intimation that the faith of the theatre should be kept, and the play acted notwithstanding. 20 Goldsmith submitted the criticisms to some of his friends, who pronounced them trivial, unfair, and contemptible, and intimated that Colman, being a dramatic writer himself, might be actuated by jealousy. The play was then sent, with Colman's comments written on it, to Garrick; but he 25 had scarce sent it when Johnson interfered, represented the evil that might result from an apparent rejection of it by Covent Garden, and undertook to go forthwith to Colman, and have a talk with him on the subject. Goldsmith, there- fore, penned the following note to Garrick : — 30 <' Dear Sir, — " I ask many pardons for the trouble I gave you yester- day. Upon more mature deliberation, and the advice of 284 OLIVER GOLDSMITH a sensible friend, I began to think it indelicate in me to throw upon you the odium of confirming Mr. Colman's sen- tence. I therefore request you will send my play back by my servant ; for having been assured of having it acted at 5 the other house, though I confess yours in every respect more to my wish, yet it would be folly in me to forego an advantage which lies in my power of appealing from Mr. Colman's opinion to the judgment of the town. I entreat, if not too late, you will keep this affair a secret for some 10 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 15 bring forward the comedy. Still the manager was ungen- erous, or at least indiscreet enough to express his opin- ion 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 20 of a candle." The effect of his croaking was soon appar- ent within the walls of the theatre. Two of the most popu- lar actors. Woodward and Gentleman Smith, to whom the parts of Tony Lumpkin and Young Marlow were assigned, refused to act them; one of them alleging, in excuse, the 25 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." 30 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. CROAKING OF COLMAN 285 Great interest was taken by Goldsmith's friends in the success 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 JBride, whose presence may have contributed to 5 flutter the anxious heart of the author. The rehearsals went off with great applause ; but that Colman attributed to the partiality of friends. He continued to croak, and refused to risk any expense in new scenery or dresses on a play which he was sure would prove a failure. 10 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 kind of fatherly protecting interest in poor Goldsmith's affairs. "The Old House a New Inn" was 15 thought of for a time, but still did not please. Sir Joshua Reynolds proposed "The Belle's Stratagem," an elegant title, but not considered applicable, the perplexities of the comedy being produced by the mistake of the hero, not the stratagem of the heroine. The name was afterwards 20 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 25 even communicated in the box-office to the servant of the Duke of Gloucester, who was sent to engage a box. Never did the play of a popular writer struggle into existence through more difficulties. In the mean time Foote's " Primitive Puppet-Show," en- 30 titled 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 286 OLIVER GOLDSMITH equipages, — the doors were stormed by the mob. The bur- lesque was completely successful, and sentimental comedy received its quietus. Even Garrick, who had recently be- friended it, now gave it a kick, as he saw it going down- 5 hill, and sent Goldsmith a humorous prologue to help his comedy of the opposite school. Garrick and Goldsmith, however, were now on very cordial terms, to which the social meetings in the circle of the Hornecks and Bunburys may have contributed. 10 On the 15th of March the new comedy was to be per- formed. 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 par- 15 ticulars of this confederation, and of its triumphant success, are amusingly told by Cumberland in his memoirs. " We were not over-sanguine of success, but perfectly determined to struggle hard for our author. We accord- ingly assembled our strength at the Shakspeare Tavern, in a 20 considerable body, for an early dinner, where Samuel Johnson took the chair 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 25 applauders, under the banner of Major Mills, — all 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 30 time we did not forget our duty ; and though we had a better comedy going, in which Johnson was chief actor, we betook ourselves in good time to our separate and allotted posts, and waited the awful drawing up of the curtain. As our stations were preconcerted, so were our signals for plaudits A LAUGHING FUGLEMAN 287 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 5 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 10 drown it. This kind and ingenious friend fairly forewarned us that he knew no more when to give his fire than the can- non did that was planted on a battery. He desired, there- fore, 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, 15 pretty nearly over the stage, in full view of the pit and gal- leries, 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 20 laughed, everybody thought themselves warranted to roar. In the mean time, my friend followed signals with a rattle so irresistibly 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 25 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 had laughed upon my signal where he found no joke, and now, unluckily, he fancied that 30 he found a joke in almost everything 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 288 OLIVER GOLDSMITH our point through, and triumphed not only over Colman's judgment, but our own." Much of this statement has been condemned as exagger- ated or discolored. Cumberland's memoirs have generally 5 been characterized as partaking of romance, and in the present instance he had particular motives for tampering with the truth. He was a dramatic writer himself, jeal- ous of the success of a rival, and anxious to have it attrib- uted to the private management of friends. According to 10 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. 15 He had been so overcome by his apprehensions that, at the preparatory 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 20 eight o'clock, wandering up and down the Mall like a troubled spirit. With difficulty he was persuaded to go to the thea- tre, where his presence might be important should any alter- ation be necessary. He arrived at the opening of the fifth act, and made his way behind the scenes. Just as he entered 25 there was a slight hiss at the improbability of Tony Lump- kin's trick on his mother, in persuading her she was forty miles off, on Crackskull 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. 30 " Pshaw ! Doctor," replied Colman, sarcastically, " don't be frightened at a squib, when we 've been sitting these two hours on a barrel of gunpowder ! " Though of a most for- giving nature, Goldsmith did not easily forget this ungra- cious and ill-timed sally. SQUIBS AND CRACKERS 289 If Colman was indeed actuated by the paltry motives ascribed to him in his treatment of this play, he was most amply punished 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 5 in question, and he was openly taxed with literary jealousy. So galling and unremitting was the fire, that he at length wrote to Goldsmith, entreating 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 10 London, he took refuge in Bath during the triumphant career of the comedy. The following is one of the many squibs which assailed the ears of the manager : — TO GEORGE COLMAN, ESQ. 15 ON THE SUCCESS OF DR. 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. 20 As this has 'scaped without a fall, To sink his next prepare ; New actors hire from Wapping Wall And dresses from Rag Fair. For scenes let tatter'd blankets fly, 25 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, 30 W^TiYixiie the best you can yourself, And print it in his name." 290 OLIVER GOLDSMITH The solitary hiss, which had startled Goldsmith, was ascribed by some of the newspaper scribblers to Cumber- land himself, who was "manifestly miserable" at the de- light of the audience, or to Ossian Macpherson, who was 5 hostile to the whole Johnson clique, or to Goldsmith's dra- matic rival, Kelly. The following is one of the epigrams which appeared : — " At Dr. Goldsmith's merry play, All the spectators laugh, they say; lo The assertion, sir, I must deny, For Cumberland and Kelly cry. Ride, si sapis.^^ Another, addressed to Goldsmith, alludes to Kelly's early apprenticeship to stay-making : — 15 "If Kelly finds fault with the shape of your muse, And thinks that too loosely it plays, He surely, dear Doctor, will never refuse To make it a new Pair of Stays I " Cradock had returned to the country before the produc- 20 tion of the play; the following letter, written just after the performance, 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 25 expectations or mine. I thank you sincerely for your epi- logue, 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 30 she approved ; Mrs. Bulkley, hearing this, insisted on throw- ing up her part " {^Miss Hardcastle) " unless, according to the custom of the theatre, she were permitted to speak the epilogue. In this embarrassment I thought of making a CRITICAL OPINIONS 291 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 5 bad to be spoken ; I was obliged, therefore, to try a fourth time, and I made a very mawkish thing, as you '11 shortly see. Such is the history of my stage adventures, and which I have at last done with. I cannot help saying that I am very sick of the stage ; and though I believe I shall get three 10 tolerable benefits, yet I shall, on the whole, be a loser, even in a pecuniary light ; my ease and comfort I certainly lost while it was in agitation. " I am, rny dear Cradock, your obliged and obedient servant, ''Oliver Goldsmith. 15 " P. S. — Present my most humble respects to Mrs. Cradock.'* Johnson, who had taken such a conspicuous part in pro- moting the interest of poor "Goldy," was triumphant at the success of the piece. " I know of no comedy for many 20 years," said he, "that has so much exhilarated an audience ; that has answered so much the great end of comedy — making an audience merry." Goldsmith was happy, also, in gleaning applause from less authoritative sources. Northcote, the painter, then a 25 youthful 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 Northcote's opinion of the play. The youth modestly declared he could not presume to judge in such matters. 30 " 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. 292 OLIVER GOLDSMITH The comedy was immediately put to press, and dedi- cated to Johnson in the following grateful and affectionate terms : — " In inscribing this slight performance to you, I do not 5 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 10 piety." The copyright was transferred to Mr. Newbery, accord- ing to agreement, whose profits on the sale of the work far exceeded the debts for which the author in his perplexities had preengaged it. The sum which accrued to Goldsmith 15 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 embar- rassments, and of the anxiety of mind which kept tasking his pen while it impaired the ease and freedom of spirit 20 necessary to felicitous composition. TOPICS AND QUESTIONS 1. Relate why Goldsmith should be " sick of the stage." 2. Are persons ever hired in these days to applaud a play on its first presentation ? 3. The first performance of " She Stoops to Conquer." 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 underling 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 5 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. lo " Voiis vous noyez par vaitite. « 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 15 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 believe it, and will woman bear it, to be told that for hours the great Goldsmith will stand surveying his 20 grotesque orang-outang's figure in a pier-glass ? Was but the lovely H — k as much enamored, )^ou 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 25 vain of? 'The Traveller' is a flimsy poem, built upon false 293 294 OLIVER GOLDSMITH principles — principles diametrically opposite to liberty. What is ' The Good-natured Man ' but a poor, water-gruel dramatic dose ? What is ' The Deserted Village ' but a pretty poem of easy numbers, without fancy, dignity, genius, 5 or fire ? And, pray, what may be the last speaki?ig panto- mime, so praised by the Doctor himself, but an incoherent piece of stuff, the figure of a woman with a fish's tail, with- out plot, incident, or intrigue ? We are made to laugh at stale, dull jokes, wherein we mistake pleasantry for wit, and 10 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 15 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 20 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 25 through ponds. There is not, sweet, sucking Johnson, a natural stroke in the whole play but the young fellow's giv- ing the stolen jewels to the mother, supposing her to be the landlady. That Mr. Colman did no justice to this piece, I honestly allow ; that he told all his friends it would be 30 damned, I positively aver ; and, from such ungenerous insinuations, 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.' NEWSPAPER ATTACK 295 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 infidele Qui vous cache la verite. 5 "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 have tolerated; but then the allusion to his "grotesque" 10 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 15 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 excitement 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 20 of Evans, the publisher, whom he supposed to be the edi- tor of the paper, Evans was summoned by his shopman from an adjoining room. Goldsmith announced his name. " I have called," added he, " in consequence of a scurrilous attack made upon me, and an unwarrantable liberty taken 25 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 30 Goldsmith's friend gave him a signal, that now was a* favor- able moment for the exercise of his cane. The hint was taken as quick as given, and the cane was vigorously applied 296 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 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 com- 5 batants ; but the battle raged with unceasing fury. The shopman ran off for a constable ; but Dr. Kenrick, who hap- pened 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 10 and tattered plight, and accompanied him home, soothing him with much mock commiseration, though he was gen- erally suspected, and on good grounds, to be the author of the libel. Evans immediately instituted a suit against Goldsmith 15 for an assault, but was ultimately prevailed upon to com- promise the matter, the poet contributing fifty pounds to the Welsh charity. Newspapers made themselves, as may well be supposed, exceedingly merry with the combat. Some censured him 20 severely fqr 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 fol- lowing vindication: — 25 " To the Public. " Lest it should be supposed that I have been wilHng 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 dictated a single paragraph, letter, or essay in a newspaper, 30 except a few moral essays under the character of a Ghinese, about ten years ago, in the ' Ledger,' and a letter, to which I signed my name, in the ' St. James's Chronicle.' If the lib- erty of the press, therefore, has been abused, I have had no hand in it. THE VINDICATION 297 " 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 public most properly admits of a public discussion. But, of late, the press has turned from defending public interest 5 to making inroads upon private life ; from combating the strong to overwhelming 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; 10 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 15 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 hav- ing provoked correction. The insults which we receive before the public, by being more open, are the more distressing; 20 by treating them with- silent contempt we do not pay a suf- ficient 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 increase our mortification by failing to relieve us. In short, every man should singly consider him- 25 self 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 30 in a newspaper which he found at Dr. Johnson's. The Doc- tor was from home at the time, and Bozzy and Mrs. Williams, in a critical conference over the letter, determined from the 298 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 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 5 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 10 success of his new comedy, that he has thought everything that concerned him must be of importance to the public." TOPICS AND QUESTIONS 1. Using details given elsewhere regarding the looks and dress of Goldsmith at this period, write an imaginary picture of Goldsmith at the moment when he began to cane Evans. 2. What was Boswell's nickname? Goldsmith's? Johnson's? Burke's ? Do the characters of history seem more real to you when you know their nicknames ? 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 journal 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 5 was the imitator of the great moralist in everything, 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 thinking, and imitating Dr. John- 10 son." 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 15 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 memorandum-book. A few days afterwards, the 9th of April, he kept Good Friday with Dr. Johnson, in orthodox 20 style ; breakfasted with him on tea and cross-buns; went to church with him morning and evening; fasted in the inter- val, 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 25 299 300 OLIVER GOLDSMITH . 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 5 Boswell, and he has recorded it in his journal. Johnson, however, with respect to Goldsmith, and indeed with respect to everybody else, blew hot as well as cold, according to the humor he was in. Boswell, who was astonished and piqued at the continually increasing celebrity of the poet, observed 10 some time after to Johnson, in a tone of surprise, that Gold- smith 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 15 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 20 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 25 of the human race. Soldiers, on sixpence a day, could not indulge in luxuries ; the poor and laboring classes, forming the great mass of mankind, were out of its sphere. Where- ever it could reach them, it strengthened them and rendered them prolific. The conversation was not of particular force 30 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 DINNER AT PAOLI'S 301 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. 5 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 con- versation was everything, used to judge Goldsmith too much 10 by his own colloquial standard, and undervalue him for being less provided than himself with acquired facts, the ammuni- tion 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- 15 fellow qualities, less calculated to dazzle than to endear. " It is amazing," 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 20 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 25 Italian History of England, was among the guests; as was Boswell, to whom we are indebted for minutes of the con- versation 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," 30 cried Johnson, " it would give great offence. He would have to tell of almost all the living great what they did not wish told." Goldsmith. — " It may, perhaps, be necessary for a native to be more cautious; but a foreigner, who comes 302 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 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 5 and mistaken enthusiasm of the people among whom he happens to be." Goldsmith. — " Sir, he wants only to sell his history, 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 live by his 10 labors ; but he should write so as he may Iwe 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 political party in this country is in the worst state that can be imagined; 15 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, 20 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 hundred 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 25 devil will be angry. I wish to shame the devil as much as vou 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 30 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 Gold- smith, adding, however, with an affected indifference, " not that it would do me the least good." " Well, then," cried INDEPENDENCE OF ROYALTY 303 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?" "I do wish to please him," rejoined Goldsmith. ''I re- 5 member a line in Dryden : — "'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, 10 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 15 happy revolutions. They have hurt our constitution, and will 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 20 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. 25 The General came to his relief. " Monsieur Goldsmith," said he, "est comme la mer, qui jette des perles et beaucoup d'autres belles choses, sans s'en appercevoir." (Mr. Gold- smith is like the sea, which casts forth pearls and many other beautiful things without perceiving it.) 30 " Tres-bien dit, et tres-elegamment," (very well said, and very elegantly,) exclaimed Goldsmith, delighted with so beautiful a compliment from such a quarter. 304 OLIVER GOLDSMITH Johnson spoke disparagingly of the learning of Mr. Harris, of Salisbury, and doubted his being a good Grecian. " He is what is much better," cried Goldsmith, with prompt good- nature, — "he^is a worthy, humane man." "Nay, sir," 5 rejoined the logical Johnson, " that is not to the purpose of our argument ; that will prove that he can play upon the fiddle as well as Giardini, as that he is an eminent Grecian." Goldsmith found he had got into a scrape, and seized upon Giardini to help him out of it. " The greatest musical per- 10 formers," 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 15 think, in which the power of art is shown so much as in playing on the fiddle. In all other things we can do some- thing 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 20 clumsy one; but give him a fiddle and fiddlestick, and he ^an do nothing." This, upon the whole, though reported by the one-sided Boswell, is a tolerable specimen of the conversations of Goldsmith and Johnson ; the former heedless, often illogical, 25 always on the kind-hearted side of the question, and prone to redeem himself by lucky hits ; the latter closely argu- mentative, studiously sententious, often profound, and some- times laboriously prosaic. They had an argument a few days later at Mr. Thrale's 30 table, on the subject of suicide. " Do you think, sir," said Boswell, " that all who commit suicide are mad ? " " Sir," replied Johnson, " 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 QUESTION ABOUT SUICIDE 305 man will stab another. I have often thought," added he, " that after a man has taken the resolution to kill himself, it is not courage in him to do anything, however desperate, because he has nothing to fear." " I don't see that," observed Goldsmith. "Nay, but, my dear sir," rejoined 5 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 disposition restrain him?" "It does not signify," pursued Johnson, " that the fear of something made him resolve ; it 10 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 15 at the head of his army. He cannot fear the rack who is determined to kill himself." Boswell reports no more of the discussion, though Goldsmith might have continued it with advantage : for the very timid disposition, . which through fear of something was impelling the man to com- 20 mit 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 anything but the remarks of Johnson; it is 25 only by accident that he now and then gives us the obser- vations of others, when they are necessary to explain or set off those of his hero. "When in that presence'' says Miss Burney, "he was unobservant, if not contemptuous of every one else. In truth, when he met with Dr. Johnson, he 30 commonly forebore even answering anything that was said, or attending to anything 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 306 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 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 S 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 BpjLzyj as he called him, eavesdropping behind his chair, as he was 10 conversing 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 15 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 ? Come back 20 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. Boswell got another rebuff from Johnson, which would 25 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 r^ roared he. " Don't you consider, sir, that these 30 are not the manners of a gentleman ? I will not be baited with what and why ; — What is this ? What is that ? Why is a cow's tail long? Why is a fox's tail bushy?" "Why, sir," replied pilgarlick, "you are so good that I venture to trouble you." " Sir," replied Johnson, " my being so good SERVILITY OF BOSWELL 307 is no reason why you should be so illP " You have but two topics, sir," exclaimed he on another occasion, "your- self 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 5 Affleck). He had been annoyed by his extravagant devo- tion to Paoli, but then he was something of a military hero; but this tagging at the heels of Dr. Johnson, whom he con- sidered a kind of pedagogue, set his Scotch blood in a ferment. " There 's nae hope for Jamie, mon," said he to a 10 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 t A dominie^ mon ; an auld dominie; he keeped a schule, and cau'd it an acaadamy." 15 We shall show in the next chapter that Jamie's devotion to the dominie did not go unrewarded. TOPICS AND QUESTIONS 1. Would you rather be in the company of a person like Johnson or of one like Goldsmith ? "Why ? 2. Do all parts of this chapter help to develop the general topic of the book, ?. T. Y. Crowell & Co., New York and Boston). Boswell says that she was "a woman of more than ordinary talents" (I, 129), and that she made tea with sufficient dexterity notwithstanding her blindness, though her manner of seeing whether the cups were full or not was a Httle peculiar, since she had to poke her finger down the side till it touched the tea, in order to tell how much more to pour in (I, 346). 299 9. Miss Bumey. One of three women writers of England who have gained lasting celebrity, the other two being Jane Austen and George Eliot. Miss Frances Burney (Madam D'Arblay) published anonymously at the age of twenty-six a novel, Evelina, which imme- diately won enthusiastic praise from Burke and Johnson. Burke, - indeed, sat up all night to read it. Madam D'Arblay, because of the wide popularity of this novel, is often called Evelina Burney. 303 18. Jacobitism. After King James II, a member of the Stuart family, fled to France in 1688, the partisans of his family were called Jacobites, from the Latin word for James, i.e. Jacobus (Murray's New English Dictionary). Even to-day there are people in England who have not become reconciled to the ruling dynasty, but who consider that a Stuart should be on the English throne. Do not confuse Jacobite with Jacobin, which has an entirely different meaning. 306 27. the great philologist. Strictly speaking, Johnson was not a great philologist, for his knowledge of the laws of language develop- ment was necessarily limited. Lexicographer, the name used in the next chapter, more adequately describes Johnson's real services in the history of the growth of the English language. 311 25. Launcelot Gobbo to his dog. The student will search his Merch- ant of Venice in vain for this allusion. Irving has made a slip. Look rather for the character Launce in Shakespeare's Two Gentlemen of Verona. 313 13. Mr. Toplady. Augustus Montague Toplady (1740-1778), vicar of Broad Henbury, Devonshire, is known generally on account of his hymns, such as Rock of Ages. His controversial writings are pretty well forgotten. 315 28. a republic. The phrase " republic of letters" is common. 318 12. Berkeleyan system. Bishop George Berkeley maintained that there is no proof of the existence of matter anywhere except in our 374 OLIVER GOLDSMITH own perceptions. This system of philosophy, called idealism, was developed in The Principles of Human Knowledge (1710). 325 6. whereabout. Commonly " whereabouts" is used instead of whereabout, though the dictionaries recognize both words as in good standing. 325 25. Ugolino. Ugolino della Gherardesca was an Italian soldier ■who led the inhabitants of Pisa in unsuccessful war with the Genoese and Florentines. He was finally starved in prison with his two sons and two nephews. Yet it happens, strangely enough, that Reynolds did not have this story in mind when he painted the picture, but merely gave i}c\& title afterwards as one which seemed appropriate. 328 23. country Christmas. Irving's detailed descriptions of Christ- mas scenes in England should be read in The Sketch-Book. 330 4. dreary bachelor abode. Irving's several references to the dreariness of Goldsmith's bachelor life are evidently intended to bring out the contrast of what might have been if the poor poet had married the Jessamy Bride. 333 2. touched off. Observe that the same verb is used earlier in the paragraph. Is the repetition a blemish in Irving's style? 338 29. Ninon de L'Enclos. Anne or Ninon de L'Enclos (1620-1706) was a celebrated French wit and beauty. Her literary taste and judg- ment were much admired by a coterie of distinguished Frenchmen. 340 11. the Temple Church. See note on "the Temple," page 38, line 6. 341 91. Nollekens (pronounced nore-kenz). Besides the bust of Goldsmith, Joseph Nollekens made busts of Garrick and Sterne, which are considered meritorious works. He was an English sculptor, whose father, a painter of Antwerp, had settled in England. Nollekens was made a member of the Royal Academy in 1772. ANNOUNCEMENTS STANDARD ENGLISH CLASSICS IN THE NEW SERIES BINDING THE STANDARD IN SCHOLARLY EDITING, HELPFUL INTER- PRETATION, ATTRACTIVENESS, CONVENIENCE, REASONABLENESS OF PRICE IN EVERY WAY ADAPTED TO MEET THE College Entrance Requirements in English STANDARD ENGLISH CLASSICS LIFE OF SAMUEL JOHNSON THE ''Standard English Classics Series" has gained a very high standing throughout the country, largely because it fulfills admirably the three chief requirements of the dis- criminating teacher: its volumes embody the highest editorial scholar- ship in introduction, notes, and other aids ; they are attractively and sub- stantially bound; and are offered at remarkably low prices. Recently the series has been made still more noteworthy by important changes made with the view of perfectly adapt- ing the books for practical school use. Every excellent fea- ture which has hitherto characterized the series has been carefully retained. In addition, the books now offer the double advantage of an unusually attractive and convenient semi-flexible cloth cover very clearly stamped in gold ink, and a considerable reduction in price. NOTE. — A complete list of the volumes in this series is given on the following page. The books in both the old and the new bindings are included. MACAULAY •a. GINN 6 COMPANY *«, OINN & COMPANY Publishers STANDARD ENGLISH CLASSICS List Mailing price price Addison and Steele's Sir Roger de Coverley Papers. From " The Spectator." (Litchfield) $0.30 ^0.35 Browning, Elizabeth Barrett: Selections. (Lee) 30 .35 Burke's Letter to a Noble Lord. (Smyth) 30 .35 Burke's Speech on American Taxation. (Moffatt) 25 .30 Burke's Speech on Conciliation with America. (Lament) ... .30 .35 Burns' Representative Poems, with Carlyle's Essay on Burns (Hanson) 30 .35 Carlyle's Essay on Burns. (Hanson) 25 .30 Coleridge's Ancient Mariner. (Gibbs) 20 .25 Cooper's Last of the Mohicans. (Dunbar) 50 .60 De Quincey's Revolt of the Tartars. (Simonds) 25 .30 De Quincey's EngUsh Mail Coach and Joan of Arc. (Turk) . . .25 .30 Dryden's Palamon and Arcite. (Eliot) 25 ^o George Eliot's Silas Marner. (Witham) 30 .35 Goldsmith's Vicar of Wakefield. (Montgomery) 30 .35 Irving's Life of Goldsmith, (Gaston) 40 .50 Irving's Sketch Book. (Complete.) (Litchfield) 50 .60 Lamb, Essays of. (Wauchope) 50 .60 Mac-aulay's Essay on Milton. (Smith) 20 .25 Macaulay's Essay on Addison. (Smith) 25 .30 Macaulay's Essays on Addison and Milton. (In one volume.) (Smith) Zo .35 Macaulay's Lays of Ancient Rome. (Daniell) . .35 .40 Macaulay's Life of Samuel Johnson, with a Selection from his Essay on Johnson. (Hanson) 25 .^o Milton's L'Allegro, II Penseroso, Comus, and Lycidas. (Huntington) .25 .30 Milton's Paradise Lost, Books I and II, and Lycidas. (Sprague) .30 .35 Pope's Translation of the Iliad, Books I, VI, XXII, and XXIV. (Tappan) .25 .30 ■Ruskin's Essays and Letters. (Hufford) 60 .70 Ruskin's Sesame and Lilies. (Hufford) .25 .30 Scott's Ivanhoe. (Yonge) 60 .70 Scott's Lady of the Lake. (Ginn) 35 4° Shakespeare's Julius Caesar. (Hudson) 30 .35 Shakespeare's Macbeth. (Hudson) 30 .35 Shakespeare's Merchant of Venice. (Hudson) 30 .35 Tennyson's The Princess. (Cook) 3° -35 Tennyson's Gareth and Lynette, Lancelot and Elaine, and The Passing of Arthur. (Boughton) 25 .30 Thackeray's History of Henry Esmond, Esq. (Moore) 60 .70 GINN & COMPANY Publishers BOOKS ON ENGLISH LITERATURE List Maili7ig price p7-ice Alexander's Introduction to the Poetry of Robert Browning ^i.oo ^i.io Athenaeum Press Series: 26 volumes now ready. Baldwin's Inflections and Syntax of Malory's Morte d'Arthur 1.40 1.50 Bellamy's Twelve English Poets 75 .85 Browne's Shakspere's Versification ...... = . .25 Corson's Primer of English Verse i.oo i.io Emery's Notes on English Literature i.oo i.io Garnett's Selections in English Prose from Elizabeth to Victoria . 1,50 1.65 Gayley's Classic Myths in English Literature 1.50 1.65 Gayley and Scott's Literary Criticism 1.25 1.40 Gummere's Handbook of Poetics i.oo i.io Hudson's Classical English Reader i.oo i.io Hudson's Essays on English, Studies in Shakespeare, etc. .25 .27 H udson's Life, Art, and Characters of Shakespeare. 2 vols, retail, cloth, ^4.00; half morocco, $8.00 Hudson's Text-book of Poetry 1.25 1.40 Hudson's Text-book of Prose 1.25 1.40 Kent's Shakespeare Note-Book 60 .70 Lewis' Beginnings of English Literature .90 .95 Minto's Characteristics of the English Poets 1.50 1.65 Minto's Manual of English Prose Literature 1.50 1.65 Painter's Elementary Guide to Literary Criticism . . . .90 .95 Phelps' Beginnings of the English Romantic Movement . i.oo i.io Saintsbury's Loci Critici. Passages Illustrative of Critical Theory and Practice from Aristotle Downward . . 1.50 1.65 Sherman's Analytics of Literature 1.25 1.40 Smith's Synopsis of English and American Literature . . .80 .90 Standard English Classics: 31 volumes now ready. Thayer's Best Elizabethan Plays 1.25 1.40 White's Philosophy of American Literature ... . . .30 .35' "White's Philosophy of English Literature i.oo i.io Winchester's Five Short Courses of Reading in English Literature 40 .45 GINN & COMPANY Publishers ENGLISH COMPOSITION AND RHETORIC Text-books and works of reference for high schools , academies y and colleges List Mailing price price Baker's Principlesof Argumentation (RevisedEdition) $1.25 $1.40 Bancroft's Method of English Composition ... .50 .55 Cairns' Forms of Discourse 1.15 1.25 With an introductory chapter on style. Cairns' Introduction to Rhetoric 90 i.oo Gardiner, Kittredge, and Arnold's The Elements of English Composition i.oo i.io (The Mother Tongue, Book III.) Genung's Handbook of Rhetorical Analysis . . .1.12 1.25 Studies in style and invention, designed to accompany the author's Practical Elements of Rhetoric. Genung's Outlines of Rhetoric i.oo i.ic Genung's Practical Elements of Rhetoric . . . . 1.25 1.40 Genung's Working Principles of Rhetoric .... 1.40 1.55 Gilmore's Outlines of the Art of Expression . . . .60 .(^^ Lockwood's Lessons in English 1.12 1.25 Lockwood and Emerson's Composition and Rhetoric i.oo 1.15 Newcomer's Practical Course in English Composition .80 .90 .Scott and Denney's Rhetoric Tablet 15 No. I, white paper (ruled). No. 2, tinted paper (ruled). Sixty sheets in each. Tompkins' Science of Discourse i.oo i.io GINN & COMPANY Publishers THE ATHENtEUM press SERIES Issued under the general editorship of Professor GEORGE LYMAN KITTREDGE of Harvard University, and Professor C. T. WINCHESTER of Wesleyan University List Mailing . price price Addison, Joseph : Selections. (Wendell and Greenough) . Burke's Speech on Conciliation with America. (Lamont) . $0.50 |o.6o Burns: Selections. (Dow) 7° -So Carlyle's Heroes, Hero- Worship, and the Heroic in His- tory. (MacMechan) 80 .90 Carlyle's Sartor Resartus. (MacMechan) 80 .90 Collins, Poems of. (Bronson) 60 .70 Cowper: Selections. (Murray) 60 .70 DeQuincey: Selections. (Turk) 9° i-05 Elizabethan Lyrics. (Schelling) 75 -^S Gibbon's Memoirs. (Emerson) 75 -^S Gray: Selections. (Phelps) 60 .70 Herrick : Selections from the Hesperides and the Noble Numbers. (Hale) 60 .70 Jeffrey: Selections. (Gates) 60 .70 Jonson's Timber ; or Discoveries. (Schelling) 80 .90 Keats: Selections. (Bates) 60 .70 Landor: Selections. (Clymer) 60 .70 Malory's Morte Darthur : Selections. (Mead) 80 .90 Old English Ballads. (Gummere) 80 .90 Pre-Shaksperean Drama, Specimens of. (Manly.) In three volumes. Vols. I and II now ready . . . . each 1.25 1.40 Seventeenth Century Lyrics. (Schelling) 75 -85 Shakespeare, Sonnets of. (Beeching) Shelley: Selections. (Alexander) 80 .90 Sidney's Defense of Poesy. (Cook) 65 .75 Steele: Selections. (Carpenter) • .60 .70 Tennyson: Selections. (Van Dyke) 9° i-oo Wordsworth: Selections. (Dowden) . ........ .90 i.oo GINN & COMPANY Publishers THE CLASSIC MYTHS IN ENGLISH LITERATURE By CHARLES MILLS GAYLEY Professor of the English Language and Literature in the University of California ■j2mo. Half leather. J^o fages^ ivith j6 full-page illustrations. List pricey ^I.JO} mailing price, $i.6j GAYLEY'S " Classic Myths " is based chiefly on Bul- finch's "Age of Fable " (1855), but it has been in large part rewritten and admirably adapted to school use. It is recommended both as the best manual of mythol- ogy and as indispensable to the student of literature. Among the special features which have won for this edi- tion the universal approval of teachers are the following : I. An introduction on the indebtedness of English poetry to the literature of fable, and on methods of teaching mythology. ' 2. Ari elementary account of myth making and of the principal poets of mythology, and of the beginnings of the world, of gods, and of men among the Greeks. 3. A thorough revision and systematization of Bulfinch's " Stories of Gods and Heroes," with additional stories, and with selections from English poems based upon the myths. 4. Illustrative cuts from Baumeister, Roscher, and other standard authorities on mythology. 5. The requisite maps. 6. Notes, following the text (as in the school editions of Latin and Greek authors), containing an historical and interpretative commentary upon certain myths, supplemen- tary poetical citations, a list of the better known allusions to mythological fiction, references to works of art, and hints to teachers and students. GINN & COMPANY Publishers HUDSON'S SCHOOL SHAKESPEARE For School and Home Use By HENRY N. HUDSON Author of " Life, Art, and Characters of Shakespeare " Editor of " The Harvard Shakespeare," etc. Revised and enlarged editions of twenty-three plays. Carefully expurgated, with explan- atory notes at the bottom of the page, and critical notes at the end of each volume. One play in each volume. Square i6mo. Varying in size from 128 to 253 pages. List price of each: cloth, 45 cents; paper, 30 cents. Mailing price of each: cloth, 50 cents; paper, 35 cents. Per set, $10.00. AS an interpreter of Shakespeare and his works Dr. Henry N. /"^^ Hudson occupies an important place in the first rank of Shake- spearean scholars. He not only made a close study of the text, but, what is more important, gave great attention to the poet's thought. A lover of Shakespeare and a firm believer in the educational value of Shakespeare's works, he aimed at making the characters live. His Introductions to the plays are masterpieces of sympathetic and illumi- nating criticism, well fitted to supplement Shakespeare's own writings. Many of the best Shakespearean scholars of the last half century have cheerfully acknowledged the eminent ability of Dr. Hudson as an inter- preter of Shakespeare. Edwin Booth once said that he got more real help from the original criticisms and suggestive comments given by Dr. Hudson than from any other work on Shakespeare. Sir Henry Irving, too, has stated that Dr. Hudson's criticisms were of greater value to him than were those of any other Shakespearean student. The list of plays is as follows. A Midsummer Night'' s Dream Henry the Fourth, Part I Macbeth The Merchant of Venice Henry the Fourth, Fart II Antony and Cleopatra Much Ado about Nothing Henry the Fifth Othello As Tou Like It Henry the Eighth ■ Cymbeline The Tempest Romeo and Juliet Coriolanus King John Julius Caesar Tiuelfth Night Richard the Second Hamlet The Winter'' s Tale Richard the Third • King Lear Oliver Wendell Holmes : An edition of any play of Shakespeare to which Dr. Hudson's name is affixed does not need a line from anybody to recommend it. Edward Dowden, Professor of English Literature and Rhetoric, University of Dublin : Hudson's edition takes its place beside the best work of English Shakespeare students. GINN & COMPANY Publishers HUDSON'S HARVARD SHAKESPEARE COMPLETE TFORKS By HENRY N. HUDSON, Author of " Life, Art, and Characters of Shakespeare"; Editor of " School Shakespeare," etc. In twenty volumes, duodecimo, two plays in each volume ; also in ten volumes of four plays each. Retail prices: twenty-volume edition: cloth, ^25.00 ; half morocco, IS55.00; ten-volume edition : cloth, ^20.00; half morocco, $40.00. The Harvard Edition has been undertaken and the plan of it shaped with the special view of making the poet's pages pleasant and attractive to general readers. A history of each play is given in its appropriate volume. The plays are arranged in three dis- tinct series, — comedies, histories, and tragedies, — and the plays of each series presented as nearly as may be in the chronological order of the writing. A special merit of this edition is that each volume has two sets of Notes, — one mainly devoted to explaining the text and placed at the foot of the page ; the other mostly occupied with matters of textual. comment and criticism and printed at the end of each play. The edition is thus admirably suited to the uses both of the general reader and of the special student. Horace Howard Furness: A noble edition, with happy mingle of illustration, explanation, and keen, subtle, sympathetic criticism. LIFE, ART, AND CHARACTERS OF SHAKESPEARE By HENRY N. HUDSON I:i two volumes. i2mo. 1003 pages. Retail prices: cloth, $4.00; half morocco, $8.00 Edwin Booth, the great actor and eminent Shakespearean scholar, once said that he received more real good from the orig- inal criticisms and suggestive comments as given by Dr. Hudson in these two books than from any other writer on Shakespeare. GINN & COMPANY Publishers