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diff --git a/3545-h/3545-h.htm b/3545-h/3545-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d70a172 --- /dev/null +++ b/3545-h/3545-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,13984 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" +"http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=utf-8" /> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> +<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Complete Poetical Works of Oliver Goldsmith</title> + +<style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + +body { margin-left: 20%; + margin-right: 20%; + text-align: justify; } + +h1, h2, h3, h4, h5 {text-align: center; font-style: normal; font-weight: +normal; line-height: 1.5; margin-top: .5em; margin-bottom: .5em;} + +h1 {font-size: 300%; + margin-top: 0.6em; + margin-bottom: 0.6em; + letter-spacing: 0.12em; + word-spacing: 0.2em; + text-indent: 0em;} +h2 {font-size: 150%; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 1em;} +h3 {font-size: 130%; margin-top: 1em;} +h4 {font-size: 120%;} +h5 {font-size: 110%;} + +div.chapter {page-break-before: always; margin-top: 4em;} + +hr {width: 80%; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 2em;} + +p {text-indent: 1em; + margin-top: 0.25em; + margin-bottom: 0.25em; } + +p.poem {text-indent: 0%; + margin-left: 10%; + font-size: 90%; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; } + +p.letter {text-indent: 0%; + margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; } + +p.noindent {text-indent: 0% } + +p.center {text-align: center; + text-indent: 0em; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; } + +p.right {text-align: right; + margin-right: 10%; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; } + +p.footnote {font-size: 90%; + text-indent: 0%; + margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; } + +div.fig { display:block; + margin:0 auto; + text-align:center; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em;} + +p.caption {font-weight: bold; + text-align: center; } + +pre { font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + +a:link {color:blue; text-decoration:none} +a:visited {color:blue; text-decoration:none} +a:hover {color:red} + +</style> + </head> + <body> + +<div style='text-align:center; font-size:1.2em; font-weight:bold'>The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Complete Poetical Works of Oliver Goldsmith</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and +most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions +whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms +of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online +at <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you +are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the +country where you are located before using this eBook. +</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: The Complete Poetical Works of Oliver Goldsmith</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: Oliver Goldsmith</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Editor: Austin Dobson</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: November, 2002 [eBook #3545]<br /> +[Most recently updated: September 3, 2021]</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Character set encoding: UTF-8</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Produced by: Amy E Zelmer, Barb Grow, Derek Thompson and David Widger</div> +<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE COMPLETE POETICAL WORKS OF OLIVER GOLDSMITH ***</div> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> +<a name="golds"></a> +<img src="images/golds.jpg" width="223" height="274" alt="[Illustration: Oliver Goldsmith]" /> +<p class="caption">OLIVER GOLDSMITH<br /> <small>(Sir Joshua Reynolds)</small></p> +</div> + + <h4> + <br /> <i>OXFORD EDITION</i> + </h4> + + <h1> + THE COMPLETE<br /> + POETICAL WORKS<br /> + OF<br /> + OLIVER GOLDSMITH + </h1> + + <p class="center"> + <br /> <br /> <br /> Edited with Introduction and Notes<br /> by<br /> <b>AUSTIN + DOBSON</b><br /> <small>HON. LL.D. EDIN.</small><br /> <br /> <br /> + </p> +<hr /> + +<h3>PREFATORY NOTE</h3> + + <p> + This volume is a reprint, extended and revised, of the <i>Selected Poems</i> + of Goldsmith issued by the Clarendon Press in 1887. It is ‘extended,’ + because it now contains the whole of Goldsmith’s poetry: it is ‘revised’ + because, besides the supplementary text, a good deal has been added in the + way of annotation and illustration. In other words, the book has been + substantially enlarged. Of the new editorial material, the bulk has been + collected at odd times during the last twenty years; but fresh Goldsmith + facts are growing rare. I hope I have acknowledged obligation wherever it + has been incurred; I trust also, for the sake of those who come after me, + that something of my own will be found to have been contributed to the + literature of the subject. + </p> + +<p class="right"> + AUSTIN DOBSON. + </p> + +<p class="letter"> + Ealing, <i>September</i>, 1906. + </p> + +<h2>CONTENTS</h2> + +<table summary="" style=""> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#introduction">Introduction</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chronology">Chronology of Goldsmith’s Life and Poems</a><br /><br /></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <b>POEMS</b></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#descriptive">Descriptive Poems</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem01">The Traveller; or, A Prospect of Society</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem02">The Deserted Village</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#lyrical">Lyrical and Miscellaneous Pieces</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem03">Prologue of Laberius</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem04">On a Beautiful Youth struck Blind with Lightning</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem05">The Gift. To Iris, in Bow Street</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem06">The Logicians Refuted</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem07">A Sonnet</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem08">Stanzas on the Taking of Quebec</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem09">An Elegy on Mrs. Mary Blaize</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem10">Description of an Author’s Bedchamber</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem11">On seeing Mrs. *** perform in the Character of ****</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem12">On the Death of the Right Hon.***</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem13">An Epigram. Addressed to the Gentlemen reflected on in ‘The Rosciad’, a Poem, by the Author</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem14">To G. C. and R. L.</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem15">Translation of a South American Ode</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem16">The Double Transformation. A Tale</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem17">A New Simile, in the Manner of Swift</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem18">Edwin and Angelina</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem19">Elegy on the Death of a Mad Dog</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem20">Song (‘When Lovely Woman,’ etc.)</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem21">Epilogue to <i>The Good Natur’d Man</i></a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem22">Epilogue to <i>The Sister</i></a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem23">Prologue to <i>Zobeide</i></a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem24">Threnodia Augustalis:</a> Sacred to the Memory of Her Late Royal Highness the Princess Dowager of Wales</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem25">Song (‘Let school-masters,’ etc.)</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem26">Epilogue to <i>She Stoops to Conquer</i></a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem27">Retaliation</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem28">Song (‘Ah, me! when shall I marry me?’)</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem29">Translation (‘Chaste are their instincts’)</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem30">The Haunch of Venison</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem31">Epitaph on Thomas Parnell</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem32">The Clown’s Reply</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem33">Epitaph on Edward Purdon</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem34">Epilogue for Lee Lewes</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem35">Epilogue written for <i>She Stoops to Conquer</i> (1)</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem36">Epilogue written for <i>She Stoops to Conquer</i> (2)</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#captivity">The Captivity. An Oratorio</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem37">Verses in Reply to an Invitation to Dinner</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem38">Letter in Prose and Verse to Mrs. Bunbury</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem39">Vida’s Game of Chess</a><br /><br /></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <b>NOTES</b></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#note01">Introduction to the Notes</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#note02">Editions of the Poems</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#note03">The Traveller</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#note04">The Deserted Village</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#note05">Prologue of Laberius</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#note06">On a Beautiful Youth struck Blind with Lightning</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#note07">The Gift</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#note08">The Logicians Refuted</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#note09">A Sonnet</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#note10">Stanzas on the Taking of Quebec</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#note11">An Elegy on Mrs. Mary Blaize</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#note12">Description of an Author’s Bedchamber</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#note13">On seeing Mrs. *** perform in the Character of ****</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#note14">On the Death of the Right Hon. ***</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#note15">An Epigram</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#note16">To G. C. and R. L.</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#note17">Translation of a South American Ode</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#note18">The Double Transformation</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#note19">A New Simile</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#note20">Edwin and Angelina</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#note21">Elegy on the Death of a Mad Dog</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#note22">Song (from <i>The Vicar of Wakefield</i>)</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#note23">Epilogue (<i>The Good Natur’d Man</i>)</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#note24">Epilogue (<i>The Sister</i>)</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#note25">Prologue (<i>Zobeide</i>)</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#note26">Threnodia Augustalis</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#note27">Song (from <i>She Stoops to Conquer</i>)</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#note28">Epilogue (<i>She Stoops to Conquer</i>)</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#note29">Retaliation</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#note30">Song intended for <i>She Stoops to Conquer</i></a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#note31">Translation</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#note32">The Haunch of Venison</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#note33">Epitaph on Thomas Parnell</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#note34">The Clown’s Reply</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#note35">Epitaph on Edward Purdon</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#note36">Epilogue for Lee Lewes’s Benefit</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#note37">Epilogue (<i>She Stoops to Conquer</i>) (1)</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#note38">Epilogue (<i>She Stoops to Conquer</i>) (2)</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#note39">The Captivity</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#note40">Verses in Reply to an Invitation to Dinner</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#note41">Letter in Prose and Verse to Mrs. Bunbury</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#note42">Vida’s Game of Chess</a><br /><br /></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#appendix"><b>APPENDIXES</b></a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#appe01">Portraits of Goldsmith</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#appe02">Descriptions of Newell’s Views of Lissoy, etc.</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#appe03">The Epithet ‘Sentimental’</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#appe04">Fragments of Translations, etc., by Goldsmith</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#appe05">Goldsmith on Poetry under Anne and George the First</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#appe06">Criticisms from Goldsmith’s <i>Beauties of English Poesy</i></a></td> +</tr> + +</table> + +<h2>LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS</h2> + +<table summary="" style=""> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#golds">OLIVER GOLDSMITH.</a> From Joseph Marchi’s mezzotint of 1770 after the portrait by Sir Joshua Reynolds.</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#glasspane">PANE OF GLASS</a> with Goldsmith’s autograph signature, dated March, 1746, now at Trinity College, Dublin.</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#vignette">VIGNETTE TO THE TRAVELLER.</a> Drawn by Samuel Wale, and engraved by Charles Grignion.</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#traveller">HEADPIECE TO THE TRAVELLER.</a> Engraved on wood by Charlton Nesbit for Bulmer’s <i>Poems of Goldsmith and Parnell</i>, 1795.</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#traveller2">THE TRAVELLER.</a> From a design by Richard Westall, R. A., engraved on wood by Thomas Bewick for Bulmer’s <i>Poems of Goldsmith and Parnell</i>, 1795.</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#vignette2">VIGNETTE TO THE DESERTED VILLAGE,</a> 1770. Drawn and engraved by Isaac Taylor.</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#village">HEADPIECE TO THE DESERTED VILLAGE.</a> Engraved on wood by Charlton Nesbit for Bulmer’s <i>Poems of Goldsmith and Parnell</i>, 1795.</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#watercressgatherer">THE WATER-CRESS GATHERER.</a> Drawn and engraved on wood by John Bewick for Bulmer’s <i>Poems of Goldsmith and Parnell</i>, 1795.</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#departure">THE DEPARTURE.</a> Drawn by Robert Johnson, and engraved on wood by Thomas Bewick for Bulmer’s <i> Poems of Goldsmith and Parnell</i>, 1795.</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#edwin">EDWIN AND ANGELINA.</a> From an original washed drawing made by Thomas Stothard, R.A., for Aikin’s <i>Goldsmith’s Poetical Works</i>, 1805.</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#goldie">PORTRAIT OF GOLDSMITH,</a> after Sir Joshua Reynolds. From an etching by James Basire on the title-page of <i>Retaliation</i>, 1774.</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#autograph">SONG FROM THE CAPTIVITY.</a> Facsimile of Goldsmith’s writing and signature, from Prior’s <i> Life of Oliver Goldsmith, M.B.</i>, 1837, ii, frontispiece.</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#greenarbor">GREEN ARBOUR COURT,</a> OLD BAILEY. From an engraving in the <i>European Magazine</i> for January, 1803.</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#kilkenny">KILKENNY WEST CHURCH.</a> From an aquatint by S. Alken of a sketch by R. H. Newell (<i>Goldsmith’s Poetical Works</i>, 1811).</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#hawthorn">HAWTHORN TREE.</a> From the same.</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#southview">SOUTH VIEW FROM GOLDSMITH’S MOUNT.</a> From the same . . . To face p. 183. [This picture is unavailable.]</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#school">THE SCHOOL HOUSE.</a> From the same.</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#oliver">PORTRAIT OF GOLDSMITH.</a> Drawn by Henry William Bunbury and etched by James Bretherton. From the <i>Haunch of Venison</i>, 1776.</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#silhouette">PORTRAIT OF GOLDSMITH.</a> From a silhouette by Ozias Humphry, R.A., in the National Portrait Gallery.</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#lissoy">LISSOY (OR LISHOY) MILL.</a> From an aquatint by S. Alken of a sketch by R. H. Newell (<i>Goldsmith’s Poetical Works</i>, 1811).</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#parsonage">THE PARSONAGE.</a> From the same.</td> +</tr> + +</table> + +<hr /> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="page_ix" id="page_ix"></a><a name="introduction" id="introduction"></a> +INTRODUCTION +</h2> + + <p> + Two of the earlier, and, in some respects, more important <i>Memoirs</i> + of Oliver Goldsmith open with a quotation from one of his minor works, in + which he refers to the generally uneventful life of the scholar. His own + chequered career was a notable exception to this rule. He was born on the + 10th of November, 1728, at Pallas, a village in the county of Longford in + Ireland, his father, the Rev. Charles Goldsmith, being a clergyman of the + Established Church. Oliver was the fifth of a family of five sons and + three daughters. In 1730, his father, who had been assisting the rector of + the neighbouring parish of Kilkenny West, succeeded to that living, and + moved to Lissoy, a hamlet in Westmeath, lying a little to the right of the + road from Ballymahon to Athlone. Educated first by a humble relative named + Elizabeth Delap, the boy passed subsequently to the care of Thomas Byrne, + the village schoolmaster, an old soldier who had fought Queen Anne’s + battles in Spain, and had retained from those experiences a wandering and + unsettled spirit, which he is thought to have communicated to one at least + of his pupils. After an attack of confluent small-pox, which scarred him + for life, Oliver was transferred from the care of this not-uncongenial + preceptor to a school at Elphin. From Elphin he passed to Athlone; from + Athlone to Edgeworthstown, where he remained until he was thirteen or + fourteen years of age. The accounts of these early days are contradictory. + By his schoolfellows he seems to have been regarded as stupid and heavy,—‘little + better than a fool’; but they +<a name="page_x" id="page_x"></a> + admitted that he was remarkably active and athletic, and that he was an + adept in all boyish sports. At home, notwithstanding a variable + disposition, and occasional fits of depression, he showed to greater + advantage. He scribbled verses early; and sometimes startled those about + him by unexpected ‘swallow-flights’ of repartee. One of these, an + oft-quoted retort to a musical friend who had likened his awkward antics + in a hornpipe to the dancing of Aesop,— + </p> + + <p class="poem"> + Heralds! proclaim aloud! all saying,<br /> + See <i>Aesop</i> dancing, and his <i>monkey</i> playing,— + </p> + + <p class="noindent"> + reads more like a happily-adapted recollection than the actual impromptu + of a boy of nine. But another, in which, after a painful silence, he + replied to the brutal enquiry of a ne’er-do-well relative as to when he + meant to grow handsome, by saying that he would do so when the speaker + grew good,—is characteristic of the easily-wounded spirit and + ‘exquisite sensibility of contempt’ with which he was to enter upon the + battle of life. + </p> + + <p> + In June, 1744, after anticipating in his own person, the plot of his later + play of <i>She Stoops to Conquer</i> by mistaking the house of a + gentleman at Ardagh for an inn, he was sent to Trinity College, Dublin. + The special dress and semi-menial footing of a sizar or poor scholar—for + his father, impoverished by the imprudent portioning of his eldest + daughter, could not afford to make him a pensioner—were scarcely + calculated to modify his personal peculiarities. Added to these, his tutor + elect, Dr. Theaker Wilder, was a violent and vindictive man, with whom his + ungainly and unhopeful pupil found little favour. Wilder had a passion for + mathematics which was not shared by Goldsmith, who, indeed, spoke + contemptuously enough of that science in after life. He could, however, he + told Malone, ‘turn an Ode of Horace into English better than any of them.’ + But his academic career was not a success. + </p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> +<a name="page_xi" id="page_xi"></a><a name="glasspane" id="glasspane"></a> +<img src="images/glasspane.jpg" width="392" height="169" alt="[Illustration: Goldsmith’s Autograph]" /> +<p class="caption">PANE OF GLASS WITH GOLDSMITH’S AUTOGRAPH<br /> <small>(Trinity +College, Dublin)</small></p> +</div> + + <p class="noindent"> + In May, 1747, the year in which his father died,—an event that + further contracted his already slender means,—he became involved in + a college riot, and was publicly admonished. From this disgrace he + recovered to some extent in the following month by obtaining a trifling + money exhibition, a triumph which he unluckily celebrated by a party at + his rooms. Into these festivities, the heinousness of which was aggravated + by the fact that they included guests of both sexes, the exasperated + Wilder made irruption, and summarily terminated the proceedings by + knocking down the host. The disgrace was too much for the poor lad. He + forthwith sold his books and belongings, and ran away, vaguely bound for + America. But after considerable privations, including the achievement of a + destitution so complete that a handful of grey peas, given him by a girl + at a wake, seemed a banquet, he turned his steps homeward, and, a + reconciliation having been patched up with his tutor, he was received once + more at college. In February, 1749, he took his degree, a low one, as + B.A., and quitted the university, leaving behind him, for relics of that + time, a scratched signature upon a window-pane, a <i>folio</i> Scapula + scored liberally with ‘promises to pay,’ and a reputation for much + loitering at the college gates in the study of passing humanity. Another + habit which his associates recalled was his writing of ballads when in + want of funds. These he would sell at five shillings apiece; and would + afterwards steal out in the twilight to hear them sung to the + indiscriminate but applauding audience of the Dublin streets. + </p> + + <p> + What was to be done with a genius so unstable, so erratic? Nothing, + apparently, but to let him qualify for orders, and for this he is too + young. Thereupon ensues a sort of ‘Martin’s summer’ in his changing life,—a + disengaged, delightful time when ‘Master Noll’ wanders + irresponsibly from house to house, fishing and flute-playing, or, of + winter evenings, taking the chair at the village inn. When at last the + moment came for his presentation to the Bishop of Elphin, that prelate, + sad to say, rejected him, perhaps because of his college reputation, + perhaps because of actual incompetence, perhaps even, as tradition + affirms, because he had the bad taste to appear before his examiner in + flaming scarlet breeches. After this rebuff, tutoring was next tried. But + he had no sooner saved some thirty pounds by teaching, than he threw up + his engagement, bought a horse, and started once more for America, by way + of Cork. In six weeks he had returned penniless, having substituted for + his roadster a sorry jade, to which he gave the contemptuous name of + Fiddleback. He had also the simplicity to wonder, on this occasion, that + his mother was not rejoiced to see him again. His next ambition was to be + a lawyer; and, to this end, a kindly Uncle Contarine equipped him with + fifty pounds for preliminary studies. But on his way to London he was + decoyed into gambling, lost every farthing, and came home once more in + bitter self-abasement. Having now essayed both divinity and law, his next + attempt was physic; and, in 1752, fitted out afresh by his long-suffering + uncle, he started for, and succeeded in reaching, Edinburgh. Here more + memories survive of his social qualities than of his studies; and two + years later he left the Scottish capital for Leyden, rather, it may be + conjectured, from a restless desire to see the world than really to + exchange the lectures of Monro for the lectures of Albinus. At Newcastle + (according to his own account) he had the good fortune to be locked up as + a Jacobite, and thus escaped drowning, as the ship by which he was to have + sailed to Bordeaux sank at the mouth of the Garonne. Shortly afterwards he + arrived in Leyden. Gaubius and other Dutch professors figure +<a name="page_xiii" id="page_xiii"></a> + sonorously in his future works; but whether he had much experimental + knowledge of their instructions may be doubted. What seems undeniable is, + that the old seduction of play stripped him of every shilling; so that, + like Holberg before him, he set out deliberately to make the tour of + Europe on foot. <i>Haud inexpertus loquor,</i> he wrote in after days, + when praising this mode of locomotion. He first visited Flanders. Thence + he passed to France, Germany, Switzerland, and Italy, supporting himself + mainly by his flute, and by occasional disputations at convents or + universities. ‘Sir,’ said Boswell to Johnson, ‘he <i>disputed</i> his + passage through Europe.’ When on the 1st February, 1756, he landed at + Dover, it was with empty pockets. But he had sent home to his brother in + Ireland his first rough sketch for the poem of <i>The Traveller</i>. + </p> + + <p> + He was now seven-and-twenty. He had seen and suffered much, but he was to + have further trials before drifting definitely into literature. Between + Dover and London, it has been surmised, he made a tentative appearance as + a strolling player. His next ascertained part was that of an apothecary’s + assistant on Fish Street Hill. From this, with the opportune aid of an + Edinburgh friend, he proceeded—to use an eighteenth-century phrase—a + poor physician in the Bankside, Southwark, where least of all, perhaps, + was London’s fabled pavement to be found. So little of it, in fact, fell + to Goldsmith’s share, that we speedily find him reduced to the rank of + reader and corrector of the press to Samuel Richardson, printer, of + Salisbury Court, author of <i>Clarissa</i>. Later still he is acting + as help or substitute in Dr. Milner’s ‘classical academy’ at Peckham. + Here, at last, chance seemed to open to him the prospect of a literary + life. He had already, says report, submitted a manuscript tragedy to + Richardson’s judgement; and something he said at Dr. Milner’s table + attracted the attention of an occasional + visitor there, the bookseller Griffiths, who was also proprietor of the + <i>Monthly Review.</i> He invited Dr. Milner’s usher to try his hand + at criticism; and finally, in April, 1757, Goldsmith was bound over for a + year to that venerable lady whom George Primrose dubs ‘the <i>antiqua + mater</i> of Grub Street’—in other words, he was engaged for bed, + board, and a fixed salary to supply copy-of-all-work to his master’s + magazine. + </p> + + <p> + The arrangement thus concluded was not calculated to endure. After some + five months of labour from nine till two, and often later, it came + suddenly to an end. No clear explanation of the breach is forthcoming, but + mere incompatability of temper would probably supply a sufficient ground + for disagreement. Goldsmith, it is said, complained that the bookseller + and his wife treated him ill, and denied him ordinary comforts; added to + which the lady, a harder taskmistress even than the <i> antiqua mater</i> + above referred to, joined with her husband in ‘editing’ his articles, a + course which, hard though it may seem, is not unprecedented. However this + may be, either in September or October, 1757, he was again upon the world, + existing precariously from hand to mouth. ‘By a very little practice as a + physician, and very little reputation as a poet [a title which, as Prior + suggests, possibly means no more than author], I make a shift to live.’ So + he wrote to his brother-in-law in December. What his literary occupations + were cannot be definitely stated; but, if not prepared before, they + probably included the translation of a remarkable work issued by Griffiths + and others in the ensuing February. This was the <i>Memoirs of a + Protestant, condemned to the Galleys of France for his Religion,</i> + being the authentic record of the sufferings of one Jean Marteilhe of + Bergerac, a book of which Michelet has said that it is ‘written as if + between earth and heaven.’ Marteilhe, who died at Cuylenberg +<a name="page_xv" id="page_xv"></a> + in 1777, was living in Holland in 1758; and it may be that Goldsmith had + seen or heard of him during his own stay in that country. The translation, + however, did not bear Goldsmith’s name, but that of James Willington, one + of his old class-fellows at Trinity College. Nevertheless, Prior says + distinctly that Griffiths (who should have known) declared it to be by + Goldsmith. Moreover, the French original had been catalogued in Griffiths’ + magazine in the second month of Goldsmith’s servitude, a circumstance + which colourably supplies the reason for its subsequent rendering into + English. + </p> + + <p> + The publication of Marteilhe’s <i>Memoirs</i> had no influence upon + Goldsmith’s fortunes, for, in a short time, he was again installed at + Peckham, in place of Dr. Milner invalided, waiting hopefully for the + fulfilment of a promise by his old master to procure him a medical + appointment on a foreign station. It is probably that, with a view to + provide the needful funds for this expatriation, he now began to sketch + the little volume afterwards published under the title of <i>An Enquiry + into the Present State of Polite Learning in Europe</i>, for towards + the middle of the year we find him addressing long letters to his + relatives in Ireland to enlist their aid in soliciting subscriptions for + this book. At length the desired advancement was obtained,—a + nomination as a physician and surgeon to one of the factories on the coast + of Coromandel. But banishment to the East Indies was not to be his + destiny. For some unexplained reason the project came to nothing; and then—like + Roderick Random—he presented himself at Surgeons’ Hall for the more + modest office of a hospital mate. This was on the 21st of December, 1758. + The curt official record states that he was ‘found not qualified.’ What + made matters worse, the necessity for a decent appearance before the + examiners had involved him in new obligations to Griffiths, +<a name="page_xvi" id="page_xvi"></a> + out of which arose fresh difficulties. To pay his landlady, whose husband + was arrested for debt, he pawned the suit he had procured by Griffiths’ + aid; and he also raised money on some volumes which had been sent him for + review. Thereupon ensued an angry and humiliating correspondence with the + bookseller, as a result of which Griffiths, nevertheless, appears to have + held his hand. + </p> + + <p> + By this time Goldsmith had moved into those historic but now non-existent + lodgings in 12 Green Arbour Court, Old Bailey, which have been + photographed for ever in Irving’s <i>Tales of a Traveller.</i> It + was here that the foregoing incidents took place; and it was here also + that, early in 1759, ‘in a wretched dirty room, in which there was but one + chair,’ the Rev. Thomas Percy, afterwards Bishop of Dromore, found him + composing (or more probably correcting the proofs of) <i>The Enquiry.</i> + ‘At least spare invective ’till my book with Mr. Dodsley shall be + publish’d,’—he had written not long before to the irate Griffiths—‘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.’ <i>The + Enquiry</i> came out on the 2nd of April. It had no author’s name, but + it was an open secret that Goldsmith had written it; and to this day it + remains to the critic one of the most interesting of his works. Obviously, + in a duodecimo of some two hundred widely-printed pages, it was impossible + to keep the high-sounding promise of its title; and at best its author’s + knowledge of the subject, notwithstanding his continental wanderings, can + have been but that of an external spectator. Still in an age when critical + utterance was more than ordinarily full-wigged and ponderous, it dared to + be sprightly and epigrammatic. Some of its passages, besides, bear upon + the writer’s personal experiences, and serve to piece the imperfections of + his biography. If it brought him no sudden wealth, +<a name="page_xvii" id="page_xvii"></a> + it certainly raised his reputation with the book-selling world. A + connexion already begun with Smollett’s <i>Critical Review</i> was + drawn closer; and the shrewd Sosii of the Row began to see the importance + of securing so vivacious and unconventional a pen. Towards the end of the + year he was writing for Wilkie the collection of periodical essays + entitled <i>The Bee</i>; and contributing to the same publisher’s + <i>Lady’s Magazine</i>, as well as to <i>The Busy Body</i> of + one Pottinger. In these, more than ever, he was finding his distinctive + touch; and ratifying anew, with every fresh stroke of his pen, his bondage + to authorship as a calling. + </p> + + <p> + He had still, however, to conquer the public. <i>The Bee</i>, + although it contains one of his most characteristic essays (‘A City + Night-Piece’), and some of the most popular of his lighter verses (‘The + Elegy on Mrs. Mary Blaize’), never attained the circulation essential to + healthy existence. It closed with its eighth number in November, 1759. In + the following month two gentlemen called at Green Arbour Court to enlist + the services of its author. One was Smollett, with a new serial, <i> + The British Magazine</i>; the other was Johnson’s ‘Jack Whirler,’ + bustling Mr. John Newbery from the ‘Bible and Sun’ in St. Paul’s + Churchyard, with a new daily newspaper, <i>The Public Ledger</i>. + For Smollett, Goldsmith wrote the ‘Reverie at the Boar’s Head Tavern’ and + the ‘Adventures of a Strolling Player,’ besides a number of minor papers. + For Newbery, by a happy recollection of the <i>Lettres Persanes</i> + of Montesquieu, or some of his imitators, he struck almost at once into + that charming epistolary series, brimful of fine observation, kindly + satire, and various fancy, which was ultimately to become the English + classic known as <i>The Citizen of the World</i>. He continued to + produce these letters periodically until the August of the following year, + when they were +<a name="page_xviii" id="page_xviii"></a> + announced for republication in ‘two volumes of the usual <i>Spectator</i> + size.’ In this form they appeared in May, 1762. + </p> + + <p> + But long before this date a change for the better had taken place in + Goldsmith’s life. Henceforth he was sure of work,—mere journey-work + though much of it must have been;—and, had his nature been less + improvident, of freedom from absolute want. The humble lodgings in the Old + Bailey were discarded for new premises at No. 6 Wine Office Court, Fleet + Street; and here, on the 31st of May, 1761, with Percy, came one whose + name was often in the future to be associated with Goldsmith’s, the great + Dictator of London literary society, Samuel Johnson. Boswell, who made + Johnson’s acquaintance later, has not recorded the humours of that supper; + but it marks the beginning of Goldsmith’s friendship with the man who of + all others (Reynolds excepted) loved him most and understood him best. + </p> + + <p> + During the remainder of 1761 he continued busily to ply his pen. Besides + his contributions to <i>The Ledger</i> and <i>The British + Magazine</i>, he edited <i>The Lady’s Magazine</i>, inserting in + it the <i>Memoirs of Voltaire</i>, drawn up some time earlier to + accompany a translation of the <i>Henriade</i> by his crony and + compatriot Edward Purdon. Towards the beginning of 1762 he was hard at + work on several compilations for Newbery, for whom he wrote or edited a + <i>History of Mecklenburgh</i>, and a series of monthly volumes of + an abridgement of <i>Plutarch’s Lives</i>. In October of the same + year was published the <i>Life of Richard Nash</i>, apparently the + outcome of special holiday-visits to the then fashionable watering-place + of Bath, whence its fantastic old Master of the Ceremonies had only very + lately made his final exit. It is a pleasantly gossiping, and not + unedifying little book, which still holds a respectable place among its + author’s minor works. But a recently discovered entry in an old ledger + shows that during the latter half +<a name="page_xix" id="page_xix"></a> + of 1762 he must have planned, if he had not, indeed, already in part + composed, a far more important effort, <i>The Vicar of Wakefield</i>. + For on the 28th of October in this year he sold to one Benjamin Collins, + printer, of Salisbury, for 21 pounds, a third in a work with that title, + further described as ‘2 vols. 12mo.’ How this little circumstance, + discovered by Mr. Charles Welsh when preparing his Life of John Newbery, + is to be brought into agreement with the time-honoured story, related + (with variations) by Boswell and others, to the effect that Johnson + negotiated the sale of the manuscript for Goldsmith when the latter was + arrested for rent by his incensed landlady—has not yet been + satisfactorily suggested. Possibly the solution is a simple one, referable + to some of those intricate arrangements favoured by ‘the Trade’ at a time + when not one but half a score publishers’ names figured in an imprint. At + present, the fact that Collins bought a third share of the book from the + author for twenty guineas, and the statement that Johnson transferred the + entire manuscript to a bookseller for sixty pounds, seem irreconcilable. + That <i>The Vicar of Wakefield</i> was nevertheless written, or was + being written, in 1762, is demonstrable from internal evidence. + </p> + + <p> + About Christmas in the same year Goldsmith moved into lodgings at + Islington, his landlady being one Mrs. Elizabeth Fleming, a friend of + Newbery, to whose generalship this step seems attributable. From the + curious accounts printed by Prior and Forster, it is clear that the + publisher was Mrs. Fleming’s paymaster, punctually deducting his + disbursements from the account current between himself and Goldsmith, an + arrangement which as plainly indicates the foresight of the one as it + implies the improvidence of the other. Of the work which Goldsmith did for + the businesslike and not unkindly little man, there is no very definite + evidence; but various prefaces, + introductions, and the like, belong to this time; and he undoubtedly was + the author of the excellent <i> History of England in a Series of + Letters addressed by a Nobleman to his Son</i>, published anonymously + in June, 1764, and long attributed, for the grace of its style, to + Lyttelton, Chesterfield, Orrery, and other patrician pens. Meanwhile his + range of acquaintance was growing larger. The establishment, at the + beginning of 1764, of the famous association known afterwards as the + ‘Literary Club’ brought him into intimate relations with Beauclerk, + Reynolds, Langton, Burke, and others. Hogarth, too, is said to have + visited him at Islington, and to have painted the portrait of Mrs. + Fleming. Later in the same year, incited thereto by the success of + Christopher Smart’s <i>Hannah</i>, he wrote the Oratorio of <i>The + Captivity</i>, now to be found in most editions of his poems, but never + set to music. Then after the slow growth of months, was issued on the 19th + December the elaboration of that fragmentary sketch which he had sent + years before to his brother Henry from the Continent, the poem entitled + <i>The Traveller; or, A Prospect of Society</i>. + </p> + + <p> + In the notes appended to <i>The Traveller</i> in the present volume, + its origin and progress are sufficiently explained. Its success was + immediate and enduring. The beauty of the descriptive passages, the subtle + simplicity of the language, the sweetness and finish of the versification, + found ready admirers,—perhaps all the more because of the contrast + they afforded to the rough and strenuous sounds with which Charles + Churchill had lately filled the public ear. Johnson, who contributed a few + lines at the close, proclaimed <i>The Traveller</i> to be the best + poem since the death of Pope; and it is certainly not easy to find its + equal among the works of contemporary bards. It at once raised Goldsmith + from the condition of a clever newspaper essayist, or—as men like + Sir John + Hawkins would have said—a mere ‘bookseller’s drudge,’ to the + foremost rank among the poets of the day. Another result of its success + was the revival of some of his earlier work, which, however neglected by + the author, had been freely appropriated by the discerning pirate. In + June, 1765, Griffin and Newbery published a little volume of <i>Essays + by Mr. Goldsmith</i>, including some of the best of his contributions + to <i>The Bee, The Busy Body, The Public Ledger</i>, and <i>The + British Magazine</i>, besides ‘The Double Transformation’ and ‘The + Logicians Refuted,’ two pieces of verse in imitation of Prior and Swift, + which have not been traced to an earlier source. To the same year belongs + the first version of a poem which he himself regarded as his best work, + and which still retains something of its former popularity. This was the + ballad of <i>Edwin and Angelina</i>, otherwise known as <i>The + Hermit</i>. It originated in certain metrical discussions with Percy, + then engaged upon his famous <i>Reliques of English Poetry</i>; and + in 1765, Goldsmith, who through his friend Nugent (afterwards Lord Clare) + had made the acquaintance of the Earl of Northumberland, printed it + privately for the amusement of the Countess. In a revised and amended form + it was subsequently given to the world in <i>The Vicar of Wakefield</i>. + </p> + + <p> + With the exception of an abortive attempt to resume his practice as a + medical man,—an attempt which seems to have been frustrated by the + preternatural strength of his prescriptions,—the next memorable + thing in Goldsmith’s life is the publication of <i>The Vicar of + Wakefield</i> itself. It made its appearance on the 27th of March, + 1766. A second edition followed in May, a third in August. Why, having + been sold (in part) to a Salisbury printer as far back as October, 1762, + it had remained unprinted so long; and why, when published, it was + published by Francis Newbery and not by John Newbery, Goldsmith’s +<a name="page_xxii" id="page_xxii"></a> + employer,—are questions at present unsolved. But the charm of this + famous novel is as fresh as when it was first issued. Its inimitable + types, its happy mingling of Christianity and character, its wholesome + benevolence and its practical wisdom, are still unimpaired. We smile at + the inconsistencies of the plot; but we are carried onward in spite of + them, captivated by the grace, the kindliness, the gentle humour of the + story. Yet it is a mistake to suppose that its success was instantaneous. + Pirated it was, of course; but, according to expert investigations, the + authorized edition brought so little gain to its first proprietors that + the fourth issue of 1770 started with a loss. The fifth, published in + April, 1774, was dated 1773; and had apparently been withheld because the + previous edition, which consisted of no more than one thousand copies, was + not exhausted. Five years elapsed before the sixth edition made its tardy + appearance in 1779. These facts show that the writer’s contemporaries were + not his most eager readers. But he has long since appealed to the wider + audience of posterity; and his fame is not confined to his native country, + for he has been translated into most European languages. Dr. Primrose and + his family are now veritable ‘citizens of the world.’ + </p> + + <p> + A selection of <i>Poems for Young Ladies</i>, in the ‘Moral’ + division of which he included his own <i>Edwin and Angelina</i>; two + volumes of <i>Beauties of English Poesy</i>, disfigured with strange + heedlessness, by a couple of the most objectionable pieces of Prior; a + translation of a French history of philosophy, and other occasional work, + followed the publication of the <i>Vicar</i>. But towards the middle + of 1766, he was meditating a new experiment in that line in which + Farquhar, Steele, Southerne, and others of his countrymen had succeeded + before him. A fervent lover of the stage, he detested the vapid and + colourless ‘genteel’ + comedy which had gradually gained ground in England; and he determined to + follow up <i>The Clandestine Marriage</i>, then recently adapted by + Colman and Garrick from Hogarth’s <i>Marriage A-la-Mode</i>, with + another effort of the same class, depending exclusively for its interest + upon humour and character. Early in 1767 it was completed, and submitted + to Garrick for Drury Lane. But Garrick perhaps too politic to traverse the + popular taste, temporized; and eventually after many delays and + disappointments, <i>The Good Natur’d Man</i>, as it was called, was + produced at Covent Garden by Colman on the 29th of January, 1768. Its + success was only partial; and in deference to the prevailing craze for the + ‘genteel,’ an admirable scene of low humour had to be omitted in the + representation. But the piece, notwithstanding, brought the author 400 + pounds, to which the sale of the book, with the condemned passages + restored, added another 100 pounds. Furthermore, Johnson, whose + ‘Suspirius’ in <i>The Rambler</i> was, under the name of ‘Croaker,’ + one of its most prominent personages, pronounced it to be the best comedy + since Cibber’s <i>Provok’d Husband</i>. + </p> + + <p> + During the autumn of 1767, Goldsmith had again been living at Islington. + On this occasion he had a room in Canonbury Tower, Queen Elizabeth’s old + hunting-lodge, and perhaps occupied the very chamber generally used by + John Newbery, whose active life was, in this year, to close. When in + London he had modest housing in the Temple. But the acquisition of 500 + pounds for <i>The Good Natur’d Man</i> seemed to warrant a change of + residence, and he accordingly expended four-fifths of that sum for the + lease of three rooms on the second floor of No. 2 Brick Court, which he + straightway proceeded to decorate sumptuously with mirrors, Wilton + carpets, moreen curtains, and Pembroke tables. It was an unfortunate step; + and he would have done well to remember the <i>Nil</i> + <i>te quaesiveris extra</i> with which his inflexible monitor, Johnson, + had greeted his apologies for the shortcomings of some earlier lodgings. + One of its natural results was to involve him in a new sequence of + task-work, from which he never afterwards shook himself free. Hence, + following hard upon a <i>Roman History</i> which he had already + engaged to write for Davies of Russell Street, came a more ambitious + project for Griffin, <i>A History of Animated Nature</i>; and after + this again, another <i>History of England</i> for Davies. The pay + was not inadequate; for the first he was to have 250 guineas, for the + second 800 guineas, and for the last 500 pounds. But as employment for the + author of a unique novel, an excellent comedy, and a deservedly successful + poem, it was surely—in his own words—‘to cut blocks with a + razor.’ + </p> + + <p> + And yet, apart from the anxieties of growing money troubles, his life + could not have been wholly unhappy. There are records of pleasant + occasional junketings—‘shoe-maker’s holidays’ he called them—in + the still countrified suburbs of Hampstead and Edgware; there was the + gathering at the Turk’s Head, with its literary magnates, for his severer + hours; and for his more pliant moments, the genial ‘free-and-easy’ or + shilling whist-club of a less pretentious kind, where the student of mixed + character might shine with something of the old supremacy of George + Conway’s inn at Ballymahon. And there must have been quieter and more + chastened resting-places of memory, when, softening towards the home of + his youth, with a sadness made more poignant by the death of his brother + Henry in May, 1768, he planned and perfected his new poem of <i>The + Deserted Village</i>. + </p> + + <p> + In December, 1769, the recent appointment of his friend Reynolds as + President of the Royal Academy brought him the honorary office of + Professor of History to that + institution; and to Reynolds <i>The Deserted Village</i> was + dedicated. It appeared on the 26th of May, 1770, with a success equal, if + not superior, to that of <i>The Traveller</i>. It ran through five + editions in the year of its publication; and has ever since retained its + reputation. If, as alleged, contemporary critics ranked it below its + predecessor, the reason advanced by Washington Irving, that the poet had + become his own rival, is doubtless correct; and there is always a + prejudice in favour of the first success. This, however, is not an + obstacle which need disturb the reader now; and he will probably decide + that in grace and tenderness of description <i>The Deserted Village</i> + in no wise falls short of <i>The Traveller</i>; and that its central + idea, and its sympathy with humanity, give it a higher value as a work of + art. + </p> + + <p> + After <i>The Deserted Village</i> had appeared, Goldsmith made a + short trip to Paris, in company with Mrs. and the two Miss Hornecks, the + elder of whom, christened by the poet with the pretty pet-name of ‘The + Jessamy Bride,’ is supposed to have inspired him with more than friendly + feelings. Upon his return he had to fall again to the old ‘book-building’ + in order to recruit his exhausted finances. Since his last poem he had + published a short <i>Life of Parnell</i>; and Davies now engaged him + on a <i>Life of Bolingbroke</i>, and an abridgement of the <i>Roman + History</i>. Thus, with visits to friends, among others to Lord Clare, + for whom he wrote the delightful occasional verses called <i>The Haunch + of Venison</i>, the months wore on until, in December, 1770, the + print-shops began to be full of the well-known mezzotint which Marchi had + engraved from his portrait by Sir Joshua. + </p> + + <p> + His chief publications in the next two years were the above-mentioned + <i>History of England</i>, 1771; <i>Threnodia Augustalis</i>, + a poetical lament-to-order on the death of the Princess Dowager of Wales, + 1772; and the abridgement + of the <i>Roman History</i>, 1772. But in the former year he had + completed a new comedy, <i>She Stoops to Conquer; or, The Mistakes of a + Night</i>, which, after the usual vexatious negotiations, was brought + out by Colman at Covent Garden on Monday, the 15th of March, 1773. The + manager seems to have acted Goldsmith’s own creation of ‘Croaker’ with + regard to this piece, and even to the last moment predicted its failure. + But it was a brilliant success. More skilful in construction than <i>The + Good Natur’d Man</i>, more various in its contrasts of character, + richer and stronger in humour and <i>vis comica</i>, <i>She Stoops to + Conquer</i> has continued to provide an inexhaustible fund of laughter + to more than three generations of playgoers, and still bids fair to retain + the character generally given to it, of being one of the three most + popular comedies upon the English stage. When published, it was gratefully + inscribed, in one of those admirable dedications of which its author above + all men possessed the secret, to Johnson, who had befriended it from the + first. ‘I do not mean,’ wrote Goldsmith, ‘so much to compliment you as + myself. It may do me some honour to inform the public, that I have lived + many years in intimacy with you. It may serve the interests of mankind + also to inform them, that the greatest wit may be found in a character, + without impairing the most unaffected piety.’ + </p> + + <p> + His gains from <i>She Stoops to Conquer</i> were considerable; but + by this time his affairs had reached a stage of complication which nothing + short of a miracle could disentangle; and there is reason for supposing + that his involved circumstances preyed upon his mind. During the few + months of life that remained to him he published nothing, being doubtless + sufficiently occupied by the undertakings to which he was already + committed. The last of his poetical efforts was the poem entitled +<a name="page_xxvii" id="page_xxvii"></a> + <i>Retaliation</i>, a group of epitaph-epigrams prompted by some + similar <i>jeux d’esprit</i> directed against himself by Garrick and other + friends, and left incomplete at his death. In March, 1774, the combined + effects of work and worry, added to a local disorder, brought on a nervous + fever, which he unhappily aggravated by the use of a patent medicine + called ‘James’s Powder.’ He had often relied upon this before, but in the + present instance it was unsuited to his complaint. On Monday, the 4th of + April, 1774, he died, in his forty-sixth year, and was buried on the 9th + in the burying-ground of the Temple Church. Two years later a monument, + with a medallion portrait by Nollekens, and a Latin inscription by + Johnson, was erected to him in Westminster Abbey, at the expense of the + Literary Club. But although the inscription contains more than one phrase + of felicitous discrimination, notably the oft-quoted <i>affectuum potens, + at lenis dominator</i>, it may be doubted whether the simpler words used + by his rugged old friend in a letter to Langton are not a fitter farewell + to Oliver Goldsmith,—‘Let not his frailties be remembered; he was a + very great man.’ + </p> + + <p> + In person Goldsmith was short and strongly built. His complexion was + rather fair, but he was deeply scarred with small-pox; and—if we + may believe his own account—the vicissitudes and privations of his + early life had not tended to diminish his initial disadvantages. ‘You + scarcely can conceive,’ he writes to his brother in 1759, ‘how much eight + years of disappointment, anguish, and study, have worn me down. . . . + Imagine to yourself a pale melancholy visage, with two great wrinkles + between the eye-brows, with an eye disgustingly severe, and a big wig; and + you may have a perfect picture of my present appearance,’ i.e. at thirty + years of age. ‘I can neither laugh nor drink,’ he goes on; ‘have + contracted an 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.’ + It is obvious that this description is largely coloured by passing + depression. ‘His features,’ says one contemporary, ‘were plain, but not + repulsive,—certainly not so when lighted up by conversation.’ + Another witness—the ‘Jessamy Bride’—declares that ‘his + benevolence was unquestionable, and his countenance bore every trace of + it.’ His true likeness would seem to lie midway between the grotesquely + truthful sketch by Bunbury prefixed in 1776 to the <i>Haunch of Venison</i>, + and the portrait idealized by personal regard, which Reynolds painted in + 1770. In this latter he is shown wearing, in place of his customary wig, + his own scant brown hair, and, on this occasion, masquerades in a furred + robe, and falling collar. But even through the disguise of a studio + ‘costume,’ the finely-perceptive genius of Reynolds has managed to suggest + much that is most appealing in his sitter’s nature. Past suffering, + present endurance, the craving to be understood, the mute deprecation of + contempt, are all written legibly in this pathetic picture. It has been + frequently copied, often very ineffectively, for so subtle is the art that + the slightest deviation hopelessly distorts and vulgarizes what Reynolds + has done supremely, once and for ever. + </p> + + <p> + Goldsmith’s character presents but few real complexities. What seems most + to have impressed his contemporaries is the difference, emphasized by the + happily-antithetic epigram of Garrick, between his written style and his + conversation; and collaterally, between his eminence as a literary man and + his personal insignificance. Much of this is easily intelligible. He had + started in life with few temporal or physical advantages, and with a + native susceptibility that intensified his defects. Until + he became a middle-aged man, he led a life of which we do not even now + know all the degradations; and these had left their mark upon his manners. + With the publication of <i>The Traveller</i>, he became at once the + associate of some of the best talent and intellect in England,—of + fine gentlemen such as Beauclerk and Langton, of artists such as Reynolds + and Garrick, of talkers such as Johnson and Burke. Morbidly + self-conscious, nervously anxious to succeed, he was at once forced into a + competition for which neither his antecedents nor his qualifications had + prepared him. To this, coupled with the old habit of poverty, must be + attributed his oft-cited passion for fine clothes, which surely arose less + from vanity than from a mistaken attempt to extenuate what he felt to be + his most obvious shortcomings. As a talker especially he was ill-fitted to + shine. He was easily disconcerted by retort, and often discomfited in + argument. To the end of his days he never lost his native brogue; and (as + he himself tells us) he had that most fatal of defects to a narrator, a + slow and hesitating manner. The perspicuity which makes the charm of his + writings deserted him in conversation; and his best things were momentary + flashes. But some of these were undoubtedly very happy. His telling + Johnson that he would make the little fishes talk like whales; his + affirmation of Burke that he wound into a subject like a serpent; and + half-a-dozen other well-remembered examples—afford ample proof of + this. Something of the uneasy jealousy he is said to have exhibited with + regard to certain of his contemporaries may also be connected with the + long probation of obscurity during which he had been a spectator of the + good fortune of others, to whom he must have known himself superior. His + improvidence seems to have been congenital, since it is to be traced ‘even + from his boyish days.’ But though it cannot justly be ascribed to any + reaction from want to sufficiency, it can still less be supposed to have + been diminished by that change. If he was careless of money, it must also + be remembered that he gave much of it away; and fortune lingers little + with those whose ears are always open to a plausible tale of distress. Of + his sensibility and genuine kindheartedness there is no doubt. And it is + well to remember that most of the tales to his disadvantage come, not from + his more distinguished companions, but from such admitted detractors as + Hawkins and Boswell. It could be no mean individuality that acquired the + esteem, and deserved the regret, of Johnson and Reynolds. + </p> + +<p> +In an edition of Goldsmith’s poems, any extended examination of his +remaining productions would be out of place. Moreover, the bulk of these is +considerably reduced when all that may properly be classed as hack-work has +been withdrawn. The histories of Greece, of Rome, and of England; the +<i>Animated Nature</i>; the lives of Nash, Voltaire, Parnell, and Bolingbroke, +are merely compilations, only raised to the highest level in that line because +they proceeded from a man whose gift of clear and easy exposition lent a charm +to everything he touched. With the work which he did for himself, the case is +different. Into <i>The Citizen of the World</i>, <i>The Vicar of Wakefield</i>, +and his two comedies, he put all the best of his knowledge of human nature, his +keen sympathy with his kind, his fine common-sense and his genial humour. The +same qualities, tempered by a certain grace and tenderness, also enter into the +best of his poems. Avoiding the epigram of Pope and the austere couplet of +Johnson, he yet borrowed something from each, which he combined with a delicacy +and an amenity that he had learned from neither. He himself, in all +probability, would have rested his fame on his three chief metrical efforts, +<i>The Traveller</i>, <i>The Hermit</i>, and <i>The Deserted Village</i>. But, +as is often the case, he is remembered even more favourably by some of those +delightful familiar verses, unprinted during his lifetime, which he threw off +with no other ambition than the desire to amuse his friends. +<i>Retaliation</i>, <i> The Haunch of Venison</i>, the <i>Letter in Prose and +Verse to Mrs. Bunbury</i>, all afford noteworthy exemplification of that +playful touch and wayward fancy which constitute the chief attraction of this +species of poetry. In his imitations of Swift and Prior, and his variations +upon French suggestions, his personal note is scarcely so apparent; but the two +Elegies and some of the minor pieces retain a deserved reputation. His +ingenious prologues and epilogues also serve to illustrate the range and +versatility of his talent. As a rule, the arrangement in the present edition is +chronological; but it has not been thought necessary to depart from the +practice which gives a time-honoured precedence to <i>The Traveller</i> and +<i>The Deserted Village</i>. The true sequence of the poems, in their order of +publication, is, however, exactly indicated in the table which follows this +Introduction. +</p> + +<h3><a name="chronology" id="chronology"></a> +CHRONOLOGY OF GOLDSMITH’S LIFE AND POEMS. +</h3> + + <table summary="the first column gives the year and the second, the significant dates for that year"> + <tr> + <td></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td></td> + <td> + + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td></td> + <td> + + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td valign="top"> + 1728 + </td> + <td> + <i>November 10.</i> Born at Pallas, near Ballymahon, in the county of + Longford, Ireland. + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td valign="top"> + 1730 + </td> + <td> + Family remove to Lissoy, in the county of Westmeath. + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td valign="top"> + 1731 + </td> + <td> + Under Elizabeth Delap. + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td valign="top"> + 1734 + </td> + <td> + Under Mr. Thomas Byrne of the village school. + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td valign="top"> + 1736–44 + </td> + <td> + At school at Elphin (Mr. Griffin’s), Athlone (Mr. Campbell’s), + Edgeworthstown (Mr. Hughes’s). + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td valign="top"> + 1744 + </td> + <td> + <i>June 11.</i> Admitted a sizar of Trinity College, Dublin, <i>‘annum + agens</i> 15.’ + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td valign="top"> + 1747 + </td> + <td> + Death of his father, the Rev. Charles Goldsmith.<br /> <i>May.</i> + Takes part in a college riot.<br /> <i>June 15.</i> Obtains a Smythe + exhibition.<br /> Runs away from college. + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td valign="top"> + 1749 + </td> + <td> + <i>February 27.</i> Takes his degree as Bachelor of Arts. + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td valign="top"> + 1751 + </td> + <td> + Rejected for orders by the Bishop of Elphin.<br /> Tutor to Mr. Flinn.<br /> + Sets out for America (via Cork), but returns.<br /> Letter to Mrs. + Goldsmith (his mother). + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td valign="top"> + 1752 + </td> + <td> + Starts as a law student, but loses his all at play.<br /> Goes to + Edinburgh to become a medical student. + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td valign="top"> + 1753 + </td> + <td> + <i>January 13.</i> Admitted a member of the ‘Medical Society’ of + Edinburgh.<br /> <i>May 8.</i> Letter to his Uncle Contarine.<br /> <i>September + 26.</i> Letter to Robert Bryanton.<br /> Letter to his Uncle Contarine. + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td valign="top"> + 1754 + </td> + <td> + Goes to Leyden. Letter to his Uncle Contarine. + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td valign="top"> + 1755 + </td> + <td> + <i>February.</i> Leaves Leyden.<br /> Takes degree of Bachelor of + Medicine at Louvain (?).<br /> Travels on foot in France, Germany, + Switzerland, and Italy.<br /> Sketches <i>The Traveller</i>. + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td valign="top"> + 1756 + </td> + <td> + <i>February 1.</i> Returns to Dover. Low comedian; usher (?); + apothecary’s journeyman; poor physician in Bankside, Southwark. + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td valign="top"> + 1757 + </td> + <td> + Press corrector to Samuel Richardson, printer and novelist; assistant + at Peckham Academy (Dr. Milner’s).<br /> <i>April.</i> Bound over to + Griffiths the bookseller. Quarrels with Griffiths.<br /> <i>December + 27.</i> Letter to his brother-in-law, Daniel Hodson. + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td valign="top"> + 1758 + </td> + <td> + <i>February.</i> Publishes <i>The Memoirs of a Protestant, + condemned to the Galleys of France for his Religion</i>.<br /> Gives + up literature and returns to Peckham.<br /> <i>August.</i> Leaves + Peckham. Letters to Edward Mills, Bryanton, Mrs. Jane Lawder.<br /> + Appointed surgeon and physician to a factory on the Coast of + Coromandel.<br /> <i>November (?).</i> Letter to Hodson.<br /> Moves + into 12 Green Arbour Court, Old Bailey.<br /> Coromandel appointment + comes to nothing.<br /> <i>December 21.</i> Rejected at Surgeons’ Hall + as ‘not qualified’ for a hospital mate. + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td valign="top"> + 1759 + </td> + <td> + <i>February (?).</i> Letter to Henry Goldsmith.<br /> <i>March.</i> + Visited by Percy at 12 Green Arbour Court.<br /> <i>April 2.</i> <i>Enquiry + into the Present State of Polite Learning in Europe</i> published. + ‘Prologue of Laberius’ (<i>Enquiry</i>).<br /> <i>October 6.</i> + <i>The Bee</i> commenced. ‘On a Beautiful Youth struck blind + with Lightning’ (<i>Bee</i>).<br /> <i>October 13.</i> ‘The Gift’ + (<i>Bee</i>).<br /> <i>October 18.</i> ‘The Logicians Refuted’ (<i>Busy + Body</i>).<br /> <i>October 20.</i> ‘A Sonnet’ (<i>Bee</i>).<br /> + <i>October 22.</i> ‘Stanzas on the Taking of Quebec’ (<i>Busy Body</i>).<br /> + <i>October 27.</i> ‘Elegy on Mrs. Mary Blaize’ (<i>Bee</i>).<br /> + <i>November 24.</i> <i>The Bee</i> closed. + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td valign="top"> + 1760 + </td> + <td> + <i>January 1.</i> <i>The British Magazine</i> commenced.<br /> <i>January + 12.</i> <i>The Public Ledger</i> commenced.<br /> <i>January 24.</i> + First Chinese Letter published (<i>Citizen of the World</i>).<br /> + <i>May 2.</i> ‘Description of an Author’s Bedchamber’ (‘Chinese + Letter’ in <i>Public Ledger</i>).<br /> <i>October 21.</i> ‘On + seeing Mrs. . . . perform,’ etc. (‘Chinese Letter’ in <i>Public + Ledger</i>).<br /> Editing <i>Lady’s Magazine</i>. Compiling + Prefaces.<br /> Moves into 6 Wine Office Court, Fleet Street. + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td valign="top"> + 1761 + </td> + <td> + <i>March 4.</i> ‘On the Death of the Right Hon. . . . (‘Chinese + Letter’ in <i>Public Ledger</i>).<br /> <i>April 4–14.</i> ‘An + Epigram’; to G. C. and R. L. (‘Chinese Letter in <i>Public Ledger</i>).<br /> + <i>May 13.</i> ‘Translation of a South American Ode.’ (‘Chinese + Letter’ in <i>Public Ledger</i>)<br /> <i>August 14.</i> Last + Chinese Letter published (<i>Citizen of the World</i>).<br /> + <i>Memoirs of M. de Voltaire</i> published in <i>Lady’s + Magazine</i>. + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td valign="top"> + 1762 + </td> + <td> + <i>February 23.</i> Pamphlet on Cock Lane Ghost published.<br /> <i>February + 26.</i> <i>History of Mecklenburgh</i> published.<br /> <i>May 1.</i> + <i>Citizen of the World</i> published.<br /> <i>May 1 to Nov. 1.</i> + <i>Plutarch’s Lives</i>, vol. i to vii, published.<br /> At Bath + and Tunbridge.<br /> <i>October 14.</i> <i>Life of Richard Nash</i> + published.<br /> <i>October 28.</i> Sells third share of <i>Vicar of + Wakefield</i> to B. Collins, printer, Salisbury.<br /> At Mrs. + Fleming’s at Islington. + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td valign="top"> + 1763 + </td> + <td> + <i>March 31.</i> Agrees with James Dodsley to write a <i> + Chronological History of the Lives of Eminent Persons of Great Britain + and Ireland</i>. (Never done.) + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td valign="top"> + 1764 + </td> + <td> + ‘The Club,’ afterwards the Literary Club, founded.<br /> Moves into + lodgings on the library staircase of the Temple.<br /> <i>June 26.</i> + <i>History of England, in a series of Letters from a Nobleman to + his Son</i> published.<br /> <i>October 31.</i> Oratorio of <i>The + Captivity</i> sold to James Dodsley.<br /> <i>December 19.</i> <i>The + Traveller</i> published. + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td valign="top"> + 1765 + </td> + <td> + <i>June 4.</i> <i>Essays by Mr. Goldsmith</i> published. ‘The + Double Transformation,’ ‘A New Simile’ (<i>Essays</i>).<br /> + <i>Edwin and Angelina</i> (<i>The Hermit</i>) printed + privately for the amusement of the Countess of Northumberland.<br /> + Resumes practice as a physician. + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td valign="top"> + 1766 + </td> + <td> + <i>March 27.</i> <i>Vicar of Wakefield</i> published. ‘Elegy on + a Mad Dog’; ‘Olivia’s Song’ (<i>Vicar of Wakefield</i>).<br /> <i>May + 31.</i> <i>Vicar of Wakefield</i>, 2nd edition.<br /> <i>June.</i> + Translation of Formey’s <i>Concise History of Philosophy and + Philosophers</i> published.<br /> <i>August 29.</i> <i>Vicar of + Wakefield</i>, 3rd edition.<br /> <i>December 15.</i> <i>Poems + for Young Ladies</i> published. + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td valign="top"> + 1766 + </td> + <td> + <i>December 28.</i> <i>English Grammar</i> written. + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td valign="top"> + 1767 + </td> + <td> + <i>April.</i> <i>Beauties of English Poesy</i> published.<br /> + <i>July 19.</i> Living in Garden Court, Temple.<br /> <i>July 25.</i> + Letter to the <i>St. James’s Chronicle</i>.<br /> <i>December 22.</i> + Death of John Newbery. + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td valign="top"> + 1768 + </td> + <td> + <i>February 5.</i> Publishes <i>The Good Natur’d Man</i>, a + Comedy, produced at Covent Garden, January 29. ‘Epilogue to <i>The + Good Natur’d Man</i>.’<br /> Moves to 2 Brick Court, Middle Temple.<br /> + <i>May.</i> Death of Henry Goldsmith.<br /> Living at Edgware. + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td valign="top"> + 1769 + </td> + <td> + <i>February 18.</i> ‘Epilogue to Mrs. Lenox’s <i> Sister</i>.’<br /> + <i>February 29.</i> Agreement for ‘a new Natural History of Animals’ (<i>Animated + Nature</i>).<br /> <i>May 18.</i> <i>Roman History</i> + published.<br /> <i>June 13.</i> Agreement for <i>History of England</i>.<br /> + <i>December.</i> Appointed Professor of History to the Royal Academy. + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td valign="top"> + 1770 + </td> + <td> + <i>January.</i> Letter to Maurice Goldsmith.<br /> <i>April 24–May 26.</i> + Portrait by Reynolds exhibited.<br /> <i>May 26.</i> <i>The Deserted + Village</i> published.<br /> <i>July 13.</i> <i>Life of Thomas + Parnell</i> published.<br /> <i>July.</i> On the Continent with the + Hornecks. Letters to Reynolds.<br /> <i>September 15.</i> Agreement for + abridgement of <i>Roman History</i>.<br /> <i>December 1.</i> + Marchi’s print from Reynold’s portrait published.<br /> <i>December 19.</i> + <i>Life of Bolingbroke</i> published.<br /> <i>Vicar of + Wakefield</i>, 4th edition. + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td valign="top"> + 1771 + </td> + <td> + <i>Haunch of Venison</i> written. (?)<br /> <i>August 6.</i> + <i>History of England</i> published.<br /> <i>December 11.</i> + ‘Prologue to Cradock’s <i> Zobeide</i>.’ + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td valign="top"> + 1772 + </td> + <td> + <i>February 20.</i> <i>Threnodia Augustalis</i> published.<br /> + Watson’s Engraving of <i>Resignation</i> published.<br /> <i>December.</i> + Abridgement of <i>Roman History</i> published. + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td valign="top"> + 1773 + </td> + <td> + <i>March 26.</i> Publishes <i>She Stoops to Conquer; or, The + Mistakes of a Night</i>, a Comedy, produced at Covent Garden, March + 15. ‘Song in <i>She Stoops to Conquer</i>,’ ‘Epilogue to <i>She + Stoops to Conquer</i>.’ + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td valign="top"> + 1773 + </td> + <td> + <i>March 24.</i> Kenrick’s libel in the <i>London Packet</i>.<br /> + <i>March 31.</i> Letter in the <i>Daily Advertiser</i>.<br /> <i>May + 8.</i> <i>The Grumbler</i> produced.<br /> Projects a <i>Dictionary + of Arts and Sciences</i>. + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td valign="top"> + 1774 + </td> + <td> + <i>March 25.</i> Illness.<br /> <i>April 4.</i> Death.<br /> <i>April 9.</i> + ‘Buried 9th April, Oliver Goldsmith, MB, late of Brick-court, Middle + Temple’ (Register of Burials, Temple Church).<br /> <i>April 19.</i> + <i>Retaliation</i> published.<br /> <i>April.</i> <i>Vicar of + Wakefield</i>, 5th edition (dated 1773).<br /> <i>June.</i> Song + (‘Ah me, when shall I marry me?’) published.<br /> <i>June 28.</i> + Letters of Administration granted.<br /> <i>June.</i> <i>An History + of the Earth and Animated Nature</i> published.<br /> ‘Translation + from Addison.’ (<i>History</i>, etc., 1774.) + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td valign="top"> + 1776 + </td> + <td> + <i>The Haunch of Venison</i> published. ‘Epitaph on Thomas + Parnell,’ and ‘Two Songs from <i>The Captivity</i> (<i>Haunch + of Venison</i>).<br /> Monument with medallion by Nollekens erected + in the south transept of Westminster Abbey. + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td valign="top"> + 1777 + </td> + <td> + <i>Poems and Plays</i> published. ‘The Clown’s Reply,’ ‘Epitaph + on Edward Purdon’ (<i>Poems</i>, etc., 1777). + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td valign="top"> + 1779 + </td> + <td> + <i>Vicar of Wakefield</i>, 6th edition. + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td valign="top"> + 1780 + </td> + <td> + <i>Poetical and Dramatic Works</i>, Evans’s edition, published.<br /> + ‘Epilogue for Lee Lewes’ (<i>Poetical, etc., Works</i>, 1780). + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td valign="top"> + 1801 + </td> + <td> + <i>Miscellaneous Works</i>, Percy’s edition, published. + ‘Epilogues (unspoken) to <i>She Stoops to Conquer</i>’ (<i>Misc. + Works</i>, 1801). + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td valign="top"> + 1820 + </td> + <td> + <i>Miscellaneous Works</i>, ‘trade’ edition, published. An + Oratorio’ (<i>The Captivity</i>). (<i>Misc. Works</i>, + 1820.) + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td valign="top"> + 1837 + </td> + <td> + <i>Miscellaneous Works</i>, Prior’s edition, published. ‘Verses + in Reply to an Invitation to Dinner’; ‘Letter in Prose and Verse to + Mrs. Bunbury’ (<i>Misc. Works</i>, 1837).<br /> Tablet erected in + the Temple Church. + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td valign="top"> + 1854 + </td> + <td> + <i>Goldsmith’s Works</i>, Cunningham’s edition, published. + ‘Translation of Vida’s <i>Game of Chess</i>’ (<i>Works</i>, + 1854, vol. iv). + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td valign="top"> + 1864 + </td> + <td> + <i>January 5.</i> J. H. Foley’s statue placed in front of Dublin + University. + </td> + </tr> + </table> + +<hr /> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> +<a name="vignette" id="vignette"></a> +<img src="images/vignette.jpg" width="365" height="244" alt="[Illustration: Vignette to ‘The Traveller’]" /> +<p class="caption">VIGNETTE TO ‘THE TRAVELLER’<br /> <small>(Samuel Wale)</small></p> +</div> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="page_3" id="page_3"></a><a name="descriptive" id="descriptive"></a> +DESCRIPTIVE POEMS +</h2> + + <p class="center"> + <a name="poem01"></a> + <br /> THE TRAVELLER<br /> <br /> OR<br /> <br /> A PROSPECT OF SOCIETY<br /> + <br /> <br /> <b>DEDICATION</b><br /> <small>TO THE REV. HENRY GOLDSMITH</small> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + D<small>EAR</small> S<small>IR</small>,<br /> I am sensible that the + friendship between us can acquire no new force from the ceremonies of a + Dedication; and perhaps it demands an excuse thus to prefix your name to + my attempts, which you decline giving with your own. But as a part of this + Poem was formerly written to you from Switzerland, the whole can now, with + propriety, be only inscribed to you. It will also throw a light upon many + parts of it, when the reader understands, that it is addressed to a man, + who, despising Fame and Fortune, has retired early to Happiness and + Obscurity, with an income of forty pounds a year. + </p> + + <p> + I now perceive, my dear brother, the wisdom of your humble choice. You + have entered upon a sacred office, where the harvest is great, and the + labourers are but few; while you have left the field of Ambition, where + the labourers are many, and the harvest not worth carrying away. But of + all kinds of ambition, what from the refinement of the times, from + different systems of criticism, and from the divisions of party, that + which pursues poetical fame is the wildest. + </p> + + <p> + Poetry makes a principal amusement among unpolished nations; but in a + country verging to the extremes of refinement, Painting and Music come in + for a share. As these offer the feeble mind a less laborious + entertainment, +<a name="page_4" id="page_4"></a> + they at first rival Poetry, and at length supplant her; they engross all + that favour once shown to her, and though but younger sisters, seize upon + the elder’s birthright. + </p> + + <p> + Yet, however this art may be neglected by the powerful, it is still in + greater danger from the mistaken efforts of the learned to improve it. + What criticisms have we not heard of late in favour of blank verse, and + Pindaric odes, choruses, anapaests and iambics, alliterative care and + happy negligence! Every absurdity has now a champion to defend it; and as + he is generally much in the wrong, so he has always much to say; for error + is ever talkative. + </p> + + <p> + But there is an enemy to this art still more dangerous, I mean Party. + Party entirely distorts the judgment, and destroys the taste. When the + mind is once infected with this disease, it can only find pleasure in what + contributes to increase the distemper. Like the tiger, that seldom desists + from pursuing man after having once preyed upon human flesh, the reader, + who has once gratified his appetite with calumny, makes, ever after, the + most agreeable feast upon murdered reputation. Such readers generally + admire some half-witted thing, who wants to be thought a bold man, having + lost the character of a wise one. Him they dignify with the name of poet; + his tawdry lampoons are called satires, his turbulence is said to be + force, and his frenzy fire. + </p> + + <p> + What reception a Poem may find, which has neither abuse, party, nor blank + verse to support it, I cannot tell, nor am I solicitous to know. My aims + are right. Without espousing the cause of any party, I have attempted to + moderate the rage of all. I have endeavoured to show, that there may be + equal happiness in states, that are differently governed from our own; + that every state has a particular principle of happiness, and that this + principle in each may be carried to a mischievous excess. There are few + can judge, better than yourself, how far these positions are illustrated + in this Poem. + </p> + <p> + I am, dear Sir,<br /> Your most affectionate Brother,<br /> + + O<small>LIVER</small> G<small>OLDSMITH</small>. + <br /> + </p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> +<a name="page_5" id="page_5"></a> +<a name="traveller" id="traveller"></a> +<img src="images/traveller.jpg" width="242" height="120" alt="[Illustration: ]" /> +</div> + + <p> + <b>THE TRAVELLER</b><br /> <br /> <small>OR</small><br /> <br /> A PROSPECT OF + SOCIETY<br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +REMOTE, unfriended, melancholy, slow, +Or by the lazy Scheldt, or wandering Po; +Or onward, where the rude Carinthian boor +Against the houseless stranger shuts the door; +Or where Campania’s plain forsaken lies, 5 +A weary waste expanding to the skies: +Where’er I roam, whatever realms to see, +My heart untravell’d fondly turns to thee; +Still to my brother turns with ceaseless pain, +And drags at each remove a lengthening chain. 10 + + Eternal blessings crown my earliest friend, +And round his dwelling guardian saints attend: +Bless’d be that spot, where cheerful guests retire +To pause from toil, and trim their ev’ning fire; +Bless’d that abode, where want and pain repair, 15 +And every stranger finds a ready chair; +Bless’d be those feasts with simple plenty crown’d,<a name="page_6" id="page_6"></a> +Where all the ruddy family around +Laugh at the jests or pranks that never fail, +Or sigh with pity at some mournful tale, 20 +Or press the bashful stranger to his food, +And learn the luxury of doing good. + + But me, not destin’d such delights to share, +My prime of life in wand’ring spent and care, +Impell’d, with steps unceasing, to pursue 25 +Some fleeting good, that mocks me with the view; +That, like the circle bounding earth and skies, +Allures from far, yet, as I follow, flies; +My fortune leads to traverse realms alone, +And find no spot of all the world my own. 30 + + E’en now, where Alpine solitudes ascend, +I sit me down a pensive hour to spend; +And, plac’d on high above the storm’s career, +Look downward where a hundred realms appear; +Lakes, forests, cities, plains, extending wide, 35 +The pomp of kings, the shepherd’s humbler pride. + + When thus Creation’s charms around combine, +Amidst the store, should thankless pride repine? +Say, should the philosophic mind disdain +That good, which makes each humbler bosom vain? 40 +Let school-taught pride dissemble all it can, +These little things are great to little man; +And wiser he, whose sympathetic mind +Exults in all the good of all mankind. +Ye glitt’ring towns, with wealth and splendour crown’d, 45 +Ye fields, where summer spreads profusion round, +Ye lakes, whose vessels catch the busy gale, +Ye bending swains, that dress the flow’ry vale,<a name="page_7" id="page_7"></a> +For me your tributary stores combine; +Creation’s heir, the world, the world is mine! 50 + + As some lone miser visiting his store, +Bends at his treasure, counts, re-counts it o’er; +Hoards after hoards his rising raptures fill, +Yet still he sighs, for hoards are wanting still: +Thus to my breast alternate passions rise, 55 +Pleas’d with each good that heaven to man supplies: +Yet oft a sigh prevails, and sorrows fall, +To see the hoard of human bliss so small; +And oft I wish, amidst the scene, to find +Some spot to real happiness consign’d, 60 +Where my worn soul, each wand’ring hope at rest, +May gather bliss to see my fellows bless’d. + + But where to find that happiest spot below, +Who can direct, when all pretend to know? +The shudd’ring tenant of the frigid zone 65 +Boldly proclaims that happiest spot his own, +Extols the treasures of his stormy seas, +And his long nights of revelry and ease; +The naked negro, panting at the line, +Boasts of his golden sands and palmy wine, 70 +Basks in the glare, or stems the tepid wave, +And thanks his gods for all the good they gave. +Such is the patriot’s boast, where’er we roam, +His first, best country ever is, at home. +And yet, perhaps, if countries we compare, 75 +And estimate the blessings which they share, +Though patriots flatter, still shall wisdom find +An equal portion dealt to all mankind,<a name="page_8" id="page_8"></a> +As different good, by Art or Nature given, +To different nations makes their blessings even. 80 + + Nature, a mother kind alike to all, +Still grants her bliss at Labour’s earnest call; +With food as well the peasant is supplied +On Idra’s cliffs as Arno’s shelvy side; +And though the rocky-crested summits frown, 85 +These rocks, by custom, turn to beds of down. +From Art more various are the blessings sent; +Wealth commerce, honour, liberty, content. +Yet these each other’s power so strong contest, +That either seems destructive of the rest. 90 +Where wealth and freedom reign, contentment fails, +And honour sinks where commerce long prevails. +Hence every state to one lov’d blessing prone, +Conforms and models life to that alone. +Each to the favourite happiness attends, 95 +And spurns the plan that aims at other ends; +Till, carried to excess in each domain, +This favourite good begets peculiar pain. + + But let us try these truths with closer eyes, +And trace them through the prospect as it lies: 100 +Here for a while my proper cares resign’d, +Here let me sit in sorrow for mankind, +Like yon neglected shrub at random cast, +That shades the steep, and sighs at every blast. + + Far to the right where Apennine ascends, 105 +Bright as the summer, Italy extends; +Its uplands sloping deck the mountain’s side, +Woods over woods in gay theatric pride;<a name="page_9" id="page_9"></a> +While oft some temple’s mould’ring tops between +With venerable grandeur mark the scene 110 +</pre> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> +<a name="traveller2" id="traveller2"></a> +<img src="images/traveller2.jpg" width="240" height="277" alt="[Illustration: ]" /> +<p class="caption">THE TRAVELLER<br /> +(R. Westall)</p> +</div> + +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Could Nature’s bounty satisfy the breast, +The sons of Italy were surely blest. +Whatever fruits in different climes were found, +That proudly rise, or humbly court the ground; +Whatever blooms in torrid tracts appear, 115 +Whose bright succession decks the varied year; +Whatever sweets salute the northern sky +With vernal lives that blossom but to die; +These here disporting own the kindred soil, +Nor ask luxuriance from the planter’s toil; 120 +While sea-born gales their gelid wings expand +To winnow fragrance round the smiling land. + + But small the bliss that sense alone bestows, +And sensual bliss is all the nation knows. +In florid beauty groves and fields appear, 125 +Man seems the only growth that dwindles here. +Contrasted faults through all his manner reign; +Though poor, luxurious; though submissive, vain; +Though grave, yet trifling; zealous, yet untrue; +And e’en in penance planning sins anew. 130 +All evils here contaminate the mind, +That opulence departed leaves behind; +For wealth was theirs, not far remov’d the date, +When commerce proudly flourish’d through the state; +At her command the palace learn’d to rise, 135 +Again the long-fall’n column sought the skies; +The canvas glow’d beyond e’en Nature warm, +The pregnant quarry teem’d with human form; +Till, more unsteady than the southern gale,<a name="page_10" id="page_10"></a> +Commerce on other shores display’d her sail; 140 +While nought remain’d of all that riches gave, +But towns unmann’d, and lords without a slave; +And late the nation found, with fruitless skill, +Its former strength was but plethoric ill. + + Yet still the loss of wealth is here supplied 145 +By arts, the splendid wrecks of former pride; +From these the feeble heart and long-fall’n mind +An easy compensation seem to find. +Here may be seen, in bloodless pomp array’d, +The paste-board triumph and the cavalcade; 150 +Processions form’d for piety and love, +A mistress or a saint in every grove. +By sports like these are all their cares beguil’d, +The sports of children satisfy the child; +Each nobler aim, repress’d by long control, 155 +Now sinks at last, or feebly mans the soul; +While low delights, succeeding fast behind, +In happier meanness occupy the mind: +As in those domes, where Caesars once bore sway, +Defac’d by time and tottering in decay, 160 +There in the ruin, heedless of the dead, +The shelter-seeking peasant builds his shed, +And, wond’ring man could want the larger pile, +Exults, and owns his cottage with a smile. + + My soul, turn from them; turn we to survey 165 +Where rougher climes a nobler race display, +Where the bleak Swiss their stormy mansions tread, +And force a churlish soil for scanty bread; +No product here the barren hills afford, +But man and steel, the soldier and his sword; 170<a name="page_11" id="page_11"></a> +No vernal blooms their torpid rocks array, +But winter ling’ring chills the lap of May; +No Zephyr fondly sues the mountain’s breast, +But meteors glare, and stormy glooms invest. + + Yet still, e’en here, content can spread a charm, 175 +Redress the clime, and all its rage disarm. +Though poor the peasant’s hut, his feasts though small, +He sees his little lot the lot of all; +Sees no contiguous palace rear its head +To shame the meanness of his humble shed; 180 +No costly lord the sumptuous banquet deal +To make him loathe his vegetable meal; +But calm, and bred in ignorance and toil, +Each wish contracting, fits him to the soil. +Cheerful at morn he wakes from short repose, 185 +Breasts the keen air, and carols as he goes; +With patient angle trolls the finny deep, +Or drives his vent’rous plough-share to the steep; +Or seeks the den where snow-tracks mark the way, +And drags the struggling savage into day. 190 +At night returning, every labour sped, +He sits him down the monarch of a shed; +Smiles by his cheerful fire, and round surveys +His children’s looks, that brighten at the blaze; +While his lov’d partner, boastful of her hoard, 195 +Displays her cleanly platter on the board: +And haply too some pilgrim, thither led, +With many a tale repays the nightly bed. + + Thus every good his native wilds impart, +Imprints the patriot passion on his heart, 200<a name="page_12" id="page_12"></a> +And e’en those ills, that round his mansion rise, +Enhance the bliss his scanty fund supplies. +Dear is that shed to which his soul conforms, +And dear that hill which lifts him to the storms; +And as a child, when scaring sounds molest, 205 +Clings close and closer to the mother’s breast, +So the loud torrent, and the whirlwind’s roar, +But bind him to his native mountains more. + + Such are the charms to barren states assign’d; +Their wants but few, their wishes all confin’d. 210 +Yet let them only share the praises due, +If few their wants, their pleasures are but few; +For every want that stimulates the breast, +Becomes a source of pleasure when redrest. +Whence from such lands each pleasing science flies, 215 +That first excites desire, and then supplies; +Unknown to them, when sensual pleasures cloy, +To fill the languid pause with finer joy; +Unknown those powers that raise the soul to flame, +Catch every nerve, and vibrate through the frame. 220 +Their level life is but a smould’ring fire, +Unquench’d by want, unfann’d by strong desire; +Unfit for raptures, or, if raptures cheer +On some high festival of once a year, +In wild excess the vulgar breast takes fire, 225 +Till, buried in debauch, the bliss expire. + + But not their joys alone thus coarsely flow: +Their morals, like their pleasures, are but low; +For, as refinement stops, from sire to son +Unalter’d, unimprov’d the manners run; 230<a name="page_13" id="page_13"></a> +And love’s and friendship’s finely pointed dart +Fall blunted from each indurated heart. +Some sterner virtues o’er the mountain’s breast +May sit, like falcons cow’ring on the nest; +But all the gentler morals, such as play 235 +Through life’s more cultur’d walks, and charm the way, +These far dispers’d, on timorous pinions fly, +To sport and flutter in a kinder sky. + + To kinder skies, where gentler manners reign, +I turn; and France displays her bright domain. 240 +Gay sprightly land of mirth and social ease, +Pleas’d 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, 245 +And freshen’d from the wave the Zephyr flew; +And haply, though my harsh touch falt’ring still, +But mock’d all tune, and marr’d the dancer’s skill; +Yet would the village praise my wondrous power, +And dance, forgetful of the noon-tide hour. 250 +Alike all ages. Dames of ancient days +Have led their children through the mirthful maze, +And the gay grandsire, skill’d in gestic lore, +Has frisk’d beneath the burthen of threescore. + + So bless’d a life these thoughtless realms display, 255 +Thus idly busy rolls their world away: +Theirs are those arts that mind to mind endear, +For honour forms the social temper here: +Honour, that praise which real merit gains, +Or e’en imaginary worth obtains, 260<a name="page_14" id="page_14"></a> +Here passes current; paid from hand to hand, +It shifts in splendid traffic round the land: +From courts, to camps, to cottages it strays, +And all are taught an avarice of praise; +They please, are pleas’d, they give to get esteem, 265 +Till, seeming bless’d, they grow to what they seem. + + But while this softer art their bliss supplies, +It gives their follies also room to rise; +For praise too dearly lov’d, or warmly sought, +Enfeebles all internal strength of thought; 270 +And the weak soul, within itself unblest, +Leans for all pleasure on another’s breast. +Hence ostentation here, with tawdry art, +Pants for the vulgar praise which fools impart; +Here vanity assumes her pert grimace, 275 +And trims her robes of frieze with copper lace; +Here beggar pride defrauds her daily cheer, +To boast one splendid banquet once a year; +The mind still turns where shifting fashion draws, +Nor weighs the solid worth of self-applause. 280 + + To men of other minds my fancy flies, +Embosom’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, 285 +Lift the tall rampire’s artificial pride. +Onward, methinks, and diligently slow, +The firm-connected bulwark seems to grow; +Spreads its long arms amidst the wat’ry roar, +Scoops out an empire, and usurps the shore; 290<a name="page_15" id="page_15"></a> +While the pent ocean rising o’er the pile, +Sees an amphibious world beneath him smile; +The slow canal, the yellow-blossom’d vale, +The willow-tufted bank, the gliding sail, +The crowded mart, the cultivated plain, 295 +A new creation rescu’d from his reign. + + Thus, while around the wave-subjected soil +Impels the native to repeated toil, +Industrious habits in each bosom reign, +And industry begets a love of gain. 300 +Hence all the good from opulence that springs, +With all those ills superfluous treasure brings, +Are here displayed. Their much-lov’d wealth imparts +Convenience, plenty, elegance, and arts; +But view them closer, craft and fraud appear, 305 +E’en liberty itself is barter’d here. +At gold’s superior charms all freedom flies, +The needy sell it, and the rich man buys; +A land of tyrants, and a den of slaves, +Here wretches seek dishonourable graves, 310 +And calmly bent, to servitude conform, +Dull as their lakes that slumber in the storm. + + Heavens! how unlike their Belgic sires of old! +Rough, poor, content, ungovernably bold; +War in each breast, and freedom on each brow; 315 +How much unlike the sons of Britain now! + + Fir’d at the sound, my genius spreads her wing, +And flies where Britain courts the western spring; +Where lawns extend that scorn Arcadian pride, +And brighter streams than fam’d Hydaspes glide. 320<a name="page_16" id="page_16"></a> +There all around the gentlest breezes stray, +There gentle music melts on ev’ry spray; +Creation’s mildest charms are there combin’d, +Extremes are only in the master’s mind! +Stern o’er each bosom reason holds her state, 325 +With daring aims irregularly great; +Pride in their port, defiance in their eye, +I see the lords of human kind pass by, +Intent on high designs, a thoughtful band, +By forms unfashion’d, fresh from Nature’s hand; 330 +Fierce in their native hardiness of soul, +True to imagin’d right, above control, +While e’en the peasant boasts these rights to scan, +And learns to venerate himself as man. + + Thine, Freedom, thine the blessings pictur’d here, 335 +Thine are those charms that dazzle and endear; +Too bless’d, indeed, were such without alloy, +But foster’d e’en by Freedom, ills annoy: +That independence Britons prize too high, +Keeps man from man, and breaks the social tie; 340 +The self-dependent lordlings stand alone, +All claims that bind and sweeten life unknown; +Here by the bonds of nature feebly held, +Minds combat minds, repelling and repell’d. +Ferments arise, imprison’d factions roar, 345 +Repress’d ambition struggles round her shore, +Till over-wrought, the general system feels +Its motions stop, or frenzy fire the wheels. + + Nor this the worst. As nature’s ties decay, +As duty, love, and honour fail to sway, 350<a name="page_17" id="page_17"></a> +Fictitious bonds, the bonds of wealth and law, +Still gather strength, and force unwilling awe. +Hence all obedience bows to these alone, +And talent sinks, and merit weeps unknown; +Time may come, when stripp’d of all her charms, 355 +The land of scholars, and the nurse of arms, +Where noble stems transmit the patriot flame, +Where kings have toil’d, and poets wrote for fame, +One sink of level avarice shall lie, +And scholars, soldiers, kings, unhonour’d die. 360 + + Yet think not, thus when Freedom’s ills I state, +I mean to flatter kings, or court the great; +Ye powers of truth, that bid my soul aspire, +Far from my bosom drive the low desire; +And thou, fair Freedom, taught alike to feel 365 +The rabble’s rage, and tyrant’s angry steel; +Thou transitory flower, alike undone +By proud contempt, or favour’s fostering sun, +Still may thy blooms the changeful clime endure, +I only would repress them to secure: 370 +For just experience tells, in every soil, +That those who think must govern those that toil; +And all that freedom’s highest aims can reach, +Is but to lay proportion’d loads on each. +Hence, should one order disproportion’d grow, 375 +Its double weight must ruin all below. + + O then how blind to all that truth requires, +Who think it freedom when a part aspires! +Calm is my soul, nor apt to rise in arms, +Except when fast-approaching danger warms: 380<a name="page_18" id="page_18"></a> +But when contending chiefs blockade the throne, +Contracting regal power to stretch their own; +When I behold a factious band agree +To call it freedom when themselves are free; +Each wanton judge new penal statutes draw, 385 +Laws grind the poor, and rich men rule the law; +The wealth of climes, where savage nations roam, +Pillag’d from slaves to purchase slaves at home; +Fear, pity, justice, indignation start, +Tear off reserve, and bare my swelling heart; 390 +Till half a patriot, half a coward grown, +I fly from petty tyrants to the throne. + + Yes, brother, curse with me that baleful hour, +When first ambition struck at regal power; +And thus polluting honour in its source, 395 +Gave wealth to sway the mind with double force. +Have we not seen, round Britain’s peopled shore, +Her useful sons exchang’d for useless ore? +Seen all her triumphs but destruction haste, +Like flaring tapers bright’ning as they waste; 400 +Seen opulence, her grandeur to maintain, +Lead stern depopulation in her train, +And over fields where scatter’d hamlets rose, +In barren solitary pomp repose? +Have we not seen, at pleasure’s lordly call, 405 +The smiling long-frequented village fall? +Beheld the duteous son, the sire decay’d, +The modest matron, and the blushing maid, +Forc’d from their homes, a melancholy train, +To traverse climes beyond the western main; 410<a name="page_19" id="page_19"></a> +Where wild Oswego spreads her swamps around, +And Niagara stuns with thund’ring sound? + + E’en now, perhaps as there some pilgrim strays +Through tangled forests, and through dangerous ways; +Where beasts with man divided empire claim, 415 +And the brown Indian marks with murd’rous aim; +There, while above the giddy tempest flies, +And all around distressful yells arise, +The pensive exile, bending with his woe, +To stop too fearful, and too faint to go, 420 +Casts a long look where England’s glories shine, +And bids his bosom sympathise with mine. + + Vain, very vain, my weary search to find +That bliss which only centres in the mind: +Why have I stray’d from pleasure and repose, 425 +To seek a good each government bestows? +In every government, though terrors reign, +Though tyrant kings, or tyrant laws restrain, +How small, of all that human hearts endure, +That part which laws or kings can cause or cure. 430 +Still to ourselves in every place consign’d, +Our own felicity we make or find: +With secret course, which no loud storms annoy, +Glides the smooth current of domestic joy. +The lifted axe, the agonising wheel, 435 +Luke’s iron crown, and Damiens’ bed of steel, +To men remote from power but rarely known, +Leave reason, faith, and conscience all our own. +</pre> + +<hr /> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> +<a name="page_21" id="page_21"></a> +<a name="vignette2" id="vignette2"></a> +<img src="images/vignette2.jpg" width="380" height="228" alt="[Illustration: Vignette to ‘The Deserted Village’]" /> +<p class="caption">VIGNETTE TO ‘THE DESERTED VILLAGE’<br /> +(Isaac Taylor)</p> +</div> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="poem02"></a>THE DESERTED VILLAGE</h2> + <p> + <br /> DEDICATION<br /> <br /> <small>TO SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS</small><br /> + </p> + <p> + D<small>EAR</small> S<small>IR</small>,<br /> I can have no expectations in + an address of this kind, either to add to your reputation, or to establish + my own. You can gain nothing from my admiration, as I am ignorant of that + art in which you are said to excel; and I may lose much by the severity of + your judgment, as few have a juster taste in poetry than you. Setting + interest therefore aside, to which I never paid much attention, I must be + indulged at present in following my affections. The only dedication I ever + made was to my brother, because I loved him better than most other men. He + is since dead. Permit me to inscribe this Poem to you. + </p> + + <p> + How far you may be pleased with the versification and mere mechanical + parts of this attempt, I don’t pretend to enquire; but I know you will + object (and indeed several of our best and wisest friends concur in the + opinion) that the depopulation it deplores is no where to be seen, and the + disorders it laments are only to be found in the poet’s own imagination. + To this I can scarce make any other answer than that I sincerely believe + what I have written; that I have taken all possible pains, in my country + excursions, for these four or five years past, to be certain of what I + allege; and that all my views and enquiries have led me to believe those + miseries real, which I here attempt to display. But this is not the place + to enter into an enquiry, whether the country be depopulating or not; the + discussion would take up much room, and I should prove myself, at best, an + indifferent politician, to tire the reader with a long preface, when I + want his unfatigued attention to a long poem. + </p> + + <p><a name="page_22" id="page_22"></a> + In regretting the depopulation of the country, I inveigh against the + increase of our luxuries; and here also I expect the shout of modern + politicians against me. For twenty or thirty years past, it has been the + fashion to consider luxury as one of the greatest national advantages; and + all the wisdom of antiquity in that particular, as erroneous. Still + however, I must remain a professed ancient on that head, and continue to + think those luxuries prejudicial to states, by which so many vices are + introduced, and so many kingdoms have been undone. Indeed so much has been + poured out of late on the other side of the question, that, merely for the + sake of novelty and variety, one would sometimes wish to be in the right. + </p> + <p> + I am, Dear Sir,<br /> + Your sincere friend, and ardent admirer,<br /> + + + + + O<small>LIVER</small> G<small>OLDSMITH</small>. + </p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> +<a name="page_23" id="page_23"></a> +<a name="village" id="village"></a> +<img src="images/village.jpg" width="241" height="97" alt="[Illustration: ]" /> +</div> + +<h3>THE DESERTED VILLAGE</h3> + +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +SWEET AUBURN! loveliest village of the plain, +Where health and plenty cheer’d the labouring swain, +Where smiling spring its earliest visit paid, +And parting summer’s lingering blooms delay’d: +Dear lovely bowers of innocence and ease, 5 +Seats of my youth, when every sport could please, +How often have I loiter’d o’er thy green, +Where humble happiness endear’d each scene; +How often have I paus’d on every charm, +The shelter’d cot, the cultivated farm, 10 +The never-failing brook, the busy mill, +The decent church that topp’d the neighbouring hill, +The hawthorn bush, with seats beneath the shade, +For talking age and whisp’ring lovers made; +How often have I bless’d the coming day, 15 +When toil remitting lent its turn to play, +And all the village train, from labour free, +Led up their sports beneath the spreading tree; +While many a pastime circled in the shade, +The young contending as the old survey’d; 20<a name="page_24" id="page_24"></a> +And many a gambol frolick’d o’er the ground, +And sleights of art and feats of strength went round; +And still as each repeated pleasure tir’d, +Succeeding sports the mirthful band inspir’d; +The dancing pair that simply sought renown, 25 +By holding out to tire each other down; +The swain mistrustless of his smutted face, +While secret laughter titter’d round the place; +The bashful virgin’s side-long looks of love, +The matron’s glance that would those looks reprove: 30 +These were thy charms, sweet village; sports like these, +With sweet succession, taught e’en toil to please; +These round thy bowers their cheerful influence shed, +These were thy charms—But all these charms are fled. + + Sweet smiling village, loveliest of the lawn, 35 +Thy sports are fled, and all thy charms withdrawn; +Amidst thy bowers the tyrant’s hand is seen, +And desolation saddens all thy green: +One only master grasps the whole domain, +And half a tillage stints thy smiling plain: 40 +No more thy glassy brook reflects the day, +But chok’d with sedges, works its weedy way. +Along thy glades, a solitary guest, +The hollow-sounding bittern guards its nest; +Amidst thy desert walks the lapwing flies, 45 +And tires their echoes with unvaried cries. +Sunk are thy bowers in shapeless ruin all, +And the long grass o’ertops the mould’ring wall; +And trembling, shrinking from the spoiler’s hand, +Far, far away, thy children leave the land. 50 +</pre> + +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +<a name="page_25" id="page_25"></a> + Ill fares the land, to hast’ning ills a prey, +Where wealth accumulates, and men decay: +Princes and lords may flourish, or may fade; +A breath can make them, as a breath has made; +But a bold peasantry, their country’s pride, 55 +When once destroy’d, can never be supplied. + + A time there was, ere England’s griefs began, +When every rood of ground maintain’d its man; +For him light labour spread her wholesome store, +Just gave what life requir’d, but gave no more: 60 +His best companions, innocence and health; +And his best riches, ignorance of wealth. + + But times are alter’d; trade’s unfeeling train +Usurp the land and dispossess the swain; +Along the lawn, where scatter’d hamlets rose, 65 +Unwieldy wealth, and cumbrous pomp repose; +And every want to opulence allied, +And every pang that folly pays to pride. +Those gentle hours that plenty bade to bloom, +Those calm desires that ask’d but little room, 70 +Those healthful sports that grac’d the peaceful scene, +Liv’d in each look, and brighten’d all the green; +These, far departing, seek a kinder shore, +And rural mirth and manners are no more. + + Sweet AUBURN! parent of the blissful hour, 75 +Thy glades forlorn confess the tyrant’s power. +Here as I take my solitary rounds, +Amidst thy tangling walks, and ruin’d grounds, +And, many a year elaps’d, return to view +Where once the cottage stood, the hawthorn grew, 80<a name="page_26" id="page_26"></a> +Remembrance wakes with all her busy train, +Swells at my breast, and turns the past to pain. + + In all my wand’rings round this world of care, +In all my griefs—and GOD has given my share— +I still had hopes my latest hours to crown, 85 +Amidst these humble bowers to lay me down; +To husband out life’s taper at the close, +And keep the flame from wasting by repose. +I still had hopes, for pride attends us still, +Amidst the swains to show my book-learn’d skill, 90 +Around my fire an evening group to draw, +And tell of all I felt, and all I saw; +And, as a hare, whom hounds and horns pursue, +Pants to the place from whence at first she flew, +I still had hopes, my long vexations pass’d, 95 +Here to return—and die at home at last. + + O blest retirement, friend to life’s decline, +Retreats from care, that never must be mine, +How happy he who crowns in shades like these, +A youth of labour with an age of ease; 100 +Who quits a world where strong temptations try +And, since ’tis 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 105 +To spurn imploring famine from the gate; +But on he moves to meet his latter end, +Angels around befriending Virtue’s friend; +Bends to the grave with unperceiv’d decay, +While Resignation gently slopes the way; 110<a name="page_27" id="page_27"></a> +And, all his prospects bright’ning to the last, +His Heaven commences ere the world be pass’d! +</pre> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> +<a name="watercressgatherer"></a> +<img src="images/watercressgatherer.jpg" width="484" height="600" alt="[Illustration: ]" /> +<p class="caption">The Water-cress gatherer<br /> +(John Bewick)</p> +</div> + +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Sweet was the sound, when oft at evening’s close +Up yonder hill the village murmur rose; +There, as I pass’d with careless steps and slow, 115 +The mingling notes came soften’d from below; +The swain responsive as the milk-maid sung, +The sober herd that low’d to meet their young; +The noisy geese that gabbled o’er the pool, +The playful children just let loose from school; 120 +The watchdog’s voice that bay’d the whisp’ring wind, +And the loud laugh that spoke the vacant mind; +These all in sweet confusion sought the shade, +And fill’d each pause the nightingale had made. +But now the sounds of population fail, 125 +No cheerful murmurs fluctuate in the gale, +No busy steps the grass-grown foot-way tread, +For all the bloomy flush of life is fled. +All but yon widow’d, solitary thing +That feebly bends beside the plashy spring; 130 +She, wretched matron, forc’d in age, for bread, +To strip the brook with mantling cresses spread, +To pick her wintry faggot from the thorn, +To seek her nightly shed, and weep till morn; +She only left of all the harmless train, 135 +The sad historian of the pensive plain. + + Near yonder copse, where once the garden smil’d, +And still where many a garden flower grows wild; +There, where a few torn shrubs the place disclose, +The village preacher’s modest mansion rose. 140<a name="page_28" id="page_28"></a> +A man he was to all the country dear, +And passing rich with forty pounds a year; +Remote from towns he ran his godly race, +Nor e’er had chang’d, nor wished to change his place; +Unpractis’d he to fawn, or seek for power, 145 +By doctrines fashion’d to the varying hour; +Far other aims his heart had learned to prize, +More skill’d to raise the wretched than to rise. +His house was known to all the vagrant train, +He chid their wand’rings, but reliev’d their pain; 150 +The long-remember’d beggar was his guest, +Whose beard descending swept his aged breast; +The ruin’d spendthrift, now no longer proud, +Claim’d kindred there, and had his claims allow’d; +The broken soldier, kindly bade to stay, 155 +Sat by his fire, and talk’d the night away; +Wept o’er his wounds, or tales of sorrow done, +Shoulder’d his crutch, and show’d how fields were won. +Pleas’d with his guests, the good man learn’d to glow, +And quite forgot their vices in their woe; 160 +Careless their merits, or their faults to scan, +His pity gave ere charity began. + + Thus to relieve the wretched was his pride, +And e’en his failings lean’d to Virtue’s side; +But in his duty prompt at every call, 165 +He watch’d and wept, he pray’d and felt, for all. +And, as a bird each fond endearment tries +To tempt its new-fledg’d offspring to the skies, +He tried each art, reprov’d each dull delay, +Allur’d to brighter worlds, and led the way. 170 +</pre> + +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +<a name="page_29" id="page_29"></a> + Beside the bed where parting life was laid, +And sorrow, guilt, and pain, by turns dismay’d, +The reverend champion stood. At his control, +Despair and anguish fled the struggling soul; +Comfort came down the trembling wretch to raise, 175 +And his last falt’ring accents whisper’d praise. + + At church, with meek and unaffected grace, +His looks adorn’d the venerable place; +Truth from his lips prevail’d with double sway, +And fools, who came to scoff, remain’d to pray. 180 +The service pass’d, around the pious man, +With steady zeal, each honest rustic ran; +Even children follow’d with endearing wile, +And pluck’d his gown, to share the good man’s smile. +His ready smile a parent’s warmth express’d, 185 +Their welfare pleas’d him, and their cares distress’d; +To them his heart, his love, his griefs were given, +But all his serious thoughts had rest in Heaven. +As some tall cliff, that lifts its awful form, +Swells from the vale, and midway leaves the storm, 190 +Though round its breast the rolling clouds are spread, +Eternal sunshine settles on its head. + + Beside yon straggling fence that skirts the way, +With blossom’d furze unprofitably gay, +There, in his noisy mansion, skill’d to rule, 195 +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; 200<a name="page_30" id="page_30"></a> +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, 205 +The love he bore to learning was in fault; +The village all declar’d how much he knew; +’Twas certain he could write, and cypher too; +Lands he could measure, terms and tides presage, +And e’en the story ran that he could gauge. 210 +In arguing too, the parson own’d his skill, +For e’en though vanquish’d, he could argue still; +While words of learned length and thund’ring sound +Amazed the gazing rustics rang’d around, +And still they gaz’d, and still the wonder grew, 215 +That one small head could carry all he knew. + + But past is all his fame. The very spot +Where many a time he triumph’d, is forgot. +Near yonder thorn, that lifts its head on high, +Where once the sign-post caught the passing eye, 220 +Low lies that house where nut-brown draughts inspir’d, +Where grey-beard mirth and smiling toil retir’d, +Where village statesmen talk’d with looks profound, +And news much older than their ale went round. +Imagination fondly stoops to trace 225 +The parlour splendours of that festive place; +The white-wash’d wall, the nicely sanded floor, +The varnish’d clock that click’d behind the door; +The chest contriv’d a double debt to pay, +A bed by night, a chest of drawers by day; 230<a name="page_31" id="page_31"></a> +The pictures plac’d for ornament and use, +The twelve good rules, the royal game of goose; +The hearth, except when winter chill’d the day, +With aspen boughs, and flowers, and fennel gay; +While broken tea-cups, wisely kept for show, 235 +Rang’d o’er the chimney, glisten’d in a row. + + Vain, transitory splendours! Could not all +Reprieve the tottering mansion from its fall! +Obscure it sinks, nor shall it more impart +An hour’s importance to the poor man’s heart; 240 +Thither no more the peasant shall repair +To sweet oblivion of his daily care; +No more the farmer’s news, the barber’s tale, +No more the wood-man’s ballad shall prevail; +No more the smith his dusky brown shall clear, 245 +Relax his pond’rous strength, and lean to hear; +The host himself no longer shall be found +Careful to see the mantling bliss go round; +Nor the coy maid, half willing to be press’d, +Shall kiss the cup to pass it to the rest. 250 + + Yes! let the rich deride, the proud disdain, +These simple blessings of the lowly train; +To me more dear, congenial to my heart, +One native charm, than all the gloss of art; +Spontaneous joys, where Nature has its play, 255 +The soul adopts, and owns their first-born sway; +Lightly they frolic o’er the vacant mind, +Unenvied, unmolested, unconfin’d: +But the long pomp, the midnight masquerade, +With all the freaks of wanton wealth array’d, 260<a name="page_32" id="page_32"></a> +In these, ere triflers half their wish obtain, +The toiling pleasure sickens into pain; +And, e’en while fashion’s brightest arts decoy, +The heart distrusting asks, if this be joy. + + Ye friends to truth, ye statesmen, who survey 265 +The rich man’s joys increase, the poor’s decay, +’Tis yours to judge, how wide the limits stand +Between a splendid and a happy land. +Proud swells the tide with loads of freighted ore, +And shouting Folly hails them from her shore; 270 +Hoards, e’en beyond the miser’s wish abound, +And rich men flock from all the world around. +Yet count our gains. This wealth is but a name +That leaves our useful products still the same. +Nor so the loss. The man of wealth and pride 275 +Takes up a space that many poor supplied; +Space for his lake, his park’s extended bounds, +Space for his horses, equipage, and hounds; +The robe that wraps his limbs in silken sloth +Has robb’d the neighbouring fields of half their growth, 280 +His seat, where solitary sports are seen, +Indignant spurns the cottage from the green; +Around the world each needful product flies, +For all the luxuries the world supplies: +While thus the land adorn’d for pleasure, all 285 +In barren splendour feebly waits the fall. + + As some fair female unadorn’d and plain, +Secure to please while youth confirms her reign, +Slights every borrow’d charm that dress supplies, +Nor shares with art the triumph of her eyes: 290<a name="page_33" id="page_33"></a> +But when those charms are pass’d, for charms are frail, +When time advances, and when lovers fail, +She then shines forth, solicitous to bless, +In all the glaring impotence of dress. +Thus fares the land, by luxury betray’d, 295 +In nature’s simplest charms at first array’d; +But verging to decline, its splendours rise, +Its vistas strike, its palaces surprise; +While scourg’d by famine from the smiling land, +The mournful peasant leads his humble band; 300 +And while he sinks, without one arm to save, +The country blooms—a garden, and a grave. + + Where then, ah! where, shall poverty reside, +To ’scape the pressure of continuous pride? +If to some common’s fenceless limits stray’d, 305 +He drives his flock to pick the scanty blade, +Those fenceless fields the sons of wealth divide, +And e’en the bare-worn common is denied. + + If to the city sped—What waits him there? +To see profusion that he must not share; 310 +To see ten thousand baneful arts combin’d +To pamper luxury, and thin mankind; +To see those joys the sons of pleasure know +Extorted from his fellow creature’s woe. +Here, while the courtier glitters in brocade, 315 +There the pale artist plies the sickly trade; +Here, while the proud their long-drawn pomps display, +There the black gibbet glooms beside the way. +The dome where Pleasure holds her midnight reign +Here, richly deck’d, admits the gorgeous train; 320<a name="page_34" id="page_34"></a> +Tumultuous grandeur crowds the blazing square, +The rattling chariots clash, the torches glare. +Sure scenes like these no troubles e’er annoy! +Sure these denote one universal joy! +Are these thy serious thoughts?—Ah, turn thine eyes 325 +Where the poor houseless shiv’ring female lies. +She once, perhaps, in village plenty bless’d, +Has wept at tales of innocence distress’d; +Her modest looks the cottage might adorn, +Sweet as the primrose peeps beneath the thorn; 330 +Now lost to all; her friends, her virtue fled, +Near her betrayer’s door she lays her head, +And, pinch’d with cold, and shrinking from the shower, +With heavy heart deplores that luckless hour, +When idly first, ambitious of the town, 335 +She left her wheel and robes of country brown. + + Do thine, sweet AUBURN, thine, the loveliest train, +Do thy fair tribes participate her pain? +E’en now, perhaps by cold and hunger led, +At proud men’s doors they ask a little bread! 340 + + Ah, no. To distant climes, a dreary scene, +Where half the convex world intrudes between, +Through torrid tracts with fainting steps they go, +Where wild Altama murmurs to their woe. +Far different there from all that charm’d before, 345 +The various terrors of that horrid shore; +Those blazing suns that dart a downward ray, +And fiercely shed intolerable day; +Those matted woods where birds forget to sing, +But silent bats in drowsy clusters cling; 350 +Those pois’nous fields with rank luxuriance crown’d, +Where the dark scorpion gathers death around; +Where at each step the stranger fears to wake +The rattling terrors of the vengeful snake; +Where crouching tigers wait their hapless prey, 355 +And savage men more murd’rous still than they; +While oft in whirls the mad tornado flies, +Mingling the ravag’d landscape with the skies. +Far different these from every former scene, +The cooling brook, the grassy-vested green, 360 +The breezy covert of the warbling grove, +That only shelter’d thefts of harmless love. +</pre> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> +<a name="page_35" id="page_35"></a> +<a name="departure" id="departure"></a> +<img src="images/departure.jpg" width="242" height="291" alt="[Illustration: ]" /> +<p class="caption">THE DEPARTURE<br /> +(Thomas Bewick)</p> +</div> + +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Good heaven! what sorrows gloom’d that parting day, +That call’d them from their native walks away; +When the poor exiles, every pleasure pass’d, 365 +Hung round their bowers, and fondly look’d their last, +And took a long farewell, and wish’d in vain +For seats like these beyond the western main; +And shudd’ring still to face the distant deep, +Return’d and wept, and still return’d to weep. 370 +The good old sire, the first prepar’d to go +To new-found worlds, and wept for others’ woe; +But for himself, in conscious virtue brave, +He only wish’d for worlds beyond the grave. +His lovely daughter, lovlier in her tears, 375 +The fond companion of his helpless years, +Silent went next, neglectful of her charms, +And left a lover’s for a father’s arms. +With louder plaints the mother spoke her woes, +And bless’d the cot where every pleasure rose 380<a name="page_36" id="page_36"></a> +And kiss’d her thoughtless babes with many a tear, +And clasp’d them close, in sorrow doubly dear; +Whilst her fond husband strove to lend relief +In all the silent manliness of grief. + + O Luxury! thou curs’d by Heaven’s decree, 385 +How ill exchang’d are things like these for thee! +How do thy potions, with insidious joy +Diffuse their pleasures only to destroy! +Kingdoms, by thee, to sickly greatness grown, +Boast of a florid vigour not their own; 390 +At every draught more large and large they grow, +A bloated mass of rank unwieldy woe; +Till sapp’d their strength, and every part unsound, +Down, down they sink, and spread a ruin round. + + E’en now the devastation is begun, 395 +And half the business of destruction done; +E’en now, methinks, as pond’ring here I stand, +I see the rural virtues leave the land: +Down where yon anchoring vessel spreads the sail, +That idly waiting flaps with ev’ry gale, 400 +Downward they move, a melancholy band, +Pass from the shore, and darken all the strand. +Contented toil, and hospitable care, +And kind connubial tenderness, are there; +And piety, with wishes plac’d above, 405 +And steady loyalty, and faithful love. +And thou, sweet Poetry, thou loveliest maid, +Still first to fly where sensual joys invade; +Unfit in these degenerate times of shame, +To catch the heart, or strike for honest fame; 410<a name="page_37" id="page_37"></a> +Dear charming nymph, neglected and decried, +My shame in crowds, my solitary pride; +Thou source of all my bliss, and all my woe, +That found’st me poor at first, and keep’st me so; +Thou guide by which the nobler arts excel, 415 +Thou nurse of every virtue, fare thee well! +Farewell, and Oh! where’er thy voice be tried, +On Torno’s cliffs, or Pambamarca’s side, +Whether where equinoctial fervours glow, +Or winter wraps the polar world in snow, 420 +Still let thy voice, prevailing over time, +Redress the rigours of th’ inclement clime; +Aid slighted truth; with thy persuasive strain +Teach erring man to spurn the rage of gain; +Teach him, that states of native strength possess’d, 425 +Though very poor, may still be very bless’d; +That trade’s proud empire hastes to swift decay, +As ocean sweeps the labour’d mole away; +While self-dependent power can time defy, +As rocks resist the billows and the sky. 430 +</pre> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="lyrical" id="lyrical"></a> +LYRICAL AND MISCELLANEOUS<br /> +PIECES +</h2> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h3><a name="page_41" id="page_41"></a> +LYRICAL AND MISCELLANEOUS<br /> +PIECES +</h3> + +<h3><a name="poem03"></a> +PART OF A PROLOGUE WRITTEN AND<br /> +SPOKEN BY THE POET LABERIUS<br /><br /> +<small>A ROMAN KNIGHT, WHOM CAESAR FORCED<br /> +UPON THE STAGE</small><br /><br /> +P<small>RESERVED BY</small> M<small>ACROBIUS.</small> +</h3> + +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + WHAT! no way left to shun th’ inglorious stage, + And save from infamy my sinking age! + Scarce half alive, oppress’d with many a year, + What in the name of dotage drives me here? + A time there was, when glory was my guide, 5 + Nor force nor fraud could turn my steps aside; + Unaw’d by pow’r, and unappall’d by fear, + With honest thrift I held my honour dear; + But this vile hour disperses all my store, + And all my hoard of honour is no more. 10 + For ah! too partial to my life’s decline, + Caesar persuades, submission must be mine; + Him I obey, whom heaven itself obeys, + Hopeless of pleasing, yet inclin’d to please. + Here then at once, I welcome every shame, 15 + And cancel at threescore a life of fame; + No more my titles shall my children tell, + The old buffoon will fit my name as well; + This day beyond its term my fate extends, + For life is ended when our honour ends. 20 +</pre> + +<hr /> + +<h3><a name="poem04"></a> +<a name="page_42" id="page_42"></a> +ON A BEAUTIFUL YOUTH STRUCK BLIND WITH LIGHTNING</h3> + +<p class="center"> +(<i>Imitated from the Spanish.</i>) +</p> + +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + SURE ’twas by Providence design’d, + Rather in pity, than in hate, + That he should be, like Cupid, blind, + To save him from Narcissus’ fate. +</pre> + +<hr /> + +<h3><a name="poem05"></a><a name="page_43" id="page_43"></a> +THE GIFT</h3> + +<p class="center"> +<small>TO IRIS, IN BOW STREET, CONVENT GARDEN</small><br /> + <br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + SAY, cruel IRIS, pretty rake, + Dear mercenary beauty, + What annual offering shall I make, + Expressive of my duty? + + My heart, a victim to thine eyes, 5 + Should I at once deliver, + Say, would the angry fair one prize + The gift, who slights the giver? + + A bill, a jewel, watch, or toy, + My rivals give—and let ’em; 10 + If gems, or gold, impart a joy, + I’ll give them—when I get ’em. + + I’ll give—but not the full-blown rose, + Or rose-bud more in fashion; + Such short-liv’d offerings but disclose 15 + A transitory passion. + + I’ll give thee something yet unpaid, + Not less sincere, than civil: + I’ll give thee—Ah! too charming maid, + I’ll give thee—To the devil. 30 +</pre> + +<hr /> + +<h3><a name="poem06"></a><a name="page_44" id="page_44"></a> +THE LOGICIANS REFUTED</h3> + +<p class="center"> + <small>IN IMITATION OF DEAN SWIFT</small><br /> + <br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + LOGICIANS have but ill defin’d + As rational, the human kind; + Reason, they say, belongs to man, + But let them prove it if they can. + Wise Aristotle and Smiglecius, 5 + By ratiocinations specious, + Have strove to prove with great precision, + With definition and division, + <i>Homo est ratione praeditum,</i>— + But for my soul I cannot credit ’em; 10 + And must in spite of them maintain, + That man and all his ways are vain; + And that this boasted lord of nature + Is both a weak and erring creature; + That instinct is a surer guide 15 + Than reason-boasting mortals’ pride; + And that brute beasts are far before ’em, + <i>Deus est anima brutorum</i>. + Who ever knew an honest brute + At law his neighbour prosecute, 20 + Bring action for assault and battery, + Or friend beguile with lies and flattery? + O’er plains they ramble unconfin’d, + No politics disturb their mind; + They eat their meals, and take their sport, 25 + Nor know who’s in or out at court;<a name="page_45" id="page_45"></a> + They never to the levee go + To treat as dearest friend, a foe; + They never importune his grace, + Nor ever cringe to men in place; 30 + Nor undertake a dirty job, + Nor draw the quill to write for B——b. + Fraught with invective they ne’er go + To folks at Pater-Noster-Row; + No judges, fiddlers, dancing-masters, 35 + No pick-pockets, or poetasters, + Are known to honest quadrupeds; + No single brute his fellow leads. + Brutes never meet in bloody fray, + Nor cut each others’ throats, for pay. 40 + Of beasts, it is confess’d, the ape + Comes nearest us in human shape; + Like man he imitates each fashion, + And malice is his ruling passion; + But both in malice and grimaces 45 + A courtier any ape surpasses. + Behold him humbly cringing wait + Upon a minister of state; + View him soon after to inferiors, + Aping the conduct of superiors; 50 + He promises with equal air, + And to perform takes equal care. + He in his turn finds imitators; + At court, the porters, lacqueys, waiters, + Their master’s manners still contract, 55 + And footmen, lords and dukes can act. + Thus at the court both great an small + Behave alike—for all ape all. +</pre> + +<hr /> + +<h3><a name="poem07"></a><a name="page_46" id="page_46"></a> +A SONNET</h3> + +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + WEEPING, murmuring, complaining, + Lost to every gay delight; + MYRA, too sincere for feigning, + Fears th’ approaching bridal night. + + Yet, why impair thy bright perfection? 5 + Or dim thy beauty with a tear? + Had MYRA followed my direction, + She long had wanted cause of fear. +</pre> + +<hr /> + +<h3><a name="poem08"></a> +STANZAS</h3> + +<p class="center"> +<small>ON THE TAKING OF QUEBEC, AND DEATH<br /> + OF GENERAL WOLFE</small><br /> <br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + AMIDST the clamour of exulting joys, + Which triumph forces from the patriot heart, + Grief dares to mingle her soul-piercing voice, + And quells the raptures which from pleasures start. + + O WOLFE! to thee a streaming flood of woe, 5 + Sighing we pay, and think e’en conquest dear; + QUEBEC in vain shall teach our breast to glow, + Whilst thy sad fate extorts the heart-wrung tear. + + Alive the foe thy dreadful vigour fled, + And saw thee fall with joy-pronouncing eyes: 10 + Yet they shall know thou conquerest, though dead— + Since from thy tomb a thousand heroes rise! +</pre> + +<hr /> + +<h3><a name="poem09"></a><a name="page_47" id="page_47"></a> +AN ELEGY ON THAT GLORY OF HER SEX,<br /> MRS. MARY BLAIZE</h3> + +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + GOOD people all, with one accord, + Lament for Madam BLAIZE, + Who never wanted a good word— + <i>From those who spoke her praise.</i> + + The needy seldom pass’d her door, 5 + And always found her kind; + She freely lent to all the poor,— + <i>Who left a pledge behind.</i> + + She strove the neighbourhood to please, + With manners wond’rous winning, 10 + And never follow’d wicked ways,— + <i>Unless when she was sinning.</i> + + At church, in silks and satins new, + With hoop of monstrous size, + She never slumber’d in her pew,— 15 + <i>But when she shut her eyes.</i> + + Her love was sought, I do aver, + By twenty beaux and more; + The king himself has follow’d her,— + <i>When she has walk’d before.</i> 20 + + But now her wealth and finery fled, + Her hangers-on cut short all; + The doctors found, when she was dead,— + <i>Her last disorder mortal.</i> + + Let us lament, in sorrow sore, 25 + For Kent-street well may say, + That had she liv’d a twelve-month more,— + <i>She had not died to-day.</i> +</pre> + +<hr /> + +<h3><a name="poem10"></a><a name="page_48" id="page_48"></a> +DESCRIPTION OF AN AUTHOR’S BEDCHAMBER</h3> + +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + WHERE the Red Lion flaring o’er the way, + Invites each passing stranger that can pay; + Where Calvert’s butt, and Parsons’ black champagne, + Regale the drabs and bloods of Drury-lane; + There in a lonely room, from bailiffs snug, 5 + The Muse found Scroggen stretch’d beneath a rug; + A window, patch’d with paper, lent a ray, + That dimly show’d the state in which he lay; + The sanded floor that grits beneath the tread; + The humid wall with paltry pictures spread: 10 + The royal game of goose was there in view, + And the twelve rules the royal martyr drew; + The seasons, fram’d with listing, found a place, + And brave prince William show’d his lamp-black face: + The morn was cold, he views with keen desire 15 + The rusty grate unconscious of a fire; + With beer and milk arrears the frieze was scor’d, + And five crack’d teacups dress’d the chimney board; + A nightcap deck’d his brows instead of bay, + A cap by night—a stocking all the day! 20 +</pre> + +<hr /> + +<h3><a name="poem11"></a><a name="page_49" id="page_49"></a> +ON SEEING MRS. ** PERFORM IN THE CHARACTER OF ****</h3> + +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + FOR you, bright fair, the nine address their lays, + And tune my feeble voice to sing thy praise. + The heartfelt power of every charm divine, + Who can withstand their all-commanding shine? + See how she moves along with every grace, 5 + While soul-brought tears steal down each shining face. + She speaks! ’tis rapture all, and nameless bliss, + Ye gods! what transport e’er compared to this. + As when in Paphian groves the Queen of Love + With fond complaint addressed the listening Jove, 10 + ’Twas joy, and endless blisses all around, + And rocks forgot their hardness at the sound. + Then first, at last even Jove was taken in, + And felt her charms, without disguise, within. +</pre> + +<hr /> + +<h3><a name="poem12"></a><a name="page_50" id="page_50"></a> +OF THE DEATH OF THE LEFT HON. ***</h3> + +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + YE Muses, pour the pitying tear + For Pollio snatch’d away; + O! had he liv’d another year!— + <i>He had not died to-day.</i> + + O! were he born to bless mankind, 5 + In virtuous times of yore, + Heroes themselves had fallen behind!— + <i>Whene’er he went before.</i> + + How sad the groves and plains appear, + And sympathetic sheep; 10 + Even pitying hills would drop a tear!— + <i>If hills could learn to weep.</i> + + His bounty in exalted strain + Each bard might well display; + Since none implor’d relief in vain!— 15 + <i>That went reliev’d away.</i> + + And hark! I hear the tuneful throng + His obsequies forbid, + He still shall live, shall live as long!— + <i>As ever dead man did.</i> 20 +</pre> + +<hr /> + +<h3><a name="poem13"></a><a name="page_51" id="page_51"></a> +AN EPIGRAM<br /> <br /> <small>ADDRESSED TO THE GENTLEMEN REFLECTED + ON IN<br /> THE ROSCIAD, A POEM, BY THE AUTHOR</small></h3> + +<p class="poem"> + Worried with debts and past all hopes of bail,<br /> His pen he + prostitutes t’ avoid a gaol. <br /> + + + + R<small>OSCOM.</small> + </p> + +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + LET not the <i>hungry</i> Bavius’ angry stroke + Awake resentment, or your rage provoke; + But pitying his distress, let virtue shine, + And giving each your bounty, <i>let him dine</i>; + For thus retain’d, as learned counsel can, 5 + Each case, however bad, he’ll new japan; + And by a quick transition, plainly show + ’Twas no defect of yours, but <i>pocket low</i>, + That caused his <i>putrid kennel</i> to o’erflow. +</pre> + +<hr /> + +<h3><a name="poem14"></a> +TO G. C. AND R. L.</h3> + +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ’TWAS you, or I, or he, or all together, + ’Twas one, both, three of them, they know not whether; + This, I believe, between us great or small, + You, I, he, wrote it not—’twas Churchill’s all. +</pre> + +<hr /> + +<h3><a name="poem15"></a> +TRANSLATION OF A SOUTH AMERICAN ODE</h3> + +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + IN all my Enna’s beauties blest, + Amidst profusion still I pine; + For though she gives me up her breast, + Its panting tenant is not mine. +</pre> + +<hr /> + +<h3><a name="poem16"></a><a name="page_52" id="page_52"></a> +THE DOUBLE TRANSFORMATION<br /> <br /> <small>A TALE</small></h3> + +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + SECLUDED from domestic strife, + Jack Book-worm led a college life; + A fellowship at twenty-five + Made him the happiest man alive; + He drank his glass and crack’d his joke, 5 + And freshmen wonder’d as he spoke. + + Such pleasures, unalloy’d with care, + Could any accident impair? + Could Cupid’s shaft at length transfix + Our swain, arriv’d at thirty-six? 10 + O had the archer ne’er come down + To ravage in a country town! + Or Flavia been content to stop + At triumphs in a Fleet-street shop. + O had her eyes forgot to blaze! 15 + Or Jack had wanted eyes to gaze. + O!——But let exclamation cease, + Her presence banish’d all his peace. + So with decorum all things carried; + Miss frown’d, and blush’d, and then was—married. 20 + + Need we expose to vulgar sight + The raptures of the bridal night? + Need we intrude on hallow’d ground, + Or draw the curtains clos’d around? + Let it suffice, that each had charms; 25 + He clasp’d a goddess in his arms;<a name="page_53" id="page_53"></a> + And though she felt his usage rough, + Yet in a man ’twas well enough. + + The honey-moon like lightning flew, + The second brought its transports too. 30 + A third, a fourth, were not amiss, + The fifth was friendship mix’d with bliss: + But when a twelvemonth pass’d away, + Jack found his goddess made of clay; + Found half the charms that deck’d her face 35 + Arose from powder, shreds, or lace; + But still the worst remain’d behind, + That very face had robb’d her mind. + + Skill’d in no other arts was she + But dressing, patching, repartee; 40 + And, just as humour rose or fell, + By turns a slattern or a belle; + ’Tis true she dress’d with modern grace, + Half naked at a ball or race; + But when at home, at board or bed, 45 + Five greasy nightcaps wrapp’d her head. + Could so much beauty condescend + To be a dull domestic friend? + Could any curtain-lectures bring + To decency so fine a thing? 50 + In short, by night, ’twas fits or fretting; + By day, ’twas gadding or coquetting. + Fond to be seen, she kept a bevy + Of powder’d coxcombs at her levy; + The ’squire and captain took their stations, 55 + And twenty other near relations;<a name="page_54" id="page_54"></a> + Jack suck’d his pipe, and often broke + A sigh in suffocating smoke; + While all their hours were pass’d between + Insulting repartee or spleen. 60 + + Thus as her faults each day were known, + He thinks her features coarser grown; + He fancies every vice she shows, + Or thins her lip, or points her nose: + Whenever rage or envy rise, 65 + How wide her mouth, how wild her eyes! + He knows not how, but so it is, + Her face is grown a knowing phiz; + And, though her fops are wond’rous civil, + He thinks her ugly as the devil. 70 + + Now, to perplex the ravell’d noose, + As each a different way pursues, + While sullen or loquacious strife, + Promis’d to hold them on for life, + That dire disease, whose ruthless power 75 + Withers the beauty’s transient flower: + Lo! the small-pox, whose horrid glare + Levell’d its terrors at the fair; + And, rifling ev’ry youthful grace, + Left but the remnant of a face. 80 + + The glass, grown hateful to her sight, + Reflected now a perfect fright: + Each former art she vainly tries + To bring back lustre to her eyes. + In vain she tries her paste and creams, 85 + To smooth her skin, or hide its seams;<a name="page_55" id="page_55"></a> + Her country beaux and city cousins, + Lovers no more, flew off by dozens: + The ’squire himself was seen to yield, + And e’en the captain quit the field. 90 + + Poor Madam, now condemn’d to hack + The rest of life with anxious Jack, + Perceiving others fairly flown, + Attempted pleasing him alone. + Jack soon was dazzl’d to behold 95 + Her present face surpass the old; + With modesty her cheeks are dy’d, + Humility displaces pride; + For tawdry finery is seen + A person ever neatly clean: 100 + No more presuming on her sway, + She learns good-nature every day; + Serenely gay, and strict in duty, + Jack finds his wife a perfect beauty. +</pre> + +<hr /> + +<h3><a name="poem17"></a> +<a name="page_56" id="page_56"></a> +A NEW SIMILE<br /> <br /> <small>IN THE MANNER OF SWIFT</small></h3> + +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + LONG had I sought in vain to find + A likeness for the scribbling kind; + The modern scribbling kind, who write + In wit, and sense, and nature’s spite: + Till reading, I forget what day on, 5 + A chapter out of Tooke’s Pantheon, + I think I met with something there, + To suit my purpose to a hair; + But let us not proceed too furious, + First please to turn to god Mercurius; 10 + You’ll find him pictur’d at full length + In book the second, page the tenth: + The stress of all my proofs on him I lay, + And now proceed we to our simile. + + Imprimis, pray observe his hat, 15 + Wings upon either side—mark that. + Well! what is it from thence we gather? + Why these denote a brain of feather. + A brain of feather! very right, + With wit that’s flighty, learning light; 20 + Such as to modern bard’s decreed: + A just comparison,—proceed. + + In the next place, his feet peruse, + Wings grow again from both his shoes; + Design’d, no doubt, their part to bear, 25 + And waft his godship through the air;<a name="page_57" id="page_57"></a> + And here my simile unites, + For in a modern poet’s flights, + I’m sure it may be justly said, + His feet are useful as his head. 30 + + Lastly, vouchsafe t’observe his hand, + Filled with a snake-encircl’d wand; + By classic authors term’d caduceus, + And highly fam’d for several uses. + To wit—most wond’rously endu’d, 35 + No poppy water half so good; + For let folks only get a touch, + Its soporific virtue’s such, + Though ne’er so much awake before, + That quickly they begin to snore. 40 + Add too, what certain writers tell, + With this he drives men’s souls to hell. + + Now to apply, begin we then; + His wand’s a modern author’s pen; + The serpents round about it twin’d 45 + Denote him of the reptile kind; + Denote the rage with which he writes, + His frothy slaver, venom’d bites; + An equal semblance still to keep, + Alike too both conduce to sleep. 50 + This diff’rence only, as the god + Drove souls to Tart’rus with his rod, + With his goosequill the scribbling elf, + Instead of others, damns himself. + + And here my simile almost tript, 55 + Yet grant a word by way of postscript.<a name="page_58" id="page_58"></a> + Moreover, Merc’ry had a failing: + Well! what of that? out with it—stealing; + In which all modern bards agree, + Being each as great a thief as he: 60 + But ev’n this deity’s existence + Shall lend my simile assistance. + Our modern bards! why what a pox + Are they but senseless stones and blocks? +</pre> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> +<a name="edwin" id="edwin"></a> +<img src="images/edwin.jpg" width="196" height="259" alt="[Illustration: ]" /> +<p class="caption">EDWIN AND ANGELINA<br /> +(T. Stothard)</p> +</div> + +<h3><a name="poem18"></a><a name="page_59" id="page_59"></a> +EDWIN AND ANGELINA<br /> <br /> <small>A BALLAD</small></h3> + +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ‘TURN, gentle hermit of the dale, + And guide my lonely way, + To where yon taper cheers the vale + With hospitable ray. + + ‘For here, forlorn and lost I tread, 5 + With fainting steps and slow; + Where wilds immeasurably spread, + Seem length’ning as I go.’ + + ‘Forbear, my son,’ the hermit cries, + ‘To tempt the dangerous gloom; 10 + For yonder faithless phantom flies + To lure thee to thy doom. + + ‘Here to the houseless child of want + My door is open still; + And though my portion is but scant, 15 + I give it with good will. + + ‘Then turn to-night, and freely share + Whate’er my cell bestows; + My rushy couch, and frugal fare, + My blessing and repose. 20 + + ‘No flocks that range the valley free + To slaughter I condemn: + Taught by that power that pities me, + I learn to pity them. +<a name="page_60" id="page_60"></a> + ‘But from the mountain’s grassy side 25 + A guiltless feast I bring; + A scrip with herbs and fruits supplied, + And water from the spring. + + ‘Then, pilgrim, turn, thy cares forgo; + All earth-born cares are wrong: 30 + Man wants but little here below, + Nor wants that little long.’ + + Soft as the dew from heav’n descends, + His gentle accents fell: + The modest stranger lowly bends, 35 + And follows to the cell. + + Far in a wilderness obscure + The lonely mansion lay; + A refuge to the neighbouring poor + And strangers led astray. 40 + + No stores beneath its humble thatch + Requir’d a master’s care; + The wicket, opening with a latch, + Receiv’d the harmless pair. + + And now, when busy crowds retire 45 + To take their evening rest, + The hermit trimm’d his little fire, + And cheer’d his pensive guest: + + And spread his vegetable store, + And gaily press’d, and smil’d; 50 + And, skill’d in legendary lore, + The lingering hours beguil’d. + <a name="page_61" id="page_61"></a> + Around in sympathetic mirth + Its tricks the kitten tries; + The cricket chirrups in the hearth; 55 + The crackling faggot flies. + + But nothing could a charm impart + To soothe the stranger’s woe; + For grief was heavy at his heart, + And tears began to flow. 60 + + His rising cares the hermit spied, + With answ’ring care oppress’d; + ‘And whence, unhappy youth,’ he cried, + ‘The sorrows of thy breast? + + ‘From better habitations spurn’d, 65 + Reluctant dost thou rove; + Or grieve for friendship unreturn’d, + Or unregarded love? + + ‘Alas! the joys that fortune brings + Are trifling, and decay; 70 + And those who prize the paltry things, + More trifling still than they. + + ‘And what is friendship but a name, + A charm that lulls to sleep; + A shade that follows wealth or fame, 75 + But leaves the wretch to weep? + + ‘And love is still an emptier sound, + The modern fair one’s jest: + On earth unseen, or only found + To warm the turtle’s nest. 80 + <a name="page_62" id="page_62"></a> + ‘For shame, fond youth, thy sorrows hush, + And spurn the sex,’ he said: + But, while he spoke, a rising blush + His love-lorn guest betray’d. + + Surpris’d, he sees new beauties rise, 85 + Swift mantling to the view; + Like colours o’er the morning skies, + As bright, as transient too. + + The bashful look, the rising breast, + Alternate spread alarms: 90 + The lovely stranger stands confess’d + A maid in all her charms. + + ‘And, ah! forgive a stranger rude, + A wretch forlorn,’ she cried; + ‘Whose feet unhallow’d thus intrude 95 + Where heaven and you reside. + + ‘But let a maid thy pity share, + Whom love has taught to stray; + Who seeks for rest, but finds despair + Companion of her way. 100 + + ‘My father liv’d beside the Tyne, + A wealthy lord was he; + And all his wealth was mark’d as mine, + He had but only me. + + ‘To win me from his tender arms 105 + Unnumber’d suitors came; + Who prais’d me for imputed charms, + And felt or feign’d a flame. + <a name="page_63" id="page_63"></a> + Each hour a mercenary crowd + With richest proffers strove: 110 + Amongst the rest young Edwin bow’d, + But never talk’d of love. + + ‘In humble, simplest habit clad, + No wealth nor power had he; + Wisdom and worth were all he had, 115 + But these were all to me. + + ‘And when beside me in the dale + He caroll’d lays of love; + His breath lent fragrance to the gale, + And music to the grove. 120 + + ‘The blossom opening to the day, + The dews of heaven refin’d, + Could nought of purity display, + To emulate his mind. + + ‘The dew, the blossom on the tree, 125 + With charms inconstant shine; + Their charms were his, but woe to me! + Their constancy was mine. + + ‘For still I tried each fickle art, + Importunate and vain: 130 + And while his passion touch’d my heart, + I triumph’d in his pain. + + ‘Till quite dejected with my scorn, + He left me to my pride; + And sought a solitude forlorn, 135 + In secret, where he died. +<a name="page_64" id="page_64"></a> + ‘But mine the sorrow, mine the fault, + And well my life shall pay; + I’ll seek the solitude he sought, + And stretch me where he lay. 140 + + ‘And there forlorn, despairing, hid, + I’ll lay me down and die; + ’Twas so for me that Edwin did, + And so for him will I.’ + + ‘Forbid it, heaven!’ the hermit cried, 145 + And clasp’d her to his breast: + The wondering fair one turn’d to chide, + ’Twas Edwin’s self that prest. + + ‘Turn, Angelina, ever dear, + My charmer, turn to see 150 + Thy own, thy long-lost Edwin here, + Restor’d to love and thee. + + ‘Thus let me hold thee to my heart, + And ev’ry care resign; + And shall we never, never part, 155 + My life—my all that’s mine? + + ‘No, never from this hour to part, + We’ll live and love so true; + The sigh that rends thy constant heart + Shall break thy Edwin’s too.’ 160 +</pre> + +<hr /> + +<h3><a name="poem19"></a><a name="page_65" id="page_65"></a> +ELEGY ON THE DEATH OF A MAD DOG</h3> + +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Good people all, of every sort, + Give ear unto my song; + And if you find it wond’rous short, + It cannot hold you long. + + In Islington there was a man, 5 + Of whom the world might say, + That still a godly race he ran, + Whene’er he went to pray. + + A kind and gentle heart he had, + To comfort friends and foes; 10 + The naked every day he clad, + When he put on his clothes. + + And in that town a dog was found, + As many dogs there be, + Both mongrel, puppy, whelp, and hound, 15 + And curs of low degree. + + This dog and man at first were friends; + But when a pique began, + The dog, to gain some private ends, + Went mad and bit the man. 20 + + Around from all the neighbouring streets + The wond’ring neighbours ran, + And swore the dog had lost his wits, + To bite so good a man. +<a name="page_66" id="page_66"></a> + The wound it seem’d both sore and sad 25 + To every Christian eye; + And while they swore the dog was mad, + They swore the man would die. + + But soon a wonder came to light, + That show’d the rogues they lied: 30 + The man recover’d of the bite, + The dog it was that died. +</pre> + +<hr /> + +<h3><a name="poem20"></a> +<a name="page_67" id="page_67"></a> +SONG<br /> <br /> <small>FROM ‘THE VICAR OF WAKEFIELD’</small></h3> + +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + WHEN lovely woman stoops to folly, + And finds too late that men betray, + What charm can soothe her melancholy, + What art can wash her guilt away? + + The only art her guilt to cover, 5 + To hide her shame from every eye, + To give repentance to her lover, + And wring his bosom, is—to die. +</pre> + +<hr /> + +<h3><a name="poem21"></a><a name="page_68" id="page_68"></a> +EPILOGUE TO ‘THE GOOD NATUR’D MAN’</h3> + +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + As puffing quacks some caitiff wretch procure + To swear the pill, or drop, has wrought a cure; + Thus on the stage, our play-wrights still depend + For Epilogues and Prologues on some friend, + Who knows each art of coaxing up the town, 5 + And make full many a bitter pill go down. + Conscious of this, our bard has gone about, + And teas’d each rhyming friend to help him out. + ‘An Epilogue—things can’t go on without it; + It could not fail, would you but set about it.’ 10 + ‘Young man,’ cries one—a bard laid up in clover— + ‘Alas, young man, my writing days are over; + Let boys play tricks, and kick the straw; not I: + Your brother Doctor there, perhaps, may try.’ + ‘What I? dear Sir,’ the Doctor interposes 15 + ‘What plant my thistle, Sir, among his roses! + No, no; I’ve other contests to maintain; + To-night I head our troops at Warwick Lane: + Go, ask your manager.’ ‘Who, me? Your pardon; + Those things are not our forte at Covent Garden.’ 20 + Our Author’s friends, thus plac’d at happy distance, + Give him good words indeed, but no assistance. + As some unhappy wight, at some new play, + At the Pit door stands elbowing a way, + While oft, with many a smile, and many a shrug, 25 + He eyes the centre, where his friends sit snug;<a name="page_69" id="page_69"></a> + His simp’ring friends, with pleasure in their eyes, + Sink as he sinks, and as he rises rise; + He nods, they nod; he cringes, they grimace; + But not a soul will budge to give him place. 30 + Since then, unhelp’d, our bard must now conform + ‘To ’bide the pelting of this pitiless storm’— + Blame where you must, be candid where you can; + And be each critic the <i>Good Natur’d Man.</i> +</pre> + +<hr /> + +<h3><a name="poem22"></a><a name="page_70" id="page_70"></a> +EPILOGUE TO ‘THE SISTER’</h3> + +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + WHAT! five long acts—and all to make us wiser! + Our authoress sure has wanted an adviser. + Had she consulted <i>me</i>, she should have made + Her moral play a speaking masquerade; + Warm’d up each bustling scene, and in her rage 5 + Have emptied all the green-room on the stage. + My life on’t, this had kept her play from sinking; + Have pleas’d our eyes, and sav’d the pain of thinking. + Well! since she thus has shown her want of skill, + What if I give a masquerade?—I will. 10 + But how? ay, there’s the rub! (<i>pausing</i>)—I’ve got my cue: + The world’s a masquerade! the maskers, you, you, you. + (<i>To Boxes, Pit, and Gallery.</i>) + ——, what a group the motley scene discloses! + False wits, false wives, false virgins, and false spouses! + Statesmen with bridles on; and, close beside ’em, 15 + Patriots, in party-coloured suits, that ride ’em. + There Hebes, turn’d of fifty, try once more + To raise a flame in Cupids of threescore. + These in their turn, with appetites as keen, + Deserting fifty, fasten on fifteen, 20 + Miss, not yet full fifteen, with fire uncommon, + Flings down her sampler, and takes up the woman: + The little urchin smiles, and spreads her lure, + And tries to kill, ere she’s got power to cure. + Thus ’tis with all—their chief and constant care 25 + Is to seem everything but what they are. + Yon broad, bold, angry spark, I fix my eye on, + Who seems to have robb’d his vizor from the lion; + Who frowns, and talks, and swears, with round parade, + Looking as who should say, D——! who’s afraid? 30 + (<i>Mimicking</i>) + + Strip but his vizor off, and sure I am + You’ll find his lionship a very lamb. + Yon politician, famous in debate, + Perhaps, to vulgar eyes, bestrides the state; + Yet, when he deigns his real shape t’ assume, 35 + He turns old woman, and bestrides a broom. + Yon patriot, too, who presses on your sight, + And seems to every gazer all in white, + If with a bribe his candour you attack, + He bows, turns round, and whip—the man’s a black! 40 + Yon critic, too—but whither do I run? + If I proceed, our bard will be undone! + Well then a truce, since she requests it too: + Do you spare her, and I’ll for once spare you. +</pre> + +<hr /> + +<h3><a name="poem23"></a><a name="page_72" id="page_72"></a> +PROLOGUE TO ‘ZOBEIDE’</h3> + +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + IN these bold times, when Learning’s sons explore + The distant climate and the savage shore; + When wise Astronomers to India steer, + And quit for Venus, many a brighter here; + While Botanists, all cold to smiles and dimpling, 5 + Forsake the fair, and patiently—go simpling; + When every bosom swells with wond’rous scenes, + Priests, cannibals, and hoity-toity queens: + Our bard into the general spirit enters, + And fits his little frigate for adventures: 10 + With Scythian stores, and trinkets deeply laden, + He this way steers his course, in hopes of trading— + Yet ere he lands he ’as ordered me before, + To make an observation on the shore. + Where are we driven? our reck’ning sure is lost! 15 + This seems a barren and a dangerous coast. + —— what a sultry climate am I under! + Yon ill foreboding cloud seems big with thunder. + (<i>Upper Gallery.</i>) + There Mangroves spread, and larger than I’ve seen ’em— + (<i>Pit.</i>) + Here trees of stately size—and turtles in ’em— 20 + (<i>Balconies.</i>) + Here ill-condition’d oranges abound— + (<i>Stage.</i>) + And apples (<i>takes up one and tastes it</i>), bitter apples + strew the ground.<a name="page_73" id="page_73"></a> + The place is uninhabited, I fear! + I heard a hissing—there are serpents here! + O there the natives are—a dreadful race! 25 + The men have tails, the women paint the face! + No doubt they’re all barbarians.—Yes, ’tis so, + I’ll try to make palaver with them though; + (<i>Making signs.</i>) + ’Tis best, however, keeping at a distance. + Good Savages, our Captain craves assistance; 30 + Our ship’s well stor’d;—in yonder creek we’ve laid her; + His honour is no mercenary trader; + This is his first adventure; lend him aid, + Or you may chance to spoil a thriving trade. + His goods, he hopes are prime, and brought from far, 35 + Equally fit for gallantry and war. + What! no reply to promises so ample? + I’d best step back—and order up a sample. +</pre> + +<hr /> + +<h3><a name="poem24"></a><a name="page_74" id="page_74"></a> +THRENODIA AUGUSTALIS:</h3> + +<p class="center"> +<small>SACRED TO THE MEMORY + OF HER LATE ROYAL HIGHNESS<br /> THE PRINCESS DOWAGER OF WALES.</small><br /> + <br /> OVERTURE—A SOLEMN DIRGE. AIR—TRIO.<br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ARISE, ye sons of worth, arise, + And waken every note of woe; + When truth and virtue reach the skies, + ’Tis ours to weep the want below! +</pre> + <p> + CHORUS.<br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + When truth and virtue, etc. 5 +</pre> + <p> + MAN SPEAKER.<br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The praise attending pomp and power, + The incense given to kings, + Are but the trappings of an hour— + Mere transitory things! + The base bestow them: but the good agree 10 + To spurn the venal gifts as flattery. + But when to pomp and power are join’d + An equal dignity of mind— + When titles are the smallest claim— + When wealth and rank and noble blood, 15 + But aid the power of doing good— + Then all their trophies last; and flattery turns to fame. + + Bless’d spirit thou, whose fame, just born to bloom + Shall spread and flourish from the tomb, + How hast thou left mankind for heaven! 20 + Even now reproach and faction mourn. + And, wondering how their rage was borne, + Request to be forgiven. + Alas! they never had thy hate: + Unmov’d in conscious rectitude, 25 + Thy towering mind self-centred stood, + Nor wanted man’s opinion to be great. + In vain, to charm thy ravish’d sight, + A thousand gifts would fortune send; + In vain, to drive thee from the right, 30 + A thousand sorrows urg’d thy end: + Like some well-fashion’d arch thy patience stood, + And purchas’d strength from its increasing load. + Pain met thee like a friend that set thee free; + Affliction still is virtue’s opportunity! 35 + Virtue, on herself relying, + Ev’ry passion hush’d to rest, + Loses ev’ry pain of dying + In the hopes of being blest. + Ev’ry added pang she suffers 40 + Some increasing good bestows, + Ev’ry shock that malice offers + Only rocks her to repose. +</pre> + <p> + SONG. BY A MAN—AFFETTUOSO.<br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Virtue, on herself relying, + Ev’ry passion hush’d to rest, 45 + Loses ev’ry pain of dying + In the hopes of being blest. + + Ev’ry added pang she suffers + Some increasing good bestows, + Ev’ry shock that malice offers, 50 + Only rocks her to repose. +</pre> + + <p> + WOMAN SPEAKER.<br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Yet, ah! what terrors frowned upon her fate— + Death, with its formidable band, + Fever and pain and pale consumptive care, + Determin’d took their stand: 55 + Nor did the cruel ravagers design + To finish all their efforts at a blow; + But, mischievously slow, + They robb’d the relic and defac’d the shrine. + With unavailing grief, 60 + Despairing of relief, + Her weeping children round + Beheld each hour + Death’s growing power, + And trembled as he frown’d. 65 + + As helpless friends who view from shore + The labouring ship, and hear the tempest roar, + While winds and waves their wishes cross— + They stood, while hope and comfort fail, + Not to assist, but to bewail 70 + The inevitable loss. + Relentless tyrant, at thy call + How do the good, the virtuous fall! + Truth, beauty, worth, and all that most engage, + But wake thy vengeance and provoke thy rage. 75 +</pre> + <p> + SONG. BY A MAN.—BASSO.—STACCATO.—SPIRITOSO.<br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + When vice my dart and scythe supply, + How great a king of terrors I! + If folly, fraud, your hearts engage, + Tremble, ye mortals, at my rage! + Fall, round me fall, ye little things, 80 + Ye statesmen, warriors, poets, kings; + If virtue fail her counsel sage, + Tremble, ye mortals, at my rage! +</pre> + <p> + MAN SPEAKER.<br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Yet let that wisdom, urged by her example, + Teach us to estimate what all must suffer; 85 + Let us prize death as the best gift of nature— + As a safe inn, where weary travellers, + When they have journeyed through a world of cares, + May put off life and be at rest for ever. + Groans, weeping friends, indeed, and gloomy sables, 90 + May oft distract us with their sad solemnity: + The preparation is the executioner. + Death, when unmasked, shows me a friendly face, + And is a terror only at a distance; + For as the line of life conducts me on 95 + To Death’s great court, the prospect seems more fair. + ’Tis Nature’s kind retreat, that’s always open + To take us in when we have drained the cup + Of life, or worn our days to wretchedness. + In that secure, serene retreat, 100 + Where all the humble, all the great, + Promiscuously recline; + Where wildly huddled to the eye, + The beggar’s pouch and prince’s purple lie, + May every bliss be thine. 105 + And ah! bless’d spirit, wheresoe’er thy flight, + Through rolling worlds, or fields of liquid light, + May cherubs welcome their expected guest; + May saints with songs receive thee to their rest;<a name="page_78" id="page_78"></a> + May peace that claimed while here thy warmest love, 110 + May blissful endless peace be thine above! +</pre> + <p> + SONG. BY A WOMAN.—AMOROSO.<br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Lovely, lasting Peace below, + Comforter of every woe, + Heav’nly born, and bred on high, + To crown the favourites of the sky— 115 + Lovely, lasting Peace, appear; + This world itself, if thou art here, + Is once again with Eden blest, + And man contains it in his breast. +</pre> + <p> + WOMAN SPEAKER.<br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Our vows are heard! Long, long to mortal eyes, 120 + Her soul was fitting to its kindred skies: + Celestial-like her bounty fell, + Where modest want and patient sorrow dwell; + Want pass’d for merit at her door, + Unseen the modest were supplied, 125 + Her constant pity fed the poor— + Then only poor, indeed, the day she died. + And oh! for this! while sculpture decks thy shrine, + And art exhausts profusion round, + The tribute of a tear be mine, 130 + A simple song, a sigh profound. + There Faith shall come, a pilgrim gray, + To bless the tomb that wraps thy clay; + And calm Religion shall repair + To dwell a weeping hermit there. 135 + Truth, Fortitude, and Friendship shall agree + To blend their virtues while they think of thee. +</pre> + + <p> + AIR. CHORUS.—POMPOSO.<br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Let us, let all the world agree, + To profit by resembling thee. +</pre> + +<p class="center"> + <b>PART II</b><br /> <br /> <small>OVERTURE—PASTORALE</small><br /> + <br /> MAN SPEAKER.<br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + FAST by that shore where Thames’ translucent stream + Reflects new glories on his breast, + Where, splendid as the youthful poet’s dream, + He forms a scene beyond Elysium blest— + Where sculptur’d elegance and native grace 5 + Unite to stamp the beauties of the place, + While sweetly blending still are seen + The wavy lawn, the sloping green— + While novelty, with cautious cunning, + Through ev’ry maze of fancy running, 10 + From China borrows aid to deck the scene— + There, sorrowing by the river’s glassy bed, + Forlorn, a rural bard complain’d, + All whom Augusta’s bounty fed, + All whom her clemency sustain’d; 15 + The good old sire, unconscious of decay, + The modest matron, clad in homespun gray, + The military boy, the orphan’d maid, + The shatter’d veteran, now first dismay’d;<a name="page_80" id="page_80"></a> + These sadly join beside the murmuring deep, 20 + And, as they view + The towers of Kew, + Call on their mistress—now no more—and weep. +</pre> + <p> + CHORUS.—AFFETTUOSO.—LARGO.<br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Ye shady walks, ye waving greens, + Ye nodding towers, ye fairy scenes— 25 + Let all your echoes now deplore + That she who form’d your beauties is no more. +</pre> + <p> + MAN SPEAKER.<br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + First of the train the patient rustic came, + Whose callous hand had form’d the scene, + Bending at once with sorrow and with age, 30 + With many a tear and many a sigh between; + ‘And where,’ he cried, ‘shall now my babes have bread, + Or how shall age support its feeble fire? + No lord will take me now, my vigour fled, + Nor can my strength perform what they require; 35 + Each grudging master keeps the labourer bare— + A sleek and idle race is all their care. + My noble mistress thought not so: + Her bounty, like the morning dew, + Unseen, though constant, used to flow; 40 + And as my strength decay’d, her bounty grew.’ +</pre> + <p> + WOMAN SPEAKER.<br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + In decent dress, and coarsely clean, + The pious matron next was seen— + Clasp’d in her hand a godly book was borne, + By use and daily meditation worn; 45 + That decent dress, this holy guide, + Augusta’s care had well supplied. + ‘And ah!’ she cries, all woe-begone, + ‘What now remains for me? + Oh! where shall weeping want repair, 50 + To ask for charity? + Too late in life for me to ask, + And shame prevents the deed, + And tardy, tardy are the times + To succour, should I need. 55 + But all my wants, before I spoke, + Were to my Mistress known; + She still reliev’d, nor sought my praise, + Contented with her own. + But ev’ry day her name I’ll bless, 60 + My morning prayer, my evening song, + I’ll praise her while my life shall last, + A life that cannot last me long.’ +</pre> + <p> + SONG. BY A WOMAN.<br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Each day, each hour, her name I’ll bless— + My morning and my evening song; 65 + And when in death my vows shall cease, + My children shall the note prolong. +</pre> + <p> + MAN SPEAKER.<br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The hardy veteran after struck the sight, + Scarr’d, mangled, maim’d in every part, + Lopp’d of his limbs in many a gallant fight, 70 + In nought entire—except his heart.<a name="page_82" id="page_82"></a> + Mute for a while, and sullenly distress’d, + At last the impetuous sorrow fir’d his breast. + ‘Wild is the whirlwind rolling + O’er Afric’s sandy plain, 75 + And wild the tempest howling + Along the billow’d main: + But every danger felt before— + The raging deep, the whirlwind’s roar— + Less dreadful struck me with dismay, 80 + Than what I feel this fatal day. + Oh, let me fly a land that spurns the brave, + Oswego’s dreary shores shall be my grave; + I’ll seek that less inhospitable coast, + And lay my body where my limbs were lost.’ 85 +</pre> + <p> + SONG. BY A MAN.—BASSO. SPIRITOSO.<br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Old Edward’s sons, unknown to yield, + Shall crowd from Crecy’s laurell’d field, + To do thy memory right; + For thine and Britain’s wrongs they feel, + Again they snatch the gleamy steel, 90 + And wish the avenging fight. +</pre> + <p> + WOMAN SPEAKER.<br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + In innocence and youth complaining, + Next appear’d a lovely maid, + Affliction o’er each feature reigning, + Kindly came in beauty’s aid; 95 + Every grace that grief dispenses, + Every glance that warms the soul, + In sweet succession charmed the senses, + While pity harmonized the whole.<a name="page_83" id="page_83"></a> + ‘The garland of beauty’—’tis thus she would say— 100 + ‘No more shall my crook or my temples adorn, + I’ll not wear a garland—Augusta’s away, + I’ll not wear a garland until she return; + But alas! that return I never shall see, + The echoes of Thames shall my sorrows proclaim, 105 + There promised a lover to come—but, O me! + ’Twas death,—’twas the death of my mistress that came. + But ever, for ever, her image shall last, + I’ll strip all the spring of its earliest bloom; + On her grave shall the cowslip and primrose be cast, 110 + And the new-blossomed thorn shall whiten her tomb.’ +</pre> + + <p> + SONG. BY A WOMAN.—PASTORALE.<br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + With garlands of beauty the queen of the May + No more will her crook or her temples adorn; + For who’d wear a garland when she is away, + When she is remov’d, and shall never return. 115 + + On the grave of Augusta these garlands be plac’d, + We’ll rifle the spring of its earliest bloom, + And there shall the cowslip and primrose be cast, + And the new-blossom’d thorn shall whiten her tomb. +</pre> + <p> + CHORUS.—ALTRO MODO.<br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + On the grave of Augusta this garland be plac’d, 120 + We’ll rifle the spring of its earliest bloom, + And there shall the cowslip and primrose be cast, + And the tears of her country shall water her tomb. +</pre> + +<hr /> + +<h3><a name="poem25"></a><a name="page_84" id="page_84"></a> +SONG<br /> <br /> <small>FROM ‘SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER’</small></h3> + +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + LET school-masters puzzle their brain, + With grammar, and nonsense, and learning; + Good liquor, I stoutly maintain, + Gives ‘genus’ a better discerning. + Let them brag of their heathenish gods, 5 + Their Lethes, their Styxes, and Stygians: + Their Quis, and their Quaes, and their Quods, + They’re all but a parcel of Pigeons. + Toroddle, toroddle, toroll. + + When Methodist preachers come down + A-preaching that drinking is sinful, 10 + I’ll wager the rascals a crown + They always preach best with a skinful. + But when you come down with your pence, + For a slice of their scurvy religion, + I’ll leave it to all men of sense, 15 + But you, my good friend, are the pigeon. + Toroddle, toroddle, toroll. + + Then come, put the jorum about, + And let us be merry and clever; + Our hearts and our liquors are stout; + Here’s the Three Jolly Pigeons for ever. 20 + Let some cry up woodcock or hare, + Your bustards, your ducks, and your widgeons; + But of all the birds in the air, + Here’s a health to the Three Jolly Pigeons. + Toroddle, toroddle, toroll. +</pre> + +<hr /> + +<h3><a name="poem26"></a><a name="page_85" id="page_85"></a> +EPILOGUE TO ‘SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER’</h3> + +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + WELL, having stoop’d to conquer with success, + And gain’d a husband without aid from dress, + Still, as a Bar-maid, I could wish it too, + As I have conquer’d him, to conquer you: + And let me say, for all your resolution, 5 + That pretty Bar-maids have done execution. + Our life is all a play, compos’d to please, + ‘We have our exits and our entrances.’ + The First Act shows the simple country maid, + Harmless and young, of ev’ry thing afraid; 10 + Blushes when hir’d, and, with unmeaning action, + ‘I hopes as how to give you satisfaction.’ + Her Second Act displays a livelier scene— + Th’ unblushing Bar-maid of a country inn, + Who whisks about the house, at market caters, 15 + Talks loud, coquets the guests, and scolds the waiters. + Next the scene shifts to town, and there she soars, + The chop-house toast of ogling connoisseurs. + On ’Squires and Cits she there displays her arts, + And on the gridiron broils her lovers’ hearts: 20 + And as she smiles, her triumphs to complete, + Even Common-Councilmen forget to eat. + The Fourth Act shows her wedded to the ’Squire, + And Madam now begins to hold it higher; + Pretends to taste, at Operas cries <i>caro</i>, 25 + And quits her <i>Nancy Dawson</i>, for <i>Che faro</i>, + Doats upon dancing, and in all her pride, + Swims round the room, the Heinel of Cheapside;<a name="page_86" id="page_86"></a> + Ogles and leers with artificial skill, + ’Till having lost in age the power to kill, 30 + She sits all night at cards, and ogles at spadille. + Such, through our lives, the eventful history— + The Fifth and Last Act still remains for me. + The Bar-maid now for your protection prays. + Turns Female Barrister, and pleads for Bayes. 35 +</pre> + +<hr /> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> +<a name="goldie" id="goldie"></a> +<img src="images/goldie.jpg" width="194" height="183" alt="[Illustration: ]" /> +<p class="caption">PORTRAIT OF GOLDSMITH<br /> +AFTER REYNOLDS<br /> +(Vignette to ‘Retaliation’)</p> +</div> + +<h3><a name="poem27"></a><a name="page_87" id="page_87"></a> +RETALIATION<br /> <br /> <small>A POEM</small></h3> + +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +OF old, when Scarron his companions invited, +Each guest brought his dish, and the feast was united; +If our landlord supplies us with beef, and with fish, +Let each guest bring himself, and he brings the best dish: +Our Dean shall be venison, just fresh from the plains; 5 +Our Burke shall be tongue, with a garnish of brains; +Our Will shall be wild-fowl, of excellent flavour, +And Dick with his pepper shall heighten their savour: +Our Cumberland’s sweet-bread its place shall obtain, +And Douglas is pudding, substantial and plain: 10 +Our Garrick’s a salad; for in him we see +Oil, vinegar, sugar, and saltness agree: +To make out the dinner, full certain I am, +That Ridge is anchovy, and Reynolds is lamb; +That Hickey’s a capon, and by the same rule, 15 +Magnanimous Goldsmith a gooseberry fool. +At a dinner so various, at such a repast, +Who’d not be a glutton, and stick to the last? +Here, waiter! more wine, let me sit while I’m able, +Till all my companions sink under the table; 20 +Then, with chaos and blunders encircling my head, +Let me ponder, and tell what I think of the dead. + + Here lies the good Dean, re-united to earth, +Who mix’d reason with pleasure, and wisdom with mirth: +If he had any faults, he has left us in doubt, 25 +At least, in six weeks, I could not find ’em out;<a name="page_88" id="page_88"></a> +Yet some have declar’d, and it can’t be denied ’em, +That sly-boots was cursedly cunning to hide ’em. + + Here lies our good Edmund, whose genius was such, +We scarcely can praise it, or blame it too much; 30 +Who, born for the Universe, narrow’d his mind, +And to party gave up what was meant for mankind. +Though fraught with all learning, yet straining his throat +To persuade Tommy Townshend to lend him a vote; +Who, too deep for his hearers, still went on refining, 35 +And thought of convincing, while they thought of dining; +Though equal to all things, for all things unfit, +Too nice for a statesman, too proud for a wit: +For a patriot, too cool; for a drudge, disobedient; +And too fond of the <i>right</i> to pursue the <i>expedient.</i> 40 +In short, ’twas his fate, unemploy’d, or in place, Sir, +To eat mutton cold, and cut blocks with a razor. + + Here lies honest William, whose heart was a mint, +While the owner ne’er knew half the good that was in’t; +The pupil of impulse, it forc’d him along, 45 +His conduct still right, with his argument wrong; +Still aiming at honour, yet fearing to roam, +The coachman was tipsy, the chariot drove home; +Would you ask for his merits? alas! he had none; +What was good was spontaneous, his faults were his own. 50 + + Here lies honest Richard, whose fate I must sigh at; +Alas, that such frolic should now be so quiet! +What spirits were his! what wit and what whim! +Now breaking a jest, and now breaking a limb;<a name="page_89" id="page_89"></a> +Now wrangling and grumbling to keep up the ball, 55 +Now teasing and vexing, yet laughing at all! +In short, so provoking a devil was Dick, +That we wish’d him full ten times a day at Old Nick; +But, missing his mirth and agreeable vein, +As often we wish’d to have Dick back again. 60 + + Here Cumberland lies, having acted his parts, +The Terence of England, the mender of hearts; +A flattering painter, who made it his care +To draw men as they ought to be, not as they are. +His gallants are all faultless, his women divine, 65 +And comedy wonders at being so fine; +Like a tragedy queen he has dizen’d her out, +Or rather like tragedy giving a rout. +His fools have their follies so lost in a crowd +Of virtues and feelings, that folly grows proud; 70 +And coxcombs, alike in their failings alone, +Adopting his portraits, are pleas’d with their own. +Say, where has our poet this malady caught? +Or, wherefore his characters thus without fault? +Say, was it that vainly directing his view 75 +To find out men’s virtues, and finding them few, +Quite sick of pursuing each troublesome elf, +He grew lazy at last, and drew from himself? + + Here Douglas retires, from his toils to relax, +The scourge of impostors, the terror of quacks: 80 +Come, all ye quack bards, and ye quacking divines, +Come, and dance on the spot where your tyrant reclines: +When Satire and Censure encircl’d his throne, +I fear’d for your safety, I fear’d for my own;<a name="page_90" id="page_90"></a> +But now he is gone, and we want a detector, 85 +Our Dodds shall be pious, our Kenricks shall lecture; +Macpherson write bombast, and call it a style, +Our Townshend make speeches, and I shall compile; +New Lauders and Bowers the Tweed shall cross over, +No countryman living their tricks to discover; 90 +Detection her taper shall quench to a spark, +And Scotchman meet Scotchman, and cheat in the dark. + + Here lies David Garrick, describe me, who can, +An abridgment of all that was pleasant in man; +As an actor, confess’d without rival to shine: 95 +As a wit, if not first, in the very first line: +Yet, with talents like these, and an excellent heart, +The man had his failings, a dupe to his art. +Like an ill-judging beauty, his colours he spread, +And beplaster’d with rouge his own natural red. 100 +On the stage he was natural, simple, affecting; +’Twas only that when he was off he was acting. +With no reason on earth to go out of his way, +He turn’d and he varied full ten times a day. +Though secure of our hearts, yet confoundedly sick 105 +If they were not his own by finessing and trick, +He cast off his friends, as a huntsman his pack, +For he knew when he pleas’d he could whistle them back. +Of praise a mere glutton, he swallow’d what came, +And the puff of a dunce he mistook it for fame; 110 +Till his relish grown callous, almost to disease, +Who pepper’d the highest was surest to please.<a name="page_91" id="page_91"></a> +But let us be candid, and speak out our mind, +If dunces applauded, he paid them in kind. +Ye Kenricks, ye Kellys, and Woodfalls so grave, 115 +What a commerce was yours, while you got and you gave! +How did Grub-street re-echo the shouts you rais’d, +While he was be-Roscius’d, and you were be-prais’d! +But peace to his spirit, wherever it flies, +To act as an angel, and mix with the skies: 120 +Those poets, who owe their best fame to his skill, +Shall still be his flatterers, go where he will. +Old Shakespeare, receive him, with praise and with love, +And Beaumonts and Bens be his Kellys above. + + Here Hickey reclines, a most blunt, pleasant creature, 125 +And slander itself must allow him good nature: +He cherish’d his friend, and he relish’d a bumper; +Yet one fault he had, and that one was a thumper. +Perhaps you may ask if the man was a miser! +I answer, no, no, for he always was wiser: 130 +Too courteous, perhaps, or obligingly flat? +His very worst foe can’t accuse him of that: +Perhaps he confided in men as they go, +And so was too foolishly honest! Ah no! +Then what was his failing? come, tell it, and burn ye! 135 +He was, could he help it?—a special attorney. + + Here Reynolds is laid, and, to tell you my mind, +He has not left a better or wiser behind: +His pencil was striking, resistless, and grand; +His manners were gentle, complying, and bland; 140<a name="page_92" id="page_92"></a> +Still born to improve us in every part, +His pencil our faces, his manners our heart: +To coxcombs averse, yet most civilly steering, +When they judg’d without skill he was still hard of hearing: +When they talk’d of their Raphaels, Correggios, and stuff, 145 +He shifted his trumpet, and only took snuff. +</pre> + +<p class="center"> + <br /> POSTSCRIPT<br /> + </p> + <p> + After the Fourth Edition of this Poem was printed, the Publisher received + an Epitaph on Mr. Whitefoord, from a friend of the late Doctor Goldsmith, + inclosed in a letter, of which the following is an abstract:— + </p> + + <p> + ‘I have in my possession a sheet of paper, containing near forty lines in + the Doctor’s own hand-writing: there are many scattered, broken verses, on + Sir Jos. Reynolds, Counsellor Ridge, Mr. Beauclerk, and Mr. Whitefoord. + The Epitaph on the last-mentioned gentleman is the only one that is + finished, and therefore I have copied it, that you may add it to the next + edition. It is a striking proof of Doctor Goldsmith’s good-nature. I saw + this sheet of paper in the Doctor’s room, five or six days before he died; + and, as I had got all the other Epitaphs, I asked him if I might take it. + “<i>In truth you may, my Boy</i>,” (replied he,) “<i>for it will be of no + use to me where I am going.</i>”’ + </p> + +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +HERE Whitefoord reclines, and deny it who can, +Though he <i>merrily</i> liv’d, he is now a ‘grave’ man; +Rare compound of oddity, frolic, and fun! +Who relish’d a joke, and rejoic’d in a pun; 150<a name="page_93" id="page_93"></a> +Whose temper was generous, open, sincere; +A stranger to flatt’ry, a stranger to fear; +Who scatter’d around wit and humour at will; +Whose daily <i>bons mots</i> half a column might fill; +A Scotchman, from pride and from prejudice free; 155 +A scholar, yet surely no pedant was he. + + What pity, alas! that so lib’ral a mind +Should so long be to news-paper essays confin’d; +Who perhaps to the summit of science could soar, +Yet content ‘if the table he set on a roar’; 160 +Whose talents to fill any station were fit, +Yet happy if Woodfall confess’d him a wit. + + Ye news-paper witlings! ye pert scribbling folks +Who copied his squibs, and re-echoed his jokes; +Ye tame imitators, ye servile herd, come, 165 +Still follow your master, and visit his tomb: +To deck it, bring with you festoons of the vine, +And copious libations bestow on his shrine: +Then strew all around it (you can do no less) +<i>Cross-readings, Ship-news</i>, and <i>Mistakes of the Press.</i> + 170 + + Merry Whitefoord, farewell! for <i>thy</i> sake I admit +That a Scot may have humour, I had almost said wit: +This debt to thy mem’ry I cannot refuse, +‘Thou best humour’d man with the worst humour’d muse.’ +</pre> + +<hr /> + +<h3><a name="poem28"></a><a name="page_94" id="page_94"></a> +SONG<br /> <br /> <small>INTENDED TO HAVE BEEN SUNG IN<br /> +‘SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER’</small></h3> + +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + AH me! when shall I marry me? + Lovers are plenty; but fail to relieve me: + He, fond youth, that could carry me, + Offers to love, but means to deceive me. + + But I will rally, and combat the ruiner: 5 + Not a look, not a smile shall my passion discover: + She that gives all to the false one pursuing her, + Makes but a penitent, loses a lover. +</pre> + +<hr /> + +<h3><a name="poem29"></a> +TRANSLATION</h3> + +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + CHASTE are their instincts, faithful is their fire, + No foreign beauty tempts to false desire; + The snow-white vesture, and the glittering crown, + The simple plumage, or the glossy down + Prompt not their loves:—the patriot bird pursues 5 + His well acquainted tints, and kindred hues. + Hence through their tribes no mix’d polluted flame, + No monster-breed to mark the groves with shame; + But the chaste blackbird, to its partner true, + Thinks black alone is beauty’s favourite hue. 10 + The nightingale, with mutual passion blest, + Sings to its mate, and nightly charms the nest; + While the dark owl to court its partner flies, + And owns its offspring in their yellow eyes. +</pre> + +<hr /> + +<h3><a name="poem30"></a><a name="page_95" id="page_95"></a> +THE HAUNCH OF VENISON<br /> <br /> <small>A POETICAL EPISTLE TO LORD + CLARE</small></h3> + +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +THANKS, my Lord, for your venison, for finer or fatter +Never rang’d in a forest, or smok’d in a platter; +The haunch was a picture for painters to study, +The fat was so white, and the lean was so ruddy. +Though my stomach was sharp, I could scarce help regretting 5 +To spoil such a delicate picture by eating; +I had thoughts, in my chambers, to place it in view, +To be shown to my friends as a piece of <i>virtù</i>; +As in some Irish houses, where things are so so, +One gammon of bacon hangs up for a show: 10 +But for eating a rasher of what they take pride in, +They’d as soon think of eating the pan it is fried in. +But hold—let me pause—Don’t I hear you pronounce +This tale of the bacon a damnable bounce? +Well, suppose it a bounce—sure a poet may try, 15 +By a bounce now and then, to get courage to fly. + + But, my Lord, it’s no bounce: I protest in my turn, +It’s a truth—and your Lordship may ask Mr. Byrne. +To go on with my tale—as I gaz’d on the haunch, +I thought of a friend that was trusty and staunch; 20 +So I cut it, and sent it to Reynolds undress’d, +To paint it, or eat it, just as he lik’d best. +Of the neck and the breast I had next to dispose; +’Twas a neck and a breast—that might rival M—r—’s:<a name="page_96" id="page_96"></a> +But in parting with these I was puzzled again, 25 +With the how, and the who, and the where, and the when. +There’s H—d, and C—y, and H—rth, and H—ff, +I think they love venison—I know they love beef; +There’s my countryman H—gg—ns—Oh! let him +alone, +For making a blunder, or picking a bone. 30 +But hang it—to poets who seldom can eat, +Your very good mutton’s a very good treat; +Such dainties to them, their health it might hurt, +It’s like sending them ruffles, when wanting a shirt. +While thus I debated, in reverie centred, 35 +An acquaintance, a friend as he call’d himself, enter’d; +An under-bred, fine-spoken fellow was he, +And he smil’d as he look’d at the venison and me. +‘What have we got here?—Why, this is good eating! +Your own, I suppose—or is it in waiting?’ 40 +‘Why, whose should it be?’ cried I with a flounce, +‘I get these things often;’—but that was a bounce: +‘Some lords, my acquaintance, that settle the nation, +Are pleas’d to be kind—but I hate ostentation.’ + + ‘If that be the case, then,’ cried he, very gay, 45 +‘I’m glad I have taken this house in my way. +To-morrow you take a poor dinner with me; +No words—I insist on’t—precisely at three: +We’ll have Johnson, and Burke; all the wits will be there; +My acquaintance is slight, or I’d ask my Lord Clare. 50 +And now that I think on’t, as I am a sinner! +We wanted this venison to make out the dinner.<a name="page_97" id="page_97"></a> +What say you—a pasty? it shall, and it must, +And my wife, little Kitty, is famous for crust. +Here, porter!—this venison with me to Mile-end; 55 +No stirring—I beg—my dear friend—my dear friend! +Thus snatching his hat, he brush’d off like the wind, +And the porter and eatables follow’d behind. + + Left alone to reflect, having emptied my shelf, +‘And nobody with me at sea but myself’; 60 +Though I could not help thinking my gentleman hasty, +Yet Johnson, and Burke, and a good venison pasty, +Were things that I never dislik’d in my life, +Though clogg’d with a coxcomb, and Kitty his wife. +So next day, in due splendour to make my approach, 65 +I drove to his door in my own hackney coach. + + When come to the place where we all were to dine, +(A chair-lumber’d closet just twelve feet by nine:) +My friend bade me welcome, but struck me quite dumb, +With tidings that Johnson and Burke would not come; 70 +‘For I knew it,’ he cried, ‘both eternally fail, +The one with his speeches, and t’other with Thrale; +But no matter, I’ll warrant we’ll make up the party +With two full as clever, and ten times as hearty. +The one is a Scotchman, the other a Jew, 75 +They[’re] both of them merry and authors like you; +The one writes the <i>Snarler</i>, the other the <i>Scourge</i>; +Some think he writes <i>Cinna</i>—he owns to <i>Panurge.</i>’ +While thus he describ’d them by trade, and by name, +They enter’d and dinner was serv’d as they came. 80 + + At the top a fried liver and bacon were seen, +At the bottom was tripe in a swinging tureen;<a name="page_98" id="page_98"></a> +At the sides there was spinach and pudding made hot; +In the middle a place where the pasty—was not. +Now, my Lord as for tripe, it’s my utter aversion, 85 +And your bacon I hate like a Turk or a Persian; +So there I sat stuck, like a horse in a pound, +While the bacon and liver went merrily round. +But what vex’d me most was that d—’d Scottish rogue, +With his long-winded speeches, his smiles and his brogue; 90 +And, ‘Madam,’ quoth he, ‘may this bit be my poison, +A prettier dinner I never set eyes on; +Pray a slice of your liver, though may I be curs’d, +But I’ve eat of your tripe till I’m ready to burst.’ +‘The tripe,’ quoth the Jew, with his chocolate cheek, 95 +‘I could dine on this tripe seven days in the week: +I like these here dinners so pretty and small; +But your friend there, the Doctor, eats nothing at all.’ +‘O—Oh!’ quoth my friend, ‘he’ll come on in a trice, +He’s keeping a corner for something that’s nice: 100 +There’s a pasty’—‘A pasty!’ repeated the Jew, +‘I don’t care if I keep a corner for’t too.’ +‘What the de’il, mon, a pasty!’ re-echoed the Scot, +‘Though splitting, I’ll still keep a corner for thot.’ +‘We’ll all keep a corner,’ the lady cried out; 105 +‘We’ll all keep a corner,’ was echoed about. +While thus we resolv’d, and the pasty delay’d, +With look that quite petrified, enter’d the maid; +A visage so sad, and so pale with affright, +Wak’d Priam in drawing his curtains by night. 110 +But we quickly found out, for who could mistake her? +That she came with some terrible news from the baker:<a name="page_99" id="page_99"></a> +And so it fell out, for that negligent sloven +Had shut out the pasty on shutting his oven +Sad Philomel thus—but let similes drop— 115 +And now that I think on’t, the story may stop. +To be plain, my good Lord, it’s but labour misplac’d +To send such good verses to one of your taste; +You’ve got an odd something—a kind of discerning— +A relish—a taste—sicken’d over by learning; 120 +At least, it’s your temper, as very well known, +That you think very slightly of all that’s your own: +So, perhaps, in your habits of thinking amiss, +You may make a mistake, and think slightly of this. +</pre> + +<hr /> + +<h3><a name="poem31"></a><a name="page_100" id="page_100"></a> +EPITAPH ON THOMAS PARNELL</h3> + +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + THIS tomb, inscrib’d to gentle Parnell’s name, + May speak our gratitude, but not his fame. + What heart but feels his sweetly-moral lay, + That leads to truth through pleasure’s flowery way! + Celestial themes confess’d his tuneful aid; 5 + And Heaven, that lent him genius, was repaid. + Needless to him the tribute we bestow— + The transitory breath of fame below: + More lasting rapture from his works shall rise, + While Converts thank their poet in the skies. 10 +</pre> + +<hr /> + +<h3><a name="poem32"></a> +THE CLOWN’S REPLY</h3> + +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + JOHN TROTT was desired by two witty peers + To tell them the reason why asses had ears? + ‘An’t please you,’ quoth John, ‘I’m not given to letters, + Nor dare I pretend to know more than my betters; + Howe’er, from this time I shall ne’er see your graces, 5 + As I hope to be saved! without thinking on asses.’ +</pre> + +<hr /> + +<h3><a name="poem33"></a> +EPITAPH ON EDWARD PURDON</h3> + +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + HERE lies poor Ned Purdon, from misery freed, + Who long was a bookseller’s hack; + He led such a damnable life in this world,— + I don’t think he’ll wish to come back. +</pre> + +<hr /> + +<h3><a name="poem34"></a><a name="page_101" id="page_101"></a> +EPILOGUE FOR MR. LEE LEWES</h3> + +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + HOLD! Prompter, hold! a word before your nonsense; + I’d speak a word or two, to ease my conscience. + My pride forbids it ever should be said, + My heels eclips’d the honours of my head; + That I found humour in a piebald vest, 5 + Or ever thought that jumping was a jest. + (<i>Takes off his mask.</i>) + Whence, and what art thou, visionary birth? + Nature disowns, and reason scorns thy mirth, + In thy black aspect every passion sleeps, + The joy that dimples, and the woe that weeps. 10 + How has thou fill’d the scene with all thy brood, + Of fools pursuing, and of fools pursu’d! + Whose ins and outs no ray of sense discloses, + Whose only plot it is to break our noses; + Whilst from below the trap-door Demons rise, 15 + And from above the dangling deities; + And shall I mix in this unhallow’d crew? + May rosined lightning blast me, if I do! + No—I will act, I’ll vindicate the stage: + Shakespeare himself shall feel my tragic rage. 20 + Off! off! vile trappings! a new passion reigns! + The madd’ning monarch revels in my veins. + Oh! for a Richard’s voice to catch the theme: + ‘Give me another horse! bind up my wounds!—soft— + ’twas but a dream.’ + Aye, ’twas but a dream, for now there’s no retreating: 25 + If I cease Harlequin, I cease from eating. + ’Twas thus that Aesop’s stag, a creature blameless, + Yet something vain, like one that shall be nameless, + Once on the margin of a fountain stood, + And cavill’d at his image in the flood. 30 + ‘The deuce confound,’ he cries, ‘these drumstick shanks, + They never have my gratitude nor thanks; + They’re perfectly disgraceful! strike me dead! + But for a head, yes, yes, I have a head. + How piercing is that eye! how sleek that brow! 35 + My horns! I’m told horns are the fashion now.’ + Whilst thus he spoke, astonish’d, to his view, + Near, and more near, the hounds and huntsmen drew. + ‘Hoicks! hark forward!’ came thund’ring from behind, + He bounds aloft, outstrips the fleeting wind: 40 + He quits the woods, and tries the beaten ways; + He starts, he pants, he takes the circling maze. + At length his silly head, so priz’d before, + Is taught his former folly to deplore; + Whilst his strong limbs conspire to set him free, 45 + And at one bound he saves himself,—like me. + (<i>Taking a jump through the stage door.</i>) +</pre> + +<hr /> + +<h3><a name="poem35"></a><a name="page_103" id="page_103"></a> +EPILOGUE<br /> <br /> <small>INTENDED TO HAVE BEEN SPOKEN FOR<br /> +‘SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER’</small></h3> + + <p> + <i>Enter</i> M<small>RS.</small> B<small>ULKLEY</small>, <i>who curtsies + very low as beginning to speak. Then enter</i> M<small>ISS</small> C<small>ATLEY</small>, + <i>who stands full before her, and curtsies to the audience.</i> + </p> + <p> + MRS. BULKLEY. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + HOLD, Ma’am, your pardon. What’s your business here? +</pre> + <p> + MISS CATLEY. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The Epilogue. +</pre> + <p> + MRS. BULKLEY. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The Epilogue? +</pre> + <p> + MISS CATLEY. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Yes, the Epilogue, my dear. +</pre> + <p> + MRS. BULKLEY. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Sure you mistake, Ma’am. The Epilogue, <i>I</i> bring it. +</pre> + <p> + MISS CATLEY. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Excuse me, Ma’am. The Author bid <i>me</i> sing it. +</pre> + <p> + <i>Recitative.</i> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Ye beaux and belles, that form this splendid ring, 5 + Suspend your conversation while I sing. +</pre> + <p> + MRS. BULKLEY. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Why, sure the girl’s beside herself: an Epilogue of singing, + A hopeful end indeed to such a blest beginning.<a name="page_104" id="page_104"></a> + Besides, a singer in a comic set!— + Excuse me, Ma’am, I know the etiquette. 10 +</pre> + <p> + MISS CATLEY. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + What if we leave it to the House? +</pre> + <p> + MRS. BULKLEY. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The House!—Agreed. +</pre> + <p> + MISS CATLEY. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Agreed. +</pre> + <p> + MRS. BULKLEY. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + And she, whose party’s largest, shall proceed. + And first I hope, you’ll readily agree + I’ve all the critics and the wits for me. + They, I am sure, will answer my commands: 15 + Ye candid-judging few, hold up your hands. + What! no return? I find too late, I fear, + That modern judges seldom enter here. +</pre> + <p> + MISS CATLEY. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I’m for a different set.—Old men, whose trade is + Still to gallant and dangle with the ladies;— 20 +</pre> + <p> + <i>Recitative.</i> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Who mump their passion, and who, grimly smiling, + Still thus address the fair with voice beguiling:— +</pre> + <p> + <i>Air—Cotillon.</i> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Turn, my fairest, turn, if ever + Strephon caught thy ravish’d eye; + Pity take on your swain so clever, 25 + Who without your aid must die.<a name="page_105" id="page_105"></a> + Yes, I shall die, hu, hu, hu, hu! + Yes, I must die, ho, ho, ho, ho! + (<i>Da capo.</i>) +</pre> + <p> + MRS. BULKLEY. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Let all the old pay homage to your merit; + Give me the young, the gay, the men of spirit. 30 + Ye travell’d tribe, ye macaroni train, + Of French friseurs, and nosegays, justly vain, + Who take a trip to Paris once a year + To dress, and look like awkward Frenchmen here, + Lend me your hands.—Oh! fatal news to tell: 35 + Their hands are only lent to the Heinel. +</pre> + <p> + MISS CATLEY. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Ay, take your travellers, travellers indeed! + Give me my bonny Scot, that travels from the Tweed. + Where are the chiels? Ah! Ah, I well discern + The smiling looks of each bewitching bairn. 40 +</pre> + <p> + <i>Air—A bonny young lad is my Jockey.</i><br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I’ll sing to amuse you by night and by day, + And be unco merry when you are but gay; + When you with your bagpipes are ready to play, + My voice shall be ready to carol away + With Sandy, and Sawney, and Jockey 45 + With Sawney, and Jarvie, and Jockey. +</pre> + <p> + MRS. BULKLEY. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Ye gamesters, who, so eager in pursuit, + Make but of all your fortune one <i>va toute</i>; + Ye jockey tribe, whose stock of words are few, + ‘I hold the odds.—Done, done, with you, with you;’ 50 + Ye barristers, so fluent with grimace, + ‘My Lord,—your Lordship misconceives the case;’ + Doctors, who cough and answer every misfortuner, + ‘I wish I’d been called in a little sooner:’ + Assist my cause with hands and voices hearty; 55 + Come, end the contest here, and aid my party. +</pre> + <p> + <br /> MISS CATLEY.<br /> <br /> <i>Air—Ballinamony.</i><br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Ye brave Irish lads, hark away to the crack, + Assist me, I pray, in this woful attack; + For sure I don’t wrong you, you seldom are slack, + When the ladies are calling, to blush and hang back; 60 + For you’re always polite and attentive, + Still to amuse us inventive, + And death is your only preventive: + Your hands and your voices for me. +</pre> + <p> + MRS. BULKLEY. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Well, Madam, what if, after all this sparring, 65 + We both agree, like friends, to end our jarring? +</pre> + <p> + MISS CATLEY. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + And that our friendship may remain unbroken, + What if we leave the Epilogue unspoken? +</pre> + <p> + MRS. BULKLEY. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Agreed. +</pre> + + <p> + MISS CATLEY. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Agreed. +</pre> + <p> + MRS. BULKLEY. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + And now with late repentance, + Un-epilogued the Poet waits his sentence. 70 + Condemn the stubborn fool who can’t submit + To thrive by flattery, though he starves by wit. + (<i>Exeunt.</i>) +</pre> + +<hr /> + +<h3><a name="poem36"></a><a name="page_108" id="page_108"></a> +EPILOGUE<br /> <br /> <small>INTENDED TO HAVE BEEN SPOKEN FOR<br /> +‘SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER’</small></h3> + +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + THERE is a place, so Ariosto sings, + A treasury for lost and missing things; + Lost human wits have places assign’d them, + And they, who lose their senses, there may find them. + But where’s this place, this storehouse of the age? 5 + The Moon, says he:—but <i>I</i> affirm the Stage: + At least in many things, I think, I see + His lunar, and our mimic world agree. + Both shine at night, for, but at Foote’s alone, + We scarce exhibit till the sun goes down. 10 + Both prone to change, no settled limits fix, + And sure the folks of both are lunatics. + But in this parallel my best pretence is, + That mortals visit both to find their senses. + To this strange spot, Rakes, Macaronies, Cits 15 + Come thronging to collect their scatter’d wits. + The gay coquette, who ogles all the day, + Comes here at night, and goes a prude away. + Hither the affected city dame advancing, + Who sighs for operas, and dotes on dancing, 20 + Taught by our art her ridicule to pause on, + Quits the <i>Ballet</i>, and calls for <i>Nancy Dawson.</i> + The Gamester too, whose wit’s all high or low, + Oft risks his fortune on one desperate throw, + Comes here to saunter, having made his bets, 25 + Finds his lost senses out, and pay his debts.<a name="page_109" id="page_109"></a> + The Mohawk too—with angry phrases stored, + As ‘D— —, Sir,’ and ‘Sir, I wear a sword’; + Here lesson’d for a while, and hence retreating, + Goes out, affronts his man, and takes a beating. 30 + Here come the sons of scandal and of news, + But find no sense—for they had none to lose. + Of all the tribe here wanting an adviser + Our Author’s the least likely to grow wiser; + Has he not seen how you your favour place, 35 + On sentimental Queens and Lords in lace? + Without a star, a coronet or garter, + How can the piece expect or hope for quarter? + No high-life scenes, no sentiment:—the creature + Still stoops among the low to copy nature. 40 + Yes, he’s far gone:—and yet some pity fix, + The English laws forbid to punish lunatics. +</pre> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="captivity" id="captivity"></a> +THE CAPTIVITY +</h2> + +<p class="center"> + <small>AN</small><br /> <br /> ORATORIO + </p> + +<hr /> + +<p class="center"> + THE PERSONS.<br /> <br /> + </p> + <table summary="List of the persons"> + <tr> + <td></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td align="left"> + F<small>IRST</small> I<small>SRAELITISH</small> P<small>ROPHET</small>.<br /> + S<small>ECOND</small> I<small>SRAELITISH</small> P<small>ROPHET</small>.<br /> + I<small>SRAELITISH</small> W<small>OMAN</small>.<br /> F<small>IRST</small> + C<small>HALDEAN</small> P<small>RIEST</small>.<br /> S<small>ECOND</small> + C<small>HALDEAN</small> P<small>RIEST</small>.<br /> C<small>HALDEAN</small> + W<small>OMAN</small>.<br /> C<small>HORUS OF</small> Y<small>OUTHS + AND</small> V<small>IRGINS</small>. + </td> + </tr> + </table> + <p> + <br /> S<small>CENE</small>—The Banks of the River Euphrates, near + Babylon.<br /> <br /> + </p> + +<hr /> + +<p class="center"><a name="page_113" id="page_113"></a> + <b>THE CAPTIVITY</b><br /> <br /> ACT I—S<small>CENE</small> I.<br /> + <br /> <i>Israelites sitting on the Banks of the Euphrates.</i><br /> <br /> + FIRST PROPHET.<br /> <br /> RECITATIVE.<br /> <br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + YE captive tribes, that hourly work and weep + Where flows Euphrates murmuring to the deep, + Suspend awhile the task, the tear suspend, + And turn to God, your Father and your Friend. + Insulted, chain’d, and all the world a foe, 5 + Our God alone is all we boast below. +</pre> + <p> + FIRST PROPHET.<br /> <br /> AIR.<br /> <br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Our God is all we boast below, + To him we turn our eyes; + And every added weight of woe + Shall make our homage rise. 10 +</pre> + <p> + SECOND PROPHET.<br /> <br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + And though no temple richly drest, + Nor sacrifice is here; + We’ll make his temple in our breast, + And offer up a tear. + [<i>The first stanza repeated by the Chorus.</i> +</pre> + + <p><a name="page_114" id="page_114"></a> + SECOND PROPHET.<br /> <br /> RECITATIVE.<br /> <br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + That strain once more; it bids remembrance rise, 15 + And brings my long-lost country to mine eyes. + Ye fields of Sharon, dress’d in flow’ry pride, + Ye plains where Jordan rolls its glassy tide, + Ye hills of Lebanon, with cedars crown’d, + Ye Gilead groves, that fling perfumes around, 20 + These hills how sweet! Those plains how wond’rous fair, + But sweeter still, when Heaven was with us there! +</pre> + <p> + AIR.<br /> <br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + O Memory, thou fond deceiver, + Still importunate and vain; + To former joys recurring ever, 25 + And turning all the past to pain; + + Hence intruder, most distressing, + Seek the happy and the free: + The wretch who wants each other blessing, + Ever wants a friend in thee. 30 +</pre> + <p> + FIRST PROPHET.<br /> <br /> RECITATIVE.<br /> <br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Yet, why complain? What, though by bonds confin’d, + Should bonds repress the vigour of the mind? + Have we not cause for triumph when we see + Ourselves alone from idol-worship free? + Are not this very morn those feasts begun? 35 + Where prostrate error hails the rising sun? + Do not our tyrant lords this day ordain + For superstitious rites and mirth profane? + And should we mourn? Should coward virtue fly, + When impious folly rears her front on high? 40 + No; rather let us triumph still the more, + And as our fortune sinks, our wishes soar. +</pre> + <p> + AIR.<br /> <br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The triumphs that on vice attend + Shall ever in confusion end; + The good man suffers but to gain, 45 + And every virtue springs from pain: + + As aromatic plants bestow + No spicy fragrance while they grow; + But crush’d, or trodden to the ground, + Diffuse their balmy sweets around. 50 +</pre> + <p> + SECOND PROPHET.<br /> <br /> RECITATIVE.<br /> <br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + But hush, my sons, our tyrant lords are near; + The sounds of barb’rous pleasure strike mine ear; + Triumphant music floats along the vale; + Near, nearer still, it gathers on the gale; + The growing sound their swift approach declares;— 55 + Desist, my sons, nor mix the strain with theirs. +</pre> + <p> + <i>Enter</i> C<small>HALDEAN</small> P<small>RIESTS</small> <i>attended.</i> + <br /> FIRST PRIEST.<br /> <br /> AIR.<br /> <br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Come on, my companions, the triumph display; + Let rapture the minutes employ; + The sun calls us out on this festival day, + And our monarch partakes in the joy. 60 +</pre> + + <p> + SECOND PRIEST.<br /> <br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Like the sun, our great monarch all rapture supplies, + Both similar blessings bestow; + The sun with his splendour illumines the skies, + And our monarch enlivens below. +</pre> + <p> + A CHALDEAN WOMAN.<br /> <br /> AIR.<br /> <br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Haste, ye sprightly sons of pleasure; 65 + Love presents the fairest treasure, + Leave all other joys for me. +</pre> + <p> + A CHALDEAN ATTENDANT.<br /> <br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Or rather, Love’s delights despising, + Haste to raptures ever rising + Wine shall bless the brave and free. 70 +</pre> + <p> + FIRST PRIEST.<br /> <br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Wine and beauty thus inviting, + Each to different joys exciting, + Whither shall my choice incline? +</pre> + <p> + SECOND PRIEST.<br /> <br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I’ll waste no longer thought in choosing; + But, neither this nor that refusing, 75 + I’ll make them both together mine. +</pre> + <p> + RECITATIVE.<br /> <br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + But whence, when joy should brighten o’er the land, + This sullen gloom in Judah’s captive band? + Ye sons of Judah, why the lute unstrung? + Or why those harps on yonder willows hung? 80 + Come, take the lyre, and pour the strain along, + The day demands it; sing us Sion’s song. + Dismiss your griefs, and join our warbling choir, + For who like you can wake the sleeping lyre? +</pre> + <p> + SECOND PROPHET.<br /> <br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Bow’d down with chains, the scorn of all mankind, 85 + To want, to toil, and every ill consign’d, + Is this a time to bid us raise the strain, + Or mix in rites that Heaven regards with pain? + No, never! May this hand forget each art + That speeds the power of music to the heart, 90 + Ere I forget the land that gave me birth, + Or join with sounds profane its sacred mirth! +</pre> + <p> + FIRST PRIEST. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Insulting slaves! If gentler methods fail, + The whips and angry tortures shall prevail. + [<i>Exeunt Chaldeans</i> +</pre> + <p> + FIRST PROPHET. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Why, let them come, one good remains to cheer; 95 + We fear the Lord, and know no other fear. +</pre> + <p> + CHORUS. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Can whips or tortures hurt the mind + On God’s supporting breast reclin’d? + Stand fast, and let our tyrants see + That fortitude is victory. + [<i>Exeunt.</i> +</pre> + +<hr /> + +<p class="center"> + ACT II.<br /> <br /> <i>Scene as before.</i> CHORUS OF ISRAELITES.<br /> + <br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + O PEACE of mind, angelic guest! + Thou soft companion of the breast! + Dispense thy balmy store. + Wing all our thoughts to reach the skies, + Till earth, receding from our eyes, 5 + Shall vanish as we soar. +</pre> + <p> + FIRST PRIEST.<br /> <br /> RECITATIVE. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + No more! Too long has justice been delay’d, + The king’s commands must fully be obey’d; + Compliance with his will your peace secures, + Praise but our gods, and every good is yours. 10 + But if, rebellious to his high command, + You spurn the favours offer’d from his hand, + Think, timely think, what terrors are behind; + Reflect, nor tempt to rage the royal mind. +</pre> + <p> + SECOND PRIEST.<br /> <br /> AIR.<br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Fierce is the whirlwind howling 15 + O’er Afric’s sandy plain, + And fierce the tempest rolling + Along the furrow’d main: + But storms that fly, + To rend the sky, 20 + Every ill presaging, + Less dreadful show + To worlds below + Than angry monarch’s raging. +</pre> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> +<a name="page_119" id="page_119"></a> +<a name="autograph" id="autograph"></a> +<img src="images/autograph.jpg" width="268" height="291" alt="[Illustration: ]" /> +<p class="caption">GOLDSMITH’S AUTOGRAPH<br /> +(Stanzas from ‘The Captivity’)</p> +</div> + + <p> + ISRAELITISH WOMAN.<br /> <br /> RECITATIVE. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Ah, me! What angry terrors round us grow; 25 + How shrinks my soul to meet the threaten’d blow! + Ye prophets, skill’d in Heaven’s eternal truth, + Forgive my sex’s fears, forgive my youth! + If, shrinking thus, when frowning power appears, + I wish for life, and yield me to my fears. 30 + Let us one hour, one little hour obey; + To-morrow’s tears may wash our stains away. +</pre> + <p> + AIR. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + To the last moment of his breath + On hope the wretch relies; + And e’en the pang preceding death 35 + Bids expectation rise. + + Hope, like the gleaming taper’s light, + Adorns and cheers our way; + And still, as darker grows the night, + Emits a brighter ray. 40 +</pre> + <p> + SECOND PRIEST. RECITATIVE. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Why this delay? At length for joy prepare; + I read your looks, and see compliance there. + Come on, and bid the warbling rapture rise, + Our monarch’s fame the noblest theme supplies. + Begin, ye captive bands, and strike the lyre, 45 + The time, the theme, the place, and all conspire. +</pre> + <p> + CHALDEAN WOMAN.<br /> <br /> AIR. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + See the ruddy morning smiling, + Hear the grove to bliss beguiling; + Zephyrs through the woodland playing, + Streams along the valley straying. 50 +</pre> + <p> + FIRST PRIEST. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + While these a constant revel keep, + Shall Reason only teach to weep? + Hence, intruder! We’ll pursue + Nature, a better guide than you. +</pre> + <p> + SECOND PRIEST. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Every moment, as it flows, 55 + Some peculiar pleasure owes; + Then let us, providently wise, + Seize the debtor as it flies. + + Think not to-morrow can repay + The pleasures that we lose to-day; 60 + To-morrow’s most unbounded store + Can but pay its proper score. +</pre> + <p> + FIRST PRIEST.<br /> <br /> RECITATIVE. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + But hush! See, foremost of the captive choir, + The master-prophet grasps his full-ton’d lyre. + Mark where he sits, with executing art, 65 + Feels for each tone, and speeds it to the heart; + See how prophetic rapture fills his form, + Awful as clouds that nurse the growing storm; + And now his voice, accordant to the string, + Prepares our monarch’s victories to sing. 70 +</pre> + <p> + FIRST PROPHET.<br /> <br /> AIR. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + From north, from south, from east, from west, + Conspiring nations come; + Tremble thou vice-polluted breast; + Blasphemers, all be dumb. + + The tempest gathers all around, 75 + On Babylon it lies; + Down with her! down—down to the ground; + She sinks, she groans, she dies. +</pre> + <p> + SECOND PROPHET. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Down with her, Lord, to lick the dust, + Ere yonder setting sun; 80 + Serve her as she hath served the just! + ’Tis fixed—it shall be done. +</pre> + <p> + FIRST PRIEST.<br /> <br /> RECITATIVE. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + No more! When slaves thus insolent presume, + The king himself shall judge, and fix their doom. + Unthinking wretches! have not you, and all, 85 + Beheld our power in Zedekiah’s fall? + To yonder gloomy dungeon turn your eyes; + See where dethron’d your captive monarch lies, + Depriv’d of sight and rankling in his chain; + See where he mourns his friends and children slain. 90 + Yet know, ye slaves, that still remain behind + More ponderous chains, and dungeons more confin’d. +</pre> + <p> + CHORUS OF ALL. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Arise, all potent ruler, rise, + And vindicate thy people’s cause; + Till every tongue in every land 95 + Shall offer up unfeign’d applause. + [<i>Exeunt.</i> +</pre> + +<hr /> + +<p class="center"> + ACT III.<br /> <br /> <i>Scene as before.</i><br /> <br /> FIRST PRIEST.<br /> + <br /> RECITATIVE.<br /> <br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + YES, my companions, Heaven’s decrees are past, + And our fix’d empire shall for ever last; + In vain the madd’ning prophet threatens woe, + In vain rebellion aims her secret blow; + Still shall our fame and growing power be spread, 5 + And still our vengeance crush the traitor’s head. +</pre> + <p> + AIR. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Coeval with man + Our empire began, + And never shall fail + Till ruin shakes all; 10 + When ruin shakes all, + Then shall Babylon fall. +</pre> + + <p> + FIRST PROPHET.<br /> <br /> RECITATIVE. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ’Tis thus that pride triumphant rears the head, + A little while, and all their power is fled; + But ha! what means yon sadly plaintive train, 15 + That this way slowly bend along the plain? + And now, methinks, to yonder bank they bear + A palled corse, and rest the body there. + Alas! too well mine eyes indignant trace + The last remains of Judah’s royal race: 20 + Our monarch falls, and now our fears are o’er, + Unhappy Zedekiah is no more! +</pre> + <p> + AIR. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Ye wretches who, by fortune’s hate, + In want and sorrow groan; + Come ponder his severer fate, 25 + And learn to bless your own. + + You vain, whom youth and pleasure guide, + Awhile the bliss suspend; + Like yours, his life began in pride, + Like his, your lives shall end. 30 +</pre> + <p> + SECOND PROPHET.<br /> <br /> RECITATIVE. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Behold his wretched corse with sorrow worn, + His squalid limbs with pond’rous fetters torn; + Those eyeless orbs that shock with ghastly glare, + Those ill-becoming rags—that matted hair! + And shall not Heaven for this its terrors show, 35 + Grasp the red bolt, and lay the guilty low? + How long, how long, Almighty God of all, + Shall wrath vindictive threaten ere it fall! +</pre> + <p> + ISRAELITISH WOMAN.<br /> <br /> AIR. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + As panting flies the hunted hind, + Where brooks refreshing stray; 40 + And rivers through the valley wind, + That stop the hunter’s way: + + Thus we, O Lord, alike distrest, + For streams of mercy long; + Those streams which cheer the sore opprest, 45 + And overwhelm the strong. +</pre> + <p> + FIRST PROPHET.<br /> <br /> RECITATIVE. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + But, whence that shout? Good heavens! amazement all! + See yonder tower just nodding to the fall: + See where an army covers all the ground, + Saps the strong wall, and pours destruction round; 50 + The ruin smokes, destruction pours along; + How low the great, how feeble are the strong! + The foe prevails, the lofty walls recline— + O God of hosts, the victory is thine! +</pre> + <p> + CHORUS OF ISRAELITES. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Down with them, Lord, to lick the dust; 55 + Thy vengeance be begun: + Serve them as they have serv’d the just, + And let thy will be done. +</pre> + + <p> + FIRST PRIEST.<br /> <br /> RECITATIVE. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + All, all is lost. The Syrian army fails, + Cyrus, the conqueror of the world, prevails, 60 + The ruin smokes, the torrent pours along; + How low the proud, how feeble are the strong! + Save us, O Lord! to thee, though late, we pray, + And give repentance but an hour’s delay. +</pre> + <p> + FIRST AND SECOND PRIEST.<br /> <br /> AIR. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Thrice happy, who in happy hour 65 + To Heaven their praise bestow, + And own his all-consuming power + Before they feel the blow! +</pre> + <p> + FIRST PROPHET.<br /> <br /> RECITATIVE. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Now, now’s our time! ye wretches bold and blind, + Brave but to God, and cowards to mankind, 70 + Too late you seek that power unsought before, + Your wealth, your pride, your kingdom, are no more. +</pre> + <p> + AIR. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + O Lucifer, thou son of morn, + Alike of Heaven and man the foe; + Heaven, men, and all, 75 + Now press thy fall, + And sink thee lowest of the low. +</pre> + + <p> + FIRST PROPHET. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + O Babylon, how art thou fallen! + Thy fall more dreadful from delay! + Thy streets forlorn 80 + To wilds shall turn, + Where toads shall pant, and vultures prey. +</pre> + <p> + SECOND PROPHET.<br /> <br /> RECITATIVE. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Such be her fate. But listen! from afar + The clarion’s note proclaims the finish’d war! + Cyrus, our great restorer, is at hand, 85 + And this way leads his formidable band. + Give, give your songs of Sion to the wind, + And hail the benefactor of mankind: + He comes pursuant to divine decree, + To chain the strong, and set the captive free. 90 +</pre> + <p> + CHORUS OF YOUTHS. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Rise to transports past expressing, + Sweeter from remember’d woes; + Cyrus comes, our wrongs redressing, + Comes to give the world repose. +</pre> + <p> + CHORUS OF VIRGINS. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Cyrus comes, the world redressing, 95 + Love and pleasure in his train; + Comes to heighten every blessing, + Comes to soften every pain. +</pre> + + <p> + SEMI-CHORUS. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Hail to him with mercy reigning, + Skilled in every peaceful art; 100 + Who from bonds our limbs unchaining, + Only binds the willing heart. +</pre> + <p> + THE LAST CHORUS. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + But chief to Thee, our God, defender, friend, + Let praise be given to all eternity; + O Thou, without beginning, without end, 105 + Let us, and all, begin and end, in Thee! +</pre> + +<hr /> + +<h3><a name="poem37"></a><a name="page_128" id="page_128"></a> +VERSES IN REPLY TO AN INVITATION TO<br /> DINNER AT DR. BAKER’S.<br /> + <br /> ‘This <i>is</i> a poem! This <i>is</i> a copy of verses!’</h3> + +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + YOUR mandate I got, + You may all go to pot; + Had your senses been right, + You’d have sent before night; + As I hope to be saved, 5 + I put off being shaved; + For I could not make bold, + While the matter was cold, + To meddle in suds, + Or to put on my duds; 10 + So tell Horneck and Nesbitt, + And Baker and his bit, + And Kauffmann beside, + And the Jessamy Bride, + With the rest of the crew, 15 + The Reynoldses two, + Little Comedy’s face, + And the Captain in lace, + (By-the-bye you may tell him, + I have something to sell him; 20 + Of use I insist, + When he comes to enlist. + Your worships must know + That a few days ago, + An order went out, 25 + For the foot guards so stout<a name="page_129" id="page_129"></a> + To wear tails in high taste, + Twelve inches at least: + Now I’ve got him a scale + To measure each tail, 30 + To lengthen a short tail, + And a long one to curtail.)— + Yet how can I when vext, + Thus stray from my text? + Tell each other to rue 35 + Your Devonshire crew, + For sending so late + To one of my state. + But ’tis Reynolds’s way + From wisdom to stray, 40 + And Angelica’s whim + To be frolick like him, +But, alas! Your good worships, how could they be wiser, +When both have been spoil’d in to-day’s <i>Advertiser</i>? +</pre> + + <p> + O<small>LIVER</small> G<small>OLDSMITH</small>. + </p> + +<hr /> + +<h3><a name="poem38"></a><a name="page_130" id="page_130"></a> +LETTER IN PROSE AND VERSE TO<br /> MRS. BUNBURY</h3> + + <p> + M<small>ADAM</small>,<br /> I read your letter with all that allowance + which critical candour could require, but after all find so much to object + to, and so much to raise my indignation, that I cannot help giving it a + serious answer. + </p> + + <p> + I am not so ignorant, Madam, as not to see there are many sarcasms + contained in it, and solecisms also. (Solecism is a word that comes from + the town of Soleis in Attica, among the Greeks, built by Solon, and + applied as we use the word Kidderminster for curtains, from a town also of + that name;—but this is learning you have no taste for!)—I say, + Madam, there are sarcasms in it, and solecisms also. But not to seem an + ill-natured critic, I’ll take leave to quote your own words, and give you + my remarks upon them as they occur. You begin as follows:— + </p> + +<p class="poem"> + ‘I hope, my good Doctor, you soon will be here,<br /> + And your spring-velvet coat very smart will appear,<br /> + To open our ball the first day of the year.’ +</p> + + <p> + 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 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 in the middle of winter!!! + That would be +<a name="page_131" id="page_131"></a> + a solecism indeed! and yet, to increase the inconsistence, in another part + of your letter you call me a beau. Now, on one side or other, you must be + wrong. If I am a beau, I can never think of wearing a spring-velvet in + winter: and if I am not a beau, why then, that explains itself. But let me + go on to your two next strange lines:— + </p> + +<p class="poem"> + ‘And bring with you a wig, that is modish and gay,<br /> + dance with the girls that are makers of hay.’ +</p> + + <p> + The absurdity of making hay at Christmas, you yourself seem sensible of: + you say your sister will laugh; and so indeed she well may! The Latins + have an expression for a contemptuous sort of laughter, ‘Naso contemnere + adunco’; that is, to laugh with a crooked nose. She may laugh at you in + the manner of the ancients if she thinks fit. But now I come to the most + extraordinary of all extraordinary propositions, which is, to take your + and your sister’s advice in playing at loo. The presumption of the offer + raises my indignation beyond the bounds of prose; it inspires me at once + with verse and resentment. I take advice! and from whom? You shall hear. + </p> + +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +First let me suppose, what may shortly be true, +The company set, and the word to be, Loo; +All smirking, and pleasant, and big with adventure, +And ogling the stake which is fix’d in the centre. +Round and round go the cards, while I inwardly damn 5 +At never once finding a visit from Pam. +I lay down my stake, apparently cool, +While the harpies about me all pocket the pool.<a name="page_132" id="page_132"></a> +I fret in my gizzard, yet, cautious and sly, +I wish all my friends may be bolder than I: 10 +Yet still they sit snug, not a creature will aim +By losing their money to venture at fame. +’Tis in vain that at niggardly caution I scold, +’Tis in vain that I flatter the brave and the bold: +All play their own way, and they think me an ass,— 15 +‘What does Mrs. Bunbury?’ ‘I, Sir? I pass.’ +‘Pray what does Miss Horneck? Take courage, come do,’— +‘Who, I? let me see, Sir, why I must pass too.’ +Mr. Bunbury frets, and I fret like the devil, +To see them so cowardly, lucky, and civil. 20 +Yet still I sit snug, and continue to sigh on, +Till made by my losses as bold as a lion, +I venture at all,—while my avarice regards +The whole pool as my own—‘Come, give me five cards.’ +‘Well done!’ cry the ladies; ‘Ah, Doctor, that’s good! 25 +The pool’s very rich—ah! the Doctor is loo’d!’ +Thus foil’d in my courage, on all sides perplex’d, +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?’ 30 +‘I advise,’ cries the lady, ‘to try it, I own.— +Ah! the Doctor is loo’d! Come, Doctor, put down.’ +Thus, playing, and playing, I still grow more eager, +And so bold, and so bold, I’m at last a bold beggar. +Now, ladies, I ask, if law-matters you’re skill’d in, 35 +Whether crimes such as yours should not come before Fielding?<a name="page_133" id="page_133"></a> +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. 40 +What justice, when both to the Old Bailey brought! +By the gods, I’ll enjoy it; though ’tis but in thought! +Both are plac’d at the bar, with all proper decorum, +With bunches of fennel, and nosegays before ’em; +Both cover their faces with mobs and all that; 45 +But the judge bids them, angrily, take off their hat. +When uncover’d, a buzz of enquiry runs round,— +‘Pray what are their crimes?’—‘They’ve been pilfering found.’ +‘But, pray, whom have they pilfer’d?’—‘A Doctor, I hear.’ +‘What, yon solemn-faced, odd-looking man that stands near!’ 50 +‘The same.’—‘What a pity! how does it surprise one! +Two handsomer culprits I never set eyes on!’ +Then their friends all come round me with cringing and leering, +To melt me to pity, and soften my swearing. +First Sir Charles advances with phrases well strung, 55 +‘Consider, dear Doctor, the girls are but young.’ +‘The younger the worse,’ I return him again, +‘It shows that their habits are all dyed in grain.’ +‘But then they’re so handsome, one’s bosom it grieves.’ +‘What signifies <i>handsome</i>, when people are thieves?’ 60 +‘But where is your justice? their cases are hard.’ +‘What signifies <i>justice</i>? I want the <i>reward</i>. +</pre> + + <p> + 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 + watchhouse, offers forty pounds,—I shall have all that if I convict + them!’— + </p> + +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +‘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, 65 +For ten pounds in hand, and ten pounds to be spent. +</pre> + + <p> + I challenge you all to answer this: I tell you, you cannot. It cuts deep;—but + now for the rest of the letter: and next— but I want room—so I + believe I shall battle the rest out at Barton some day next week. + </p> + + <p> + I don’t value you all! <br /> + O. G. + </p> + +<hr /> + +<h3><a name="poem39"></a><a name="page_135" id="page_135"></a> +VIDA’S GAME OF CHESS<br /> <br /> TRANSLATED</h3> + +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +ARMIES of box that sportively engage +And mimic real battles in their rage, +Pleased I recount; how, smit with glory’s charms, +Two mighty Monarchs met in adverse arms, +Sable and white; assist me to explore, 5 +Ye Serian Nymphs, what ne’er was sung before. +No path appears: yet resolute I stray +Where youth undaunted bids me force my way. +O’er rocks and cliffs while I the task pursue, +Guide me, ye Nymphs, with your unerring clue. 10 +For you the rise of this diversion know, +You first were pleased in Italy to show +This studious sport; from Scacchis was its name, +The pleasing record of your Sister’s fame. + When Jove through Ethiopia’s parch’d extent 15 +To grace the nuptials of old Ocean went, +Each god was there; and mirth and joy around +To shores remote diffused their happy sound. +Then when their hunger and their thirst no more +Claim’d their attention, and the feast was o’er; 20 +Ocean with pastime to divert the thought, +Commands a painted table to be brought. +Sixty-four spaces fill the chequer’d square; +Eight in each rank eight equal limits share. +Alike their form, but different are their dyes, 25 +They fade alternate, and alternate rise, +White after black; such various stains as those +The shelving backs of tortoises disclose. +Then to the gods that mute and wondering sate, +You see (says he) the field prepared for fate. 30 +Here will the little armies please your sight, +With adverse colours hurrying to the fight: +On which so oft, with silent sweet surprise, +The Nymphs and Nereids used to feast their eyes, +And all the neighbours of the hoary deep, 35 +When calm the sea, and winds were lull’d asleep +But see, the mimic heroes tread the board; +He said, and straightway from an urn he pour’d +The sculptured box, that neatly seem’d to ape +The graceful figure of a human shape:— 40 +Equal the strength and number of each foe, +Sixteen appear’d like jet, sixteen like snow. +As their shape varies various is the name, +Different their posts, nor is their strength the same. +There might you see two Kings with equal pride 45 +Gird on their arms, their Consorts by their side; +Here the Foot-warriors glowing after fame, +There prancing Knights and dexterous Archers came +And Elephants, that on their backs sustain +Vast towers of war, and fill and shake the plain. 50 + And now both hosts, preparing for the storm +Of adverse battle, their encampments form. +In the fourth space, and on the farthest line, +Directly opposite the Monarchs shine; +The swarthy on white ground, on sable stands 55 +The silver King; and then they send commands. +Nearest to these the Queens exert their might; +One the left side, and t’other guards the right: +Where each, by her respective armour known. +Chooses the colour that is like her own. 60 +Then the young Archers, two that snowy-white +Bend the tough yew, and two as black as night; +(Greece call’d them Mars’s favourites heretofore, +From their delight in war, and thirst of gore). +These on each side the Monarch and his Queen 65 +Surround obedient; next to these are seen +The crested Knights in golden armour gay; +Their steeds by turns curvet, or snort or neigh. +In either army on each distant wing +Two mighty Elephants their castles bring, 70 +Bulwarks immense! and then at last combine +Eight of the Foot to form the second line, +The vanguard to the King and Queen; from far +Prepared to open all the fate of war. +So moved the boxen hosts, each double-lined, 75 +Their different colours floating in the wind: +As if an army of the Gauls should go, +With their white standards, o’er the Alpine snow +To meet in rigid fight on scorching sands +The sun-burnt Moors and Memnon’s swarthy bands. 80 + Then Father Ocean thus; you see them here, +Celestial powers, what troops, what camps appear. +Learn now the sev’ral orders of the fray, +For e’en these arms their stated laws obey. +To lead the fight, the Kings from all their bands 85 +Choose whom they please to bear their great commands. +Should a black hero first to battle go, | +Instant a white one guards against the blow; | +But only one at once can charge or shun the foe. | +Their gen’ral purpose on one scheme is bent, 90 +So to besiege the King within the tent, +That there remains no place by subtle flight +From danger free; and that decides the fight. +Meanwhile, howe’er, the sooner to destroy +Th’ imperial Prince, remorseless they employ 95 +Their swords in blood; and whosoever dare +Oppose their vengeance, in the ruin share. +Fate thins their camp; the parti-coloured field +Widens apace, as they o’ercome or yield, +But the proud victor takes the captive’s post; 100 +There fronts the fury of th’ avenging host +One single shock: and (should he ward the blow), +May then retire at pleasure from the foe. +The Foot alone (so their harsh laws ordain) +When they proceed can ne’er return again. 105 + But neither all rush on alike to prove +The terror of their arms: The Foot must move +Directly on, and but a single square; +Yet may these heroes, when they first prepare +To mix in combat on the bloody mead, 110 +Double their sally, and two steps proceed; +But when they wound, their swords they subtly guide +With aim oblique, and slanting pierce his side. +But the great Indian beasts, whose backs sustain +Vast turrets arm’d, when on the redd’ning plain 115 +They join in all the terror of the fight, +Forward or backward, to the left or right, +Run furious, and impatient of confine +Scour through the field, and threat the farthest line. +Yet must they ne’er obliquely aim their blows; | 120 +That only manner is allow’d to those | +Whom Mars has favour’d most, who bend the stubborn bows. | +These glancing sidewards in a straight career, +Yet each confin’d to their respective sphere, +Or white or black, can send th’ unerring dart 125 +Wing’d with swift death to pierce through ev’ry part. +The fiery steed, regardless of the reins, +Comes prancing on; but sullenly disdains +The path direct, and boldly wheeling round, | +Leaps o’er a double space at ev’ry bound: 130 | +And shifts from white or black to diff’rent colour’d ground. | +But the fierce Queen, whom dangers ne’er dismay, +The strength and terror of the bloody day, +In a straight line spreads her destruction wide, +To left or right, before, behind, aside. 135 +Yet may she never with a circling course +Sweep to the battle like the fretful Horse; +But unconfin’d may at her pleasure stray, +If neither friend nor foe block up the way; +For to o’erleap a warrior, ’tis decreed 140 +Those only dare who curb the snorting steed. +With greater caution and majestic state +The warlike Monarchs in the scene of fate +Direct their motions, since for these appear +Zealous each hope, and anxious ev’ry fear. 145 +While the King’s safe, with resolution stern +They clasp their arms; but should a sudden turn +Make him a captive, instantly they yield, +Resolved to share his fortune in the field. +He moves on slow; with reverence profound 150 +His faithful troops encompass him around, +And oft, to break some instant fatal scheme, +Rush to their fates, their sov’reign to redeem; +While he, unanxious where to wound the foe, +Need only shift and guard against a blow. 155 +But none, however, can presume t’ appear +Within his reach, but must his vengeance fear; +For he on ev’ry side his terror throws; +But when he changes from his first repose, +Moves but one step, most awfully sedate, 160 +Or idly roving, or intent on fate. +These are the sev’ral and establish’d laws: +Now see how each maintains his bloody cause. + Here paused the god, but (since whene’er they wage +War here on earth the gods themselves engage 165 +In mutual battle as they hate or love, +And the most stubborn war is oft above), +Almighty Jove commands the circling train +Of gods from fav’ring either to abstain, +And let the fight be silently survey’d; 170 +And added solemn threats if disobey’d. +Then call’d he Phoebus from among the Powers +And subtle Hermes, whom in softer hours +Fair Maia bore: youth wanton’d in their face; +Both in life’s bloom, both shone with equal grace. 175 +Hermes as yet had never wing’d his feet; +As yet Apollo in his radiant seat +Had never driv’n his chariot through the air, +Known by his bow alone and golden hair. +These Jove commission’d to attempt the fray, 180 +And rule the sportive military day; +Bid them agree which party each maintains, +And promised a reward that’s worth their pains. +The greater took their seats; on either hand +Respectful the less gods in order stand, 185 +But careful not to interrupt their play, +By hinting when t’ advance or run away. + Then they examine, who shall first proceed +To try their courage, and their army lead. +Chance gave it for the White, that he should go 190 +First with a brave defiance to the foe. +Awhile he ponder’d which of all his train +Should bear his first commission o’er the plain; +And then determined to begin the scene +With him that stood before to guard the Queen. 195 +He took a double step: with instant care +Does the black Monarch in his turn prepare +The adverse champion, and with stern command +Bid him repel the charge with equal hand. +There front to front, the midst of all the field, 200 +With furious threats their shining arms they wield; +Yet vain the conflict, neither can prevail +While in one path each other they assail. +On ev’ry side to their assistance fly +Their fellow soldiers, and with strong supply 205 +Crowd to the battle, but no bloody stain +Tinctures their armour; sportive in the plain +Mars plays awhile, and in excursion slight +Harmless they sally forth, or wait the fight. + But now the swarthy Foot, that first appear’d 210 +To front the foe, his pond’rous jav’lin rear’d +Leftward aslant, and a pale warrior slays, +Spurns him aside, and boldly takes his place. +Unhappy youth, his danger not to spy! +Instant he fell, and triumph’d but to die. 215 +At this the sable King with prudent care +Removed his station from the middle square, +And slow retiring to the farthest ground, +There safely lurk’d, with troops entrench’d around. +Then from each quarter to the war advance 220 +The furious Knights, and poise the trembling lance: +By turns they rush, by turns the victors yield, +Heaps of dead Foot choke up the crimson’d field: +They fall unable to retreat; around +The clang of arms and iron hoofs resound. 225 + But while young Phoebus pleased himself to view +His furious Knight destroy the vulgar crew, +Sly Hermes long’d t’ attempt with secret aim +Some noble act of more exalted fame. +For this, he inoffensive pass’d along 230 +Through ranks of Foot, and midst the trembling throng +Sent his left Horse, that free without confine +Rov’d o’er the plain, upon some great design +Against the King himself. At length he stood, +And having fix’d his station as he would, 235 +Threaten’d at once with instant fate the King +And th’ Indian beast that guarded the right wing. +Apollo sigh’d, and hast’ning to relieve +The straiten’d Monarch, griev’d that he must leave +His martial Elephant expos’d to fate, 240 +And view’d with pitying eyes his dang’rous state. +First in his thoughts however was his care +To save his King, whom to the neighbouring square +On the right hand, he snatch’d with trembling flight; +At this with fury springs the sable Knight, 245 +Drew his keen sword, and rising to the blow, +Sent the great Indian brute to shades below. +O fatal loss! for none except the Queen +Spreads such a terror through the bloody scene. +Yet shall you ne’er unpunish’d boast your prize, 250 | +The Delian god with stern resentment cries; | +And wedg’d him round with Foot, and pour’d in fresh supplies. | +Thus close besieg’d trembling he cast his eye +Around the plain, but saw no shelter nigh, +No way for flight; for here the Queen oppos’d, 255 +The Foot in phalanx there the passage clos’d: +At length he fell; yet not unpleas’d with fate, +Since victim to a Queen’s vindictive hate. +With grief and fury burns the whiten’d host, +One of their Tow’rs thus immaturely lost. 260 +As when a bull has in contention stern +Lost his right horn, with double vengeance burn +His thoughts for war, with blood he’s cover’d o’er, +And the woods echo to his dismal roar, +So look’d the flaxen host, when angry fate 265 +O’erturn’d the Indian bulwark of their state. +Fired at this great success, with double rage +Apollo hurries on his troops t’ engage, +For blood and havoc wild; and, while he leads +His troops thus careless, loses both his steeds: 270 +For if some adverse warriors were o’erthrown, +He little thought what dangers threat his own. +But slyer Hermes with observant eyes +March’d slowly cautious, and at distance spies +What moves must next succeed, what dangers next arise. 275 +Often would he, the stately Queen to snare, +The slender Foot to front her arms prepare, +And to conceal his scheme he sighs and feigns +Such a wrong step would frustrate all his pains. +Just then an Archer, from the right-hand view, 280 +At the pale Queen his arrow boldly drew, +Unseen by Phoebus, who, with studious thought, +From the left side a vulgar hero brought. +But tender Venus, with a pitying eye, +Viewing the sad destruction that was nigh, 285 +Wink’d upon Phoebus (for the Goddess sat +By chance directly opposite); at that +Roused in an instant, young Apollo threw +His eyes around the field his troops to view: +Perceiv’d the danger, and with sudden fright | 290 +Withdrew the Foot that he had sent to fight, | +And sav’d his trembling Queen by seasonable flight. | +But Maia’s son with shouts fill’d all the coast: +The Queen, he cried, the important Queen is lost. +Phoebus, howe’er, resolving to maintain 295 +What he had done, bespoke the heavenly train. +What mighty harm, in sportive mimic flight, +Is it to set a little blunder right, +When no preliminary rule debarr’d? +If you henceforward, Mercury, would guard 300 +Against such practice, let us make the law: +And whosoe’er shall first to battle draw, +Or white, or black, remorseless let him go +At all events, and dare the angry foe. + He said, and this opinion pleased around: 305 +Jove turn’d aside, and on his daughter frown’d, +Unmark’d by Hermes, who, with strange surprise, +Fretted and foam’d, and roll’d his ferret eyes, +And but with great reluctance could refrain +From dashing at a blow all off the plain. 310 +Then he resolved to interweave deceits,— +To carry on the war by tricks and cheats. +Instant he call’d an Archer from the throng, +And bid him like the courser wheel along: +Bounding he springs, and threats the pallid Queen. 315 +The fraud, however, was by Phoebus seen; +He smiled, and, turning to the Gods, he said: +Though, Hermes, you are perfect in your trade, +And you can trick and cheat to great surprise, | +These little sleights no more shall blind my eyes; | 320 +Correct them if you please, the more you thus disguise. | +The circle laugh’d aloud; and Maia’s son +(As if it had but by mistake been done) +Recall’d his Archer, and with motion due, +Bid him advance, the combat to renew. 325 +But Phoebus watch’d him with a jealous eye, +Fearing some trick was ever lurking nigh, +For he would oft, with sudden sly design, +Send forth at once two combatants to join +His warring troops, against the law of arms, 330 +Unless the wary foe was ever in alarms. + Now the white Archer with his utmost force +Bent the tough bow against the sable Horse, +And drove him from the Queen, where he had stood +Hoping to glut his vengeance with her blood. 335 +Then the right Elephant with martial pride +Roved here and there, and spread his terrors wide: +Glittering in arms from far a courser came, +Threaten’d at once the King and Royal Dame; +Thought himself safe when he the post had seized, 340 +And with the future spoils his fancy pleased. +Fired at the danger a young Archer came, +Rush’d on the foe, and levell’d sure his aim; +(And though a Pawn his sword in vengeance draws, +Gladly he’d lose his life in glory’s cause). 345 +The whistling arrow to his bowels flew, +And the sharp steel his blood profusely drew; +He drops the reins, he totters to the ground, +And his life issued murm’ring through the wound. +Pierced by the Foot, this Archer bit the plain; | 350 +The Foot himself was by another slain; | +And with inflamed revenge, the battle burns again. | +Towers, Archers, Knights, meet on the crimson ground, +And the field echoes to the martial sound. +Their thoughts are heated, and their courage fired, 355 +Thick they rush on with double zeal inspired; +Generals and Foot, with different colour’d mien, | +Confusedly warring in the camps are seen,— | +Valour and fortune meet in one promiscuous scene. | +Now these victorious, lord it o’er the field; 360 +Now the foe rallies, the triumphant yield: +Just as the tide of battle ebbs or flows. +As when the conflict more tempestuous grows +Between the winds, with strong and boisterous sweep +They plough th’ Ionian or Atlantic deep! 365 +By turns prevail the mutual blustering roar, +And the big waves alternate lash the shore. + But in the midst of all the battle raged +The snowy Queen, with troops at once engaged; +She fell’d an Archer as she sought the plain,— 370 +As she retired an Elephant was slain: +To right and left her fatal spears she sent, +Burst through the ranks, and triumph’d as she went; +Through arms and blood she seeks a glorious fate, +Pierces the farthest lines, and nobly great 375 +Leads on her army with a gallant show, +Breaks the battalions, and cuts through the foe. +At length the sable King his fears betray’d, +And begg’d his military consort’s aid: +With cheerful speed she flew to his relief, 380 +And met in equal arms the female chief. + Who first, great Queen, and who at last did bleed? +How many Whites lay gasping on the mead? +Half dead, and floating in a bloody tide, +Foot, Knights, and Archer lie on every side. 385 +Who can recount the slaughter of the day? +How many leaders threw their lives away? +The chequer’d plain is fill’d with dying box, +Havoc ensues, and with tumultuous shocks +The different colour’d ranks in blood engage, 390 +And Foot and Horse promiscuously rage. +With nobler courage and superior might +The dreadful Amazons sustain the fight, +Resolved alike to mix in glorious strife, +Till to imperious fate they yield their life. 395 + Meanwhile each Monarch, in a neighbouring cell, +Confined the warriors that in battle fell, +There watch’d the captives with a jealous eye, +Lest, slipping out again, to arms they fly. +But Thracian Mars, in stedfast friendship join’d 400 +To Hermes, as near Phoebus he reclined, +Observed each chance, how all their motions bend, +Resolved if possible to serve his friend. +He a Foot-soldier and a Knight purloin’d +Out from the prison that the dead confined; 405 +And slyly push’d ’em forward on the plain; | +Th’ enliven’d combatants their arms regain, | +Mix in the bloody scene, and boldly war again. | + So the foul hag, in screaming wild alarms +O’er a dead carcase muttering her charms, 410 +(And with her frequent and tremendous yell +Forcing great Hecate from out of hell) +Shoots in the corpse a new fictitious soul; | +With instant glare the supple eyeballs roll, | +Again it moves and speaks, and life informs the whole. | 415 + Vulcan alone discern’d the subtle cheat; +And wisely scorning such a base deceit, +Call’d out to Phoebus. Grief and rage assail +Phoebus by turns; detected Mars turns pale. +Then awful Jove with sullen eye reproved 420 +Mars, and the captives order’d to be moved +To their dark caves; bid each fictitious spear +Be straight recall’d, and all be as they were. + And now both Monarchs with redoubled rage +Led on their Queens, the mutual war to wage. 425 +O’er all the field their thirsty spears they send, +Then front to front their Monarchs they defend. +But lo! the female White rush’d in unseen, +And slew with fatal haste the swarthy Queen; +Yet soon, alas! resign’d her royal spoils, 430 +Snatch’d by a shaft from her successful toils. +Struck at the sight, both hosts in wild surprise +Pour’d forth their tears, and fill’d the air with cries; +They wept and sigh’d, as pass’d the fun’ral train, +As if both armies had at once been slain. 435 + And now each troop surrounds its mourning chief, +To guard his person, or assuage his grief. +One is their common fear; one stormy blast +Has equally made havoc as it pass’d. +Not all, however, of their youth are slain; 440 +Some champions yet the vig’rous war maintain. +Three Foot, an Archer, and a stately Tower, +For Phoebus still exert their utmost power. +Just the same number Mercury can boast, +Except the Tower, who lately in his post 445 +Unarm’d inglorious fell, in peace profound, +Pierced by an Archer with a distant wound; +But his right Horse retain’d its mettled pride,— +The rest were swept away by war’s strong tide. + But fretful Hermes, with despairing moan, 450 +Griev’d that so many champions were o’erthrown, +Yet reassumes the fight; and summons round +The little straggling army that he found,— +All that had ’scaped from fierce Apollo’s rage,— +Resolved with greater caution to engage 455 +In future strife, by subtle wiles (if fate +Should give him leave) to save his sinking state. +The sable troops advance with prudence slow, +Bent on all hazards to distress the foe. +More cheerful Phoebus, with unequal pace, 460 +Rallies his arms to lessen his disgrace. +But what strange havoc everywhere has been! | +A straggling champion here and there is seen; | +And many are the tents, yet few are left within. | + Th’ afflicted Kings bewail their consorts dead, 465 +And loathe the thoughts of a deserted bed; +And though each monarch studies to improve +The tender mem’ry of his former love, +Their state requires a second nuptial tie. +Hence the pale ruler with a love-sick eye 470 +Surveys th’ attendants of his former wife, +And offers one of them a royal life. +These, when their martial mistress had been slain, +Weak and despairing tried their arms in vain; +Willing, howe’er, amidst the Black to go, 475 +They thirst for speedy vengeance on the foe. +Then he resolves to see who merits best, +By strength and courage, the imperial vest; +Points out the foe, bids each with bold design +Pierce through the ranks, and reach the deepest line: 480 +For none must hope with monarchs to repose +But who can first, through thick surrounding foes, +Through arms and wiles, with hazardous essay, +Safe to the farthest quarters force their way. +Fired at the thought, with sudden, joyful pace 485 +They hurry on; but first of all the race +Runs the third right-hand warrior for the prize,— +The glitt’ring crown already charms her eyes. +Her dear associates cheerfully give o’er | +The nuptial chase; and swift she flies before, | 490 +And Glory lent her wings, and the reward in store. | +Nor would the sable King her hopes prevent, +For he himself was on a Queen intent, +Alternate, therefore, through the field they go. +Hermes led on, but by a step too slow, 495 +His fourth left Pawn: and now th’ advent’rous White +Had march’d through all, and gain’d the wish’d for site. +Then the pleased King gives orders to prepare +The crown, the sceptre, and the royal chair, +And owns her for his Queen: around exult 500 +The snowy troops, and o’er the Black insult. + Hermes burst into tears,—with fretful roar +Fill’d the wide air, and his gay vesture tore. +The swarthy Foot had only to advance +One single step; but oh! malignant chance! 505 +A towered Elephant, with fatal aim, +Stood ready to destroy her when she came: +He keeps a watchful eye upon the whole, +Threatens her entrance, and protects the goal. +Meanwhile the royal new-created bride, 510 +Pleased with her pomp, spread death and terror wide; +Like lightning through the sable troops she flies, +Clashes her arms, and seems to threat the skies. +The sable troops are sunk in wild affright, +And wish th’ earth op’ning snatch’d ’em from her sight. 515 +In burst the Queen, with vast impetuous swing: | +The trembling foes come swarming round the King, | +Where in the midst he stood, and form a valiant ring. | +So the poor cows, straggling o’er pasture land, +When they perceive the prowling wolf at hand, 520 +Crowd close together in a circle full, +And beg the succour of the lordly bull; +They clash their horns, they low with dreadful sound, +And the remotest groves re-echo round. + But the bold Queen, victorious, from behind 525 +Pierces the foe; yet chiefly she design’d +Against the King himself some fatal aim, +And full of war to his pavilion came. +Now here she rush’d, now there; and had she been +But duly prudent, she had slipp’d between, 530 +With course oblique, into the fourth white square, +And the long toil of war had ended there, +The King had fallen, and all his sable state; +And vanquish’d Hermes cursed his partial fate. +For thence with ease the championess might go, 535 +Murder the King, and none could ward the blow. + With silence, Hermes, and with panting heart, +Perceived the danger, but with subtle art, +(Lest he should see the place) spurs on the foe, +Confounds his thoughts, and blames his being slow. 540 +For shame! move on; would you for ever stay? +What sloth is this, what strange perverse delay?— +How could you e’er my little pausing blame?— +What! you would wait till night shall end the game? +Phoebus, thus nettled, with imprudence slew 545 +A vulgar Pawn, but lost his nobler view. +Young Hermes leap’d, with sudden joy elate; +And then, to save the monarch from his fate, +Led on his martial Knight, who stepp’d between, +Pleased that his charge was to oppose the Queen— 550 +Then, pondering how the Indian beast to slay, +That stopp’d the Foot from making farther way,— +From being made a Queen; with slanting aim +An archer struck him; down the monster came, +And dying shook the earth: while Phoebus tries 555 +Without success the monarch to surprise. +The Foot, then uncontroll’d with instant pride, +Seized the last spot, and moved a royal bride. +And now with equal strength both war again, +And bring their second wives upon the plain; 560 +Then, though with equal views each hop’d and fear’d, +Yet, as if every doubt had disappear’d, +As if he had the palm, young Hermes flies +Into excess of joy; with deep disguise, +Extols his own Black troops, with frequent spite 565 +And with invective taunts disdains the White. +Whom Phoebus thus reproved with quick return— +As yet we cannot the decision learn +Of this dispute, and do you triumph now? +Then your big words and vauntings I’ll allow, 570 +When you the battle shall completely gain; +At present I shall make your boasting vain. +He said, and forward led the daring Queen; +Instant the fury of the bloody scene +Rises tumultuous, swift the warriors fly 575 +From either side to conquer or to die. +They front the storm of war: around ’em Fear, +Terror, and Death, perpetually appear. +All meet in arms, and man to man oppose, +Each from their camp attempts to drive their foes; 580 +Each tries by turns to force the hostile lines; +Chance and impatience blast their best designs. +The sable Queen spread terror as she went +Through the mid ranks: with more reserved intent +The adverse dame declined the open fray, 585 +And to the King in private stole away: +Then took the royal guard, and bursting in, +With fatal menace close besieged the King. +Alarm’d at this, the swarthy Queen, in haste, +From all her havoc and destructive waste 590 +Broke off, and her contempt of death to show, | +Leap’d in between the Monarch and the foe, | +To save the King and state from this impending blow. | +But Phoebus met a worse misfortune here: +For Hermes now led forward, void of fear, 595 +His furious Horse into the open plain, +That onward chafed, and pranced, and pawed amain. +Nor ceased from his attempts until he stood +On the long-wished-for spot, from whence he could +Slay King or Queen. O’erwhelm’d with sudden fears, 600 +Apollo saw, and could not keep from tears. +Now all seem’d ready to be overthrown; +His strength was wither’d, ev’ry hope was flown. +Hermes, exulting at this great surprise, +Shouted for joy, and fill’d the air with cries; 605 +Instant he sent the Queen to shades below, +And of her spoils made a triumphant show. +But in return, and in his mid career, +Fell his brave Knight, beneath the Monarch’s spear. + Phoebus, however, did not yet despair, 610 +But still fought on with courage and with care. +He had but two poor common men to show, +And Mars’s favourite with his iv’ry bow. +The thoughts of ruin made ’em dare their best +To save their King, so fatally distress’d. 615 +But the sad hour required not such an aid; +And Hermes breathed revenge where’er he stray’d. +Fierce comes the sable Queen with fatal threat, +Surrounds the Monarch in his royal seat; +Rushed here and there, nor rested till she slew 620 +The last remainder of the whiten’d crew. +Sole stood the King, the midst of all the plain, +Weak and defenceless, his companions slain. +As when the ruddy morn ascending high +Has chased the twinkling stars from all the sky, 625 +Your star, fair Venus, still retains its light, +And, loveliest, goes the latest out of sight. +No safety’s left, no gleams of hope remain; +Yet did he not as vanquish’d quit the plain, +But tried to shut himself between the foe,— | 630 +Unhurt through swords and spears he hoped to go, | +Until no room was left to shun the fatal blow. | +For if none threaten’d his immediate fate, +And his next move must ruin all his state, +All their past toil and labour is in vain, | 635 +Vain all the bloody carnage of the plain,— | +Neither would triumph then, the laurel neither gain. | +Therefore through each void space and desert tent, +By different moves his various course he bent: +The Black King watch’d him with observant eye, 640 +Follow’d him close, but left him room to fly. +Then when he saw him take the farthest line, +He sent the Queen his motions to confine, +And guard the second rank, that he could go +No farther now than to that distant row. 645 +The sable monarch then with cheerful mien +Approach’d, but always with one space between. +But as the King stood o’er against him there, +Helpless, forlorn, and sunk in his despair, +The martial Queen her lucky moment knew, | 650 +Seized on the farthest seat with fatal view, | +Nor left th’ unhappy King a place to flee unto. | +At length in vengeance her keen sword she draws, | +Slew him, and ended thus the bloody cause: | +And all the gods around approved it with applause. | 655 + The victor could not from his insults keep, +But laugh’d and sneer’d to see Apollo weep. +Jove call’d him near, and gave him in his hand +The powerful, happy, and mysterious wand +By which the Shades are call’d to purer day, 660 +When penal fire has purged their sins away; +By which the guilty are condemn’d to dwell +In the dark mansions of the deepest hell; +By which he gives us sleep, or sleep denies, +And closes at the last the dying eyes. 665 +Soon after this, the heavenly victor brought +The game on earth, and first th’ Italians taught. + For (as they say) fair Scacchis he espied +Feeding her cygnets in the silver tide, +(Sacchis, the loveliest Seriad of the place) 670 +And as she stray’d, took her to his embrace. +Then, to reward her for her virtue lost, +Gave her the men and chequer’d board, emboss’d +With gold and silver curiously inlay’d; +And taught her how the game was to be play’d. 675 +Ev’n now ’tis honour’d with her happy name; +And Rome and all the world admire the game. +All which the Seriads told me heretofore, +When my boy-notes amused the Serian shore. +</pre> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>NOTES</h2> + +<h3><a name="note01"></a>INTRODUCTION</h3> + + <p> + <a href="#page_ix">He was born . . . at Pallas.</a> This is the usual + account. But it was maintained by the family of the poet’s mother, and has + been contended (by Dr. Michael F. Cox in a Lecture on ‘The Country and + Kindred of Oliver Goldsmith,’ published in vol. 1, pt. 2, of the <i>Journal</i> + of the ‘National Literary Society of Ireland.’ 1900) that his real + birth-place was the residence of Mrs. Goldsmith’s parents, Smith-Hill + House, Elphin, Roscommon, to which she was in the habit of paying frequent + visits. Meanwhile, in 1897, a window was placed to Goldsmith’s memory in + Forgney Church, Longford,—the church of which, at the time of his + birth, his father was curate. + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_x">his academic career was not a success.</a> ‘Oliver + Goldsmith is recorded on two occasions as being remarkably diligent at + Morning Lecture; again, as cautioned for bad answering at Morning and + Greek Lectures; and finally, as put down into the next class for neglect + of his studies’ (Dr. Stubbs’s <i>History of the University of Dublin</i>, + 1889, p. 201 n.) + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_xi">a scratched signature upon a window-pane.</a> This, + which is now at Trinity College, Dublin, is here reproduced in facsimile. + When the garrets of No. 35, Parliament Square, were pulled down in 1837, + it was cut out of the window by the last occupant of the rooms, who broke + it in the process. (Dr. J. F. Waller in Cassell’s <i>Works</i> of + Goldsmith, [1864–5], pp. xiii-xiv n.) + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_xiii">a poor physician.</a> Where he obtained his diploma + is not known. It was certainly not at Padua (<i>Athenaeum</i>, July + 21, 1894). At Leyden and Louvain Prior made inquiries but, in each case, + without success. The annals of the University of Louvain were, however, + destroyed in the revolutionary wars. (Prior, <i>Life</i>, 1837, i, + pp. 171, 178). + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_xv">declared it to be by Goldsmith.</a> Goldsmith’s + authorship of this version has now been placed beyond a doubt by the + publication in facsimile of his signed receipt to Edward Dilly for + third share of ‘my translation,’ such third share amounting to 6 pounds + 13s. 4d. The receipt, which belongs to Mr. J. W. Ford of Enfield Old Park, + is dated ‘January 11th, 1758.’ (<i>Memoirs of a Protestant</i>, + etc., Dent’s edition, 1895, i, pp. xii-xviii.) + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_xvi">12, Green Arbour Court, Old Bailey.</a> This was a + tiny square occupying a site now absorbed by the Holborn Viaduct and + Railway Station. No. 12, where Goldsmith lived, was later occupied by + Messrs. Smith, Elder & Co. as a printing office. An engraving of the + Court forms the frontispiece to the <i>European Magazine</i> for + January, 1803. + </p> + <p> + <a href="#page_xvii">or some of his imitators.</a> The proximate cause of + the <i>Citizen of the World</i>, as the present writer has suggested + elsewhere, <i> may</i> have been Horace Walpole’s <i>Letter from XoHo</i> + [Soho?], <i>a Chinese Philosopher at London, to his friend Lien Chi, at + Peking</i>. This was noticed as ‘in Montesquieu’s manner’ in the May issue + of the <i>Monthly Review</i> for 1757, to which Goldsmith was a + contributor (<i>Eighteenth Century Vignettes</i>, first series, + second edition, 1897, pp. 108–9). + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_xix"> demonstrable from internal evidence.</a> e.g.—The + references to the musical glasses (ch. ix), which were the rage in 1761–2; + and to the <i>Auditor</i> (ch. xix) established by Arthur Murphy in + June of the latter year. The sale of the ‘Vicar’ is discussed at length in + chapter vii of the editor’s <i>Life of Oliver Goldsmith</i> (‘Great + Writers’ series), 1888, pp. 110–21. + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_xxii">started with a loss.</a> This, which to some critics + has seemed unintelliglble, rests upon the following: ‘The first three + editions, . . . resulted in a loss, and the fourth, which was not issued + until eight [four?] years after the first, started with a balance against + it of £2 16s. 6d., and it was not until that fourth edition had been + sold that the balance came out on the right side’ (<i>A Bookseller of + the Last Century</i> [John Newbery] by Charles Welsh, 1885, p. 61). The + writer based his statement upon Collins’s ‘Publishing book, account of + books printed and shares therein, No. 3, 1770 to 1785.’ + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_xxvii">James’s Powder.</a> This was a famous patent + panacea, invented by Johnson’s Lichfield townsman, Dr. Robert James of the + <i>Medicinal Dictionary</i>. It was sold by John Newbery, and had an + extraordinary vogue. The King dosed Princess Elizabeth with it; Fielding, + Gray, and Cowper all swore by it, and Horace Walpole, who wished to try it + upon Mme. du Deffand <i>in extremis</i>, + said he should use it if the house were on fire. William Hawes, the Strand + apothecary who attended Goldsmith, wrote an interesting <i>Account of the + late Dr. Goldsmith’s Illness, so far as relates to the Exhibition of Dr. + James’s Powders,</i> etc., 1774, which he dedicated to Reynolds and Burke. + To Hawes once belonged the poet’s worn old wooden writing-desk, now in the + South Kensington Museum, where are also his favourite chair and cane. + Another desk-chair, which had descended from his friend, Edmund Bott, was + recently for sale at Sotheby’s (July, 1906). + </p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> +<a name="greenarbor"></a> +<img src="images/greenarbor.jpg" width="244" height="355" alt="[Illustration: +Green Arbour Court, Little Old Bailey.]" /> +<p class="caption">GREEN ARBOUR COURT,<br /> +LITTLE OLD BAILEY<br /> +(as it appeared in 1803)</p> +</div> + +<h3><a name="note02"></a>EDITIONS OF THE POEMS.</h3> + + <p> + No collected edition of Goldsmith’s poetical works appeared until after + his death. But, in 1775, W. Griffin, who had published the <i>Essays</i> + of ten years earlier, issued a volume entitled <i>The Miscellaneous + Works of Oliver Goldsmith, M.B., containing all his Essays and Poems</i>. + The ‘poems’ however were confined to ‘The Traveller,’ ‘The Deserted + Village,’ ‘Edwin and Angelina,’ ‘The Double Transformation,’ ‘A New + Simile,’ and ‘Retaliation,’—an obviously imperfect harvesting. In + the following year G. Kearsly printed an eighth edition of <i>Retaliation</i>, + with which he included ‘The Hermit’ (‘Edwin and Angelina’), ‘The Gift,’ + ‘Madam Blaize,’ and the epilogues to <i>The Sister</i> and <i>She + stoops to Conquer</i>;* while to an edition of <i>The Haunch of + Venison</i>, also put forth in 1776, he added the ‘Epitaph on Parnell’ + and two songs from the oratorio of <i>The Captivity</i>. The next + collection appeared in a volume of <i>Poems and Plays</i> published + at Dublin in 1777, where it was preceded by a ‘Life,’ written by W. + Glover, one of Goldsmith’s ‘Irish clients.’ Then, in 1780, came vol. i of + T. Evans’s <i> Poetical and Dramatic Works, etc., now first collected</i>, + also having a ‘Memoir,’ and certainly fuller than anything which had gone + before. Next followed the long-deferred <i>Miscellaneous Works,</i> + etc., of 1801, in four volumes, vol. ii of which comprised the plays and + poems. Prefixed to this edition is the important biographical sketch, + compiled under the direction of Bishop Percy, and usually described as the + <i>Percy Memoir</i>, by which title it is referred to in the ensuing + notes. The next memorable edition was that edited for the Aldine Series in + 1831, by the Rev. John Mitford. Prior and Wright’s edition in vol. iv of + the <i>Miscellaneous Works</i>, etc., of 1837, comes after this; + then Bolton Corney’s excellent <i>Poetical Works</i> of 1845; and + vol. i of Peter Cunningham’s <i>Works</i>, etc. of 1854. There are + other issues of the poems, the latest of which is to be found in vol. ii + (1885) of the complete <i>Works</i>, in five volumes, edited for + Messrs. George Bell and Sons by J. W. M. Gibbs. + </p> + +<p class="footnote"> +* Some copies of this are dated 1777, and contain <i>The Haunch + of Venison</i> and a few minor pieces. + </p> + + <p> + Most of the foregoing editions have been consulted for the following + notes; but chiefly those of Mitford, Prior, Bolton Corney, and Cunningham. + Many of the illustrations and explanations now supplied will not, however, + be found in any of the sources indicated. When an elucidatory or parallel + passage is cited, an attempt has been made, as far as possible, to give + the credit of it to the first discoverer. Thus, some of the illustrations + in Cunningham’s notes are here transferred to Prior, some of Prior’s to + Mitford, and so forth. As regards the notes themselves, care has been + taken to make them full enough to obviate the necessity, except in rare + instances, of further investigation. It is the editor’s experience that + references to external authorities are, as a general rule, sign-posts to + routes which are seldom travelled.* + </p> + +<p class="footnote"> +* In this connexion may be recalled the dictum of Hume quoted by Dr. + Birkbeck Hill:—‘Every book should be as complete as possible within + itself, and should never refer for anything material to other books’ (<i>History + of England</i>, 1802, ii. 101). + </p> + +<h3><a name="note03"></a>THE TRAVELLER.</h3> + + <p> + It was on those continental wanderings which occupied Goldsmith between + February, 1755 and February, 1756 that he conceived his first idea of + this, the earliest of his poems to which he prefixed his name; and he + probably had in mind Addison’s <i>Letter from Italy to Lord Halifax</i>, + a work in which he found ‘a strain of political thinking that was, at that + time [1701]. new in our poetry.’ (<i>Beauties of English Poesy</i>, + 1767, i. III). From the dedicatory letter to his brother—which says + expressly, ‘as a part of this Poem was formerly written to you from + Switzerland, the whole can now, with propriety, be only inscribed + to you’—it is plain that some portion of it must have been actually + composed abroad. It was not, however, actually published until the 19th of + December, 1764, and the title-page bore the date of 1765.* The publisher + was John Newbery, of St. Paul’s Churchyard, and the price of the book, a + quarto of 30 pages, was 1s. 6d. A second, third and fourth edition quickly + followed, and a ninth, from which it is here reprinted, was issued in + 1774, the year of the author’s death. Between the first and the sixth + edition of 1770 there were numerous alterations, the more important of + which are indicated in the ensuing notes. + </p> + +<p class="footnote"> +* This is the generally recognized first edition. But the late Mr. + Frederick Locker Lampson, the poet and collector, possessed a quarto copy, + dated 1764, which had no author’s name, and in which the dedication ran as + follows:—‘This poem is inscribed to the Rev. Henry Goldsmith, M.A. + By his most affectionate Brother Oliver Goldsmith.’ It was, in all + probability, unique, though it is alleged that there are octavo copies + which present similar characteristics. It has now gone to America with the + Rowfant Library.<br/> + In 1902 an interesting discovery was made by Mr. Bertram Dobell, to + whom the public are indebted for so many important literary ‘finds.’ In a + parcel of pamphlets he came upon a number of loose printed leaves entitled + <i>A Prospect of Society</i>. They obviously belonged to <i>The + Traveller</i>; but seemed to be its ‘formless unarranged material,’ and + contained many variations from the text of the first edition. Mr. Dobell’s + impression was that ‘the author’s manuscript, written on loose leaves, had + fallen into confusion, and was then printed without any attempt at + re-arrangement.’ This was near the mark; but the complete solution of the + riddle was furnished by Mr. Quiller Couch in an article in the <i>Daily + News</i> for March 31, 1902, since recast in his charming volume <i>From + a Cornish Window</i>, 1906, pp. 86–92. He showed conclusively that + <i>The Prospect</i> was ‘merely an early draft of <i>The + Traveller</i> printed backwards in fairly regular sections.’ What had + manifestly happened was this. Goldsmith, turning over each page as + written, had laid it on the top of the preceding page of MS. and forgotten + to rearrange them when done. Thus the series of pages were reversed; and, + so reversed, were set up in type by a matter-of-fact compositor. Mr. + Dobell at once accepted this happy explanation; which—as Mr. Quiller + Couch points out—has the advantage of being a ‘blunder just so + natural to Goldsmith as to be almost postulable.’ One or two of the + variations of Mr. Dobell’s ‘find’—variations, it should be added, + antecedent to the first edition—are noted in their places. + </p> + + <p> + The didactic purpose of <i>The Traveller</i> is defined in the + concluding paragraph of the <i>Dedication</i>; and, like many of the + thoughts which it contains, had been anticipated in a passage + of <i>The Citizen of the World</i>, 1762, i. 185:—‘Every mind + seems capable of entertaining a certain quantity of happiness, which no + institutions can encrease, no circumstances alter, and entirely + independent on fortune.’ But the best short description of the poem is + Macaulay’s:—‘In the <i>Traveller</i> the execution, though + deserving of much praise, is far inferior to the design. No philosophical + poem, ancient or modern, has a plan so noble, and at the same time so + simple. An English wanderer, seated on a crag among the Alps, near the + point where three great countries meet, looks down on the boundless + prospect, reviews his long pilgrimage, recalls the varieties of scenery, + of climate, of government, of religion, of national character, which he + has observed, and comes to the conclusion, just or unjust, that our + happiness depends little on political institutions, and much on the temper + and regulation of our own minds.’ (<i>Encyclop. Britannica</i>, + Goldsmith, February, 1856.) + </p> + + <p> + The only definite record of payment for <i> The Traveller</i> is + ‘Copy of the Traveller, a Poem, 21<i>l</i>,’ in Newbery’s MSS.; but as the + same sum occurs in Memoranda of much later date than 1764, it is possible + that the success of the book may have prompted some supplementary fee. + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_3">A Prospect</a>, i.e. ‘a view.’ ‘I went to Putney, and + other places on the Thames, to take ‘prospects’ in crayon, to carry into + France, where I thought to have them engraved’ (Evelyn, <i>Diary</i>, + 20th June, 1649). And Reynolds uses the word of Claude in his Fourth + Discourse:—‘His pictures are a composition of the various draughts + which he had previously made from various beautiful scenes and prospects’ + (<i>Works</i>, by Malone, 1798, i. 105). The word is common on old + prints, e.g. <i>An Exact Prospect of the Magnificent Stone Bridge at + Westminster</i>, etc., 1751. + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_3"> Dedication.</a> The Rev. Henry Goldsmith, says the + Percy <i> Memoir</i>, 1801, p. 3, ‘had distinguished himself both at + school and at college, but he unfortunately married at the early age of + nineteen; which confined him to a Curacy, and prevented his rising to + preferment in the church.’ + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_3">with an income of forty pounds a year.</a> Cf. <i>The + Deserted Village</i>, ll. 141–2:— + </p> + +<p class="poem"> + A man he was, to all the country dear,<br/> + And passing rich with <i>forty pounds a year</i>. +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> + Cf. also Parson Adams in ch. iii of <i>Joseph Andrews</i>, who has + twenty-three; and Mr. Rivers, in the <i>Spiritual Quixote</i>, + 1772:—‘I do not choose to go into orders to be a curate all my + life-time, and work for about fifteen-pence a day, or twenty-five pounds + a year’ (bk. vi, ch. xvii). Dr. Primrose’s stipend is thirty-five in the + first instance, fifteen in the second (<i>Vicar of Wakefield</i>, + chapters ii and iii). But Professor Hales (<i>Longer English Poems</i>, + 1885, p. 351) supplies an exact parallel in the case of Churchill, who, he + says, when a curate at Rainham, ‘prayed and starved on <i> forty pounds a + year</i>.’ The latter words are Churchill’s own, and sound like a + quotation; but he was dead long before <i>The Deserted Village</i> + appeared in 1770. There is an interesting paper in the <i>Gentleman’s + Magazine</i> for November, 1763, on the miseries and hardships of the + ‘inferior clergy.’ + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_3">But of all kinds of ambition, etc.</a> In the first + edition of 1765, p. ii, this passage was as follows:—‘But of all + kinds of ambition, as things are now circumstanced, perhaps that which + pursues poetical fame, is the wildest. What from the encreased refinement + of the times, from the diversity of judgments produced by opposing systems + of criticism, and from the more prevalent divisions of opinion influenced + by party, the strongest and happiest efforts can expect to please but in a + very narrow circle. Though the poet were as sure of his aim as the + imperial archer of antiquity, who boasted that he never missed the heart; + yet would many of his shafts now fly at random, for the heart is too often + in the wrong place.’ In the second edition it was curtailed; in the sixth + it took its final form. + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_4">they engross all that favour once shown to her.</a> + First version—‘They engross all favour to themselves.’ + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_4">the elder’s birthright.</a> Cunningham here aptly + compares Dryden’s epistle <i>To Sir Godfrey Kneller</i>, II. 89–92:— + </p> + +<p class="poem"> + Our arts are sisters, though not twins in birth;<br/> + For hymns were sung in Eden’s happy earth:<br/> + But oh, the painter muse, though last in place,<br/> + Has seized the blessing first, like Jacob’s race. +</p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_4"><i>Party</i></a>=faction. Cf. lines 31–2 on Edmund Burke in + <i> Retaliation</i>:— + </p> + +<p class="poem"> + Who, born for the Universe, narrow’d his mind,<br/> + And to <i>party</i> gave up what was meant for mankind. +</p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_4">Such readers generally admire, etc.</a> ‘I suppose this + paragraph to be directed against Paul Whitehead, or Churchill,’ writes + Mitford. It was clearly aimed at Churchill, since Prior (<i>Life</i>, + 1837, ii. 54) quotes a portion of a contemporary article in the <i>St. + James’s Chronicle</i> for February 7–9, 1765, attributed to Bonnell + Thornton, which leaves little room for doubt upon the question. ‘The + latter part of this paragraph,’ says the writer, referring to the passage + now annotated, ‘we cannot help considering as a reflection on the memory + of the late Mr. Churchill, whose talents as a poet were so greatly and so + deservedly admired, that during his short reign, his merit in great + measure eclipsed that of others; and we think it no mean acknowledgment of + the excellencies of this poem [<i>The Traveller</i>] to say that, + like the stars, they appear the more brilliant now that the sun of our + poetry is gone down.’ Churchill died on the 4th of November, 1764, some + weeks before the publication of <i>The Traveller</i>. His powers, it + may be, were misdirected and misapplied; but his rough vigour and his + manly verse deserved a better fate at Goldsmith’s hands. + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_4">tawdry</a> was added in the sixth edition of 1770. + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_4">blank verse.</a> Cf. <i>The Present State of Polite + Learning</i>, 1759, p. 150—‘From a desire in the critic of + grafting the spirit of ancient languages upon the English, has proceeded + of late several disagreeable instances of pedantry. Among the number, I + think we may reckon <i>blank verse</i>. Nothing but the greatest sublimity + of subject can render such a measure pleasing; however, we now see it used + on the most trivial occasions’—by which last remark Goldsmith + probably, as Cunningham thinks, intended to refer to the efforts of + Akenside, Dyer, and Armstrong. His views upon blank verse were shared by + Johnson and Gray. At the date of the present dedication, the latest + offender in this way had been Goldsmith’s old colleague on <i>The + Monthly Review</i>, Dr. James Grainger, author of <i>The Sugar Cane</i>, + which was published in June, 1764. (Cf. also <i>The Bee</i> for 24th + November, 1759, ‘An account of the Augustan Age of England.’) + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_4">and that this principle, etc.</a> In the first edition + this read—‘and that this principle in each state, and in our own in + particular, may be carried to a mischievous excess.’ + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_5">Remote, unfriended, melancholy, slow.</a> Mitford + (Aldine edition, 1831, p. 7) compares the following lines from Ovid:— + </p> + +<p class="poem"> + Solus, inops, exspes, leto poenaeque relictus.<br/> + <i>Metamorphoses</i>, xiv. 217.<br/> +<br/> + Exsul, inops erres, alienaque limina lustres, etc.<br/> + <i>Ibis</i>. 113. +</p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_5">slow.</a> A well-known passage from Boswell must here be + reproduced:—‘Chamier once asked him [Goldsmith], what he meant by <i>slow</i>, + the last word in the first line of <i>The Traveller</i>, + </p> + +<p class="poem"> + Remote, unfriended, melancholy, slow. +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> + Did he mean tardiness of locomotion? Goldsmith, who would say something + without consideration, answered “yes.” I [Johnson] was sitting by, and + said, “No, Sir, you do not mean tardiness of locomotion; you mean, that + sluggishness of mind which comes upon a man in solitude.” Chamier believed + then that I had written the line as much as if he had seen me write it.’ + [Birkbeck Hill’s <i>Boswell</i>, 1887, iii. 252–3.) It is quite + possible, however, that Goldsmith meant no more than he said. + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_5">the rude Carinthian boor.</a> ‘Carinthia,’ says + Cunningham, ‘was visited by Goldsmith in 1755, and still (1853) retains + its character for inhospitality.’ + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_5">Campania.</a> ‘Intended,’ says Bolton Corney, ‘to denote + <i>La campagna di Roma</i>. The portion of it which extends from Rome to + Terracina is scarcely habitable.’ + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_5">a lengthening chain.</a> Prior compares Letter iii of + <i>The Citizen of the World</i>, 1762, i. 5:—‘The farther I + travel I feel the pain of separation with stronger force, those ties that + bind me to my native country, and you, are still unbroken. By every + remove, I only drag a greater length of chain.’ But, as Mitford points + out, Cibber has a similar thought in his <i>Comical Lovers</i>, + 1707, Act v:—‘When I am with Florimel, it [my heart] is still your + prisoner, <i>it only draws a longer chain after it</i>.’ And earlier still + in Dryden’s ‘All for Love’, 1678, Act ii, Sc. 1:— + </p> + +<p class="poem"> + My life on’t, he still drags a chain along,<br/> + That needs must clog his flight. +</p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_5">with simple plenty crown’d.</a> In the first edition + this read ‘where mirth and peace abound.’ + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_6">the luxury of doing good.</a> Prior compares Garth’s + <i>Claremont</i>, 1715, where he speaks of the Druids:— + </p> + +<p class="poem"> + Hard was their Lodging, homely was their Food,<br/> + For all their <i>Luxury was doing Good</i>. +</p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_6">my prime of life.</a> He was seven-and-twenty when he + landed at Dover in February, 1756. + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_6">That, like the circle bounding, etc.</a> Cf. <i>Vicar + of Wakefield</i>, 1766, ii. 160–1 (ch. x):—‘Death, the only + friend of the wretched, for a little while mocks the weary traveller with + the view, and like his horizon, still flies before him.’ [Prior.] + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_6">And find no spot of all the world my own.</a> Prior + compares his namesake’s lines <i>In the Beginning of</i> [Jacques] <i>Robbe’s + Geography</i>, 1700:— + </p> + +<p class="poem"> + My destin’d Miles I shall have gone,<br/> + By THAMES or MAESE, by PO or RHONE,<br/> + And <i>found no Foot of Earth my own.</i> +</p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_6">above the storm’s career.</a> Cf. 1. 190 of <i>The + Deserted Village.</i> + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_6">should thankless pride repine?</a> First edition, + ‘’twere thankless to repine.’ + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_6">Say, should the philosophic mind, etc.</a> First + edition:— + </p> + +<p class="poem"> + ’Twere affectation all, and school-taught pride,<br/> + To spurn the splendid things by heaven supply’d +</p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_7">hoard.</a> ‘Sum’ in the first edition. + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_7">Boldly proclaims that happiest spot his own.</a> In the + first version this was— + </p> + +<p class="poem"> + Boldly asserts that country for his own. +</p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_7">And yet, perhaps, etc.</a> In the first edition, for + this and the following five lines appeared these eight:— + </p> + +<p class="poem"> + And yet, perhaps, if states with states we scan,<br/> + Or estimate their bliss on Reason’s plan,<br/> + Though patriots flatter, and though fools contend,<br/> + We still shall find uncertainty suspend;<br/> + Find that each good, by Art or Nature given,<br/> + To these or those, but makes the balance even:<br/> + Find that the bliss of all is much the same,<br/> + And patriotic boasting reason’s shame! +</p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_8">On Idra’s cliffs.</a> Bolton Corney conjectures that + Goldsmith meant ‘Idria, a town in Carniola, noted for its mines.’ + ‘Goldsmith in his “History of Animated Nature” makes mention of the mines, + and spells the name in the same way as here.’ (Mr. J. H. Lobban’s <i>Select + Poems of Goldsmith</i>, 1900, p. 87). Lines 84–5, it may be added, are + not in the first edition. + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_8">And though the rocky-crested summits frown.</a> In the + first edition:— + </p> + +<p class="poem"> + And though rough rocks or gloomy summits frown. +</p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_8">lines 91–2.</a> are not in the first editions. + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_8">peculiar,</a> i.e. ‘proper,’ ‘appropriate.’ + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_9">winnow,</a> i.e. ‘waft,’ ‘disperse.’ John Evelyn refers + to these ‘sea-born gales’ in the ‘Dedication’ of his <i>Fumifugium</i>, + 1661:— ‘Those who take notice of the scent of the orange-flowers + from the rivage of Genoa, and St. Pietro dell’ Arena; the blossomes of the + rosemary from the Coasts of Spain, many leagues off at sea; or the + manifest, and odoriferous wafts which flow from Fontenay and Vaugirard, + even to Paris in the season of roses, with the contrary effect of those + less pleasing smells from other accidents, will easily consent to what I + suggest [i.e. the planting of sweet-smelling trees].’ (<i>Miscellaneous + Writings</i>, 1825, p. 208.) + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_9">Till, more unsteady, etc.</a> In the first edition:— + </p> + +<p class="poem"> + But, more unsteady than the southern gale,<br/> + Soon Commerce turn’d on other shores her sail. +</p> + + <p> + There is a certain resemblance between this passage and one of the later + paradoxes of Smollett’s Lismahago;—‘He affirmed, the nature of + commerce was such, that it could not be fixed or perpetuated, but, having + flowed to a certain height, would immediately begin to ebb, and so + continue till the channels should be left almost dry; but there was no + instance of the tide’s rising a second time to any considerable influx in + the same nation’ (<i>Humphry Clinker</i>, 1771, ii. 192. Letter of + Mr. Bramble to Dr. Lewis). + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_10">lines 141–2.</a> are not in the first edition. + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_10">Its former strength was but plethoric ill.</a> Cf. + <i>The Citizen of the World</i>, 1762, i. 98:—‘In short, the + state resembled one of those bodies bloated with disease, whose bulk is + only a symptom of its wretchedness.’ [Mitford.] + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_10">Yet still the loss, etc.</a> In the first edition:— + </p> + +<p class="poem"> + Yet, though to fortune lost, here still abide<br/> + Some splendid arts, the wrecks of former pride. +</p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_10">The paste-board triumph and the cavalcade.</a> ‘Happy + Country [he is speaking of Italy], where the pastoral age begins to + revive! Where the wits even of Rome are united into a rural groupe of + nymphs and swains, under the appellation of modern Arcadians [i.e. the + Bolognese Academy of the <i>Arcadi</i>]. Where in the midst of porticos, + processions, and cavalcades, abbes turn’d into shepherds, and + shepherdesses without sheep, indulge their innocent <i> divertimenti</i>.’ + (<i>Present State of Polite Learning</i>, 1759, pp. 50–1.) Some of + the ‘paste-board triumphs’ may be studied in the plates of Jacques Callot. + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_10">By sports like these, etc.</a> A pretty and well-known + story is told with regard to this couplet. Calling once on Goldsmith, + Reynolds, having vainly tried to attract attention, entered unannounced. + ‘His friend was at his desk, but with hand uplifted, and a look directed + to another part of the room; where a little dog sat with difficulty on his + haunches, looking imploringly at his teacher, whose rebuke for toppling + over he had evidently just received. Reynolds advanced, and looked past + Goldsmith’s shoulder at the writing on his desk. It seemed to be some + portions of a poem; and looking more closely, he was able to read a + couplet which had been that instant written. The ink of the second line + was wet:— + </p> + +<p class="poem"> + By sports like these are all their cares beguil’d;<br/> + The sports of children satisfy the child. +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> + (Forster’s <i>Life</i>, 1871, i. pp. 347–8). +</p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_10">The sports of children.</a> This line, in the first + edition, was followed by:— + </p> + +<p class="poem"> + At sports like these, while foreign arms advance,<br/> + In passive ease they leave the world to chance. +</p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_10">Each nobler aim, etc.</a> The first edition reads:— + </p> + +<p class="poem"> + When struggling Virtue sinks by long controul,<br/> + She leaves at last, or feebly mans the soul. +</p> + + <p> + This was changed in the second, third, fourth, and fifth editions to:— + </p> + +<p class="poem"> + When noble aims have suffer’d long controul,<br/> + They sink at last, or feebly man the soul. +</p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_10">No product here, etc.</a> The Swiss mercenaries, here + referred to, were long famous in European warfare. + </p> + +<p class="poem"> + They parted with a thousand kisses,<br/> + And fight e’er since for pay, like Swisses.<br/> + Gay’s <i>Aye and No, a Fable</i>. +</p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_11">breasts</a> This fine use of ‘breasts’—as + Cunningham points out—is given by Johnson as an example in his + Dictionary. + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_11">With patient angle, trolls the finny deep.</a> ‘Troll,’ + i.e. as for pike. Goldsmith uses ‘finny prey’ in <i>The Citizen of the + World</i>, 1762, ii. 99:—‘The best manner to draw up the <i>finny + prey</i>.’ Cf. also ‘warbling grove,’ <i>Deserted Village</i>, l. + 361, as a parallel to ‘finny deep.’ + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_11">the struggling savage,</a> i.e. wolf or bear. Mitford + compares the following:—‘He is a beast of prey, and the laws should + make use of as many stratagems and as much force to drive the <i> + reluctant savage</i> into the toils, as the Indians when they hunt the + hyena or the rhinoceros.’ (<i>Citizen of the World</i>, 1762, i. + 112.) See also Pope’s <i>Iliad</i>, Bk. xvii:— + </p> + +<p class="poem"> + But if the <i>savage</i> turns his glaring eye,<br/> + They howl aloof, and round the forest fly. +</p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_12">lines 201–2</a> are not in the first edition. + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_12">For every want,</a> etc. Mitford quotes a parallel + passage in <i>Animated Nature</i>, 1774, ii. 123:—‘Every want + thus becomes a means of pleasure, in the redressing.’ + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_12">Their morals, like their pleasures, are but low.</a> + Probably Goldsmith only uses ‘low’ here in its primitive sense, and not in + that which, in his own day, gave so much umbrage to so many + eighteenth-century students of humanity in the rough. Cf. Fielding, <i>Tom + Jones</i>, 1749, iii. 6:— ‘Some of the Author’s Friends cry’d—“Look’e, + Gentlemen, the Man is a Villain; but it is Nature for all that.” And all + the young Critics of the Age, the Clerks, Apprentices, etc., called it <i>Low</i> + and fell a Groaning.’ See also <i>Tom Jones</i>, iv. 94, and 226–30. + ‘There’s nothing comes out but the ‘most lowest’ stuff in nature’—says + Lady Blarney in ch. xi of the <i> Vicar</i>, whose author is + eloquent on this topic in <i>The Present State of Polite Learning</i>, + 1759, pp. 154–6, and in + <i>She Stoops to Conquer</i>, 1773 (Act i); while Graves (<i>Spiritual + Quixote</i>, 1772, bk. i, ch. vi) gives the fashion the scientific + appellation of <i> tapino-phoby,</i> which he defines as ‘a dread of + everything that is <i>low</i>, either in writing or in conversation.’ To + Goldsmith, if we may trust George Colman’s <i>Prologue</i> to Miss + Lee’s <i>Chapter of Accidents</i>, 1780, belongs the credit of + exorcising this particular form of depreciation:— + </p> + +<p class="poem"> + When Fielding, Humour’s fav’rite child, appear’d,<br/> + <i>Low</i> was the word—a word each author fear’d!<br/> + Till chas’d at length, by pleasantry’s bright ray,<br/> + Nature and mirth resum’d their legal sway;<br/> + And Goldsmith’s genius bask’d in open day. +</p> + + <p> + According to Borrow’s <i>Lavengro</i>, ch. xli, Lord Chesterfield + considered that the speeches of Homer’s heroes were frequently + ‘exceedingly low.’ + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_13">How often, etc.</a> This and the lines which + immediately follow are autobiographical. Cf. George Primrose’s story in + <i>The Vicar of Wakefield</i>, 1766, ii. 24–5 (ch. i):—‘I + passed among the harmless peasants of Flanders, and among such of the + French as were poor enough to be very merry; for I ever found them + sprightly in proportion to their wants. Whenever I approached a peasant’s + house towards night-fall, I played one of my most merry tunes, and that + procured me not only a lodging, but subsistence for the next day.’ + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_13">gestic lore,</a> i.e. traditional gestures or motions. + Scott uses the word ‘gestic’ in <i>Peveril of the Peak</i>, ch. xxx, + where King Charles the Second witnesses the dancing of Fenella:—‘He + bore time to her motions with the movement of his foot—applauded + with head and with hand—and seemed, like herself, carried away by + the enthusiasm of the <i>gestic</i> art.’ [Hales.] + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_13">Thus idly busy rolls their world away.</a> Pope has + ‘Life’s <i>idle business</i>’ (<i>Unfortunate Lady</i>, l. 81), and— + </p> + +<p class="poem"> + The <i>busy, idle</i> blockheads of the ball.<br/> + Donne’s <i>Satires</i>, iv. l. 203. +</p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_14">And all are taught an avarice of praise.</a> Professor + Hales (<i>Longer English Poems</i>) compares Horace of the Greeks:— + </p> + +<p class="poem"> + Praeter laudem, nullius avaris.<br/> + <i>Ars Poetica</i>, l. 324. +</p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_14">copper lace.</a> ‘St Martin’s lace,’ for which, in + Strype’s day, Blowbladder St. was famous. Cf. the actress’s ‘copper tail’ + in <i>Citizen of the World</i>, 1762, ii. 60. + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_14">To men of other minds, etc.</a> Prior compares with the + description that follows a passage in vol. i. p. 276 of <i>Animated + Nature</i>, 1774:—‘But we need scarce mention these, when we find + that the whole kingdom of Holland seems to be a conquest upon the sea, and + in a manner rescued from its bosom. The surface of the earth, in this + country, is below the level of the bed of the sea; and I remember, upon + approaching the coast, to have looked down upon it from the sea, as into a + valley.’ + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_14">Where the broad ocean leans against the land.</a> Cf. + Dryden in <i>Annus Mirabilis</i>, 1666, st. clxiv. l. 654:— + </p> + +<p class="poem"> + And view the ocean leaning on the sky. +</p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_14">the tall rampire’s,</a> i.e. rampart’s (Old French, <i>rempart, + rempar</i>). Cf. <i>Timon of Athens</i>, Act v. Sc. 4:—‘Our + rampir’d gates.’ + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_15">bosom reign</a> in the first edition was ‘breast + obtain.’ + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_15">Even liberty itself is barter’d here.</a> ‘Slavery,’ + says Mitford, ‘was permitted in Holland; children were sold by their + parents for a certain number of years.’ + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_15">A land of tyrants, and a den of slaves.</a> Goldsmith + uses this very line as prose in Letter xxxiv of <i>The Citizen of the + World</i>, 1762, i. 147. + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_15">dishonourable graves.</a> <i>Julius Caesar</i>, + Act i. Sc. 2. + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_15">Heavens! how unlike, etc.</a> Prior compares a passage + from a manuscript <i> Introduction to the History of the Seven Years’ + War</i>:—‘How unlike the brave peasants their ancestors, who + spread terror into either India, and always declared themselves the allies + of those who drew the sword in defence of freedom.’* + </p> + +<p class="footnote"> +* J. W. M. Gibbs (<i>Works</i>, v. 9) discovered that parts of + this <i>History</i>, hitherto supposed to have been written in 1761, were + published in the <i>Literary Magazine</i>, 1757–8. + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_15">famed Hydaspes,</a> i.e. the <i>fabulosus Hydaspes</i> + of Horace, Bk. i. Ode xxii, and the <i>Medus Hydaspes</i> of Virgil, + <i> Georg</i>, iv. 211, of which so many stores were told. It is now + known as the Jhilum, one of the five rivers which give the Punjaub its + name. + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_16">Pride in their port,</a> etc. In the first edition + these two lines were inverted. + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_16">Here by the bonds of nature feebly held.</a> In the + first edition— + </p> + +<p class="poem"> + See, though by circling deeps together held. +</p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_16">Nature’s ties</a> was ‘social bonds’ in the first + edition. + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_17">Where kings have toil’d, and poets wrote for fame.</a> + In the first edition this line read:— + </p> + +<p class="poem"> + And monarchs toil, and poets pant for fame. +</p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_17">Yet think not, etc.</a> ‘In the things I have hitherto + written I have neither allured the vanity of the great by flattery, nor + satisfied the malignity of the vulgar by scandal, but I have endeavoured + to get an honest reputation by liberal pursuits.’ (Preface to <i> + English History.</i>) [Mitford.] + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_17">Ye powers of truth, etc.</a> The first version has:— + </p> + +<p class="poem"> + Perish the wish; for, inly satisfy’d,<br/> + Above their pomps I hold my ragged pride. +</p> + + <p> + Mr. Forster thinks (<i>Life</i>, 1871, i. 375) that Goldsmith + altered this (i.e. ‘ragged pride’) because, like the omitted <i>Haud + inexpertus loquor</i> of the <i> Enquiry</i>, it involved an + undignified admission. + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_17">lines 365–80</a> are not in the first edition. + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_18">Contracting regal power to stretch their own.</a> ‘It + is the interest of the great, therefore, to diminish kingly power as much + as possible; because whatever they take from it is naturally restored to + themselves; and all they have to do in a state, is to undermine the single + tyrant, by which they resume their primaeval authority.’ (<i>Vicar of + Wakefield</i>, 1766, i. 202, ch. xix.) + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_18">When I behold, etc.</a> Prior compares a passage in + Letter xlix of <i> The Citizen of the World</i>, 1762, i. 218, where + the Roman senators are spoken of as still flattering the people ‘with a + shew of freedom, while themselves only were free.’ + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_18">Laws grind the poor, and rich men rule the law.</a> + Prior notes a corresponding utterance in <i>The Vicar of Wakefield</i>, + 1766, i. 206, ch. xix:—‘What they may then expect, may be seen by + turning our eyes to Holland, Genoa, or Venice, where the laws govern the + poor, and the rich govern the law.’ + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_18">I fly from petty tyrants to the throne.</a> Cf. Dr. + Primrose, <i>ut supra</i>, p. 201:—‘The generality of mankind also + are of my + way of thinking, and have unanimously created one king, whose election at + once diminishes the number of tyrants, and puts tyranny at the greatest + distance from the greatest number of people.’ Cf. also Churchill, <i>The + Farewell</i>, ll. 363–4 and 369–70:— + </p> + +<p class="poem"> + Let not a Mob of Tyrants seize the helm,<br/> + Nor titled upstarts league to rob the realm...<br/> + Let us, some comfort in our griefs to bring,<br/> + Be slaves to one, and be that one a King. +</p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_18">lines 393–4.</a> Goldsmith’s first thought was— + </p> + +<p class="poem"> + Yes, my lov’d brother, cursed be that hour<br/> + When first ambition toil’d for foreign power,— +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> + an entirely different couplet to that in the text, and certainly more + logical. (Dobell’s <i>Prospect of Society</i>, 1902, pp. xi, 2, and + Notes, v, vi). Mr. Dobell plausibly suggests that this Tory substitution + is due to Johnson. + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_18">Have we not seen, etc.</a> These lines contain the + first idea of the subsequent poem of <i>The Deserted Village</i> (<i>q.v.</i>). + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_19">Where wild Oswego spreads her swamps around.</a> The + Oswego is a river which runs between Lakes Oneida and Ontario. In the + <i>Threnodia Augustalis</i>, 1772, Goldsmith writes:— + </p> + +<p class="poem"> + Oswego’s dreary shores shall be my grave. +</p> + + <p> + The ‘desarts of Oswego’ were familiar to the eighteenth-century reader in + connexion with General Braddock’s ill-fated expedition of 1755, an + account of which Goldsmith had just given in <i>An History of England, + in a Series of Letters from a Nobleman to his Son</i>, 1764, ii. 202–4. + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_19">marks with murderous aim.</a> In the first edition + ‘takes a deadly aim.’ + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_19">pensive exile.</a> This, in the version mentioned in + the next note, was ‘famish’d exile.’ + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_19">To stop too fearful, and too faint to go.</a> This + line, upon Boswell’s authority, is claimed for Johnson (Birkbeck Hill’s + <i> Boswell</i>, 1887, ii. 6). Goldsmith’s original ran:— + </p> + +<p class="poem"> + And faintly fainter, fainter seems to go. +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> + (Dobell’s <i>Prospect of Society</i>, 1902, p. 3). + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_19">How small, of all, etc.</a> Johnson wrote these + concluding + ten lines with the exception of the penultimate couplet. They and line 420 + were all—he told Boswell—of which he could be sure (Birkbeck + Hill’s <i>Boswell</i>, <i>ut supra</i>). Like Goldsmith, he + sometimes worked his prose ideas into his verse. The first couplet is + apparently a reminiscence of a passage in his own <i>Rasselas</i>, + 1759, ii. 112, where the astronomer speaks of ‘the task of a king . . . + who has the care only of a few millions, to whom he cannot do much good or + harm.’ (Grant’s <i>Johnson</i>, 1887, p. 89.) ‘I would not give half + a guinea to live under one form of government rather than another,’ he + told that ‘vile Whig,’ Sir Adam Fergusson, in 1772. ‘It is of no moment to + the happiness of an individual’ (Birkbeck Hill’s <i> Boswell</i>, + 1887, ii. 170). + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_19">The lifted axe.</a> Mitford here recalls Blackmore’s + </p> + +<p class="poem"> + Some the sharp axe, and some the painful wheel. +</p> + + <p> + The ‘lifted axe’ he also traces to Young and Blackmore, with both of whom + Goldsmith seems to have been familiar; but it is surely not necessary to + assume that he borrowed from either in this instance. + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_19">Luke’s iron crown.</a> George and Luke Dosa, or Doscha, + headed a rebellion in Hungary in 1513. The former was proclaimed king by + the peasants; and, in consequence suffered, among other things, the + torture of the red-hot iron crown. Such a punishment took place at + Bordeaux when Montaigne was seventeen (Morley’s Florio’s <i> Montaigne</i>, + 1886, p. xvi). Much ink has been shed over Goldsmith’s lapse of ‘Luke’ for + George. In the book which he cited as his authority, the family name of + the brothers was given as Zeck,—hence Bolton Corney, in his edition + of the <i> Poetical Works</i>, 1845, p. 36, corrected the line to— + </p> + +<p class="poem"> + <i>Zeck’s</i> iron crown, etc., +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> + an alteration which has been adopted by other editors. (See also Forster’s + <i>Life</i>, 1871, i. 370.) + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_19">Damien’s bed of steel.</a> Robert-Francois Damiens, + 1714–57. Goldsmith writes ‘Damien’s.’ In the <i>Gentlemen’s Magazine</i> + for 1757, vol. xxvii. pp. 87 and 151, where there is an account of this + poor half-witted wretch’s torture and execution for attempting to + assassinate Louis XV, the name is thus spelled, as also in other + contemporary records and caricatures. The following passage explains the + ‘bed of steel’:—‘Being conducted + to the Conciergerie, an ‘iron bed’, which likewise served for a chair, was + prepared for him, and to this he was fastened with chains. The torture was + again applied, and a physician ordered to attend to see what degree of + pain he could support,’ etc. (Smollett’s <i>History of England</i>, + 1823, bk. iii, ch. 7, § xxv.) Goldsmith’s own explanation—according + to Tom Davies, the bookseller—was that he meant the rack. But Davies + may have misunderstood him, or Goldsmith himself may have forgotten the + facts. (See Forster’s <i>Life</i>, 1871, i. 370.) At pp. 57–78 of + the <i> Monthly Review</i> for July, 1757 (upon which Goldsmith was + at this date employed), is a summary, ‘from our correspondent at Paris,’ + of the official record of the Damiens’ Trial, 4 vols. 12 mo.; and his deed + and tragedy make a graphic chapter in the remarkable <i>Strange + Adventures of Captain Dangerous</i>, by George Augustus Sala, 1863, + iii. pp. 154–180. + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_19">line 438.</a> In the first edition of ‘The Traveller’ + there are only 416 lines. + </p> + +<h3><a name="note04"></a><a href="#page_21">THE DESERTED VILLAGE.</a></h3> + + <p> + After having been for some time announced as in preparation, <i>The + Deserted Village</i> made its first appearance on May 26, 1770.* It was + received with great enthusiasm. In June a second, third, and fourth + edition followed, and in August a fifth was published. The text here given + is that of the fourth edition, which was considerably revised. Johnson, we + are told, thought <i>The Deserted Village</i> inferior to <i>The + Traveller</i>: but ‘time,’ to use Mr. Forster’s words, ‘has not + confirmed <i>that</i> judgment.’ Its germ is perhaps to be found in ll. + 397–402 of the earlier poem. + </p> + +<p class="footnote"> +* In the American <i>Bookman</i> for February, 1901, pp. + 563–7, Mr. Luther S. Livingston gives an account (with facsimile + title-pages) of three <i>octavo</i> (or rather duodecimo) editions all + dated 1770; and ostensibly printed for ‘W. Griffin, at Garrick’s Head, in + Catherine-street, Strand.’ He rightly describes their existence as ‘a + bibliographical puzzle.’ They afford no important variations; are not + mentioned by the early editors; and are certainly not in the form in which + the poem was first advertised and reviewed, as this was a quarto. But they + are naturally of interest to the collector; and the late Colonel Francis + Grant, a good Goldsmith scholar, described one of them in the <i>Athenaeum</i> + for June 20, 1896 (No. 3582). + </p> + + <p> + Much research has been expended in the endeavour to identify the scene + with Lissoy, the home of the poet’s youth (see <i>Introduction</i>, p. + ix); but the result has only been partially successful. The truth seems + that Goldsmith, living in England, recalled in a poem that was English in + its conception many of the memories and accessories of his early life in + Ireland, without intending or even caring to draw an exact picture. Hence, + as Lord Macaulay has observed, in a much criticized and characteristic + passage, ‘it is made up of incongruous parts. The village in its happy + days is a true English village. The village in its decay is an Irish + village. The felicity and the misery which Goldsmith has brought close + together belong to two different countries, and to two different stages in + the progress of society. He had assuredly never seen in his native island + such a rural paradise, such a seat of plenty, content, and tranquillity, + as his “Auburn.” He had assuredly never seen in England all the + inhabitants of such a paradise turned out of their homes in one day and + forced to emigrate in a body to America. The hamlet he had probably seen + in Kent; the ejectment he had probably seen in Munster; but, by joining + the two, he has produced something which never was and never will be seen + in any part of the world.’ (<i>Encyclop. Britannica</i>, 1856.) It + is obvious also that in some of his theories—the depopulation of the + kingdom, for example—Goldsmith was mistaken. But it was not for its + didactic qualities then, nor is it for them now, that <i>The Deserted + Village</i>’ delighted and delights. It maintains its popularity by its + charming <i>genre</i>-pictures, its sweet and tender passages, its + simplicity, its sympathetic hold upon the enduring in human nature. To + test it solely with a view to establish its topographical accuracy, or to + insist too much upon the value of its ethical teaching, is to mistake its + real mission as a work of art. + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_21">Dedication. I am ignorant of that art in which you are + said to excel.</a> This modest confession did not prevent Goldsmith from + making fun of the contemporary connoisseur. See the letter from the young + virtuoso in <i>The Citizen of the World</i>, 1762, i. 145, + announcing that a famous ‘torse’ has been discovered to be not ‘a + Cleopatra bathing’ but ‘a Hercules spinning’; and Charles Primrose’s + experiences at Paris (<i>Vicar of Wakefield</i>, 1766, ii. 27–8). + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_21">He is since dead.</a> Henry Goldsmith died in May, + 1768, at the age of forty-five, being then curate of Kilkenny West. (See + note, p. 164.) + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_216">a long poem.</a> ‘I might dwell upon such thoughts . . + . were I not afraid of making this preface too tedious; especially since I + shall want all the patience of the reader, for having enlarged it with the + following verses.’ (Tickell’s Preface to Addison’s <i> Works</i>, at + end.) + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_22">the increase of our luxuries.</a> The evil of luxury + was a ‘common topick’ with Goldsmith. (Birkbeck Hill’s <i>Boswell</i>, + 1887, ii. 217–8.) Smollett also, speaking with the voice of Lismahago, and + continuing the quotation on p. 169, was of the opinion that ‘the sudden + affluence occasioned by trade, forced open all the sluices of luxury, and + overflowed the land with every species of profligacy and corruption.’ (<i>Humphry + Clinker</i>, 1771, ii. 192.—Letter of Mr. Bramble to Dr. Lewis.) + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#page_23">Sweet</a> AUBURN. Forster, <i>Life</i>, 1871, ii. + 206, says that Goldsmith obtained this name from Bennet Langton. There is + an Aldbourn or Auburn in Wiltshire, not far from Marlborough, which Prior + thinks may have furnished the suggestion. + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_23">Seats of my youth.</a> This alone would imply that + Goldsmith had in mind the environment of his Irish home. + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_23">The decent church that topp’d the neighbouring hill.</a> + This corresponds with the church of Kilkenny West as seen from the house + at Lissoy. + </p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> +<a name="kilkenny"></a> +<img src="images/kilkenny.jpg" width="319" height="226" alt="[Illustration: ]" /> +<p class="caption">KILKENNY WEST CHURCH<br /> +(R. H. Newell)</p> +</div> + + <p> + <a href="#page_23">The hawthorn bush.</a> The Rev. Annesley Strean, Henry + Goldsmith’s successor at Kilkenny West, well remembered the hawthorn bush + in front of the village ale-house. It had originally three trunks; but + when he wrote in 1807 only one remained, ‘the other two having been cut, + from time to time, by persons carrying pieces of it away to be made into + toys, etc., in honour of the bard, and of the celebrity of his poem.’ (<i>Essay + on Light Reading</i>, by the Rev. Edward Mangin, M.A., 1808, 142–3.) + Its remains were enclosed by a Captain Hogan previously to 1819; but + nevertheless when Prior visited the place in 1830, nothing was apparent + but ‘a very tender shoot [which] had again forced its way to the surface.’ + (Prior, <i> Life</i>, 1837, ii. 264.) An engraving of the tree by S. + Alken, from a sketch made in 1806–9, is to be + found at p. 41 of Goldsmith’s <i>Poetical Works</i>, R. H. Newell’s + edition, 1811, and is reproduced in the present volume. + </p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> +<a name="hawthorn"></a> +<img src="images/hawthorn.jpg" width="318" height="225" alt="[Illustration: ]" /> +<p class="caption">HAWTHORN TREE<br /> +(R. H. Newell)</p> +</div> + + <p> + <a href="#page_23">How often have I bless’d the coming day.</a> Prior, + <i>Life</i>, 1837, ii. 261, finds in this an allusion ‘to the + Sundays or numerous holidays, usually kept in Roman Catholic countries.’ + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_24">Amidst thy bowers the tyrant’s hand is seen.</a> + Strean’s explanation (Mangin, <i>ut supra</i>, pp. 140–1) of this is as + follows:—‘The poem of <i>The Deserted Village</i>, took its + origin from the circumstance of general Robert Napper [Napier or Naper], + (the grandfather of the gentleman who now [1807] lives in the house, + within half a mile of Lissoy, and built by the general) having purchased + an extensive tract of the country surrounding Lissoy, or <i>Auburn</i>; in + consequence of which many families, here called <i>cottiers</i>, were + removed, to make room for the intended improvements of what was now to + become the wide domain of a rich man, warm with the idea of changing the + face of his new acquisition; and were forced, “<i>with fainting steps,</i>” + to go in search of “<i>torrid tracts</i>” and “<i>distant climes.</i>”’ + </p> + + <p> + Prior (<i>Life</i>, 1837, i. 40–3) points out that Goldsmith was not + the first to give poetical expression to the wrongs of the dispossessed + Irish peasantry; and he quotes a long extract from the <i>Works</i> + (1741) of a Westmeath poet, Lawrence Whyte, which contains such passages + as these:— + </p> + +<p class="poem"> + Their native soil were forced to quit,<br/> + So Irish landlords thought it fit;<br/> + Who without ceremony or rout,<br/> + For their improvements turn’d them out ...<br/> + How many villages they razed,<br/> + How many parishes laid waste ...<br/> + Whole colonies, to shun the fate<br/> + Of being oppress’d at such a rate,<br/> + By tyrants who still raise their rent,<br/> + Sail’d to the Western Continent. +</p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_24">The hollow-sounding bittern guards its nest</a>. ‘Of + all those sounds,’ says Goldsmith, speaking of the cries of waterfowl, + ‘there is none so dismally hollow as the booming of the bittern.’ . . . ‘I + remember in the place where I was a boy with what terror this bird’s note + affected the whole village; they + considered it as the presage of some sad event; and generally found or + made one to succeed it.’ (<i>Animated Nature</i>, 1774, vi. 1–2, 4.) + </p> + + <p> + Bewick, who may be trusted to speak of a bird which he has drawn with such + exquisite fidelity, refers (<i>Water Birds</i>, 1847, p. 49) to ‘the + hollow booming noise which the bittern makes during the night, in the + breeding season, from its swampy retreats.’ Cf. also that close observer + Crabbe (<i>The Borough</i>, Letter xxii, ll. 197–8):— + </p> + +<p class="poem"> + And the loud bittern, from the bull-rush home,<br/> + Gave from the salt-ditch side the bellowing boom. +</p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_25">Princes and lords may flourish, or may fade;<br /> + A breath can make them, as a breath has made.</a> + </p> + + <p> + Mitford compares <i>Confessio Amantis</i>, fol. 152:— + </p> + +<p class="poem"> + A kynge may make a lorde a knave,<br/> + And of a knave a lord also; +</p> + + <p> + and Professor Hales recalls Burns’s later line in the <i>Cotter’s + Saturday Night</i>, 1785:— + </p> + +<p class="poem"> + Princes and lords are but the breath of kings. +</p> + + <p> + But Prior finds the exact equivalent of the second line in the verses of + an old French poet, De. Caux, upon an hour-glass:— + </p> + +<p class="poem"> + C’est un verre qui luit,<br/> + Qu’un souffle peut détruire, et qu’un souffle a +produit. +</p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_25">A time there was, ere England’s griefs began.</a> Here + wherever the locality of Auburn, the author had clearly England in mind. A + caustic commentator has observed that the ‘time’ indicated must have been + a long while ago. + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_25">opulence.</a> In the first edition the word is + ‘luxury.’ + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_25">And, many a year elapsed, return to view.</a> ‘It is + strongly contended at Lishoy, that “<i>the Poet</i>,” as he is usually + called there, after his pedestrian tour upon the Continent of Europe, + returned to and resided in the village some time. . . . It is moreover + believed, that the havock which had been made in his absence among those + favourite scenes of his youth, affected his mind so deeply, that he + actually composed great part of the Deserted Village ‘at’ Lishoy.’ (<i>Poetical + Works, with Remarks</i>, etc., by the Rev. R. H. Newell, 1811, p. 74.) + </p> + + <p> + Notwithstanding the above, there is no evidence that Goldsmith ever + returned to his native island. In a letter to his brother-in-law, Daniel + Hodson, written in 1758, he spoke of hoping to do so ‘in five or six + years.’ (<i>Percy Memoir</i>, 1801, i. 49). But in another letter, + written towards the close of his life, it is still a thing to come. ‘I am + again,’ he says, ‘just setting out for Bath, and I honestly say I had much + rather it had been for Ireland with my nephew, but that pleasure I hope to + have before I die.’ (Letter to Daniel Hodson, no date, in possession of + the late Frederick Locker Lampson.) + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_25">Where once the cottage stood, the hawthorn grew.</a> + Here followed, in the first edition:— + </p> + +<p class="poem"> + Here, as with doubtful, pensive steps I range,<br/> + Trace every scene, and wonder at the change,<br/> + Remembrance, etc. +</p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_26">In all my griefs—and God has given my share.</a> + Prior notes a slight similarity here to a line of Collins:— + </p> + +<p class="poem"> + Ye mute companions of my toils, that bear,<br/> + <i>In all my griefs</i>, a more than equal share!<br/> + <i>Hassan; or, The Camel Driver.</i> +</p> + + <p> + In <i>The Present State of Polite Learning</i>, 1759, p. 143, + Goldsmith refers feelingly to ‘the neglected author of the Persian + eclogues, which, however inaccurate, excel any in our language.’ He + included four of them in <i>The Beauties of English Poesy</i>, 1767, + i. pp. 239–53. + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_26">To husband out,</a> etc. In the first edition this ran:— + </p> + +<p class="poem"> + My anxious day to husband near the close,<br/> + And keep life’s flame from wasting by repose. +</p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_26">Here to return—and die at home at last.</a> + Forster compares a passage in <i>The Citizen of the World</i>, 1762, + ii. 153:—‘There is something so seducing in that spot in which we + first had existence, that nothing but it can please; whatever vicissitudes + we experience in life, however we toil, or wheresoever we wander, our + fatigued wishes still recur to home for tranquillity, we long to die in + that spot which gave us birth, and in that pleasing expectation opiate + every calamity.’ The poet Waller too—he adds—wished to die + ‘like the stag where he was roused.’ (<i>Life</i>, 1871, ii. 202.) + </p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> +<a name="southview"></a> +<img src="images/southview.jpg" width="600" height="421" alt="[Illustration: ]" /> +<p class="caption">South View from Goldsmith’s Mount<br/> +(R.H. Newell)</p> +</div> + + <p> + <a href="#page_26">How happy he.</a> ‘How blest is he’ in the first + edition. + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_26">And, since ’tis hard to combat, learns to fly.</a> + Mitford compares <i>The Bee</i> for October 13, 1759, p. 56:—‘By + struggling with misfortunes, we are sure to receive some wounds in the + conflict. The only method to come off victorious, is by running away.’ + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_26">surly porter.</a> Mr. J. M. Lobban compares the <i>Citizen + of the World</i>, 1762, i. 123:—‘I never see a nobleman’s door + half opened that some surly porter or footman does not stand full in the + breach.’ (<i>Select Poems of Goldsmith</i>, 1900, p. 98.) + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_26">Bends.</a> ‘Sinks’ in the first edition. <i>unperceived + decay</i>. Cf. Johnson, <i>Vanity of Human Wishes</i>, 1749, l. 292:— + </p> + +<p class="poem"> + An age that melts with unperceiv’d decay,<br/> + And glides in modest innocence away; +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> + and <i>Irene</i>, Act ii, Sc. 7:— + </p> + +<p class="poem"> + And varied life steal unperceiv’d away. +</p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_26">While Resignation,</a> etc. In 1771 Sir Joshua + exhibited a picture of ‘An Old Man,’ studied from the beggar who was his + model for Ugolino. When it was engraved by Thomas Watson in 1772, he + called it ‘Resignation,’ and inscribed the print to Goldsmith in the + following words:—‘This attempt to express a Character in <i>The + Deserted Village</i>, is dedicated to Dr. Goldsmith, by his sincere + Friend and admirer, J<small>OSHUA</small> R<small>EYNOLDS</small>.’ + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_27">Up yonder hill.</a> It has been suggested that + Goldsmith was here thinking of the little hill of Knockaruadh (Red Hill) + in front of Lissoy parsonage, of which there is a sketch in Newell’s <i>Poetical + Works</i>, 1811. When Newell wrote, it was already known as + ‘Goldsmith’s mount’; and the poet himself refers to it in a letter to his + brother-in-law Hodson, dated Dec. 27, 1757:—‘I had rather be placed + on the little mount before Lishoy gate, and there take in, to me, the most + pleasing horizon in nature.’ (<i>Percy Memoir</i>, 1801, p. 43.) + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_27">And fill’d each pause the nightingale had made.</a> In + <i>Animated Nature</i>, 1774, v. 328, Goldsmith says:—‘The + nightingale’s pausing song would be the proper epithet for this bird’s + music.’ [Mitford.] + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_27">No cheerful murmurs fluctuate in the gale.</a> (Cf. + Goldsmith’s Essay on <i> Metaphors</i> (<i>British Magazine</i>):—‘Armstrong + has used the word ‘fluctuate’ with admirable efficacy, in his + philosophical poem entitled <i>The Art of Preserving Health</i>. + </p> + +<p class="poem"> + Oh! when the growling winds contend, and all<br/> + The sounding forest ‘fluctuates’ in the storm,<br/> + To sink in warm repose, and hear the din<br/> + Howl o’er the steady battlements. +</p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_27">The sad historian of the pensive plain.</a> Strean (see + note to l. 13) identified the old watercress gatherer as a certain + Catherine Giraghty (or Geraghty). Her children (he said) were still living + in the neighbourhood of Lissoy in 1807. (Mangin’s <i>Essay on Light + Reading</i>, 1808, p. 142.) + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_27">The village preacher’s modest mansion rose.</a> ‘The + Rev. Charles Goldsmith is allowed by all that knew him, to have been + faithfully represented by his son in the character of the Village + Preacher.’ So writes his daughter, Catharine Hodson (<i>Percy Memoir</i>, + 1801, p. 3). Others, relying perhaps upon the ‘forty pounds a year’ of the + Dedication to <i>The Traveller</i>, make the poet’s brother Henry + the original; others, again, incline to kindly Uncle Contarine (<i>vide + Introduction</i>). But as Prior justly says (<i>Life</i>, 1837, ii. + 249), ‘the fact perhaps is that he fixed upon no one individual, but + borrowing like all good poets and painters a little from each, drew the + character by their combination.’ + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_28">with forty pounds a year.</a> Cf. Dedication to <i>The + Traveller</i>, p. 3, l. 14. + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_28"> Unpractis’d.</a> ‘Unskilful’ in the first edition. + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_28">More skilled.</a> ‘More bent’ in the first edition. + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_28">The long remember’d beggar.</a> ‘The same persons,’ + says Prior, commenting upon this passage, ‘are seen for a series of years + to traverse the same tract of country at certain intervals, intrude into + every house which is not defended by the usual outworks of wealth, a gate + and a porter’s lodge, exact their portion of the food of the family, and + even find an occasional resting-place for the night, or from severe + weather, in the chimney-corner of respectable farmers.’ (<i>Life</i>, + 1837, ii. 269.) Cf. Scott on the Scottish mendicants in the + ‘Advertisement’ to <i>The Antiquary</i>, 1816, and Leland’s <i>Hist. + of Ireland</i>, 1773, i. 35. + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_28">The broken soldier.</a> The disbanded soldier let loose + upon the country at the conclusion of the ‘Seven Years’ War’ was a + familiar figure at this period. Bewick, in his <i>Memoir</i> + (‘Memorial Edition’), 1887, pp. 44–5, describes some of these ancient + campaigners with their battered old uniforms and their endless stories of + Minden and Quebec; and a picture of two of them by T. S. Good of Berwick + belonged to the late Mr. Locker Lampson. Edie Ochiltree (<i>Antiquary</i>)—it + may be remembered—had fought at Fontenoy. + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_28">Allur’d to brighter worlds.</a> Cf. Tickell on Addison—‘Saints + who taught and led the way to Heaven.’ + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_29">And fools, who came to scoff, remained to pray.</a> + Prior compares the opening lines of Dryden’s <i>Britannia Rediviva</i>:— + </p> + +<p class="poem"> + Our vows are heard betimes, and heaven takes care<br/> + To grant, before we can conclude the prayer;<br/> + Preventing angels met it half the way,<br/> + And sent us back to praise, who came to pray. +</p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_29">As some tall cliff,</a> etc. Lucan, Statius, and + Claudian have been supposed to have helped Goldsmith to this fine and + deservedly popular simile. But, considering his obvious familiarity with + French literature, and the rarity of his ‘obligations to the ancients,’ it + is not unlikely that, as suggested by a writer in the <i>Academy</i> + for Oct. 30, 1886, his source of suggestion is to be found in the + following passage of an Ode addressed by Chapelain (1595–1674) to + Richelieu:— + </p> + +<p class="poem"> + Dans un paisible mouvement<br/> + Tu t’élèves au firmament,<br/> +Et laisses contre toi murmurer cette terre;<br/> + Ainsi le haut Olympe, à son pied sablonneux,<br/> +Laisse fumer la foudre et gronder le tonnerre,<br/> + Et garde son sommet tranquille et lumineux. +</p> + + <p> + Or another French model—indicated by Mr. Forster (<i>Life</i>, + 1871, ii. 115–16) by the late Lord Lytton—may have been these lines + from a poem by the Abbé de Chaulieu (1639–1720):— + </p> + +<p class="poem"> + Au milieu cependant de ces peines cruelles<br/> + De notre triste hiver, compagnes trop fidèles,<br/> + Je suis tranquille et gai. Quel bien plus précieux<br/> + Puis-je espérer jamais de la bonté des dieux!<br/> + Tel qu’un rocher dont la tête,<br/> + Égalant le Mont Athos,<br/> + Voit à ses pieds la tempête<br/> + Troubler le calme des flots,<br/> + La mer autour bruit et gronde;<br/> + Malgré ses emotions,<br/> + Sur son front élevé règne une paix profonde,<br/> + Que tant d’agitations<br/> + Et que ses fureurs de l’onde<br/> + Respectent à l’égal du nid des alcyons. +</p> + + <p> + On the other hand, Goldsmith may have gone no further than Young’s <i>Complaint: + Night the Second</i>, 1742, p. 42, where, as Mitford points out, occur + these lines:— + </p> + +<p class="poem"> + As some tall Tow’r, or lofty Mountain’s Brow,<br/> + Detains the Sun, Illustrious from its Height,<br/> + While rising Vapours, and descending Shades,<br/> + With Damps, and Darkness drown the Spatious Vale:<br/> + Undampt by Doubt, Undarken’d by Despair,<br/> + <i>Philander</i>, thus, augustly rears his Head. +</p> + + <p> + Prior also (<i>Life</i>, 1837, ii. 252) prints a passage from <i>Animated + Nature</i>, 1774, i. 145, derived from Ulloa, which perhaps served as + the raw material of the simile. + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_30">Full well they laugh’d,</a> etc. Steele, in <i>Spectator</i>, + No. 49 (for April 26, 1711) has a somewhat similar thought:—‘<i>Eubulus</i> + has so great an Authority in his little Diurnal Audience, that when he + shakes his Head at any Piece of publick News, they all of them appear + dejected; and, on the contrary, go home to their Dinners with a good + Stomach and chearful Aspect, when <i>Eubulus</i> seems to intimate + that Things go well.’ + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_30">Yet he was kind,</a> etc. For the rhyme of ‘fault’ and + ‘aught’ in this couplet Prior cites the precedent of Pope:— + </p> + +<p class="poem"> + Before his sacred name flies ev’ry fault,<br/> + And each exalted stanza teems with thought! +</p> + + <p> + (<i>Essay on Criticism</i>, l. 422). He might also have cited + Waller, who elides the ‘l’:— + </p> + +<p class="poem"> + Were we but less indulgent to our fau’ts,<br/> + And patience had to cultivate our thoughts. +</p> + + <p><a name="page_187" id="page_187"></a> + Goldsmith uses a like rhyme in <i>Edwin and Angelina</i>, Stanza + xxxv:— + </p> + +<p class="poem"> +But mine the sorrow, mine the fault,<br/> + And well my life shall pay;<br/> +I’ll seek the solitude he sought,<br/> + And stretch me where he lay. +</p> + + <p> + Cf. also <i>Retaliation</i>, ll. 73–4. Perhaps—as indeed Prior + suggests—he pronounced ‘fault’ in this fashion. + </p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> +<a name="school"></a> +<img src="images/school.jpg" width="326" height="227" alt="[Illustration: ]" /> +<p class="caption">THE SCHOOL HOUSE<br /> +(R. H. Newell)</p> +</div> + + <p> + <a href="#page_30">That one small head could carry all he knew.</a> Some + of the traits of this portrait are said to be borrowed from Goldsmith’s + own master at Lissoy:—‘He was instructed in reading, writing, and + arithmetic’—says his sister Catherine, Mrs. Hodson—‘by a + schoolmaster in his father’s village, who had been a quartermaster in the + army in Queen Anne’s wars, in that detachment which was sent to Spain: + having travelled over a considerable part of Europe and being of a very + romantic turn, he used to entertain Oliver with his adventures; and the + impressions these made on his scholar were believed by the family to have + given him that wandering and unsettled turn which so much appeared in his + future life.’ (<i>Percy Memoir</i>, 1801, pp. 3–4.) The name of this + worthy, according to Strean, was Burn (Byrne). (Mangin’s <i> Essay on + Light Reading</i>, 1808, p. 142.) + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_30">Near yonder thorn.</a> See note to l. 13. + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_30">The chest contriv’d a double debt to pay.</a> Cf. the + <i>Description of an Author’s Bedchamber</i>, p. 48, l. ult.:— + </p> + +<p class="poem"> +A cap by night—a stocking all the day! +</p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_31">The twelve good rules.</a> ‘A constant one’ (i.e. + picture) ‘in every house was “King Charles’ Twelve Good Rules.”’ (Bewick’s + <i>Memoir</i>, ‘Memorial Edition,’ 1887, p. 262.) This old + broadside, surmounted by a rude woodcut of the King’s execution, is still + prized by collectors. The rules, as ‘found in the study of King Charles + the First, of Blessed Memory,’ are as follow:— ‘1. Urge no healths; + 2. Profane no divine ordinances; 3. Touch no state matters; 4. Reveal no + secrets; 5. Pick no quarrels; 6. Make no comparisons; 7. Maintain no ill + opinions; 8. Keep no bad company; 9. Encourage no vice; 10. Make no long + meals; 11. Repeat no grievances; 12. Lay no Wagers.’ Prior, <i>Misc. + Works</i>, 1837, iv. 63, points out that Crabbe also +<a name="page_188" id="page_188"></a> + makes the ‘Twelve Good Rules’ conspicuous in the <i>Parish Register</i> + (ll. 51–2):— + </p> + +<p class="poem"> + There is King Charles, and all his Golden Rules,<br/> + Who proved Misfortune’s was the best of schools. +</p> + + <p> + Her late Majesty, Queen Victoria, kept a copy of these rules in the + servants’ hall at Windsor Castle. + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_31">the royal game of goose.</a> The ‘Royal and + Entertaining Game of the Goose’ is described at length in Strutt’s <i>Sports + and Pastimes</i>, bk. iv, ch. 2 (xxv). It may be briefly defined as a + game of compartments with different titles through which the player + progresses according to the numbers he throws with the dice. At every + fourth or fifth compartment is depicted a goose, and if the player’s cast + falls upon one of these, he moves forward double the number of his throw. + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_31">While broken tea-cups.</a> Cf. the <i>Description of + an Author’s Bedchamber</i>, p. 48, l. 18:— + </p> + +<p class="poem"> + And five crack’d teacups dress’d the chimney board. +</p> + + <p> + Mr. Hogan, who repaired or rebuilt the ale-house at Lissoy, did not + forget, besides restoring the ‘Royal Game of Goose’ and the ‘Twelve Good + Rules,’ to add the broken teacups, ‘which for better security in the frail + tenure of an Irish publican, or the doubtful decorum of his guests, were + embedded in the mortar.’ (Prior, <i>Life</i>, 1837, ii. 265.) + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_31">Shall kiss the cup.</a> Cf. Scott’s <i>Lochinvar</i>:— + </p> + +<p class="poem"> + The bride kissed the goblet: the knight took it up,<br/> + He quaff’d off the wine and he threw down the cup. +</p> + + <p> + Cf. also <i>The History of Miss Stanton</i> (<i>British Magazine</i>, + July, 1760).—‘The earthen mug went round. <i>Miss touched the cup</i>, + the stranger pledged the parson,’ etc. + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_32">Between a splendid and a happy land.</a> Prior compares + <i>The Citizen of the World</i>, 1762, i. 98:—‘Too much + commerce may injure a nation as well as too little; and . . . there is a + wide difference between a conquering and a flourishing empire.’ + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_33">To see profusion that he must not share.</a> Cf. <i>Animated + Nature</i>, iv. p. 43:—‘He only guards those luxuries he is not + fated to share.’ [Mitford.] + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_33">To see those joys.</a> Up to the third edition the + words were <i>each joy</i>. + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_33">There the black gibbet glooms beside the way.</a> The + gallows, under the savage penal laws of the eighteenth century, by which + horse-stealing, forgery, shop-lifting, and even the cutting of a hop-bind + in a plantation were punishable with death, was a common object in the + landscape. Cf. <i>Vicar of Wakefield</i>, 1706, ii. 122:—‘Our + possessions are paled up with new edicts every day, and hung round with + gibbets to scare every invader’; and <i> Citizen of the World</i>, + 1762, ii. 63–7. Johnson, who wrote eloquently on capital punishment in + <i>The Rambler</i> for April 20, 1751, No. 114, also refers to the + ceaseless executions in his <i>London</i>, 1738, ll. 238–43:— + </p> + +<p class="poem"> + Scarce can our fields, such crowds at Tyburn die,<br/> + With hemp the gallows and the fleet supply.<br/> + Propose your schemes, ye senatorian band,<br/> + Whose ways and means support the sinking land:<br/> + Lest ropes be wanting in the tempting spring,<br/> + To rig another convoy for the king. +</p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_34">Where the poor houseless shivering female lies.</a> + Mitford compares Letter cxiv of <i>The Citizen of the World</i>, + 1762, ii. 211:—‘These <i>poor shivering females</i> have once seen + happier days, and been flattered into beauty. They have been prostituted + to the gay luxurious villain, and 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.’ The same passage occurs in <i>The Bee</i>, + 1759, p. 126 (<i>A City Night-Piece</i>). + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_34">Near her betrayer’s door,</a> etc. Cf. the foregoing + quotation. + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_34">wild Altama,</a> i.e. the Alatamaha, a river in + Georgia, North America. Goldsmith may have been familiar with this name in + connexion with his friend Oglethorpe’s expedition of 1733. + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_35">crouching tigers,</a> a poetical licence, as there are + no tigers in the locality named. But Mr. J. H. Lobban calls attention to a + passage from <i>Animated Nature</i> [1774, iii. 244], in which + Goldsmith seems to defend himself:—‘There is an animal of + America, which is usually called the Red Tiger, but Mr. Buffon calls it + the Cougar, which, no doubt, is very different from the tiger of the east. + Some, however, have thought proper to rank both together, and I will take + leave to follow their example.’ + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_35">The good old sire.</a> Cf. <i>Threnodia Augustalis</i>, + ll. 16–17:— + </p> + +<p class="poem"> + The good old sire, unconscious of decay,<br/> + The modest matron, clad in homespun gray +</p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_35">a father’s.</a> ‘Her father’s’ in the first edition. + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_36">silent.</a> ‘Decent’ in the first edition. + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_37">On Torno’s cliffs, or Pambamarca’s side.</a> + ‘Torno’=Tornea, a river which falls into the Gulf of Bothnia; Pambamarca + is a mountain near Quito, South America. ‘The author’—says Bolton + Corney—‘bears in memory the operations of the French philosophers in + the arctic and equatorial regions, as described in the celebrated + narratives of M. Maupertuis and Don Antonio de Ulloa.’ + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_37">That trade’s proud empire,</a> etc. These last four + lines are attributed to Johnson on Boswell’s authority:—‘Dr. Johnson + . . . favoured me by marking the lines which he furnished to Goldsmith’s + <i> Deserted Village</i>, which are only the ‘last four’.’ (Birkbeck + Hill’s <i>Boswell</i>, 1887, ii. 7.) + </p> + +<h3><a name="note05"></a><a href="#page_41">PROLOGUE OF LABERIUS.</a></h3> + + <p> + This translation, or rather imitation, was first published at pp. 176–7 of + <i>An Enquiry into the Present State of Polite Learning in Europe</i>, + 1759 (Chap. xii, ‘Of the Stage’), where it is prefaced as follows:— + ‘M<small>ACROBIUS</small> has preserved a prologue, spoken and written by + the poet [Decimus] Laberius, a Roman knight, whom Caesar forced upon the + stage, written with great elegance and spirit, which shews what opinion + the Romans in general entertained of the profession of an actor.’ In the + second edition of 1774 the prologue was omitted. The original lines, one + of which Goldsmith quotes, are to found in the <i>Saturnalia</i> of + Macrobius, lib. ii, cap. vii (<i>Opera</i>, London, 1694). He seems + to have confined himself to imitating the first fifteen:— + </p> + +<p class="poem"> + Necessitas, cujus cursus transversi impetum<br/> + Voluerunt multi effugere, pauci potuerunt,<br/> + Quo me detrusit paene extremis sensibus?<br/> + Quem nulla ambitio, nulla umquam largitio,<br/> + Nullus timor, vis nulla, nulla auctoritas<br/> + Movere potuit in juventa de statu;<br/> + Ecce in senecta ut facile labefecit loco<br/> + Viri Excellentis mente clemente edita<br/> + Submissa placide blandiloquens oratio!<br/> + Etenim ipsi di negare cui nihil potuerunt,<br/> + Hominem me denegare quis posset pati?<br/> + Ergo bis tricenis annis actis sine tota<br/> + Eques Romanus Lare egressus meo<br/> + Domum revertar mimus. nimirum hoc die<br/> + Uno plus vixi mihi quam vivendum fuit. +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> + Rollin gives a French translation of this prologue in his <i>Traité + des Études</i>. It is quoted by Bolton Corney in his <i>Poetical + Works of Oliver Goldsmith</i>, 1845, pp. 203–4. In his Aldine edition + of 1831, p. 114, Mitford completed Goldsmith’s version as follows:— + </p> + +<p class="poem"> + Too lavish still in good, or evil hour,<br/> + To show to man the empire of thy power,<br/> + If fortune, at thy wild impetuous sway,<br/> + The blossoms of my fame must drop away,<br/> + Then was the time the obedient plant to strain<br/> + When life was warm in every vigorous vein,<br/> + To mould young nature to thy plastic skill,<br/> + And bend my pliant boyhood to thy will.<br/> + So might I hope applauding crowds to hear,<br/> + Catch the quick smile, and HIS attentive ear.<br/> + But ah! for what has thou reserv’d my age?<br/> + Say, how can I expect the approving stage;<br/> + Fled is the bloom of youth—the manly air—<br/> + The vigorous mind that spurn’d at toil and care;<br/> + Gone is the voice, whose clear and silver tone<br/> + The enraptur’d theatre would love to own.<br/> + As clasping ivy chokes the encumber’d tree,<br/> + So age with foul embrace has ruined me.<br/> + Thou, and the tomb, Laberius, art the same,<br/> + Empty within, what hast thou but a name? +</p> + + <p> + Macrobius, it may be remembered, was the author, with a quotation from + whom Johnson, after a long silence, electrified the company upon his first + arrival at Pembroke College, thus giving (says Boswell) ‘the first + impression of that more extensive reading in which he had indulged + himself’ (Birkbeck Hill’s <i>Boswell</i>, 1887, i. 59). If the study + of Macrobius is to be regarded as a test of ‘more extensive reading’ that + praise must therefore be accorded to Goldsmith, who cites him in his first + book. + </p> + +<h3><a name="note06"></a><a href="#page_42">ON A BEAUTIFUL YOUTH STRUCK BLIND WITH LIGHTNING.</a></h3> + + <p> + This quatrain, the original of which does not appear to have been traced, + was first published in <i>The Bee</i> for Saturday, the 6th of + October, 1759, p. 8. It is there succeeded by the following Latin epigram, + ‘in the same spirit’:— + </p> + +<p class="poem"> +LUMINE Acon dextro capta est Leonida sinistro<br/> + Et poterat forma vincere uterque Deos.<br/> +Parve puer lumen quod habes concede puellae<br/> + Sic tu caecus amor sic erit illa Venus.<br/> +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> + There are several variations of this in the <i>Gentleman’s Magazine</i> + for 1745, pp. 104, 159, 213, 327, one of which is said to be ‘By a monk of + Winchester,’ with a reference to ‘Cambden’s <i>Remains</i>, p. 413.’ + None of these corresponds exactly with Goldsmith’s text; and the lady’s + name is uniformly given as ‘Leonilla.’ A writer in the <i> Quarterly + Review</i>, vol. 171, p. 296, prints the ‘original’ thus— + </p> + +<p class="poem"> +Lumine Acon dextro, capta est Leonilla sinistro,<br/> + Et potis est forma vincere uterque Deos.<br/> +Blande puer, lumen quod habes concede sorori;<br/> + Sic tu caecus Amor, sic erit illa Venus; +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> + and says ‘it was written by Girolamo Amalteo, and will be found in any of + the editions of the <i>Trium Fratrum Amaltheorum Carmina</i>, under + the title of ‘De gemellis, fratre et sorore, luscis.’ According to Byron + on Bowles (<i>Works</i>, 1836, vi. p. 390), the persons referred to + are the Princess of Eboli, mistress of Philip II of Spain, and Maugiron, + minion of Henry III of France, who had each of them lost an eye. But for + this the reviewer above quoted had found no authority. + </p> + +<h3><a name="note07"></a> +<a href="#page_43">THE GIFT.</a></h3> + + <p> + This little trifle, in which a French levity is wedded to the language of + Prior, was first printed in <i>The Bee</i>, for Saturday, the 13th + of October, 1759. Its original, which is as follows, is to be found where + Goldsmith found it, namely in Part iii of the <i>Ménagiana</i>, + (ed. 1729, iii, 397), and not far from the ditty of <i>le fameux la + Galisse</i>. (See <i>An Elegy on Mrs. Mary Blaize</i>, <i> infra</i>, + p. 198):— + </p> + +<p class="center"> + E<small>TRENE</small> <small>A</small> I<small>RIS</small>. + </p> + +<p class="poem"> + Pour témoigner de ma flame,<br/> + Iris, du meilleur de mon ame<br/> + Je vous donne à ce nouvel an<br/> + Non pas dentelle ni ruban,<br/> + Non pas essence, ni pommade,<br/> + Quelques boites de marmelade,<br/> + Un manchon, des gans, un bouquet,<br/> + Non pas heures, ni chapelet.<br/> + Quoi donc? Attendez, je vous donne<br/> + O fille plus belle que bonne ...<br/> + Je vous donne: Ah! le puis-je dire?<br/> + Oui, c’est trop souffrir le martyre,<br/> + Il est tems de s’émanciper,<br/> + Patience va m’échaper,<br/> + Fussiez-vous cent fois plus aimable,<br/> + Belle Iris, je vous donne ... au Diable. +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> + In Bolton Corney’s edition of Goldsmith’s <i> Poetical Works</i>, + 1845, p. 77, note, these lines are attributed to Bernard de la Monnoye + (1641–1728), who is said to have included them in a collection of <i>Étrennes + en vers</i>, published in 1715. + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_42">I’ll give thee.</a> See an anecdote <i>à propos</i> + of this anticlimax in Trevelyan’s <i>Life and Letters of Lord Macaulay</i>, + ed. 1889, p. 600:—‘There was much laughing about Mrs. Beecher Stowe + [then (16th March, 1853) expected in England], and what we were to give + her. I referred the ladies to Goldsmith’s poems for what I should give. + Nobody but Hannah understood me; but some of them have since been thumbing + Goldsmith to make out the riddle.’ + </p> + +<h3><a name="note08"></a> +<a href="#page_44">THE LOGICIANS REFUTED.</a></h3> + + <p> + These lines, which have often, and even of late years, been included among + Swift’s works, were first printed as Goldsmith’s by T. Evans at vol. i. + pp. 115–17 of <i>The Poetical and Dramatic Works of Oliver Goldsmith, + M.B.</i>, 1780. They originally appeared in <i>The Busy Body</i> + for Thursday, October the 18th, 1759 (No. v), having this notification + above the title: ‘The following Poem written by D<small>R</small>. S<small>WIFT</small>, + is communicated to the Public by the B<small>USY</small> B<small>ODY</small>, + to whom it was presented by a Nobleman of distinguished Learning and + Taste.’ In No. ii they had already been advertised as forthcoming. The + sub-title, ‘In imitation of Dean Swift,’ seems to have been added by + Evans. The text here followed is that of the first issue. + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_44">Wise Aristotle and Smiglecius.</a> Cf. <i>The Life + of Parnell</i>, 1770, p. 3:—‘His imagination might have been too + warm to relish the cold logic of Burgersdicius, or the dreary subtleties + of <i> Smiglesius</i>; but it is certain that as a classical scholar, few + could equal him.’ Martin Smiglesius or Smigletius, a Polish Jesuit, + theologian and logician, who died in 1618, appears to have been a special + <i>bête noire</i> to Goldsmith; and the reference to him here would + support the ascription of the poem to Goldsmith’s pen, were it not that + Swift seems also to have cherished a like antipathy:—‘He told me + that he had made many efforts, upon his entering the College [i.e. Trinity + College, Dublin], to read some of the old treatises on logic writ by <i>Smeglesius</i>, + Keckermannus, Burgersdicius, etc., and that he never had patience to go + through three pages of any of them, he was so disgusted at the stupidity + of the work.’ (Sheridan’s <i>Life of Swift</i>, 2nd ed., 1787, p. + 4.) + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_44">Than reason-boasting mortal’s pride.</a> So in <i>The + Busy Body</i>. Some editors—Mitford, for example—print the + line:— + </p> + +<p class="poem"> + Than reason,—boasting mortals’ pride. +</p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_44"><i>Deus est anima brutorum</i>.</a> Cf. Addison in + <i>Spectator</i>, No. 121 (July 19, 1711): ‘A modern Philosopher, + quoted by Monsieur <i> Bale</i> in his Learned Dissertation on the Souls + of Brutes delivers the same Opinion [i.e.—That Instinct is the + immediate direction of Providence], tho’ in a bolder form of words where + he says <i>Deus est Anima Brutorum</i>, God himself is the Soul of + Brutes.’ There is much in ‘Monsieur Bayle’ on this theme. Probably Addison + had in mind the following passage of the <i>Dict. Hist. et Critique</i> + (3rd ed., 1720, 2481<i>b</i>.) which Bayle cites from M. Bernard:—‘Il + me semble d’avoir lu quelque part cette Thèse, <i>Deus est anima + brutorum</i>: l’expression est un peu dure; mais elle peut recevoir un + fort bon sens.’ + </p> + +<p> +<a href="#page_45"> B—b</a>=Bob, i.e. Sir Robert Walpole, the Prime +Minister, for whom many venal ‘quills were drawn’ <i>circa</i> +1715–42. Cf. Pope’s <i>Epilogue to the Satires</i>, 1738, Dialogue i, ll. +27–32:— +</p> + +<p class="poem"> + Go see Sir ROBERT—<br/> + P. See Sir ROBERT!—hum—<br/> + And never laugh—for all my life to come?<br/> + Seen him I have, but in his happier hour<br/> + Of Social Pleasure, ill-exchang’d for Pow’r;<br/> + Seen him, uncumber’d with the Venal tribe,<br/> + Smile without Art, and win without a Bribe. +</p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_45">A courtier any ape surpasses.</a> Cf. Gay’s <i>Fables, + passim</i>. Indeed there is more of Gay than Swift in this and the + lines that follow. Gay’s life was wasted in fruitless expectations of + court patronage, and his disappointment often betrays itself in his + writings. + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_45">And footmen, lords and dukes can act.</a> Cf. <i>Gil + Blas</i>, 1715–35, liv. iii, chap. iv:—‘Il falloit voir comme + nous nous portions des santés à tous moments, en nous + donnant les uns aux autres les surnoms de nos maîtres. Le valet de + don Antonio appeloit Gamb celuiet nous nous enivrions peu à peu + sous ces noms empruntés, tout aussi bien que les seigneurs qui les + portoient véritablement.’ But Steele had already touched this + subject in <i>Spectator</i>, No. 88, for June 11, 1711, ‘On the + Misbehaviour of Servants,’ a paper supposed to have afforded the hint for + Townley’s farce of <i>High Life below Stairs</i>, which, about a + fortnight after <i>The Logicians Refuted</i> appeared, was played + for the first time at Drury Lane, not much to the gratification of the + gentlemen’s gentlemen in the upper gallery. Goldsmith himself wrote ‘A + Word or two on the late Farce, called <i>High Life below Stairs</i>,’ + in <i> The Bee</i> for November 3, 1759, pp. 154–7. + </p> + +<h3><a name="note09"></a> +<a href="#page_46">A SONNET.</a></h3> + + <p> + This little piece first appears in <i>The Bee</i> for October 20, + 1759 (No. iii). It is there called ‘A Sonnet,’ a title which is only + accurate in so far as it is ‘a little song.’ Bolton Corney affirms that it + is imitated from the French of Saint-Pavin (i.e. Denis Sanguin de + Saint-Pavin, d. 1670), whose works were edited in 1759, the year in which + Goldsmith published the collection of essays and verses in which it is to + be found. The text here followed is that of the ‘new edition’ of <i>The + Bee</i>, published by W. Lane, Leadenhall Street, no date, p. 94. + Neither by its motive nor its literary merits—it should be added—did + the original call urgently for translation; and the poem is here included + solely because, being Goldsmith’s, it cannot be omitted from his complete + works. + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_46">This and the following line</a> in the first version + run:— + </p> + +<p class="poem"> + Yet, why this killing soft dejection?<br/> + Why dim thy beauty with a tear? +</p> + +<h3><a name="note10"></a><a href="#page_47">STANZAS ON THE TAKING OF QUEBEC.</a></h3> + + <p> + Quebec was taken on the 13th September, 1759. Wolfe was wounded pretty + early in the action, while leading the advance of the Louisbourg + grenadiers. ‘A shot shattered his wrist. He wrapped his handkerchief about + it and kept on. Another shot struck him, and he still advanced, when a + third lodged in his breast. He staggered, and sat on the ground. + Lieutenant Brown, of the grenadiers, one Henderson, a volunteer in the + same company, and a private soldier, aided by an officer of artillery who + ran to join them, carried him in their arms to the rear. He begged them to + lay him down. They did so, and asked if he would have a surgeon. “There’s + no need,” he answered; “it’s all over with me.” A moment after, one of + them cried out, “They run; see how they run!” “Who run?” Wolfe demanded, + like a man roused from sleep. “The enemy, sir. They give way everywhere!” + “Go, one of you, to Colonel Burton,” returned the dying man; “tell him to + march Webb’s regiment down to Charles River, to cut off their retreat from + the bridge.” Then, turning on his side, he + murmured, “Now, God be praised, I will die in peace!” and in a few moments + his gallant soul had fled.’ (Parkman’s <i>Montcalm and Wolfe</i>, + 1885, ii. 296–7.) In his <i> History of England in a Series of Letters</i>, + 1764, ii. 241, Goldsmith says of this event:—‘Perhaps the loss of + such a man was greater to the nation than the conquering of all Canada was + advantageous; but it is the misfortune of humanity, that we can never know + true greatness till the moment when we are going to lose it.’* The present + stanzas were first published in <i>The Busy Body</i> (No. vii) for + Tuesday, the 22nd October, 1759, a week after the news of Wolfe’s death + had reached this country (Tuesday the 16th). According to Prior (<i>Life</i>, + 1837, i. 6), Goldsmith claimed to be related to Wolfe by the father’s + side, the maiden name of the General’s mother being Henrietta Goldsmith. + It may be noted that Benjamin West’s popular rendering of Wolfe’s death + (1771)—a rendering which Nelson never passed in a print shop without + being stopped by it—was said to be based upon the descriptions of an + eye-witness. It was engraved by Woollett and Ryland in 1776. A key to the + names of those appearing in the picture was published in the <i>Army + and Navy Gazette</i> of January 20, 1893. + </p> + +<p class="footnote"> +* He repeats this sentiment, in different words, in the later <i>History + of England</i> of 1771, iv. 400. + </p> + +<h3><a name="note11"></a><a href="#page_47">AN ELEGY ON MRS. MARY BLAIZE.</a></h3> + + <p> + The publication in February, 1751, of Gray’s <i>Elegy Wrote in a + Country Church Yard</i> had set a fashion in poetry which long + continued. Goldsmith, who considered that work ‘a very fine poem, but + overloaded with epithet’ (<i>Beauties of English Poesy</i>, 1767, i. + 53), and once proposed to amend it ‘by leaving out an idle word in every + line’ [!] (Cradock’s <i> Memoirs</i>, 1826, i. 230), resented these + endless imitations, and his antipathy to them frequently reveals itself. + Only a few months before the appearance of Mrs. Blaize in <i>The Bee</i> + for October 27, 1759, he had written in the <i>Critical Review</i>, + vii. 263, when noticing Langhorne’s <i>Death of Adonis</i>, as + follows:—‘It is not thus that many of our moderns have composed what + they call elegies; they seem scarcely to have known its real character. If + an hero or a poet + happens to die with us, the whole band of elegiac poets raise the dismal + chorus, adorn his herse with all the paltry escutcheons of flattery, rise + into bombast, paint him at the head of his thundering legions, or reining + Pegasus in his most rapid career; they are sure to strew cypress enough + upon the bier, dress up all the muses in mourning, and look themselves + every whit as dismal and sorrowful as an undertaker’s shop.’ He returned + to the subject in a <i>Chinese Letter</i> of March 4, 1761, in the + <i>Public Ledger</i> (afterwards Letter ciii of <i>The Citizen of + the World</i>, 1762, ii. 162–5), which contains the lines <i>On the + Death of the Right Honourable ***</i>; and again, in <i>The Vicar of + Wakefield</i>, 1766, i. 174, <i> à propos</i> of the <i>Elegy + on the Death of a Mad Dog</i>, he makes Dr. Primrose say, ‘I have wept + so much at all sorts of elegies of late, that without an enlivening glass + I am sure this will overcome me.’ + </p> + + <p> + The model for <i>An Elegy on Mrs. Mary Blaize</i> is to be found in + the old French popular song of Monsieur de la Palisse or Palice, about + fifty verses of which are printed in Larousse’s <i>Grand Dictionnaire + Universel du XIX</i> me <i>Siècle</i>, x. p. 179. It is + there stated to have originated in some dozen stanzas suggested to la + Monnoye (<i>v. supra</i>, p. 193) by the extreme artlessness of a military + quatrain dating from the battle of Pavia, and the death upon that occasion + of the famous French captain, Jacques de Chabannes, seigneur de la Palice:— + </p> + +<p class="poem"> +Monsieur d’La Palice est mort,<br/> + Mort devant Pavie;<br/> +Un quart d’heure avant sa mort,<br/> + <i>Il était encore en vie.</i> +</p> + + <p> + The remaining verses, i.e. in addition to those of la Monnoye, are the + contributions of successive generations. Goldsmith probably had in mind + the version in Part iii of the <i>Ménagiana</i>, (ed. 1729, + iii, 384–391) where apparently by a typographical error, the hero is + called <i>‘le fameux la Galisse, homme imaginaire.’</i> The verses he + imitated most closely are reproduced below. It may be added that this poem + supplied one of its last inspirations to the pencil of Randolph Caldecott, + who published it as a picture-book in October, 1885. (See also <i>An + Elegy on the Death of a Mad Dog</i>, p. 212.) + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_47">Who left a pledge behind.</a> Caldecott cleverly + converted this line into the keynote of the poem, by making the heroine a + pawnbroker. + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_47">When she has walk’d before.</a> Cf. the French:— + </p> + +<p class="poem"> +On dit que dans ses amours<br/> + Il fut caresse des belles,<br/> +Qui le suivirent toujours,<br/> + <i>Tant qu’il marcha devant elles.</i> +</p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_47">Her last disorder mortal.</a> Cf. the French:— + </p> + +<p class="poem"> +Il fut par un triste sort<br/> + Blesse d’une main cruelle.<br/> +On croit, puis qu’il en est mort,<br/> + <i>Que la plaie étoit mortelle.</i> +</p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_45">Kent Street,</a> Southwark, ‘chiefly inhabited,’ said + Strype, ‘by Broom Men and Mumpers’; and Evelyn tells us (<i>Diary</i> + 5th December, 1683) that he assisted at the marriage, to her fifth + husband, of a Mrs. Castle, who was ‘the daughter of one Burton, a + broom-man . . . in Kent Street’ who had become not only rich, but Sheriff + of Surrey. It was a poor neighbourhood corresponding to the present ‘old + Kent-road, from Kent to Southwark and old London Bridge’ (Cunningham’s + <i>London</i>).* Goldsmith himself refers to it in <i>The Bee</i> + for October 20, 1759, being the number immediately preceding that in which + <i>Madam Blaize</i> first appeared:—‘You then, O ye beggars of + my acquaintance, whether in rags or lace; whether in <i>Kent-street</i> + or the Mall; whether at the Smyrna or St. Giles’s, might I advise as a + friend, never seem in want of the favour which you solicit’ (p. 72). Three + years earlier he had practised as ‘a physician, in a humble way’ in + Bankside, Southwark, and was probably well acquainted with the humours of + Kent Street. + </p> + +<p class="footnote"> +* In contemporary maps Kent (now Tabard) Street is shown extending + between the present New Kent Road and Blackman Street. + </p> + +<h3><a name="note12"></a><a href="#page_48">DESCRIPTION OF AN AUTHOR’S BEDCHAMBER.</a></h3> + + <p> + In a letter written to the Rev. Henry Goldsmith in 1759 (<i>Percy + Memoir</i>, 1801, pp. 53–9), Goldsmith thus refers to the first form of + these verses:—‘Your last letter, I repeat it, was + too short; you should have given me your opinion of the design of the + heroicomical poem which I sent you: you remember I intended to introduce + the hero of the poem, as lying in a paltry alehouse. 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 this way:— + </p> + +<p class="poem"> + The window, patch’d with paper, lent a ray,<br/> + That feebly shew’d the state in which he lay.<br/> + The sanded floor, that grits beneath the tread:<br/> + The humid wall with paltry pictures spread;<br/> + The game of goose was there expos’d to view<br/> + And the twelve rules the royal martyr drew:<br/> + The seasons, fram’d with listing, found a place,<br/> + And Prussia’s monarch shew’d his lamp-black face<br/> + The morn was cold; he views with keen desire,<br/> + A rusty grate unconscious of a fire.<br/> + An unpaid reck’ning on the frieze was scor’d,<br/> + And five crack’d tea-cups dress’d the chimney board. +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> + And now imagine after his soliloquy, the landlord to make his appearance, + in order to dun him for the reckoning:— + </p> + +<p class="poem"> + Not with that face, so servile and so gay,<br/> + That welcomes every stranger that can pay,<br/> + With sulky eye he smoak’d the patient man,<br/> + Then pull’d his breeches tight, and thus began, etc. +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> + All this is taken, you see, from nature. It is a good remark of + Montaign[e]’s, that the wisest men often have friends, with whom they do + not care how much they play the fool. Take my present follies as instances + of regard. Poetry is a much easier, and more agreeable species of + composition than prose, and could a man live by it, it were no unpleasant + employment to be a poet.’ + </p> + + <p> + In Letter xxix of <i>The Citizen of the World</i>, 1762, i. 119–22, + which first appeared in <i>The Public Ledger</i> for May 2, 1760, + they have a different setting. They are read at a club of authors by a + ‘poet, in shabby finery,’ who asserts that he has composed them the day + before. After some preliminary difficulties, arising from the fact that + the laws of the club do not permit any author to inflict his own works + upon the assembly without a money payment, he introduces them as + follows:—‘Gentlemen, says he, + the present piece is not one of your common epic + poems, which come from the press like paper kites in summer; there are + none of your Turnuses or Dido’s in it; it is an heroical description of + nature. I only beg you’ll endeavour to make your souls unison* with mine, + and hear with the same enthusiasm with which I have written. The poem + begins with the description of an author’s bedchamber: the picture was + sketched in my own apartment; for you must know, gentlemen, that I am + myself the heroe. Then putting himself into the attitude of an orator, + with all the emphasis of voice and action, he proceeded. + </p> + +<p class="poem"> + Where the Red Lion, etc.’ +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +* i.e. accord, conform. + </p> + +<p class="noindent"> + The verses then follow as they are printed in this volume; but he is + unable to induce his audience to submit to a further sample. In a slightly + different form, some of them were afterwards worked into <i>The + Deserted Village</i>, 1770. (See ll. 227–36.) + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_48">Where Calvert’s butt, and Parsons’ black champagne.</a> + The Calverts and Humphrey Parsons were noted brewers of ‘entire butt beer’ + or porter, also known familiarly as ‘British Burgundy’ and ‘black + Champagne.’ Calvert’s ‘Best Butt Beer’ figures on the sign in Hogarth’s + <i> Beer Street</i>, 1751. + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_48">The humid wall with paltry pictures spread.</a> Bewick + gives the names of some of these popular, if paltry, decorations:—‘In + cottages everywhere were to be seen the “Sailor’s Farewell” and his “Happy + Return,” “Youthful Sports,” and the “Feats of Manhood,” “The Bold Archers + Shooting at a Mark,” “The Four Seasons,” etc.’ (<i>Memoir</i>, + ‘Memorial Edition,’ 1887, p. 263.) + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_48">The royal game of goose was there in view.</a> (See + note, <a href="#page_188">p. 188.</a>) + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_48">And the twelve rules the royal martyr drew.</a> (See + note, <a href="#page_187">p. 187.</a>) + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_48">The Seasons, fram’d with listing.</a> See note to l. 10 + above, as to ‘The Seasons.’ Listing, ribbon, braid, or tape is still used + as a primitive <i>encadrement</i>. In a letter dated August 15, 1758, to + his cousin, Mrs. Lawder (Jane Contarine), Goldsmith again refers to this + device. Speaking of some ‘maxims of frugality’ with which he intends to + adorn his room, he adds—‘my + landlady’s daughter shall frame them with the parings of my black + waistcoat.’ (Prior, <i>Life</i>, 1837, i. 271.) + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_48">And brave Prince William.</a> William Augustus, Duke of + Cumberland, 1721–65. The ‘lamp-black face’ would seem to imply that the + portrait was a silhouette. In the letter quoted on p. 200 it is ‘Prussia’s + monarch’ (i.e. Frederick the Great). + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_48">With beer and milk arrears.</a> See the lines relative + to the landlord in Goldsmith’s above-quoted letter to his brother. In + another letter of August 14, 1758, to Robert Bryanton, he describes + himself as ‘in a garret writing for bread, and expecting to be dunned for + a milk score.’ Hogarth’s <i>Distrest Poet</i>, 1736, it will be + remembered, has already realized this expectation. + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_48">A cap by night—a stocking all the day.</a> ‘With + this last line,’ says <i>The Citizen of the World</i>, 1762, i. 121, + ‘he [the author] seemed so much elated, that he was unable to proceed: + “There gentlemen, cries he, there is a description for you; Rab[e]lais’s + bed-chamber is but a fool to it: + </p> + +<p class="poem"> + <i>A cap by night—a stocking all the day!</i> +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> + There is sound and sense, and truth, and nature in the trifling compass of + ten little syllables.”’ (Letter xxix.) Cf. also <i>The Deserted Village</i>, + l. 230:— + </p> + +<p class="poem"> + A bed by night, a chest of drawers by day. +</p> + + <p> + If Goldsmith’s lines did not belong to 1759, one might suppose he had in + mind the later <i>Pauvre Diable</i> of his favourite Voltaire. (See + also <a href="#page_262">A<small>PPENDIX</small> B.</a>) + </p> + +<h3><a name="note13"></a><a href="#page_49">ON SEEING MRS. ** PERFORM IN THE CHARACTER OF ****.</a></h3> + + <p> + These verses, intended for a specimen of the newspaper Muse, are from + Letter lxxxii of <i>The Citizen of the World</i>, 1762, ii. 87, + first printed in <i>The Public Ledger</i>, October 21, 1760. + </p> + +<h3><a name="note14"></a><a href="#page_50">ON THE DEATH OF THE RIGHT HON. ***</a></h3> + + <p> + From Letter ciii of <i>The Citizen of the World</i>, 1762, ii. 164, + first printed in <i>The Public Ledger</i>, March 4, 1761. The verses + are + given as a ‘specimen of a poem on the decease of a great man.’ Goldsmith + had already used the trick of the final line of the quatrain in <i>An + Elegy on Mrs. Mary Blaize</i>, ante, p. 198. + </p> + +<h3><a name="note15"></a><a href="#page_51">AN EPIGRAM.</a></h3> + + <p> + From Letter cx of <i>The Citizen of the World</i>, 1762, ii. 193, + first printed in <i>The Public Ledger</i>, April 14, 1761. It had, + however, already been printed in the ‘Ledger’, ten days before. + Goldsmith’s animosity to Churchill (cf. note to l. 41 of the dedication to + <i>The Traveller</i>) was notorious; but this is one of his doubtful + pieces. + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_51">virtue.</a> ‘Charity’ (<i>Author’s note</i>). + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_51">bounty.</a> ‘Settled at One Shilling—the Price of + the Poem’ (<i>Author’s note</i>). + </p> + +<h3><a name="note16"></a><a href="#page_51">TO G. C. AND R. L.</a></h3> + + <p> + From the same letter as the preceding. George Colman and Robert Lloyd of + the <i>St. James’s Magazine</i> were supposed to have helped + Churchill in <i>The Rosciad</i>, the ‘it’ of the epigram. + </p> + +<h3><a name="note17"></a><a href="#page_51">TRANSLATION OF A SOUTH AMERICAN ODE.</a></h3> + + <p> + From Letter cxiii of <i>The Citizen of the World</i>, 1762, ii. 209, + first printed in <i>The Public Ledger</i>, May 13, 1761. + </p> + +<h3><a name="note18"></a><a href="#page_52">THE DOUBLE TRANSFORMATION.</a></h3> + + <p> + <i>The Double Transformation</i> first appeared in <i>Essays: By + Mr. Goldsmith</i>, 1765, where it figures as Essay xxvi, occupying pp. + 229–33. It was revised for the second edition of 1766, becoming Essay + xxviii, pp. 241–45. This is the text here followed. The poem is an obvious + imitation of what its author calls (<i>Letters from a Nobleman to his + Son</i>, 1764, ii. 140) that ‘French elegant easy manner of telling a + story,’ which Prior had caught from La Fontaine. But the inherent + simplicity of Goldsmith’s style is + curiously evidenced by the absence of those illustrations and ingenious + allusions which are Prior’s chief characteristic. And although Goldsmith + included <i>The Ladle</i> and <i>Hans Carvel</i> in his <i>Beauties + of English Poesy</i>, 1767, he refrained wisely from copying the + licence of his model. + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_52">Jack Book-worm led a college life.</a> The version of + 1765 reads ‘liv’d’ for ‘led’. + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_52">And freshmen wonder’d as he spoke.</a> The earlier + version adds here— + </p> + +<p class="poem"> + Without politeness aim’d at breeding,<br/> + And laugh’d at pedantry and reading. +</p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_52">Her presence banish’d all his peace.</a> Here in the + first version the paragraph closes, and a fresh one is commenced as + follows:— + </p> + +<p class="poem"> + Our alter’d Parson now began<br/> + To be a perfect ladies’ man;<br/> + Made sonnets, lisp’d his sermons o’er,<br/> + And told the tales he told before,<br/> + Of bailiffs pump’d, and proctors bit,<br/> + At college how he shew’d his wit;<br/> + And, as the fair one still approv’d,<br/> + He fell in love—or thought he lov’d.<br/> + So with decorum, etc. +</p> + + <p> + The fifth line was probably a reminiscence of the college riot in which + Goldsmith was involved in May, 1747, and for his part in which he was + publicly admonished. (See <a href="#page_xi"><i>Introduction</i>,</a> + p. xi, l. 3.) + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_53">usage.</a> This word, perhaps by a printer’s error, is + ‘visage’ in the first version. + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_53">Skill’d in no other arts was she.</a> Cf. Prior:— + </p> + +<p class="poem"> + For in all Visits who but She,<br/> + To Argue, or to Repartee. +</p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_53">Five greasy nightcaps wrapp’d her head.</a> Cf. <i>Spectator</i>, + No. 494— ‘At length the Head of the Colledge came out to him, from + an inner Room, with half a Dozen Night-Caps upon his Head.’ See also + Goldsmith’s essay on the Coronation (<i>Essays</i>, 1766, p. 238), + where Mr. Grogan speaks of his wife as habitually + ‘mobbed up in flannel night caps, and trembling at a breath of air.’ + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_53">By day, ’twas gadding or coquetting.</a> The first + version after ‘coquetting’ begins a fresh paragraph with— + </p> + +<p class="poem"> + Now tawdry madam kept, etc. +</p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_54">A sigh in suffocating smoke.</a> Here in the first + version follows:— + </p> + +<p class="poem"> + She, in her turn, became perplexing,<br/> + And found substantial bliss in vexing.<br/> + Thus every hour was pass’d, etc. +</p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_52">Thus as her faults each day were known.</a> First + version: ‘Each day, the more her faults,’ etc. + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_54">Now, to perplex.</a> The first version has ‘Thus.’ But + the alteration in line 61 made a change necessary. + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_54">paste.</a> First version ‘pastes.’ + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_55">condemn’d to hack,</a> i.e. to hackney, to plod. + </p> + +<h3><a name="note19"></a><a href="#page_56">A NEW SIMILE.</a></h3> + + <p> + The <i>New Simile</i> first appears in <i>Essays: By Mr. + Goldsmith</i>, 1765, pp. 234–6, where it forms Essay xxvii. In the + second edition of 1766 it occupies pp. 246–8 and forms Essay xix. The + text here followed is that of the second edition, which varies slightly + from the first. In both cases the poem is followed by the enigmatical + initials ‘*J. B.,’ which, however, as suggested by Gibbs, may simply stand + for ‘Jack Bookworm’ of <i>The Double Transformation</i>. (See p. + 204.) + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_56">Long had I sought in vain to find.</a> The text of 1765 + reads— + </p> + +<p class="poem"> + ‘I long had rack’d my brains to find.’ +</p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_56">Tooke’s Pantheon.</a> Andrew Tooke (1673–1732) was + first usher and then Master at the Charterhouse. In the latter capacity he + succeeded Thomas Walker, the master of Addison and Steele. His <i> + Pantheon</i>, a revised translation from the Latin of the Jesuit, + Francis Pomey, was a popular school-book of mythology, with copper-plates. + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_56">Wings upon either side—mark that.</a> The petasus + of Mercury, like his sandals (l. 24), is winged. + </p> + +<p> +<a href="#page_57">No poppy-water half so good.</a> Poppy-water, made by +boiling the heads of the white, black, or red poppy, was a favourite +eighteenth-century soporific:—‘Juno shall give her peacock +<i>poppy-water</i>, that he may fold his ogling tail.’ (Congreve’s +<i>Love for Love</i>, 1695, iv. 3.) +</p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_57">With this he drives men’s souls to hell.</a> + </p> + +<p class="poem"> + Tu....<br/> + ....virgaque levem coerces<br/> + Aurea turbam.—Hor. <i>Od</i>. i. 10. +</p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_58">Moreover, Merc’ry had a failing.</a> + </p> + +<p class="poem"> + Te canam....<br/> + Callidum, quidquid placuit, iocoso<br/> + Condere furto.—Hor. <i>Od</i>. i. 10. +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> + Goldsmith, it will be observed, rhymes ‘failing’ and ‘stealing.’ But Pope + does much the same:— + </p> + +<p class="poem"> + That Jelly’s rich, this Malmsey healing,<br/> + Pray dip your Whiskers and your tail in.<br/> + (<i>Imitation of Horace</i>, Bk. ii, Sat. vi.) +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> + Unless this is to be explained by poetical licence, one of these words + must have been pronounced in the eighteenth century as it is not + pronounced now. + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_58">In which all modern bards agree.</a> The text of 1765 + reads ‘our scribling bards.’ + </p> + +<h3><a name="note20"></a><a href="#page_59">EDWIN AND ANGELINA.</a></h3> + + <p> + This ballad, usually known as <i>The Hermit</i>, was written in or + before 1765, and printed privately in that year ‘for the amusement of the + Countess of Northumberland,’ whose acquaintance Goldsmith had recently + made through Mr. Nugent. (See the prefatory note to <i>The Haunch of + Venison</i>.) Its title was ‘<i>Edwin and Angelina. A Ballad</i>. + By Mr. Goldsmith.’ It was first published in <i>The Vicar of Wakefield</i>, + 1766, where it appears at pp. 70–7, vol. i. In July, 1767, Goldsmith was + accused [by Dr. Kenrick] in the <i>St. James’s Chronicle</i> of + having taken it from Percy’s <i> Friar of Orders Gray</i>. Thereupon + he addressed a letter to the paper, of which the following is the material + portion:—‘Another Correspondent of yours accuses me of having + 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 is taken from mine. I read + it to Mr. Percy some Years ago, and he (as we both considered these Things + as Trifles at best) told me, with his usual Good Humour, the next Time I + saw him, that he had taken my Plan to form the fragments of Shakespeare + 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 + scarce worth printing, and were it not for the busy Disposition of some of + your Correspondents, the Publick should never have known that he owes me + the Hint of his Ballad, or that I am obliged to his Friendship and + Learning for Communications of a much more important Nature.—I am, + Sir, your’s etc. O<small>LIVER</small> G<small>OLDSMITH</small>.’ (<i>St. + James’s Chronicle</i>, July 23–5, 1767.) No contradiction of this + statement appears to have been offered by Percy; but in re-editing his + <i>Reliques of Ancient English Poetry</i> in 1775, shortly after + Goldsmith’s death, he affixed this note to <i>The Friar of Orders Gray</i>:—‘As + the foregoing song has been thought to have suggested to our late + excellent poet, Dr. Goldsmith, the plan of his beautiful ballad of <i>Edwin + and Emma</i> [<i>Angelina</i>], first printed [published?] in his + <i> Vicar of Wakefield</i>, it is but justice to his memory to + declare, that his poem was written first, and that if there is any + imitation in the case, they will be found both to be indebted to the + beautiful old ballad, <i>Gentle Herdsman, etc.</i>, printed in the + second volume of this work, which the doctor had much admired in + manuscript, and has finely improved’ (vol. i. p. 250). The same story is + told, in slightly different terms, at pp. 74–5 of the <i>Memoir</i> + of Goldsmith drawn up under Percy’s superintendence for the <i>Miscellaneous + Works</i> of 1801, and a few stanzas of <i>Gentle Herdsman</i>, + which Goldsmith is supposed to have had specially in mind, are there + reproduced. References to them will be found in the ensuing notes. The + text here adopted (with exception of ll. 117–20) is that of the fifth + edition of <i>The Vicar of Wakefield</i>, 1773[4], i. pp. 78–85; but + the variations of the earlier version of 1765 are duly chronicled, + together with certain hitherto neglected differences between the first and + later editions of the novel. The poem was also printed in the <i>Poems + for Young Ladies</i>, 1767, pp. 91–8.* The author himself, it may be added, + thought highly of it. ‘As to my “Hermit,” that poem,’ he is reported to + have said, ‘cannot be amended.’ (Cradock’s <i>Memoirs</i>, 1828, iv. + 286.) + </p> + +<p class="footnote"> +* This version differs considerably from the others, often following + that of 1765; but it has not been considered necessary to record the + variations here. That Goldsmith unceasingly revised the piece is + sufficiently established. + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_59">Turn, etc.</a> The first version has— + </p> + +<p class="poem"> +Deign saint-like tenant of the dale,<br/> + To guide my nightly way,<br/> +To yonder fire, that cheers the vale<br/> + With hospitable ray. +</p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_59">For yonder faithless phantom flies.</a> <i>The Vicar + of Wakefield</i>, first edition, has— + </p> + +<p class="poem"> + ‘For yonder phantom only flies.’ +</p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_60">All.</a> <i> Vicar of Wakefield</i>, first + edition, ‘For.’ + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_60">Man wants but little here below.</a> Cf. Young’s <i>Complaint</i>, + 1743, <i>Night</i> iv. 9, of which this and the next line are a + recollection. According to Prior (<i>Life</i>, 1837, ii. 83), they + were printed as a quotation in the version of 1765. Young’s line is— + </p> + +<p class="poem"> + Man wants but Little; nor that Little, long. +</p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_60">modest.</a> <i>Vicar of Wakefield</i>, first + edition, ‘grateful.’ + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_60">Far in a wilderness obscure.</a> First version, and + <i>Vicar of Wakefield</i>, first edition:— + </p> + +<p class="poem"> + Far shelter’d in a glade obscure<br/> + The modest mansion lay. +</p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_60">The wicket, opening with a latch.</a> First version, + and <i>Vicar of Wakefield</i>, first edition:— + </p> + +<p class="poem"> + The door just opening with a latch. +</p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_60">And now, when busy crowds retire.</a> First version, + and <i>Vicar of Wakefield</i>, first edition:— + </p> + +<p class="poem"> + And now, when worldly crowds retire<br/> + To revels or to rest. +</p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_61">But nothing, etc.</a> In the first version this stanza + runs as follows:— + </p> + +<p class="poem"> +But nothing mirthful could assuage<br/> + The pensive stranger’s woe;<br/> +For grief had seized his early age,<br/> + And tears would often flow. +</p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_61">modern.</a> <i>Vicar of Wakefield</i>, first + edition, reads ‘haughty.’ + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_62">His love-lorn guest betray’d.</a> First version, and + <i>Vicar of Wakefield</i>, first edition:— + </p> + +<p class="poem"> + The bashful guest betray’d. +</p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_62">Surpris’d, he sees, etc.</a> First version, and <i>Vicar + of Wakefield</i>, first edition:— + </p> + +<p class="poem"> +He sees unnumber’d beauties rise,<br/> + Expanding to the view;<br/> +Like clouds that deck the morning skies,<br/> + As bright, as transient too. +</p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_62">The bashful look, the rising breast.</a> First version, + and <i>Vicar of Wakefield</i>, first edition:— + </p> + +<p class="poem"> + Her looks, her lips, her panting breast. +</p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_62">But let a maid, etc.</a> For this, and the next two + stanzas, the first version substitutes:— + </p> + +<p class="poem"> +Forgive, and let thy pious care<br/> + A heart’s distress allay;<br/> +That seeks repose, but finds despair<br/> + Companion of the way.<br/> +<br/> +My father liv’d, of high degree,<br/> + Remote beside the Tyne;<br/> +And as he had but only me,<br/> + Whate’er he had was mine.<br/> +<br/> +To win me from his tender arms,<br/> + Unnumber’d suitors came;<br/> +Their chief pretence my flatter’d charms,<br/> + My wealth perhaps their aim. +</p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_63">a mercenary crowd.</a> <i>Vicar of Wakefield</i>, + first edition, has:—‘the gay phantastic crowd.’ + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_63">Amongst the rest young Edwin bow’d.</a> First version:— + </p> + +<p class="poem"> +Among the rest young Edwin bow’d,<br/> + Who offer’d only love. +</p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_63">Wisdom and worth, etc.</a> First version, and <i>Vicar + of Wakefield</i>, first edition:— + </p> + +<p class="poem"> +A constant heart was all he had,<br/> + But that was all to me. +</p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_63">And when beside me, etc.</a> For this ‘additional + stanza,’ says the <i>Percy Memoir</i>, p. 76, ‘the reader is + indebted to Richard Archdal, Esq., late a member of the Irish Parliament, + to whom it was presented by the author himself.’ It was first printed in + the <i>Miscellaneous Works</i>, 1801, ii. 25. In Prior’s edition of + the <i>Miscellaneous Works</i>, 1837, iv. 41, it is said to have + been ‘written some years after the rest of the poem.’ + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_63">The blossom opening to the day, etc.</a> For this and + the next two stanzas the first version substitutes:— + </p> + +<p class="poem"> +Whene’er he spoke amidst the train,<br/> + How would my heart attend!<br/> +And till delighted even to pain,<br/> + How sigh for such a friend!<br/> +And when a little rest I sought<br/> + In Sleep’s refreshing arms,<br/> +How have I mended what he taught,<br/> + And lent him fancied charms!<br/> +Yet still (and woe betide the hour!)<br/> + I spurn’d him from my side,<br/> +And still with ill-dissembled power<br/> + Repaid his love with pride. +</p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_63">For still I tried each fickle art, etc.</a> Percy finds + the prototype of this in the following stanza of <i>Gentle Herdsman</i>:— + </p> + +<p class="poem"> +And grew soe coy and nice to please,<br/> + As women’s lookes are often soe,<br/> +He might not kisse, nor hand forsoothe,<br/> + Unlesse I willed him soe to doe. +</p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_63">Till quite dejected with my scorn, etc.</a> The first + edition reads this stanza and the first two lines of the next thus:— + </p> + +<p class="poem"> +Till quite dejected by my scorn,<br/> + He left me to deplore;<br/> +And sought a solitude forlorn,<br/> + And ne’er was heard of more.<br/> +Then since he perish’d by my fault,<br/> + This pilgrimage I pay, etc. +</p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_63">And sought a solitude forlorn.</a> Cf. <i>Gentle + Herdsman</i>:— + </p> + +<p class="poem"> +He gott him to a secrett place,<br/> + And there he dyed without releeffe. +</p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_64">And there forlorn, despairing, hid, etc.</a> The first + edition for this and the next two stanzas substitutes the following:— + </p> + +<p class="poem"> +And there in shelt’ring thickets hid,<br/> + I’ll linger till I die;<br/> +’Twas thus for me my lover did,<br/> + And so for him will I.<br/> +‘Thou shalt not thus,’ the Hermit cried,<br/> + And clasp’d her to his breast;<br/> +The astonish’d fair one turned to chide,—<br/> + ’Twas Edwin’s self that prest.<br/> +For now no longer could he hide,<br/> + What first to hide he strove;<br/> +His looks resume their youthful pride,<br/> + And flush with honest love. +</p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_64">’Twas so for me, etc.</a> Cf. <i>Gentle Herdsman</i>:— + </p> + +<p class="poem"> +Thus every day I fast and pray,<br/> + And ever will doe till I dye;<br/> +And gett me to some secret place,<br/> + For soe did hee, and soe will I. +</p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_64">Forbid it, Heaven.</a> <i>Vicar of Wakefield</i>, + first edition, like the version of 1765, has ‘Thou shalt not thus.’ + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_64">My life.</a> <i>Vicar of Wakefield</i>, first + edition, has ‘O thou.’ + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_64">No, never from this hour, etc.</a> The first edition + reads:— + </p> + +<p class="poem"> +No, never, from this hour to part,<br/> + Our love shall still be new;<br/> +And the last sigh that rends thy heart,<br/> + Shall break thy Edwin’s too. +</p> + + <p> + The poem then concluded thus:— + </p> + +<p class="poem"> +Here amidst sylvan bowers we’ll rove,<br/> + From lawn to woodland stray;<br/> +Blest as the songsters of the grove,<br/> + And innocent as they.<br/> +To all that want, and all that wail,<br/> + Our pity shall be given,<br/> +And when this life of love shall fail,<br/> + We’ll love again in heaven. +</p> + + <p> + These couplets, with certain alterations in the first and last lines, are + to be found in the version printed in <i>Poems for Young Ladies</i>, + 1767, p. 98. + </p> + +<h3><a name="note21"></a><a href="#page_65">AN ELEGY ON THE DEATH OF A MAD DOG.</a></h3> + + <p> + This poem was first published in <i>The Vicar of Wakefield</i>, + 1766, i. 175–6, where it is sung by one of the little boys. In common + with the <i>Elegy on Mrs. Mary Blaize</i> (p. 47) it owes something + of its origin to Goldsmith’s antipathy to fashionable elegiacs, something + also to the story of M. de la Palisse. As regards mad dogs, its author + seems to have been more reasonable than many of his contemporaries, since + he ridiculed, with much common sense, their exaggerated fears on this + subject (<i>v. Chinese Letter</i> in <i>The Public Ledger</i> + for August 29, 1760, afterwards Letter lxvi of <i> The Citizen of the + World</i>, 1762, ii. 15). But it is ill jesting with hydrophobia. Like + <i>Madam Blaize</i>, these verses have been illustrated by Randolph + Caldecott. + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_65">In Islington there was a man.</a> Goldsmith had + lodgings at Mrs. Elizabeth Fleming’s in Islington (or ‘Isling town’ as the + earlier editions have it) in 1763–4; and the choice of the locality may + have been determined by this circumstance. But the date of the composition + of the poem is involved in the general obscurity which hangs over the <i>Vicar</i> + in its unprinted state. (See <a href="#page_xviii"><i>Introduction</i>,</a> + pp. xviii-xix.) + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_65">The dog, to gain some private ends.</a> The first + edition reads ‘his private ends.’ + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_66">The dog it was that died.</a> This catastrophe suggests + the couplet from the <i>Greek Anthology</i>, ed. Jacobs, 1813–7, ii. + 387:— + </p> + +<p class="poem"> + Kappadoken pot exidna kake daken alla kai aute<br/> + katthane, geusamene aimatos iobolou. +</p> + + <p> + Goldsmith, however, probably went no farther back than Voltaire on Fréron:— + </p> + +<p class="poem"> + L’autre jour, au fond d’un vallon,<br/> + Un serpent mordit Jean Fréron.<br/> + Devinez ce qu’il arriva?<br/> + Ce fut le serpent qui creva. +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> + This again, according to M. Edouard Fournier (<i>L’Esprit des Autres</i>, + sixth edition, 1881, p. 288), is simply the readjustment of an earlier + quatrain, based upon a Latin distich in the <i>Epigrammatum delectus</i>, + 1659:— + </p> + +<p class="poem"> + Un gros serpent mordit Aurelle.<br/> + Que croyez-vous qu’il arriva?<br/> + Qu’Aurelle en mourut?—Bagatelle!<br/> + Ce fut le serpent qui creva. +</p> + +<h3><a name="note22"></a><a href="#page_67">SONG</a><br /> +<small>FROM ‘THE VICAR OF WAKEFIELD.’</small></h3> + + <p> + First published in <i>The Vicar of Wakefield</i>, 1766, ii. 78 + (chap. v). It is there sung by Olivia Primrose, after her return home with + her father. ‘Do, my pretty Olivia,’ says Mrs. Primrose, let us have that + little melancholy air your pappa 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,’ continues Dr. Primrose, ‘as + moved me.’ The charm of the words, and the graceful way in which they are + introduced, seem to have blinded criticism to the impropriety, and even + inhumanity, of requiring poor Olivia to sing a song so completely + applicable to her own case. No source has been named for this piece; and + its perfect conformity with the text would appear to indicate that + Goldsmith was not indebted to any earlier writer for his idea. + </p> + + <p> + His well-known obligations to French sources seem, however, to have + suggested that, if a French original could not be discovered for the + foregoing lyric, it might be desirable to invent one. A clever + paragraphist in the <i>St. James’s Gazette</i> for January 28th, + 1889, accordingly reproduced the following stanzas, which he alleged, were + to be found in the poems of Segur, ‘printed in Paris in 1719’:— + </p> + +<p class="poem"> +Lorsqu’une femme, après trop de tendresse,<br/> + D’un homme sent la trahison,<br/> +Comment, pour cette si douce foiblesse<br/> + Peut-elle trouver une guérison?<br/> +<br/> +Le seul remède qu’elle peut ressentir,<br/> + La seul revanche pour son tort,<br/> +Pour faire trop tard l’amant repentir,<br/> + Helas! trop tard—est la mort. +</p> + + <p> + As a correspondent was not slow to point out, Goldsmith, if a copyist, at + all events considerably improved his model (see in particular lines 7 and + 8 of the French). On the 30th of the month the late Sir William Fraser + gave it as his opinion, that, until the volume of 1719 should be produced, + the ‘very inferior verses quoted’ must be classed with the fabrications of + ‘Father Prout,’ and he instanced that very version of the <i> Burial of + Sir John Moore</i> (<i>Les Funérailles de Beaumanoir</i>) + which has recently (August 1906) been going the round of the papers once + again. No Ségur volume of 1719 was, of course, forthcoming. + </p> + + <p> + Kenrick, as we have already seen, had in 1767 accused Goldsmith of taking + <i>Edwin and Angelina</i> from Percy (p. 206). Thirty years later, + the charge of plagiarism was revived in a different way when <i>Raimond + and Angéline</i>, a French translation of the same poem, + appeared, as Goldsmith’s original, in a collection of Essays called <i>The + Quiz</i>, 1797. It was eventually discovered to be a translation ‘from’ + Goldsmith by a French poet named Léonard, who had included it in a + volume dated 1792, entitled <i>Lettres de deux Amans, Habitans de Lyon</i> + (Prior’s <i>Life</i>, 1837, ii. 89–94). It may be added that, + according to the <i> Biographie Universelle</i>, 1847, vol. 18 (Art. + ‘Goldsmith’), there were then no fewer than at least three French + imitations of <i>The Hermit</i> besides Léonard’s. + </p> + +<h3><a name="note23"></a><a href="#page_68">EPILOGUE TO ‘THE GOOD NATUR’D MAN.’</a></h3> + + <p> + Goldsmith’s comedy of <i>The Good Natur’d Man</i> was produced by + Colman, at Covent Garden, on Friday, January 29, 1768. The following note + was appended to the Epilogue when printed:—‘The Author, in + expectation of an Epilogue from a friend at Oxford, deferred writing one + himself till the very last hour. What is here offered, owes all its + success to the graceful manner of the Actress who spoke it.’ It was spoken + by Mrs. Bulkley, the ‘Miss Richland’ of the piece. In its first form it is + to be + found in <i>The Public Advertiser</i> for February 3. Two days later + the play was published, with the version here followed. + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_68">As puffing quacks.</a> Goldsmith had devoted a Chinese + letter to this subject. See <i>Citizen of the World</i>, 1762, ii. + 10 (Letter lxv). + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_68">No, no: I’ve other contests, etc.</a> This couplet is + not in the first version. The old building of the College of Physicians + was in Warwick Lane; and the reference is to the long-pending dispute, + occasionally enlivened by personal collision, between the Fellows and + Licentiates respecting the exclusion of certain of the latter from + Fellowships. On this theme Bonnell Thornton, himself an M.B. like + Goldsmith, wrote a satiric additional canto to Garth’s <i> Dispensary</i>, + entitled <i>The Battle of the Wigs</i>, long extracts from which are + printed in <i>The Gentleman’s Magazine</i> for March, 1768, p. 132. + The same number also reviews <i>The Siege of the Castle of Æsculapius, + an heroic Comedy, as it is acted in Warwick-Lane</i>. Goldsmith’s + couplet is, however, best illustrated by the title of one of Sayer’s + caricatures, <i>The March of the Medical Militants to the Siege of + Warwick-Lane-Castle in the Year</i> 1767. The quarrel was finally + settled in favour of the college in June, 1771. + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_68">Go, ask your manager.</a> Colman, the manager of Covent + Garden, was not a prolific, although he was a happy writer of prologues + and epilogues. + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_69">The quotation</a> is from <i>King Lear</i>, Act + iii, Sc. 4. + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_69">In the first version</a> the last line runs:— + </p> + +<p class="poem"> + And view with favour, the ‘Good-natur’d Man.’ +</p> + +<h3><a name="note24"></a><a href="#page_70">EPILOGUE TO ‘THE SISTER.’</a></h3> + + <p> + <i>The Sister</i>, produced at Covent Garden February 18, 1769, was + a comedy by Mrs. Charlotte Lenox or Lennox, ‘an ingenious lady,’ says + <i>The Gentleman’s Magazine</i> for April in the same year, ‘well + known in the literary world by her excellent writings, particularly the + Female Quixote, and Shakespeare illustrated. . . . The audience expressed + their disapprobation of it with so much clamour and appearance of + prejudice, that she would not suffer an attempt to exhibit it a second + time (p. 199).’ According to the +<a name="page_216" id="page_216"></a> + same authority it was based upon one of the writer’s own novels, <i>Henrietta</i>, + published in 1758. Though tainted with the prevailing sentimentalism, + <i>The Sister</i> is described by Forster as ‘both amusing and + interesting’; and it is probable that it was not fairly treated when it + was acted. Mrs. Lenox (1720–1804), daughter of Colonel Ramsay, + Lieut.-Governor of New York, was a favourite with the literary magnates of + her day. Johnson was half suspected of having helped her in her book on + Shakespeare; Richardson admitted her to his readings at Parson’s Green; + Fielding, who knew her, calls her, in the <i>Journal of a Voyage to + Lisbon</i>, 1755, p. 35 (first version), ‘the inimitable author of the + Female Quixote’; and Goldsmith, though he had no kindness for genteel + comedy (see <i> post</i>, p. 228), wrote her this lively epilogue, which + was spoken by Mrs. Bulkley, who personated the ‘Miss Autumn’ of the piece. + Mrs. Lenox died in extremely reduced circumstances, and was buried by the + Right Hon. George Ross, who had befriended her later years. There are + several references to her in Boswell’s <i>Life of Johnson</i>. (See + also Hawkins’ <i>Life</i>, 2nd ed. 1787, pp. 285–7.) + </p> + +<h3><a name="note25"></a><a href="#page_72">PROLOGUE TO ‘ZOBEIDE.’</a></h3> + + <p> + <i>Zobeide</i>, a play by Joseph Cradock (1742–1826), of Gumley, in + Leicestershire, was produced by Colman at Covent Garden on Dec. 11, 1771. + It was a translation from three acts of <i>Les Scythes</i>, an + unfinished tragedy by Voltaire. Goldsmith was applied to, through the + Yates’s, for a prologue, and sent that here printed to the author of the + play with the following note:—‘Mr. Goldsmith presents his best + respects to Mr. Cradock, has sent him the Prologue, such as it is. He + cannot take time to make it better. He begs he will give Mr. Yates the + proper instructions; and so, even so, commits him to fortune and the + publick.’ (Cradock’s <i>Memoirs</i>, 1826, i. 224.) Yates, to the + acting of whose wife in the character of the heroine the success of the + piece, which ran for thirteen nights, was mainly attributable, was to have + spoken the prologue, but it ultimately fell to Quick, later the ‘Tony + Lumpkin’ of <i>She Stoops to Conquer</i>, who delivered it in the + character of a sailor. Cradock seems + subsequently to have sent a copy of <i> Zobeide</i> to Voltaire, who + replied in English as follows:— + </p> + +<p class="right"> + 9e. 8bre. 1773. à ferney. +</p> + +<p class="letter"> + Sr.<br/> + Thanks to yr muse a foreign copper shines + Turn’d in to gold, and coin’d in sterling lines. + You have done to much honour to an old sick man of eighty. +</p> + +<p class="right"> + I am with the most sincere esteem and gratitude<br/> + Sr.<br/> + Yr. obdt. Servt. Voltaire.<br/> + A Monsieur Monsieur J. Cradock. +</p> + + <p> + The text of the prologue is here given as printed in Cradock’s <i>Memoirs</i>, + 1828, iii. 8–9. It is unnecessary to specify the variations between this + and the earlier issue of 1771. + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_72">In these bold times, etc.</a> The reference is to Cook, + who, on June 12, 1771, had returned to England in the <i>Endeavour</i>, + after three years’ absence, having gone to Otaheite to observe the transit + of Venus (l. 4). + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_72">Botanists.</a> Mr. (afterward Sir Joseph) Banks and Dr. + Solander, of the British Museum, accompanied Cook. + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_72">go simpling,</a> i.e. gathering simples, or herbs. Cf. + <i>Merry Wives of Windsor</i>, Act iii, Sc. 3:— + </p> + +<p class="poem"> +‘—These lisping hawthorn buds that ... smell like Bucklersbury +in <i>simple</i>-time.’ +</p> + + <p> + In the caricatures of the day Solander figured as ‘The <i>simpling</i> + Macaroni.’ (See note, p. 247, l. 31.) + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_72">With Scythian stores.</a> The scene of the play was + laid in Scythia (<i>v. supra</i>). + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_73">to make palaver,</a> to hold a parley, generally with + the intention of cajoling. Two of Goldsmith’s notes to Garrick in 1773 are + endorsed by the actor—‘Goldsmith’s parlaver.’ (Forster’s <i> Life</i>, + 1871, ii. 397.) + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_73">mercenary.</a> Cradock gave the profits of <i>Zobeide</i> + to Mrs. Yates. ‘I mentioned the disappointment it would be to you’—she + says in a letter to him dated April 26, 1771—‘as you had generously + given the emoluments of the piece to me.’ (<i>Memoirs</i>, 1828, iv. + 211.) + </p> + +<h3><a name="note26"></a><a href="#page_74">THRENODIA AUGUSTALIS.</a></h3> + + <p> + Augusta, widow of Frederick, Prince of Wales, and mother of George the + Third, died at Carlton House, February 8, 1772. This piece was spoken and + sung in Mrs. Teresa Cornelys’s Great Room in Soho Square, on the Thursday + following (the 20th), being sold at the door as a small quarto pamphlet, + printed by William Woodfall. The author’s name was not given; but it was + prefaced by this ‘advertisement,’ etc.:— + </p> + + <p> + ‘The following may more properly be termed a compilation than a poem. It + was prepared for the composer in little more than two days: and may be + considered therefore rather as an industrious effort of gratitude than of + genius. In justice to the composer it may likewise be right to inform the + public, that the music was adapted in a period of time equally short. + </p> + +<p class="center"> + <small>SPEAKERS.</small><br /> <i>Mr. Lee and Mrs. Bellamy.</i><br /> <br /> + <small>SINGERS.</small> + </p> + +<p class="center"> + <i>Mr. Champnes, Mr. Dine, and Miss Jameson; + with twelve chorus singers. The music prepared and adapted by Signor + Vento.</i> + </p> + +<p> +It is—as Cunningham calls it—a ‘hurried and unworthy +off-spring of the muse of Goldsmith.’ +</p> + + <p> + (Part I).<br /> <a href="#page_78">Celestial-like her bounty fell.</a> The + Princess’s benefactions are not exaggerated. ‘She had paid off the whole + of her husband’s debts, and she had given munificent sums in charity. More + than 10,000 pounds a year were given away by her in pensions to + individuals whom she judged deserving, very few of whom were aware, until + her death, whence the bounty came. The whole of her income she spent in + England, and very little on herself’ (<i>Augusta: Princess of Wales</i>, + by W. H. Wilkins, <i> Nineteenth Century</i>, October, 1903, p. + 675). + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_78">There faith shall come.</a> This, and the three lines + that follow, are borrowed from Collins’s <i>Ode written in the + beginning of the year</i> 1746. + </p> + + <p> + (Part II).<br /> <a href="#page_80">The towers of Kew.</a> ‘The + embellishments of Kew palace and gardens, under the direction of [Sir + William] Chambers, and others, was the favourite object of her [Royal Highness’s] + widowhood’ (Bolton Corney). + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_82">Along the billow’d main.</a> Cf. <i>The Captivity</i>, + Act ii, l. 18. + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_82">Oswego’s dreary shores.</a> Cf. <i>The Traveller</i>, + l. 411. + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_82">And with the avenging fight.</a> Varied from Collins’s + <i>Ode on the Death of Colonel Charles Ross at Fontenoy</i>. + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_83">Its earliest bloom.</a> Cf. Collins’s <i>Dirge in + Cymbeline</i>. + </p> + +<h3><a name="note27"></a><a href="#page_84">SONG</a><br /> +<small>FROM ‘SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER.’</small></h3> + + <p> + This thoroughly characteristic song, for a parallel to which one must go + to Congreve, or to the ‘Here’s to the maiden of bashful fifteen’ of <i>The + School for Scandal</i>, has one grave defect,—it is too good to + have been composed by Tony Lumpkin, who, despite his inability to read + anything but ‘print-hand,’ declares, in Act i. Sc. 2 of <i>She Stoops + to Conquer</i>, 1773, that he himself made it upon the ale-house (‘The + Three Pigeons’) in which he sings it, and where it is followed by the + annexed comments, directed by the author against the sentimentalists, who, + in <i>The Good Natur’d Man</i> of five years before, had insisted + upon the omission of the Bailiff scene:— + </p> + <p> + ‘O<small>MNES</small>. + </p> + <p> + Bravo, bravo! + </p> + <p> + <i>First</i> F<small>ELLOW</small>. + </p> + <p> + The ’Squire has got spunk in him. + </p> + <p> + <i>Second</i> F<small>ELLOW</small>. + </p> + <p> + I loves to hear him sing, bekeays he never gives us nothing that’s <i>low</i> + . . . + </p> + <p> + <i>Fourth</i> F<small>ELLOW</small>. + </p> + <p> + The genteel thing is the genteel thing at any time. If so be that a + gentleman bees in a concatenation accordingly. + </p> + <p> + <i>Third</i> F<small>ELLOW</small>. + </p> + <p> + I like the maxum of it, Master Muggins. What, tho’ I am obligated to dance + a bear, a man may be a gentleman for all that. May this be my poison if my + bear ever dances but to + the very genteelest of tunes. <i>Water Parted</i>,* or the minuet in + <i>Ariadne</i>.’ + </p> + +<p class="footnote"> +* i.e. Arne’s <i>Water Parted from the Sea</i>,—the song + of Arbaces in the opera of <i> Artaxerxes</i> 1762. The minuet in + <i>Ariadne</i> was by Handel. It came at the end of the overture, + and is said to have been the best thing in the opera. + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_84">When Methodist preachers, etc.</a> Tony Lumpkin’s + utterance accurately represents the view of this sect taken by some of his + contemporaries. While moderate and just spectators of the Johnson type + could recognize the sincerity of men, who, like Wesley, travelled ‘nine + hundred miles in a month, and preached twelve times a week’ for no + ostensibly adequate reward, there were others who saw in Methodism, and + especially in the extravagancies of its camp followers, nothing but cant + and duplicity. It was this which prompted on the stage Foote’s <i>Minor</i> + (1760) and Bickerstaffe’s <i> Hypocrite</i> (1768); in art the <i>Credulity, + Superstition, and Fanaticism</i> of Hogarth (1762); and in literature + the <i>New Bath Guide</i> of Anstey (1766), the <i>Spiritual + Quixote</i> of Graves, 1772, and the sarcasms of Sterne, Smollett and + Walpole. + </p> + + <p> + It is notable that the most generous contemporary portrait of these much + satirised sectaries came from one of the originals of the <i>Retaliation</i> + gallery. Scott highly praises the character of Ezekiel Daw in Cumberland’s + <i> Henry</i>, 1795, adding, in his large impartial fashion, with + reference to the general practice of representing Methodists either as + idiots or hypocrites, ‘A very different feeling is due to many, perhaps to + most, of this enthusiastic sect; nor is it rashly to be inferred, that he + who makes religion the general object of his life, is for that sole reason + to be held either a fool or an impostor.’ (Scott’s <i>Miscellaneous + Prose Works</i>, 1834, iii. 222.) + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_84">But of all the birds in the air.</a> Hypercriticism may + object that ‘the hare’ is not a bird. But exigence of rhyme has to answer + for many things. Some editors needlessly read ‘the <i>gay</i> birds’ to + lengthen the line. There is no sanction for this in the earlier editions. + </p> + +<h3><a name="note28"></a><a href="#page_85">EPILOGUE TO ‘SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER.’</a></h3> + + <p> + This epilogue was spoken by Mrs. Bulkley in the character of Miss + Hardcastle. It is probably the epilogue described by + Goldsmith to Cradock, in the letter quoted at p. 246, as ‘a very mawkish + thing,’ a phrase not so incontestable as Bolton Corney’s remark that it is + ‘an obvious imitation of Shakespere.’ + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_85">That pretty Bar-maids have done execution.</a> Cf. + <i>The Vicar of Wakefield</i>, 1766, i. 7:—‘Sophia’s features + were not so striking at first; but often did more certain execution.’ + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_85">coquets the guests.</a> Johnson explains this word ‘to + entertain with compliments and amorous tattle,’ and quotes the following + illustration from Swift, ‘You are <i>coquetting</i> a maid of honour, my + lord looking on to see how the gamesters play, and I railing at you both.’ + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_85">Nancy Dawson.</a> Nancy Dawson was a famous ‘toast’ and + horn-pipe dancer, who died at Haverstock Hill, May 27, 1767, and was + buried behind the Foundling, in the burial-ground of St. George the + Martyr. She first appeared at Sadler’s Wells, and speedily passed to the + stage of Covent Garden, where she danced in the <i>Beggar’s Opera</i>. + There is a portrait of her in the Garrick Club, and there are several + contemporary prints. She was the heroine of a popular song, here referred + to, beginning:— + </p> + +<p class="poem"> +Of all the girls in our town,<br/> +The black, the fair, the red, the brown,<br/> +Who dance and prance it up and down,<br/> + There’s none like Nancy Dawson:<br/> +Her easy mien, her shape so neat,<br/> +She foots, she trips, she looks so sweet,<br/> +Her ev’ry motion is complete;<br/> + I die for Nancy Dawson. +</p> + + <p> + Its tune—says J. T. Smith (<i>Book for a Rainy Day</i>, + Whitten’s ed., 1905, p. 10) was ‘as lively as that of “Sir Roger de + Coverley.”’ + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_85">Che farò,</a> i.e. <i>Che farò senza + Euridice</i>, the lovely lament from Glück’s <i>Orfeo</i>, + 1764. + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_85">the Heinel of Cheapside.</a> The reference is to + Mademoiselle Anna-Frederica Heinel, 1752–1808, a beautiful Prussian, + subsequently the wife of Gaetano Apollino Balthazar Vestris, called + ‘Vestris the First.’ After extraordinary success as a <i>danseuse</i> at + Stuttgard and Paris, where Walpole saw her in 1771 + (Letter to the Earl of Strafford 25th August), she had come to London; + and, at this date, was the darling of the Macaronies (cf. the note on p. + 247, l. 31), who, from their club, added a <i>regallo</i> (present) of six + hundred pounds to the salary allowed her at the Haymarket. On April 1, + 1773, Metastasio’s <i>Artaserse</i> was performed for her benefit, + when she was announced to dance a minuet with Monsieur Fierville, and + ‘Tickets were to be hand, at her house in Piccadilly, two doors from Air + Street.’ + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_86">spadille,</a> i.e. the ace of spades, the first trump + in the game of Ombre. Cf. Swift’s <i>Journal of a Modern Lady in a + Letter to a Person of Quality</i>, 1728:— + </p> + +<p class="poem"> + She draws up card by card, to find<br/> + Good fortune peeping from behind;<br/> + With panting heart, and earnest eyes,<br/> + In hope to see <i>spadillo</i> rise;<br/> + In vain, alas! her hope is fed;<br/> + She draws an ace, and sees it red. +</p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_86">Bayes.</a> The chief character in Buckingham’s <i>Rehearsal</i>, + 1672, and intended for John Dryden. Here the name is put for the ‘poet’ or + ‘dramatist.’ Cf. Murphy’s Epilogue to Cradock’s <i> Zobeide</i>, + 1771:— + </p> + +<p class="poem"> + Not e’en poor ‘Bayes’ within must hope to be<br/> + Free from the lash:—His Play he writ for me<br/> + ’Tis true—and now my gratitude you’ll see; +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> + and Colman’s Epilogue to <i>The School for Scandal</i>, 1777:— + </p> + +<p class="poem"> + So wills our virtuous bard—the motley <i>Bayes</i><br/> + Of crying epilogues and laughing plays! +</p> + +<h3><a name="note29"></a><a href="#page_87">RETALIATION.</a></h3> + + <p> + <i>Retaliation: A Poem. By Doctor Goldsmith. Including Epitaphs on the + Most Distinguished Wits of this Metropolis</i>, was first published by + G. Kearsly in April, 1774, as a 4to pamphlet of 24 pp. On the title-page + is a vignette head of the author, etched by James Basire, after Reynolds’s + portrait; and the verses are prefaced by an anonymous letter to the + publisher, concluding as follows:—‘Dr. Goldsmith <i>belonged to a + Club of</i> Beaux Esprits, <i>where Wit sparkled sometimes at the Expence + of Good-nature.It was proposed to write Epitaphs on the Doctor; his Country, Dialect + and Person, furnished Subjects of Witticism.—The Doctor was called + on for’ Retaliation, ‘and at their next Meeting produced the following + Poem, which I think adds one Leaf to his immortal Wreath.</i> This account + seems to have sufficed for Evans, Percy, and the earlier editors. But in + vol. i. p. 78 of his edition of Goldsmith’s <i>Works</i>, 1854, Mr. + Peter Cunningham published for the first time a fuller version of the + circumstances, derived from a manuscript lent to him by Mr. George Daniel + of Islington; and (says Mr. Cunningham) ‘evidently designed as a preface + to a collected edition of the poems which grew out of Goldsmith’s trying + his epigrammatic powers with Garrick.’ It is signed ‘D. Garrick.’ ‘At a + meeting’—says the writer—‘of a company of gentlemen, who were + well known to each other, and diverting themselves, among many other + things, with the peculiar oddities of Dr. Goldsmith, who would never allow + a superior in any art, from writing poetry down to dancing a horn-pipe, + the Dr. with great eagerness insisted upon trying his epigrammatic powers + with Mr. Garrick, and each of them was to write the other’s epitaph. Mr. + Garrick immediately said that his epitaph was finished, and spoke the + following distich extempore:— + </p> + +<p class="poem"> + Here lies NOLLY Goldsmith, for shortness call’d Noll,<br/> + Who wrote like an angel, but talk’d like poor Poll. +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> + Goldsmith, upon the company’s laughing very heartily, grew very + thoughtful, and either would not, or could not, write anything at that + time: however, he went to work, and some weeks after produced the + following printed poem called <i> Retaliation</i>, which has been + much admired, and gone through several editions.’ This account, though + obviously from Garrick’s point of view, is now accepted as canonical, and + has superseded those of Davies, Cradock, Cumberland, and others, to which + some reference is made in the ensuing notes. A few days after the + publication of the first edition, which appeared on the 18th or 19th of + April, a ‘new’ or second edition was issued, with four pages of + ‘Explanatory Notes, Observations, etc.’ At the end came the following + announcement:—‘G. Kearsly, the Publisher, thinks it his duty to + declare, that + Dr. Goldsmith wrote the Poem as it is here printed, a few errors of the + press excepted, which are taken notice of at the bottom of this page.’ + From this version <i> Retaliation</i> is here reproduced. In the + third edition, probably in deference to some wounded susceptibilities, the + too comprehensive ‘most Distinguished Wits of the Metropolis’ was + qualified into ‘<i>some of the most</i> Distinguished Wits,’ etc., but no + further material alteration was made in the text until the suspicious + lines on Caleb Whitefoord were added to the fifth edition. + </p> + + <p> + With the exception of Garrick’s couplet, and the fragment of Whitefoord + referred to at p. 234, none of the original epitaphs upon which Goldsmith + was invited to ‘retaliate’ have survived. But the unexpected ability of + the retort seems to have prompted a number of <i>ex post facto</i> + performances, some of which the writers would probably have been glad to + pass off as their first essays. Garrick, for example, produced three short + pieces, one of which (‘Here, Hermes! says Jove, who with nectar was + mellow’) hits off many of Goldsmith’s contradictions and foibles with + considerable skill (<i>v.</i> Davies’s <i>Garrick</i>, 2nd ed., + 1780, ii. 157). Cumberland (<i>v. Gent. Mag.</i>, Aug. 1778, p. 384) + parodied the poorest part of <i> Retaliation</i>, the comparison of + the guests to dishes, by likening them to liquors, and Dean Barnard in + return rhymed upon Cumberland. He wrote also an apology for his first + attack, which is said to have been very severe, and conjured the poet to + set his wit at Garrick, who, having fired his first shot, was keeping out + of the way:— + </p> + +<p class="poem"> +On him let all thy vengeance fall;<br/> + On me you but misplace it:<br/> +Remember how he called thee <i>Poll</i>—<br/> + But, ah! he dares not face it. +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> + For these, and other forgotten pieces arising out of <i>Retaliation</i>, + Garrick had apparently prepared the above-mentioned introduction. It may + be added that the statement, prefixed to the first edition, that + <i>Retaliation</i>, as we now have it, was produced at the ‘next meeting’ of + the Club, is manifestly incorrect. It was composed and circulated in + detached fragments, and Goldsmith was still working at it when he was + seized with his last illness. + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_87">Of old, when Scarron, etc.</a> Paul Scarron (1610–60), + the author <i>inter alia</i> of the <i>Roman Comique</i>, 1651–7, + upon a translation + of which Goldsmith was occupied during the last months of his life. It was + published by Griffin in 1776. + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_87">Each guest brought his dish.</a> ‘Chez Scarron,’—says + his editor, M. Charles Baumet, when speaking of the poet’s entertainments,—‘venait + d’ailleurs l’élite des dames, des courtisans & des hommes de + lettres. On y dinait joyeusement. <i>Chacun apportait son plat</i>.’ (<i>Œuvres + de Scarron</i>, 1877, i. viii.) Scarron’s company must have been as + brilliant as Goldsmith’s. Villarceaux, Vivonne, the Maréchal + d’Albret, figured in his list of courtiers; while for ladies he had + Mesdames Deshoulières, de Scudéry, de la Sablière, + and de Sévigné, to say nothing of Ninon de Lenclos and + Marion Delorme. (Cf. also Guizot, <i> Corneille et son Temps</i>, + 1862, 429–30.) + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_87">If our landlord.</a> The ‘explanatory note’ to the + second edition says—‘The master of the St. James’s coffee-house, + where the Doctor, and the friends he has characterized in this Poem, held + an occasional club.’ This, it should be stated, was not the famous + ‘Literary Club,’ which met at the Turk’s Head Tavern in Gerrard Street. + The St. James’s Coffee-house, as familiar to Swift and Addison at the + beginning, as it was to Goldsmith and his friends at the end of the + eighteenth century, was the last house but one on the south-west corner + of St. James’s Street. It now no longer exists. Cradock (<i>Memoirs</i>, + 1826, i. 228–30) speaks of dining <i>at the bottom of St. James’s Street</i> + with Goldsmith, Percy, the two Burkes (<i>v. infra</i>), Johnson, Garrick, + Dean Barnard, and others. ‘We sat very late;’ he adds in conclusion, ‘and + the conversation that at last ensued, was the direct cause of my friend + Goldsmith’s poem, called “<i>Retaliation.</i>”’ + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_87">Our Dean.</a> Dr. Thomas Barnard, an Irishman, at this + time Dean of Derry. He died at Wimbledon in 1806. It was Dr. Barnard who, + in reply to a rude sally of Johnson, wrote the charming verses on + improvement after the age of forty-five, which end— + </p> + +<p class="poem"> +If I have thoughts, and can’t express them,<br/> +Gibbon shall teach me how to dress them,<br/> + In terms select and terse;<br/> +Jones teach me modesty and Greek,<br/> +Smith how to think, Burke how to speak,<br/> + And Beauclerk to converse.<br/> +<br/> +Let Johnson teach me how to place<br/> +In fairest light, each borrow’d grace,<br/> + From him I’ll learn to write;<br/> +Copy his clear, familiar style,<br/> +And from the roughness of his file<br/> + Grow like himself—polite. +</p> + + <p> + (Northcote’s <i>Life of Reynolds</i>, 2nd ed., 1819, i. 221.) + According to Cumberland (<i>Memoirs</i>, 1807, i. 370), ‘The dean + also gave him [Goldsmith] an epitaph, and Sir Joshua illuminated the + dean’s verses with a sketch of his bust in pen and ink inimitably + caricatured.’ What would collectors give for that sketch and epitaph! + Unfortunately in Cumberland’s septuagenarian recollections the ‘truth + severe’ is mingled with an unusual amount of ‘fairy fiction.’ However Sir + Joshua <i>did</i> draw caricatures, for a number of them were exhibited at + the Grosvenor Gallery (by the Duke of Devonshire) in the winter of 1883–4. + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_87">Our Burke.</a> The Right Hon. Edmund Burke, 1729–97. + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_87">Our Will.</a> ‘Mr. William Burke, late Secretary to + General Conway, and member for Bedwin, Wiltshire’ (Note to second + edition). He was a kinsman of Edmund Burke, and one of the supposed + authors of Junius’s <i> Letters</i>. He died in 1798. ‘It is said + that the notices Goldsmith first wrote of the Burkes were so severe that + Hugh Boyd persuaded the poet to alter them, and entirely rewrite the + character of William, for he was sure that if the Burkes saw what was + originally written of them the peace of the Club would be disturbed.’ + (Rev. W. Hunt in <i>Dict. Nat. Biography</i>, Art. ‘William Burke.’) + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_87">And Dick.</a> Richard Burke, Edmund Burke’s younger + brother. He was for some years Collector to the Customs at Grenada, being + on a visit to London when <i>Retaliation</i> was written (Forster’s + <i> Life</i>, 1871, ii. 404). He died in 1794, Recorder of Bristol. + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_87">Our Cumberland’s sweetbread.</a> Richard Cumberland, + the poet, novelist, and dramatist, 1731–1811, author of <i>The West + Indian</i>, 1771, <i>The Fashionable Lover</i>, 1772, and many + other more or less sentimental plays. In his <i>Memoirs</i>, 1807, + i. 369–71, he gives an account of the origin of <i> Retaliation</i>, + which adds a few dubious particulars to that of Garrick. But it was + written from memory long after the events it records. + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_87">Douglas.</a> ‘Dr. Douglas, since Bishop of Salisbury,’ + says Cumberland. He died in 1807 (<i>v. infra</i>). + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_87">Ridge.</a> ‘Counsellor John Ridge, a gentleman + belonging to the Irish Bar’ (Note to second edition). ‘Burke,’ says Bolton + Corney, ‘in 1771, described him as “one of the honestest and best-natured + men living, and inferior to none of his profession in ability.”’ (See also + note to line 125.) + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_87">Hickey.</a> The commentator of the second edition of + <i>Retaliation</i> calls this gentleman ‘honest Tom Hickey’. His + Christian name, however, was <i>Joseph</i> (Letter of Burke, November 8, + 1774). He was a jovial, good-natured, over-blunt Irishman, the legal + adviser of both Burke and Reynolds. Indeed it was Hickey who drew the + conveyance of the land on which Reynolds’s house ‘next to the Star and + Garter’ at Richmond (Wick House) was built by Chambers the architect. + Hickey died in 1794. Reynolds painted his portrait for Burke, and it was + exhibited at the Royal Academy in 1772 (No. 208). In 1833 it belonged to + Mr. T. H. Burke. Sir Joshua also painted Miss Hickey in 1769–73. Her + father, not much to Goldsmith’s satisfaction, was one of the Paris party + in 1770. See also note to l. 125. + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_87">Magnanimous Goldsmith.</a> According to Malone + (Reynolds’s <i>Works</i>, second edition, 1801, i. xc), Goldsmith + intended to have concluded with his own character. + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_88">Tommy Townshend,</a> M.P. for Whitchurch, Hampshire, + afterwards first Viscount Sydney. He died in 1800. Junius says Bolton + Corney, gives a portrait of him as <i>still life</i>. His presence in + <i> Retaliation</i> is accounted for by the fact that he had + commented in Parliament upon Johnson’s pension. ‘I am well assured,’ says + Boswell, ‘that Mr. Townshend’s attack upon Johnson was the occasion of his + “hitching in a rhyme”; for, that in the original copy of Goldsmith’s + character of Mr. Burke, in his <i> Retaliation</i> another person’s + name stood in the couplet where Mr. Townshend is now introduced.’ + (Birkbeck Hill’s <i> Boswell</i>, 1887, iv. 318.) + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_88">too deep for his hearers.</a> ‘The emotion to which he + commonly appealed was that too rare one, the love of wisdom, and he + combined his thoughts and knowledge in propositions of wisdom so weighty + and strong, that the minds of ordinary hearers + were not on the instant prepared for them.’ (Morley’s <i>Burke</i>, + 1882, 209–10.) + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_88">And thought of convincing, while they thought of + dining.</a> For the reason given in the previous note, many of Burke’s + hearers often took the opportunity of his rising to speak, to retire to + dinner. Thus he acquired the nickname of the ‘Dinner Bell.’ + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_88">To eat mutton cold.</a> There is a certain resemblance + between this character and Gray’s lines on himself written in 1761, + beginning ‘Too poor for a bribe, and too proud to importune.’ (See Gosse’s + <i>Gray’s Works</i>, 1884, i. 127.) But both Gray and Goldsmith may + have been thinking of a line in the once popular song of <i>Ally + Croaker</i>:— + </p> + +<p class="poem"> + Too dull for a wit, too grave for a joker. +</p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_88">honest William,</a> i.e. William Burke (<i>v. supra</i>). + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_88">Now breaking a jest, and now breaking a limb.</a> A + note to the second edition says—‘The above Gentleman [Richard Burke, + <i>v. supra</i>] having slightly fractured one of his arms and legs, at + different times, the Doctor [i.e. Goldsmith] has rallied him on those + accidents, as a kind of <i>retributive</i> justice for breaking his jests + on other people.’ + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_89">Here Cumberland lies.</a> According to Boaden’s <i>Life + of Kemble</i>, 1825, i. 438, Mrs. Piozzi rightly regarded this portrait + as wholly ironical; and Bolton Corney, without much expenditure of acumen, + discovers it to have been written in a spirit of <i>persiflage</i>. + Nevertheless, Cumberland himself (<i>Memoirs</i>, 1807, i. 369) + seems to have accepted it in good faith. Speaking of Goldsmith he says—I + conclude my account of him with gratitude for the epitaph he bestowed on + me in his poem called <i> Retaliation</i>.’ From the further details + which he gives of the circumstances, it would appear that his own + performance, of which he could recall but one line— + </p> + +<p class="poem"> + All mourn the poet, I lament the man— +</p> + + <p> + was conceived in a less malicious spirit than those of the others, and had + predisposed the sensitive bard in his favour. But no very genuine + cordiality could be expected to exist between the rival authors of <i>The + West Indian</i> and <i>She Stoops to Conquer</i>. + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_89">And Comedy wonders at being so fine.</a> It is + instructive + here to transcribe Goldsmith’s serious opinion of the kind of work which + Cumberland essayed:—‘A new species of Dramatic Composition has been + introduced, under the name of <i> Sentimental</i> Comedy, in which the + virtues of Private Life are exhibited, rather than the Vices exposed; and + the Distresses rather than the Faults of Mankind, make our interest in the + piece. . . . In these Plays almost all the Characters are good, and + exceedingly generous; they are lavish enough of their <i>Tin</i> Money on + the Stage, and though they want Humour, have abundance of Sentiment and + Feeling. If they happen to have Faults or Foibles, the Spectator is taught + not only to pardon, but to applaud them, in consideration of the goodness + of their hearts; so that Folly, instead of being ridiculed, is commended, + and the Comedy aims at touching our Passions without the power of being + truly pathetic.’ (<i>Westminster Magazine</i>, 1772, i. 5.) Cf. also + the <i>Preface to The Good Natur’d Man</i>, where he ‘hopes that too + much refinement will not banish humour and character from our’s, as it has + already done from the French theatre. Indeed the French comedy is now + become so very elevated and sentimental, that it has not only banished + humour and <i>Moliere</i> from the stage, but it has banished all + spectators too.’ + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_89">The scourge of impostors, the terror of quacks.</a> Dr. + John Douglas (<i>v. supra</i>) distinguished himself by his exposure of + two of his countrymen, Archibald Bower, 1686–1766, who, being secretly a + member of the Catholic Church, wrote a <i>History of the Popes</i>; + and William Lauder 1710–1771, who attempted to prove Milton a plagiarist. + Cf. Churchill’s <i>Ghost</i>, Bk. ii:— + </p> + +<p class="poem"> + By TRUTH inspir’d when <i>Lauder’s</i> spight<br/> + O’er MILTON cast the Veil of Night,<br/> + DOUGLAS arose, and thro’ the maze<br/> + Of intricate and winding ways,<br/> + Came where the subtle Traitor lay,<br/> + And dragg’d him trembling to the day. +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> + ‘Lauder on Milton’ is one of the books bound to the trunk-maker’s in + Hogarth’s <i>Beer Street</i>, 1751. He imposed on Johnson, who wrote + him a ‘Preface’ and was consequently trounced by Churchill (<i>ut supra</i>) + as ‘<i>our Letter’d</i> P<small>OLYPHEME</small>.’ + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_90">Our Dodds shall be pious.</a> The reference is to the + Rev. Dr. William Dodd, who three years after the publication of <i>Retaliation</i> + (i.e. June 27, 1777) was hanged at Tyburn for forging the signature of the + fifth Earl of Chesterfield, to whom he had been tutor. His life previously + had long been scandalous enough to justify Goldsmith’s words. Johnson made + strenuous and humane exertions to save Dodd’s life, but without avail. + (See Birkbeck Hill’s <i>Boswell</i>, 1887, iii. 139–48.) There is an + account of Dodd’s execution at the end of vol. i of Angelo’s <i>Reminiscences</i>, + 1830. + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_90">our Kenricks.</a> Dr. William Kenrick—say the + earlier annotators—who ‘read lectures at the Devil Tavern, under the + Title of “The School of Shakespeare.”’ The lectures began January 19, + 1774, and help to fix the date of the poem. Goldsmith had little reason + for liking this versatile and unprincipled Ishmaelite of letters, who, + only a year before, had penned a scurrilous attack upon him in <i>The + London Packet</i>. Kenrick died in 1779. + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_90">Macpherson.</a> ‘David [James] Macpherson, Esq.; who + lately, from the mere <i>force of his style</i>, wrote down the first poet + of all antiquity.’ (Note to second edition.) This was ‘Ossian’ Macpherson, + 1738–96, who, in 1773, had followed up his Erse epics by a prose + translation of Homer, which brought him little but opprobrium. ‘Your + abilities, since your Homer, are not so formidable,’ says Johnson in the + knockdown letter which he addressed to him in 1775. (Birkbeck Hill’s <i>Boswell</i>, + 1887, ii. 298.) + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_90">Our Townshend.</a> See note to line 34. + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_90">New Lauders and Bowers.</a> See note to l. 80. + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_90">And Scotchman meet Scotchman, and cheat in the dark.</a> + Mitford compares Farquhar’s <i>Love and a Bottle</i>, 1699, Act iii— + </p> + +<p class="poem"> + But gods meet gods and jostle in the dark. +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> + But Farquhar was quoting from Dryden and Lee’s <i>Oedipus</i>, 1679, + Act iv (at end). + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_90">Here lies David Garrick.</a> ‘The sum of all that can + be said for and against Mr. Garrick, some people think, may be found in + these lines of Goldsmith,’ writes Davies in his <i>Life of Garrick</i>, + 2nd ed., 1780, ii. 159. Posterity has been less hesitating in its verdict. + ‘The lines on Garrick,’ says Forster, <i>Life of Goldsmith</i>, + 1871, ii. 409, ‘are quite perfect writing. Without anger, the satire is + finished, keen, and uncompromising; the wit is adorned by most + discriminating praise; and the truth is + only the more unsparing for its exquisite good manners and good taste.’ + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_91">Ye Kenricks.</a> See note to line 86. + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_91">ye Kellys.</a> Hugh Kelly (1739–1777), an Irishman, + the author of <i>False Delicacy</i>, 1768; <i>A Word to the Wise</i>, + 1770; <i>The School for Wives</i>, 1774, and other <i>sentimental + dramas,</i> is here referred to. His first play, which is described in + Garrick’s prologue as a ‘Sermon,’ ‘preach’d in Acts,’ was produced at + Drury Lane just six days before Goldsmith’s comedy of <i>The Good + Natur’d Man</i> appeared at Covent Garden, and obtained a success which + it ill deserved. <i>False Delicacy</i>—said Johnson truly + (Birkbeck Hill’s <i> Boswell</i>, 1887, ii. 48)—‘was totally + void of character,’—a crushing accusation to make against a drama. + But Garrick, for his private ends, had taken up Kelly as a rival to + Goldsmith; and the <i>comédie sérieuse</i> or <i> larmoyante</i> + of La Chaussée, Sedaine, and Diderot had already found votaries in + England. <i>False Delicacy</i>, weak, washy, and invertebrate as it + was, completed the transformation of ‘genteel’ into ‘sentimental’ comedy, + and establishing that <i>genre</i> for the next few years, effectually retarded + the wholesome reaction towards humour and character which Goldsmith had + tried to promote by <i>The Good Natur’d Man</i>. (See note to l. + 66.) + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_91">Woodfalls.</a> ‘William Woodfall’—says Bolton + Corney—‘successively editor of <i>The London Packet</i> and + <i>The Morning Chronicle</i>, was matchless as a reporter of + speeches, and an able theatrical critic. He made lofty pretensions to + editorial impartiality—but the actor [i.e. Garrick] was not <i> + always</i> satisfied.’ He died in 1803. He must not be confounded with + Henry Sampson Woodfall, the editor of Junius’s <i> Letters</i>. (See + note to l. 162.) + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_91">To act as an angel.</a> There is a sub-ironic touch in + this phrase which should not be overlooked. Cf. l. 102. + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_91">Here Hickey reclines.</a> See note to l. 15. In + Cumberland’s <i>Poetical Epistle to Dr. Goldsmith; or Supplement to his + Retaliation</i> (<i>Gentleman’s Magazine</i>, Aug. 1778, p. 384) + Hickey’s genial qualities are thus referred to:— + </p> + +<p class="poem"> + Give RIDGE and HICKY, generous souls!<br/> + Of WHISKEY PUNCH convivial bowls. +</p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_91">a special attorney.</a> A special attorney was merely + an attorney who practised in one court only. The species is now said to be + extinct. + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_91">burn ye.</a> The annotator of the second edition, + apologizing for this ‘forced’ rhyme to ‘attorney,’ informs the English + reader that the phrase of ‘burn ye’ is ‘a familiar method of salutation in + Ireland amongst the lower classes of the people.’ + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_91">Here Reynolds is laid.</a> This shares the palm with + the admirable epitaphs on Garrick and Burke. But Goldsmith loved Reynolds, + and there are no satiric strokes in the picture. If we are to believe + Malone (Reynolds’s <i>Works</i>, second edition, 1801, i. xc), + ‘these were the last lines the author wrote.’ + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_91">bland.</a> Malone (<i>ut supra</i>, lxxxix) notes this + word as ‘eminently happy, and characteristick of his [Reynolds’s] easy and + placid manners.’ Boswell (Dedication of <i>Life of Johnson</i>) + refers to his ‘equal and placid temper.’ Cf. also Dean Barnard’s verses + (Northcote’s <i>Life of Reynolds</i>, 2nd ed., 1819, i. 220), and + Mrs. Piozzi’s lines in her <i>Autobiography</i>, 2nd ed., 1861, ii. + 175–6. + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_92">He shifted his trumpet.</a> While studying Raphael in + the Vatican in 1751, Reynolds caught so severe a cold ‘as to occasion a + deafness which obliged him to use an ear-trumpet for the remainder of his + life.’ (Taylor and Leslie’s <i>Reynolds</i>, 1865, i. 50.) This + instrument figures in a portrait of himself which he painted for Thrale + about 1775. See also Zoffany’s picture of the ‘Academicians gathered about + the model in the Life School at Somerset House,’ 1772, where he is shown + employing it to catch the conversation of Wilton and Chambers. + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_92">and only took snuff.</a> Sir Joshua was a great + snuff-taker. His snuff-box, described in the Catalogue as the one + ‘immortalized in Goldsmith’s <i>Retaliation</i>,’ was exhibited, + with his spectacles and other personal relics, at the Grosvenor Gallery in + 1883–4. In the early editions this epitaph breaks off abruptly at the word + ‘snuff.’ But Malone says that half a line more had been written. Prior + gives this half line as ‘By flattery unspoiled—,’ and affirms that + among several erasures in the manuscript sketch devoted to Reynolds it + ‘remained unaltered.’ (<i>Life</i>, 1837, ii. 499.) See notes to ll. + 53, 56, and 91 of <i>The Haunch of Venison</i>. + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_92">Here Whitefoord reclines.</a> The circumstances which + led to the insertion of these lines in the fifth edition are detailed in + the prefatory words of the publisher given at p. 92. There is more than a + suspicion that Whitefoord wrote them himself; but they have too long been + accepted as an appendage to the poem to be now displaced. Caleb Whitefoord + (born 1734) was a Scotchman, a wine-merchant, and an art connoisseur, to + whom J. T. Smith, in his <i>Life of Nollekens</i>, 1828, i. 333–41, + devotes several pages. He was one of the party at the St. James’s + Coffee-house. He died in 1810. There is a caricature of him in + ‘Connoisseurs inspecting a Collection of George Morland,’ November, 16, + 1807; and Wilkie’s <i>Letter of Introduction</i>, 1814, was a + reminiscence of a visit which, when he first came to London, he paid to + Whitefoord. He was also painted by Reynolds and Stuart. Hewins’s <i>Whitefoord + Papers</i>, 1898, throw no light upon the story of the epitaph. + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_92">a grave man.</a> Cf. <i>Romeo and Juliet</i>, Act + iii, Sc. 1:—‘Ask for me to-morrow, and you shall find me <i>a grave + man</i>.’ This Shakespearean recollection is a little like Goldsmith’s + way. (See note to <i>The Haunch of Venison</i>, l. 120.) + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_92">and rejoic’d in a pun.</a> ‘Mr. W. is so notorious a + punster, that Doctor Goldsmith used to say, it was impossible to keep him + company, without being <i>infected</i> with the <i>itch of punning</i>.’ + (Note to fifth edition.) + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_93">‘if the table he set on a roar.’</a> Cf. <i>Hamlet</i>, + Act v, Sc. I. + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_93">Woodfall,</a> i.e. Henry Sampson Woodfall, printer of + <i>The Public Advertiser</i>. He died in 1805. (See note to l. 115.) + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_93">Cross-Readings, Ship-News, and Mistakes of the Press.</a> + Over the <i>nom de guerre</i> of ‘Papyrius Cursor,’ a real Roman name, but + as happy in its applicability as Thackeray’s ‘Manlius Pennialinus,’ + Whitefoord contributed many specimens of this mechanic wit to <i>The + Public Advertiser</i>. The ‘Cross Readings’ were obtained by taking two + or three columns of a newspaper horizontally and ‘onwards’ instead of + ‘vertically’ and downwards, thus:— + </p> + +<p class="poem"> + Colds caught at this season are<br/> + The Companion to the Playhouse. +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> + or + </p> + +<p class="poem"> + To be sold to the best Bidder,<br/> + My seat in Parliament being vacated. +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> + A more elaborate example is + </p> + +<p class="poem"> + On Tuesday an address was presented;<br/> + it unhappily missed fire and the villain made off,<br/> + when the honour of knighthood was conferred on him<br/> + to the great joy of that noble family +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> + Goldsmith was hugely delighted with Whitefoord’s ‘lucky inventions’ when + they first became popular in 1766. ‘He declared, in the heat of his + admiration of them, it would have given him more pleasure to have been the + author of them than of all the works he had ever published of his own’ + (Northcote’s <i>Life of Reynolds</i>, 2nd ed., 1819, i. 217). What + is perhaps more remarkable is, that Johnson spoke of Whitefoord’s + performances as ‘ingenious and diverting’ (Birkbeck Hill’s <i>Boswell</i>, + 1887, iv. 322); and Horace Walpole laughed over them till he cried (Letter + to Montagu, December 12, 1766). To use Voltaire’s witticism, he is <i>bien + heureux</i> who can laugh now. It may be added that Whitefoord did not, as + he claimed, originate the ‘Cross Readings.’ They had been anticipated in + No. 49 of Harrison’s spurious <i>Tatler</i>, vol. v [1720]. + </p> + + <p> + The fashion of the ‘Ship-News’ was in this wise: ‘August 25 [1765]. We + hear that his Majestys Ship <i>Newcastle</i> will soon have a new + figurehead, the old one being almost worn out.’ The ‘Mistakes of the + Press’ explain themselves. (See also Smith’s <i>Life of Nollekens</i>, + 1828, i. 336–7; Debrett’s <i>New Foundling Hospital for Wit</i>, + 1784, vol. ii, and <i>Gentleman’s Magazine</i>, 1810, p. 300.) + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_93">That a Scot may have humour, I had almost said wit.</a> + Goldsmith,—if he wrote these verses,—must have forgotten that + he had already credited Whitefoord with ‘wit’ in l. 153. + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_93">Thou best humour’d man with the worst humour’d muse.</a> + Cf. Rochester of Lord Buckhurst, afterwards Earl of Dorset:— + </p> + +<p class="poem"> + The best good man, with the worst-natur’d muse. +</p> + + <p> + Whitefoord’s contribution to the epitaphs on Goldsmith is said to have + been unusually severe,—so severe that four only of its eight lines + are quoted in the <i> Whitefoord Papers</i>, 1898, the rest being + ‘unfit for publication’ (p. xxvii). He afterwards addressed a metrical + apology to Sir Joshua, which is printed at pp. 217–8 of Northcote’s <i> + Life</i>, 2nd ed., 1819. See also Forster’s <i> Goldsmith</i>, + 1871, ii. 408–9. + </p> + +<h3><a name="note30"></a> +<a href="#page_94">SONG FOR ‘SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER.’</a></h3> + + <p> + Boswell, to whom we are indebted for the preservation of this lively song, + sent it to <i>The London Magazine</i> for June, 1774 (vol. xliii, p. + 295), with the following:— + </p> +<p class="center"> + ‘To the Editor of <i>The London Magazine</i>. + </p> + <p> + S<small>IR</small>,—I send you a small production of the late Dr. <i>Goldsmith</i>, + which has never been published, and which might perhaps have been totally + lost had I not secured it. He intended it as a song in the character of + Miss <i> Hardcastle</i>, in his admirable comedy, <i>She stoops to + conquer</i>; but it was left out, as Mrs. <i>Bulkley</i> who played the + part did not sing. He sung it himself in private companies very agreeably. + The tune is a pretty Irish air, called <i>The Humours of Balamagairy</i>, + to which, he told me, he found it very difficult to adapt words; but he + has succeeded happily in these few lines. As I could sing the tune, and + was fond of them, he was so good as to give me them about a year ago, just + as I was leaving London, and bidding him adieu for that season, little + apprehending that it was a last farewell. I preserve this little relick in + his own handwriting with an affectionate care. + </p> + +<p class="right"> + I am, Sir, + + <br /> + Your humble Servant, + <br /> J<small>AMES</small> B<small>OSWELL</small>.’ + </p> + + <p> + When, seventeen years later, Boswell published his <i>Life of Samuel + Johnson, LL.D.</i>, he gave an account of his dining at General + Oglethorpe’s in April, 1773, with Johnson and Goldsmith; and he says that + the latter sang the <i>Three Jolly Pigeons</i>, and this song, to + the ladies in the tea-room. Croker, in a note, adds that the younger + Colman more appropriately employed the ‘essentially low comic’ air for + Looney Mactwolter in the [<i>Review; or the</i>] <i>Wags of Windsor</i>, + 1808 [i.e. in that character’s song beginning—‘Oh, whack! Cupid’s a + mannikin’], and that Moore tried to bring it into good company in the + ninth number of the <i>Irish Melodies</i>. But Croker did not admire + the tune, and thought poorly of Goldsmith’s words. Yet they are certainly + fresher than Colman’s or Moore’s:— + </p> + +<p class="poem"> +Sing—sing—Music was given,<br/> + To brighten the gay, and kindle the loving;<br/> +Souls here, like planets in Heaven,<br/> + By harmony’s laws alone are kept moving, etc. +</p> + +<h3><a name="note31"></a> +<a href="#page_94">TRANSLATION.</a></h3> + + <p> + These lines, which appear at p. 312 of vol. V of the <i>History of the + Earth and Animated Nature</i>, 1774, are freely translated from some + Latin verses by Addison in No 412 of the <i>Spectator</i>, where + they are introduced as follows:—‘Thus we see that every different + Species of sensible Creatures has its different Notions of Beauty, and + that each of them is most affected with the Beauties of its own kind. This + is nowhere more remarkable than in Birds of the same Shape and Proportion, + where we often see the Male determined in his Courtship by the single + Grain or Tincture of a Feather, and never discovering any Charms but in + the Colour of its own Species.’ Addison’s lines, of which Goldsmith + translated the first fourteen only, are printed from his corrected MS. at + p. 4 of <i>Some Portions of Essays contributed to the Spectator by Mr. + Joseph Addison</i> [by the late J. Dykes Campbell], 1864. + </p> + +<h3><a name="note32"></a><a href="#page_95">THE HAUNCH OF VENISON.</a></h3> + + <p> + It is supposed that this poem was written early in 1771, although it was + not printed until 1776, when it was published by G. Kearsly and J. Ridley + under the title of <i>The Haunch of Venison, a Poetical Epistle to the + Lord Clare. By the late Dr. Goldsmith. With a Head of the Author, Drawn by + Henry Bunbury, Esq; and Etched by</i> [<i>James</i>] <i> Bretherton.</i> + A second edition, the text of which is here followed, appeared in the same + year ‘With considerable Additions and Corrections, Taken from the Author’s + <i>last</i> Transcript.’ The Lord Clare to whom the verses are addressed + was Robert Nugent, of Carlanstown, Westmeath, M.P. for St. Mawes in + 1741–54. In 1766 he was created Viscount Clare; in 1776 Earl Nugent. In + his youth he had himself been an easy if not very original versifier; and + there are several of his performances in the second volume of Dodsley’s + <i>Collection of Poems by Several Hands</i>, 4th ed., 1755. One of + the Epistles, beginning ‘Clarinda, dearly lov’d, attend The Counsels of a + faithful friend,’ seems to have betrayed Goldsmith into the blunder of + confusing it, in the <i>Poems for Young Ladies</i>. 1767, p. 114, + with Lyttelton’s better-known <i> Advice to a Lady</i> (‘The + counsels of + a friend, Belinda, hear’), also in Dodsley’s miscellany; while another + piece, an <i>Ode to William Pultney, Esq.</i>, contains a stanza so + good that Gibbon worked it into his character of Brutus:— + </p> + +<p class="poem"> +What tho’ the good, the brave, the wise,<br/> +With adverse force undaunted rise,<br/> + To break th’ eternal doom!<br/> +Tho’ CATO liv’d, tho’ TULLY spoke,<br/> +Tho’ BRUTUS dealt the godlike stroke,<br/> + Yet perish’d fated ROME. +</p> + + <p> + Detraction, however, has insinuated that Mallet, his step-son’s tutor, was + Nugent’s penholder in this instance. ‘Mr. Nugent sure did not write his + own Ode,’ says Gray to Walpole (Gray’s <i>Works</i>, by Gosse, 1884, + ii. 220). Earl Nugent died in Dublin in October, 1788, and was buried at + Gosfield in Essex, a property he had acquired with his second wife. A <i> + Memoir</i> of him was written in 1898 by Mr. Claud Nugent. He is described + by Cunningham as ‘a big, jovial, voluptuous Irishman, with a loud voice, a + strong Irish accent, and a ready though coarse wit.’ According to Percy (<i>Memoir</i>, + 1801, p. 66), he had been attracted to Goldsmith by the publication of + <i>The Traveller</i> in 1764, and he mentioned him favourably to the + Earl of Northumberland, then Lord Lieutenant of Ireland. A note in + Forster’s <i>Life</i>, 1871, ii. 329–30, speaks of Goldsmith as a + frequent visitor at Gosfield, and at Nugent’s house in Great George + Street, Westminster, where he had often for playmate his host’s daughter, + Mary, afterwards Marchioness of Buckingham. + </p> + + <p> + Scott and others regarded <i>The Haunch of Venison</i> as + autobiographical. To what extent this is the case, it is difficult to say. + That it represents the actual thanks of the poet to Lord Clare for an + actual present of venison, part of which he promptly transferred to + Reynolds, is probably the fact. But, as the following notes show, it is + also clear that Goldsmith borrowed, if not his entire fable, at least some + of its details from Boileau’s third satire; and that, in certain of the + lines, he had in memory Swift’s <i>Grand Question Debated</i>, the + measure of which he adopts. This throws more than a doubt upon the truth + of the whole. ‘His genius’ (as Hazlitt says) ‘was a mixture of originality + and imitation’; and fact and fiction often mingle inseparably + in his work. The author of the bailiff scene in the <i>Good Natur’d Man</i> + was quite capable of inventing for the nonce the tragedy of the unbaked + pasty, or of selecting from the Pilkingtons and Purdons of his + acquaintance such appropriate guests for his Mile End Amphitryon as the + writers of the <i>Snarler</i> and the <i>Scourge</i>. It may + indeed even be doubted whether, if <i>The Haunch of Venison</i> had + been absolute personal history, Goldsmith would ever have retailed it to + his noble patron at Gosfield, although it may include enough of real + experience to serve as the basis for a <i>jeu d’esprit</i>. + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_95">The fat was so white, etc.</a> The first version reads—‘The + white was so white, and the red was so ruddy.’ + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_95">Though my stomach was sharp, etc.</a> This couplet is + not in the first version. + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_95">One gammon of bacon.</a> Prior compared a passage from + Goldsmith’s <i>Animated Nature</i>, 1774, iii. 9, <i>à propos</i> + of a similar practice in Germany, Poland, and Switzerland. ‘A piece of + beef,’ he says, ‘hung up there, is considered as an elegant piece of + furniture, which, though seldom touched, at least argues the possessor’s + opulence and ease.’ + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_95">a bounce,</a> i.e. a braggart falsehood. Steele, in No. + 16 of <i>The Lover</i>, 1715, p. 110, says of a manifest piece of + brag, ‘But this is supposed to be only a <i>Bounce</i>.’ + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_95">Mr. Byrne,</a> spelled ‘Burn’ in the earlier editions, + was a relative of Lord Clare. + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_95"> M—r—’s.</a> M<small>ONROE</small>’s in the + first version. ‘Dorothy Monroe,’ says Bolton Corney, ‘whose various charms + are celebrated in verse by Lord Townshend.’ + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_96">There’s H—d, and C—y, and H—rth, and + H—ff.</a> In the first version—<br /> ‘There’s + C<small>OLEY</small>, and W<small>ILLIAMS</small>, and H<small>OWARD</small>, + and H<small>IFF</small>.’—Hiff was Paul Hiffernan, M.B., 1719–77, a + Grub Street author and practitioner. Bolton Corney hazards some + conjectures as to the others; but Cunningham wisely passes them over. + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_96"> H—gg—ns.</a> Perhaps, suggests Bolton + Corney, this was the Captain Higgins who assisted at Goldsmith’s absurd + ‘fracas’ with Evans the bookseller, upon the occasion of Kenrick’s letter + in <i>The London Packet</i> for March 24, 1773. Other accounts, + however, state that his companion was Captain Horneck (Prior, <i>Life</i>, + 1837, ii. 411–12). This couplet is not in the first version. + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_96">Such dainties to them, etc.</a> The first version + reads:— + </p> + +<p class="poem"> +Such dainties to them! It <i>would</i> look like a flirt,<br/> +Like sending ’em Ruffles when wanting a Shirt. +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> + Cunningham quotes a similar idea from T. Brown’s <i>Laconics, Works</i>, + 1709, iv. 14. ‘To treat a poor wretch with a bottle of Burgundy, or fill + his snuff-box, is like giving a pair of lace ruffles to a man that has + never a shirt on his back.’ But Goldsmith, as was his wont, had already + himself employed the same figure. ‘Honours to one in my situation,’ he + says in a letter to his brother Maurice, in January, 1770, when speaking + of his appointment as Professor of Ancient History to the Royal Academy, + ‘are something like ruffles to a man that wants a shirt’ (<i>Percy + Memoir</i>, 1801, 87–8). His source was probably, not Brown’s <i>Laconics</i>, + but those French ‘ana’ he knew so well. According to M. J. J. Jusserand (<i>English + Essays from a French Pen</i>, 1895, pp. 160–1), the originator of this + conceit was M. Samuel de Sorbieres, the traveller in England who was + assailed by Bishop Sprat. Considering himself inadequately rewarded by his + patrons, Mazarin, Louis XIV, and Pope Clement IX, he said bitterly—‘They + give lace cuffs to a man without a shirt’; a ‘consolatory witticism’ which + he afterwards remodelled into, ‘I wish they would send me bread for the + butter they kindly provided me with.’ In this form it appears in the + Preface to the <i>Sorberiana</i>, Toulouse, 1691. + </p> + + <p> + <i>a flirt</i> is a jibe or jeer. ‘He would sometimes . . . cast out a + jesting <i>flirt</i> at me.’ (Morley’s <i>History of Thomas Ellwood</i>, + 1895, p. 104.) Swift also uses the word. + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_96">An under-bred, fine-spoken fellow, etc.</a> The first + version reads— + </p> + +<p class="poem"> + A fine-spoken Custom-house Officer he,<br/> + Who smil’d as he gaz’d on the Ven’son and me. +</p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_96">but I hate ostentation.</a> Cf. Beau Tibbs:—‘She + was bred, <i>but that’s between ourselves</i>, under the inspection of the + Countess of All-night.’ (<i>Citizen of the World</i>, 1762, i. + 238.) + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_96">We’ll have Johnson, and Burke.</a> Cf. Boileau, <i>Sat.</i> + iii. ll. 25–6, which Goldsmith had in mind:— + </p> + +<p class="poem"> + Molière avec Tartufe y doit jouer son rôle,<br/> + Et Lambert, qui plus est, m’a donné sa parole. +</p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_97">What say you—a pasty? It shall, and it must.</a> + The first version reads— + </p> + +<p class="poem"> + I’ll take no denial—you shall, and you must. +</p> + + <p> + Mr. J. H. Lobban, <i>Goldsmith, Select Poems</i>, 1900, notes a + hitherto undetected similarity between this and the ‘It <i>must</i>, and + it <i>shall</i> be a barrack, my life’ of Swift’s <i>Grand Question + Debated</i>. See also ll. 56 and 91. + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_97">No stirring, I beg—my dear friend—my dear + friend.</a> In the first edition— + </p> + +<p class="poem"> + No words, my dear GOLDSMITH! my very good Friend! +</p> + <p> + Mr. Lobban compares:— + </p> + +<p class="poem"> + ‘Good morrow, good captain.’ ‘I’ll wait on you down,’—<br/> + ‘You shan’t stir a foot.’ ‘You’ll think me a clown.’ +</p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_97">‘And nobody with me at sea but myself.’</a> This is + almost a textual quotation from one of the letters of Henry Frederick, + Duke of Cumberland, to Lady Grosvenor, a correspondence which in 1770 gave + great delight to contemporary caricaturists and scandal-mongers. Other + poets besides Goldsmith seem to have been attracted by this particular + lapse of his illiterate Royal Highness, since it is woven into a ballad + printed in <i>The Public Advertiser</i> for August 2 in the above + year:— + </p> + +<p class="poem"> + The Miser who wakes in a Fright for his Pelf,<br/> + And finds <i>no one by him except his own Self</i>, etc. +</p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_97">When come to the place, etc.</a> Cf. Boileau, <i>ut + supra</i>, ll. 31–4:— + </p> + +<p class="poem"> + A peine étais-je entré, que ravi de me voir,<br/> + Mon homme, en m’embrassant, m’est venu recevoir;<br/> + Et montrant à mes yeux une allégresse entière,<br/> + Nous n’avons, m’a-t-il dit, ni Lambert ni Molière. +</p> + + <p> + Lambert the musician, it may be added, had the special reputation of + accepting engagements which he never kept. + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_97">and t’other with Thrale.</a> Henry Thrale, the + Southwark brewer, and the husband of Mrs. Thrale, afterwards Mrs. Piozzi. + Johnson first made his acquaintance in 1765. Strahan complained to Boswell + that, by this connexion, Johnson ‘was in a great measure absorbed from the + society of his old friends.’ + (Birkbeck Hill’s <i>Boswell</i>, 1887, iii. 225.) Line 72 in the + first edition reads— + </p> + +<p class="poem"> + The one at the House, and the other with THRALE. +</p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_97">They both of them merry and authors like you.</a> + ‘They’ should apparently be ‘they’re.’ The first version reads— + </p> + +<p class="poem"> + Who dabble and write in the Papers—like you. +</p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_97">Some think he writes Cinna—he owns to Panurge.</a> + ‘Panurge’ and ‘Cinna’ are signatures which were frequently to be found at + the foot of letters addressed to the <i>Public Advertiser</i> in + 1770–1 in support of Lord Sandwich and the Government. They are said to + have been written by Dr. W. Scott, Vicar of Simonburn, Northumberland, and + chaplain of Greenwich Hospital, both of which preferments had been given + him by Sandwich. In 1765 he had attacked Lord Bute and his policy over the + signature of ‘Anti-Sejanus.’ ‘Sandwich and his parson Anti-Sejanus [are] + hooted off the stage’—writes Walpole to Mann, March 21, 1766. + According to Prior, it was Scott who visited Goldsmith in his Temple + chambers, and invited him to ‘draw a venal quill’ for Lord North’s + administration. Goldsmith’s noble answer, as reported by his reverend + friend, was—‘I can earn as much as will supply my wants without + writing for any party; the assistance therefore you offer is unnecessary + to me.’ (<i>Life</i>, 1837, ii. 278.) There is a caricature portrait + of Scott at p. 141 of <i>The London Museum</i> for February, 1771, + entitled ‘Twitcher’s Advocate,’ ‘Jemmy Twitcher’ being the nickname of + Lord Sandwich. + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_97">Swinging,</a> great, huge. ‘Bishop Lowth has just + finished the Dramas, and sent me word, that although I have paid him the + most <i>swinging</i> compliment he ever received, he likes the whole book + more than he can say.’ (<i>Memoirs of Hannah More</i>, 1834, i. + 236.) + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_98">pasty.</a> The first version has Ven’son.’ + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_98">So there I sat, etc.</a> This couplet is not in the + first version. + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_98">And, ‘Madam,’ quoth he.</a> Mr. Lobban again quotes + Swift’s <i>Grand Question Debated</i>:— + </p> + +<p class="poem"> + And ‘Madam,’ says he, ‘if such dinners you give<br/> + You’ll ne’er want for parsons as long as you live.’ +</p> + + <p> + These slight resemblances, coupled with the more obvious likeness of the + ‘Raphaels, Correggios, and stuff’ of <i> Retaliation</i> (ll. 145–6) + to the <i>Noueds</i> and <i> Bluturks</i> and <i>Omurs</i> and stuff’ + (also pointed out by Mr. Lobban) are interesting, because they show + plainly that Goldsmith remembered the works of Swift far better than <i>The + New Bath Guide</i>, which has sometimes been supposed to have set the + tune to the <i>Haunch</i> and <i>Retaliation</i>. + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_98">‘may this bit be my poison.’</a> The gentleman in <i>She + Stoops to Conquer</i>, Act i, who is ‘obligated to dance a bear.’ Uses + the same asseveration. Cf. also Squire Thornhill’s somewhat similar + formula in chap. vii of <i>The Vicar of Wakefield</i>, 1766, i. 59. + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_98">‘The tripe,’ quoth the Jew, etc.</a> The first version + reads— + </p> + +<p class="poem"> + ‘Your Tripe!’ quoth the <i>Jew</i>, ‘if the truth I may speak,<br/> + I could eat of this Tripe seven days in the week.’ +</p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_98">Re-echoed,</a> i.e. ‘returned’ in the first edition. + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_98">thot.</a> This, probably by a printer’s error, is + altered to ‘that’ in the second version. But the first reading is the more + in keeping, besides being a better rhyme. + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_98">Wak’d Priam.</a> Cf. 2 <i>Henry IV</i>, Act I, + Sc. 1:— + </p> + +<p class="poem"> + Even such a man, so faint, so spiritless,<br/> + So dull, so dead in look, so woe-begone,<br/> + Drew Priam’s curtain in the dead of night.<br/> + And would have told him half his Troy was burnt. +</p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_99">sicken’d over by learning.</a> Cf. <i>Hamlet</i>, + Act iii, Sc. 1: + </p> + +<p class="poem"> + And thus the native hue of resolution<br/> + Is <i>sicklied o’er</i> with the pale cast of thought. +</p> + + <p> + Notwithstanding the condemnation of Shakespeare in the <i>Present State + of Polite Learning</i>, and elsewhere, Goldsmith frequently weaves + Shakespearean recollections into his work. Cf. <i>She Stoops to Conquer</i>, + 1773, Act i, p. 13, ‘We wanted no ghost to tell us that’ (<i>Hamlet</i>, + Act i, Sc. 5); and Act i, p. 9, where he uses Falstaff’s words (1 <i>Henry + IV</i>, Act v, Sc. 1):— + </p> + +<p class="poem"> + Would it were bed-time and all were well. +</p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_99">as very well known.</a> The first version has, ‘’tis + very well known.’ + </p> + +<h3><a name="note33"></a> +<a href="#page_100">EPITAPH ON THOMAS PARNELL.</a></h3> + + <p> + This epitaph, apparently never used, was published with <i>The Haunch + of Venison</i>, 1776; and is supposed to have been written about 1770. + In that year Goldsmith wrote a <i>Life of Thomas Parnell, D.D.</i>, + to accompany an edition of his poems, printed for Davies of Russell + Street. Parnell was born in 1679, and died at Chester in 1718, on his way + to Ireland. He was buried at Trinity Church in that town, on the 24th of + October. Goldsmith says that his father and uncle both knew Parnell (<i>Life + of Parnell</i>, 1770, p. v), and that he received assistance from the + poet’s nephew, Sir John Parnell, the singing gentleman who figures in + Hogarth’s <i>Election Entertainment</i>. Why Goldsmith should write + an epitaph upon a man who died ten years before his own birth, is not easy + to explain. But Johnson also wrote a Latin one, which he gave to Boswell. + (Birkbeck Hill’s <i>Life</i>, 1887, iv. 54.) + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_100">gentle Parnell’s name.</a> Mitford compares Pope on + Parnell [<i>Epistle to Harley</i>, l. iv]:— + </p> + +<p class="poem"> + With softest manners, gentlest Arts adorn’d. +</p> + + <p> + Pope published Parnell’s <i>Poems</i> in 1722, and his sending them + to Harley, Earl of Oxford, after the latter’s disgrace and retirement, was + the occasion of the foregoing epistle, from which the following lines + respecting Parnell may also be cited:— + </p> + +<p class="poem"> + For him, thou oft hast bid the World attend,<br/> + Fond to forget the statesman in the friend;<br/> + For SWIFT and him despis’d the farce of state,<br/> + The sober follies of the wise and great;<br/> + Dext’rous the craving, fawning crowd to quit,<br/> + And pleas’d to ’scape from Flattery to Wit. +</p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_100">his sweetly-moral lay.</a> Cf. <i>The Hermit</i>, + the <i>Hymn to Contentment</i>, the <i>Night Piece on Death</i>—which + Goldsmith certainly recalled in his own <i>City Night-Piece</i>. Of + the last-named Goldsmith says (<i>Life of Parnell</i>, 1770, p. + xxxii), not without an obvious side-stroke at Gray’s too-popular <i>Elegy</i>, + that it ‘deserves every praise, and I should suppose with very little + amendment, might be made to surpass all those night pieces and church yard + scenes that have since appeared.’ This is certainly (as Longfellow sings) + to + </p> + +<p class="poem"> + rustling hear in every breeze<br/> +The laurels of Miltiades. +</p> + + <p> + Of Parnell, Hume wrote (<i>Essays</i>, 1770, i. 244) that ‘after the + fiftieth reading; [he] is as fresh as at the first.’ But Gray (speaking—it + should be explained—of a dubious volume of his posthumous works) + said: ‘Parnell is the dung-hill of Irish Grub Street’ (Gosse’s Gray’s + <i>Works</i>, 1884, ii. 372). Meanwhile, it is his fate to-day to be + mainly remembered by three words (not always attributed to him) in a + couplet from what Johnson styled ‘perhaps the meanest’ of his + performances, the <i>Elegy— to an Old Beauty</i>:— + </p> + +<p class="poem"> + And all that’s madly wild, or oddly gay,<br/> + We call it only <i>pretty Fanny’s way</i>. +</p> + +<h3><a name="note34"></a><a href="#page_100">THE CLOWN’S REPLY.</a></h3> + + <p> + This, though dated ‘Edinburgh 1753,’ was first printed in <i>Poems and + Plays</i>, 1777, p. 79. + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_100">John Trott</a> is a name for a clown or commonplace + character. Miss Burney (<i>Diary</i>, 1904, i. 222) says of Dr. + Delap:—‘As to his person and appearance, they are much in the <i>John-trot</i> + style.’ Foote, Chesterfield, and Walpole use the phrase; Fielding + Scotticizes it into ‘John Trott-Plaid, Esq.’; and Bolingbroke employs it + as a pseudonym. + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_100">I shall ne’er see your graces.</a> ‘I shall never see + a Goose again without thinking on Mr. <i>Neverout</i>,’—says the + ‘brilliant Miss Notable’ in Swift’s <i>Polite Conversation</i>, + 1738, p. 156. + </p> + +<h3><a name="note35"></a><a href="#page_100">EPITAPH ON EDWARD PURDON.</a></h3> + + <p> + The occasion of this quatrain, first published as Goldsmith’s* in <i>Poems + and Plays</i>, 1777, p. 79, is to be found in Forster’s <i>Life and + Times of Oliver Goldsmith</i>, 1871, ii. 60. Purdon died on March 27, + 1767 (<i>Gentleman’s Magazine</i>, April, 1767, p. 192). ‘“Dr. + Goldsmith made this epitaph,” says William Ballantyne [the author of <i>Mackliniana</i>], + “in his way from his chambers in the Temple to the Wednesday evening’s + club at the Globe. <i>I think he will never come back</i>, I believe he + said. I was + sitting by him, and he repeated it more than twice. (I think he will never + come back.)”’ Purdon had been at Trinity College, Dublin, with Goldsmith; + he had subsequently been a foot soldier; ultimately he became a + ‘bookseller’s hack.’ He wrote an anonymous letter to Garrick in 1759, and + translated the <i> Henriade</i> of Voltaire. This translation + Goldsmith is supposed to have revised, and his own life of Voltaire was to + have accompanied it, though finally the Memoir and Translation seem to + have appeared separately. (Cf. prefatory note to <i>Memoirs of M. de + Voltaire</i> in Gibbs’s <i>Works of Oliver Goldsmith</i>, 1885, + iv. 2.) + </p> + +<p class="footnote"> +* It had previously appeared as an extempore by a correspondent in + the <i>Weekly Magazine</i>, Edin., August 12, 1773 (<i>Notes and + Queries</i>, February 14, 1880). + </p> + + <p> + Forster says further, in a note, ‘The original . . . is the epitaph on “La + Mort du Sieur Etienne”:— + </p> + +<p class="poem"> +Il est au bout de ses travaux,<br/> + Il a passé, le Sieur Etienne;<br/> +En ce monde il eut tant des maux<br/> + Qu’on ne croit pas qu’il revienne. +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> + With this perhaps Goldsmith was familiar, and had therefore less scruple + in laying felonious hands on the epigram in the <i>Miscellanies</i> + (Swift, xiii. 372):— + </p> + +<p class="poem"> +Well, then, poor G—— lies underground!<br/> + So there’s an end of honest Jack.<br/> +So little justice here he found,<br/> + ’Tis ten to one he’ll ne’er come back.’ +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> + Mr. Forster’s ‘felonious hands’ recalls a passage in Goldsmith’s <i>Life + of Parnell</i>, 1770, in which, although himself an habitual sinner in + this way, he comments gravely upon the practice of plagiarism:—‘It + was the fashion with the wits of the last age, to conceal the places from + whence they took their hints or their subjects. A trifling acknowledgment + would have made that lawful prize, which may now be considered as plunder’ + (p. xxxii). + </p> + +<h3><a name="note36"></a><a href="#page_101">EPILOGUE FOR LEE LEWES’S BENEFIT.</a></h3> + + <p> + This benefit took place at Covent Garden on May 7, 1773, the pieces + performed being Rowe’s <i>Lady Jane Grey</i>, and a popular + pantomimic after-piece by Theobald, called <i>Harlequin Sorcerer</i>, + Charles Lee Lewes (1740–1803) was the original ‘Young Marlow’ of <i>She + Stoops to Conquer</i>. When that part was thrown up by + ‘Gentleman’ Smith, Shuter, the ‘Mr. Hardcastle’ of the comedy, suggested + Lewes, who was the harlequin of the theatre, as a substitute, and the + choice proved an admirable one. Goldsmith was highly pleased with his + performance, and in consequence wrote for him this epilogue. It was first + printed by Evans, 1780, i. 112–4. + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_101">in thy black aspect,</a> i.e. the half-mask of + harlequin, in which character the Epilogue was spoken. + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_101">rosined lightning,</a> stage-lightning, in which + rosin is an ingredient. + </p> + +<h3><a name="note37"></a><a href="#page_103">EPILOGUE INTENDED FOR<br /> +‘SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER.’</a></h3> + + <p> + This epilogue was first printed at pp. 82–6, vol. ii, of the <i>Miscellaneous + Works of</i> 1801. Bolton Corney says it had been given to Percy by + Goldsmith. It is evidently the ‘quarrelling Epilogue’ referred to in the + following letter from Goldsmith to Cradock (<i>Miscellaneous Memoirs</i>, + 1826, i. 225–6):— + </p> + + <p> + ‘M<small>Y DEAR</small> S<small>IR</small>,<br /> The Play [<i>She + Stoops to Conquer</i>] has met with a success much beyond your + expectations or mine. I thank you sincerely for your Epilogue, which, + however could not be used, but with your permission, shall be printed.* + The story in short is this; Murphy sent me rather the outline of an + Epilogue than an Epilogue, which was to be sung by Mrs. Catley, and which + she approved. Mrs. Bulkley hearing this, insisted on throwing up her part, + unless according to the custom of the theatre, she were permitted to speak + the Epilogue. In this embarrassment I thought of making a quarrelling + Epilogue between Catley and her, debating who should speak the Epilogue, + but then Mrs. Catley refused, after I had taken the trouble of drawing it + out. I was then at a loss indeed; an Epilogue was to be made, and for none + but Mrs. Bulkley. I made one, and Colman thought it too bad to be spoken; + I was obliged therefore to try a fourth time, and I made a very mawkish + thing, as you’ll shortly see. Such is the history of my Stage adventures, + and which I 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 tolerable benefits, yet I + shall upon the whole be a loser, even in a pecuniary light; my ease and + comfort I certainly lost while it was in agitation. + </p> + +<p class="right"> + I am, my dear Cradock, + + + + <br /> your obliged, and obedient servant, + + <br /> O<small>LIVER</small> G<small>OLDSMITH</small>. + </p> + <p> + P.S.—Present my most humble respects to Mrs. Cradock.’ + </p> + +<p class="footnote"> +* It is so printed with the note—‘This came too late to be Spoken.’ + </p> + + <p> + According to Prior (<i>Miscellaneous Works</i>, 1837, iv. 154), + Goldsmith’s friend, Dr. Farr, had a copy of this epilogue which still, + when Prior wrote, remained in that gentleman’s family. + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_104">Who mump their passion,</a> i.e. grimace their + passion. + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_104">ye macaroni train.</a> The Macaronies were the + foplings, fribbles, or beaux of Goldsmith’s day. Walpole refers to them as + early as 1764; but their flourishing time was 1770–3, when the + print-shops, and especially Matthew Darly’s in the Strand, No. 39, swarmed + with satirical designs of which they were the subject. Selwyn, March—many + well-known names—are found in their ranks. Richard Cosway figured as + ‘The Macaroni Painter’; Angelica Kauffmann as ‘The Paintress of + Maccaroni’s’; Thrale as ‘The Southwark Macaroni.’ Another caricature (‘The + Fluttering Macaroni’) contains a portrait of Miss Catley, the singing + actress of the present epilogue; while Charles Horneck, the brother of + ‘The Jessamy Bride’ (see p. 251, l. 14) is twice satirized as ‘The Martial + Macaroni’ and ‘The Military Macaroni.’ The name, as may be guessed, comes + from the Italian dish first made fashionable by the ‘Macaroni Club,’ being + afterwards applied by extension to ‘the younger and gayer part of our + nobility and gentry, who, at the same time that they gave in to the + luxuries of eating, went equally into the extravagancies of dress.’ (<i>Macaroni + and Theatrical Magazine</i>, Oct. 1772.) Cf. Sir Benjamin Backbite’s + later epigram in <i>The School for Scandal</i>, 1777, Act ii, Sc. 2:— + </p> + +<p class="poem"> + Sure never was seen two such beautiful ponies;<br/> + Other horses are clowns, but these <i>macaronies</i>:<br/> + To give them this title I’m sure can’t be wrong,<br/> + Their legs are so slim and their tails are so long. +</p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_105">Their hands are only lent to the Heinel.</a> See note + to l. 28, p. 85. + </p> + +<h3><a name="note38"></a><a href="#page_108">EPILOGUE INTENDED FOR<br /> +‘SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER.’</a></h3> + + <p> + This epilogue, given by Goldsmith to Dr. Percy in MS., was first published + in the <i>Miscellaneous Works</i> of 1801, ii. 87–8, as <i>An + Epilogue intended for Mrs. Bulkley</i>. Percy did not remember for what + play it was intended; but it is plainly (see note to l. 40) the second + epilogue for <i>She Stoops to Conquer</i> referred to in the letter + printed in this volume. + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_108">There is a place, so Ariosto sings.</a> ‘The poet + alludes to the thirty-fourth canto of <i>The Orlando furioso</i>. + Ariosto, as translated by Mr. Stewart Rose, observes of the <i>lunar world</i>; + </p> + +<p class="poem"> + There thou wilt find, if thou wilt thither post,<br/> + Whatever thou on earth beneath hast lost. +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> + Astolpho undertakes the journey; discovers a portion of his own sense; + and, in an ample flask, the lost wits of Orlando.’ (Bolton Corney.) Cf. + also <i>Rape of the Lock</i>, Canto v, ll. 113–14: + </p> + +<p class="poem"> + Some thought it mounted to the Lunar sphere,<br/> + Since all things lost on earth are treasur’d there. +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> + Lord Chesterfield also refers to the ‘happy extravagancy’ of Astolpho’s + journey in his <i>Letters</i>, 1774, i. 557. + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_108">at Foote’s Alone.</a> ‘Foote’s’ was the Little Theatre + in the Haymarket, where, in February, 1773, he brought out what he + described as a ‘Primitive Puppet Show,’ based upon the Italian Fantoccini, + and presenting a burlesque sentimental Comedy called <i>The Handsome + Housemaid; or, Piety in Pattens</i>, which did as much as <i> She + Stoops</i> to laugh false sentiment away. Foote warned his audience + that they would not discover ‘much wit or humour’ in the piece, since ‘his + brother writers had all agreed that it was highly improper, and beneath + the dignity of a mixed assembly, to show any signs of joyful satisfaction; + and that creating a laugh was forcing the higher order of an audience to a + vulgar and mean use of their muscles’—for which reason, he + explained, he had, like them, given up the sensual for the sentimental + style. And thereupon followed the story of a maid of low degree who, ‘by + the mere effects of morality and virtue, raised herself [like Richardson’s + <i>Pamela</i>], to riches and honours.’ The + public, who for some time had acquiesced in the new order of things under + the belief that it tended to the reformation of the stage, and who were + beginning to weary of the ‘moral essay thrown into dialogue,’ which had + for some time supplanted humorous situation, promptly came round under the + influence of Foote’s Aristophanic ridicule, and the <i> comédie + larmoyante</i> received an appreciable check. Goldsmith himself had + prepared the way in a paper contributed to the <i>Westminster Magazine</i> + for December, 1772 (vol. i. p. 4), with the title of ‘An Essay on the + Theatre; or, A Comparison between Laughing and Sentimental Comedy.’ The + specific reference in the Prologue is to the fact that Foote gave morning + performances of <i>The Handsome Housemaid</i>. There was one, for + instance, on Saturday, March 6, 1773. + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_109">The Mohawk.</a> This particular species of the genus + ‘rake’ belongs more to Swift’s than Goldsmith’s time, though the race is + eternal. There is an account of the ‘Mohock Club’ in <i>Spectator</i>, + No. 324. See also <i>Spectator</i>, No. 347; Gay’s <i> Trivia</i>, + 1716, Book iii. p. 74; Swift’s <i>Journal to Stella</i>, March 8 and + 26, 1712; and the <i>Wentworth Papers</i>, 1883, pp. 277–8. + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_109">Still stoops among the low to copy nature.</a> This + line, one would think, should have helped to convince Percy that the + epilogue was intended for <i>She Stoops to Conquer</i>, and for no + other play. + </p> + +<h3><a name="note39"></a><a href="#page_113">THE CAPTIVITY.</a></h3> + + <p> + The Oratorio of the <i>Captivity</i> was written in 1764; but never + set to music. It was first printed in 1820 at pp. 451–70 of vol. ii of the + octavo edition of the <i> Miscellaneous Works</i> issued by the + trade in that year. Prior reprinted it in 1837 (<i>Works</i>, iv. + Pp. 79–95) from the ‘original manuscript’ in Mr. Murray’s possession; and + Cunningham again in 1854 (<i>Works</i>, i. pp. 63–76). It is here + reproduced from Prior. James Dodsley, who bought the MS. for Newbery and + himself, gave Goldsmith ten guineas. Murray’s copy was the one made for + Dodsley, October 31, 1764; the one printed in 1820, that made for Newbery. + The latter, which once belonged to the autograph collector, William + Upcott, was in the market in 1887. + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_114">AIR.</a> Act i. This song had been published in the + first edition + of <i>The Haunch of Venison</i>, 1776, with the second stanza varied + thus:— + </p> + +<p class="poem"> +Thou, like the world, th’ opprest oppressing,<br/> + Thy smiles increase the wretch’s woe’<br/> +And he who wants each other blessing,<br/> + In thee must ever find a foe. +</p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_119">AIR.</a> Act ii. This song also had appeared in the + first edition of <i>The Haunch of Venison</i>, 1776, in a different + form:— + </p> + +<p class="poem"> +The Wretch condemn’d with life to part,<br/> + Still, still on Hope relies;<br/> +And ev’ry pang that rends the heart,<br/> + Bids Expectation rise.<br/> +<br/> +Hope, like the glim’ring taper’s light,<br/> + Adorns and chears the way;<br/> +And still, as darker grows the night,<br/> + Emits a brighter ray. +</p> + + <p> + Mitford, who printed <i>The Captivity</i> from Newbery’s version, + records a number of ‘first thoughts’ afterwards altered or improved by the + author in his MS. Modern editors have not reproduced them, and their + example has been followed here. <i>The Captivity</i> is not, in any + sense, one of Goldsmith’s important efforts. + </p> + +<h3><a name="note40"></a><a href="#page_128">VERSES IN REPLY TO AN INVITATION TO DINNER.</a></h3> + + <p> + These were first published in the <i> Miscellaneous Works</i> of + 1837, iv. 132–3, having been communicated to the editor by Major-General + Sir H. E. Bunbury, Bart., the son of Henry William Bunbury, the well-known + comic artist, and husband of Catherine Horneck, the ‘Little Comedy’ to + whom Goldsmith refers. Dr. Baker, to whose house the poet was invited, was + Dr. (afterwards Sir George) Baker, 1722–1809. He was Sir Joshua’s doctor; + and in 1776 became physician to George III, whom he attended during his + illness of 1788–9. He is often mentioned by Fanny Burney and Hannah More. + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_128">Horneck,</a> i.e. Mrs. Hannah Horneck—the + ‘Plymouth Beauty’—widow of Captain Kane William Horneck, grandson + of Dr. Anthony Horneck of the Savoy, mentioned in Evelyn’s <i>Diary</i>, + for whose <i>Happy Ascetick</i>, 1724, Hogarth designed a + frontispiece. Mrs. Horneck died in 1803. Like Sir Joshua, the Hornecks + came from Devonshire; and through him, had made the acquaintance of + Goldsmith. + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_128">Nesbitt.</a> Mr. Nesbitt was the husband of one of Mr. + Thrale’s handsome sisters. He was a member of the Devonshire Club, and + twice (1759–61) sat to Reynolds, with whom he was intimate. He died in + 1779, and his widow married a Mr. Scott. + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_128">Kauffmann.</a> Angelica Kauffmann, the artist, + 1741–1807. She had come to London in 1766. At the close of 1767 she had + been cajoled into a marriage with an impostor, Count de Horn, and had + separated from him in 1768. In 1769 she painted a ‘weak and + uncharacteristic’ portrait of Reynolds for Mr. Parker of Saltram + (afterwards Baron Boringdon), which is now in the possession of the Earl + of Morley. It was exhibited at the Royal Academy in the winter of 1876, + and is the portrait referred to at l. 44 below. + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_128">the Jessamy Bride.</a> This was Goldsmith’s pet-name + for Mary, the elder Miss Horneck. After Goldsmith’s death she married + Colonel F. E. Gwyn (1779). She survived until 1840. ‘Her own picture with + a turban,’ painted by Reynolds, was left to her in his will (<i>Works</i> + by Malone, 2nd ed., 1798, p. cxviii). She was also painted by Romney and + Hoppner. ‘Jessamy,’ or ‘jessimy,’ with its suggestion of jasmine flowers, + seems in eighteenth-century parlance to have stood for ‘dandified,’ + ‘superfine,’ ‘delicate,’ and the whole name was probably coined after the + model of some of the titles to Darly’s prints, then common in all the + shops. + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_128">The Reynoldses two,</a> i.e. Sir Joshua and his + sister, Miss Reynolds. + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_128">Little Comedy’s face.</a> ‘Little Comedy’ was + Goldsmith’s name for the younger Miss Horneck, Catherine, and already + engaged to H. W. Bunbury (<i>v. supra</i>), to whom she was married in + 1771. She died in 1799, and had also been painted by Reynolds. + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_128">the Captain in lace.</a> This was Charles Horneck, + Mrs. Horneck’s son, an officer in the Foot-guards. He afterwards became a + general, and died in 1804. (See note, p. 247, l. 31.) + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_129">to-day’s Advertiser.</a> The lines referred to are + said by Prior to have been as follows:— + </p> + +<p class="poem"> + While fair Angelica, with matchless grace,<br/> + Paints Conway’s lovely form and Stanhope’s face;<br/> + Our hearts to beauty willing homage pay,<br/> + We praise, admire, and gaze our souls away.<br/> + But when the likeness she hath done for thee,<br/> + O Reynolds! with astonishment we see,<br/> + Forced to submit, with all our pride we own,<br/> + Such strength, such harmony, excell’d by none,<br/> + And thou art rivall’d by thyself alone. +</p> + + <p> + They probably appeared in the newspaper at some date between 1769, when + the picture was painted, and August 1771, when ‘Little Comedy’ was + married, after which time Goldsmith would scarcely speak of her except as + ‘Mrs. Bunbury’ (see p. 132, l. 15). + </p> + +<h3><a name="note41"></a><a href="#page_130">LETTER IN PROSE AND VERSE TO MRS. BUNBURY.</a></h3> + + <p> + This letter, which contains some of the brightest and easiest of + Goldsmith’s familiar verses, was addressed to Mrs. Bunbury (the ‘Little + Comedy’ of the <i>Verses in Reply to an Invitation to Dinner</i>, + pp. 250–2), in answer to a rhymed summons on her part to spend Christmas + at Great Barton in Suffolk, the family seat of the Bunburys. It was first + printed by Prior in the <i>Miscellaneous Works</i> of 1837, iv. + 148–51, and again in 1838 in Sir Henry Bunbury’s <i>Correspondence of + Sir Thomas Hanmer, Bart.</i>, pp. 379–83. The text of the latter issue + is here followed. When Prior published the verses, they were assigned to + the year 1772; in the <i>Hanmer Correspondence</i> it is stated that + they were ‘probably written in 1773 or 1774.’ + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_130">your spring velvet coat.</a> Goldsmith’s pronounced + taste in dress, and his good-natured simplicity, made his costume a + fertile subject for playful raillery,—sometimes, for rather + discreditable practical jokes. (See next note.) + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_131">a wig, that is modish and gay.</a> ‘He always wore a + wig’—said the ‘Jessamy Bride’ in her reminiscences to Prior—‘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 + to seriously injure this important adjunct 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 appearance became the + signal for a general smile’ (Prior’s <i>Life</i>, 1837, ii. 378–9). + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_131">Naso contemnere adunco.</a> Cf. Horace, <i>Sat</i>. + i. 6. 5:— + </p> + +<p class="poem"> + naso suspendis adunco<br/> + Ignotos, +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> + and Martial, <i>Ep</i>. i. 4. 6:— + </p> + +<p class="poem"> + Et pueri nasum Rhinocerotis habent. +</p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_131">Loo,</a> i.e. Lanctre- or Lanterloo, a popular + eighteenth-century game, in which <i>Pam</i>, l. 6, the knave of clubs, is + the highest card. Cf. Pope, <i>Rape of the Lock</i>, 1714, iii. 61:— + </p> + +<p class="poem"> + Ev’n might <i>Pam</i>, that Kings and Queens o’erthrew,<br/> + And mow’d down armies in the fights of Lu; +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> + and Colman’s epilogue to <i>The School for Scandal</i>, 1777:— + </p> + +<p class="poem"> + And at backgammon mortify my soul,<br/> + That pants for <i>loo</i>, or flutters at a vole? +</p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_132">Miss Horneck.</a> Miss Mary Horneck, the ‘Jessamy + Bride’ <i>vide</i> note, p. 251, l. 14). + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_132">Fielding.</a> Sir John Fielding, d. 1780, Henry + Fielding’s blind half-brother, who succeeded him as a Justice of the Peace + for the City and Liberties of Westminster. He was knighted in 1761. There + are two portraits of him by Nathaniel Hone. + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_133">by quinto Elizabeth, Death without Clergy.</a> Legal + authorities affirm that the Act quoted should be 8 Eliz. cap. iv, under + which those who stole more than twelvepence ‘privately from a man’s + person’ were debarred from benefit of clergy. But ‘quint. Eliz.’ must have + offered some special attraction to poets, since Pope also refers to it in + the <i>Satires and Epistles</i>, i. 147–8:— + </p> + +<p class="poem"> + Consult the Statute: <i>quart</i>. I think, it is,<br/> + <i>Edwardi sext.</i> or <i>prim. et quint. Eliz.</i> +</p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_133">With bunches of fennel, and nosegays before ’em.</a> + This was a custom dating from the fearful jail fever of 1750, which + carried off, not only prisoners, but a judge (Mr. Justice Abney) ‘and many + jurymen and witnesses.’ ‘From that time up to this day [i.e. 1855] it has + been usual to place sweet-smelling herbs in the prisoner’s dock, to + prevent infection.’ (Lawrence’s <i>Life of Henry Fielding</i>, 1855, + p. 296.) The close observation of Cruikshank has not neglected this detail + in the Old Bailey plate of <i>The Drunkard’s Children</i>, 1848, v. + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_133">mobs.</a> The mob was a loose undress or <i>dèshabillè</i>, + sometimes a hood. ‘When we poor souls had presented ourselves with a + contrition suitable to our worthlessness, some pretty young ladies in <i>mobs</i>, + popped in here and there about the church.’ (<i>Guardian</i>, No. + 65, May 26, 1713.) Cf. also Addison’s ‘Fine Lady’s Diary’ (<i>Spectator</i>, + No. 323); ‘Went in our <i>Mobbs</i> to the Dumb Man’ (Duncan Campbell). + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_133">yon solemn-faced.</a> Cf. <i>Introduction</i>, + p. xxvii. According to the ‘Jessamy Bride,’ Goldsmith sometimes aggravated + his plainness by an ‘assumed frown of countenance’ (Prior, <i>Life</i>, + 1837, ii. 379). + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_133">Sir Charles,</a> i.e. Sir Thomas Charles Bunbury, + Bart., M. P., Henry Bunbury’s elder brother. He succeeded to the title in + 1764, and died without issue in 1821. Goldsmith, it may be observed, makes + ‘Charles’ a disyllable. Probably, like many of his countrymen, he so + pronounced it. (Cf. Thackeray’s <i>Pendennis</i>, 1850, vol. ii, + chap. 5 [or xliii], where this is humorously illustrated in Captain + Costigan’s ‘Sir <i>Chorlus</i>, I saw your neem at the Levee.’ Perhaps + this accounts for ‘failing’ and ‘stealing,’—‘day on’ and ‘Pantheon,’ + in the <i>New Simile</i>. Cooke (<i>European Magazine</i>, October, 1793, + p. 259) says that Goldsmith ‘rather cultivated (than endeavoured to get + rid of) his brogue.’ + </p> + + <p> + <a href="#page_133">dy’d in grain,</a> i.e. fixed, ineradicable. To ‘dye + in grain’ means primarily to colour with the scarlet or purple dye + produced by the <i>kermes</i> insect, called <i>granum</i> in Latin, from + its similarity to small seeds. Being what is styled a ‘fast’ dye the + phrase is used by extension to signify permanence. + </p> + +<h3><a name="note42"></a> + <a href="#page_135">VIDA’S GAME OF CHESS.</a></h3> + + <p> + Forster thus describes the MS. of this poem in his <i>Life of Goldsmith</i>:—‘It + is a small quarto manuscript of thirty-four pages, containing 679 lines, + to which a fly-leaf is appended in which Goldsmith notes the differences + of nomenclature between Vida’s chessmen and our own. It has occasional + interlineations and corrections, but such as would occur in transcription + rather than in a first or original copy. Sometimes indeed choice appears + to have been made (as at page 29) between two words equally suitable to + the sense and verse, as “to” for “toward”; but the insertions and erasures + refer almost wholly to words or lines accidentally omitted and replaced. + The triplet is always carefully marked; and seldom as it is found in any + other of Goldsmith’s poems. I am disposed to regard its frequent + recurrence here as even helping, in some degree, to explain the motive + which had led him to the trial of an experiment in rhyme comparatively new + to him. If we suppose him, half consciously, it may be, taking up the + manner of the great master of translation, Dryden, who was at all times so + much a favourite with him, he would at least, in so marked a peculiarity, + be less apt to fall short than to err perhaps a little on the side of + excess. Though I am far from thinking such to be the result in the present + instance. The effect of the whole translation is pleasing to me, and the + mock-heroic effect I think not a little assisted by the reiterated use of + the triplet and alexandrine. As to any evidence of authorship derivable + from the appearance of the manuscript, I will only add another word. The + lines in the translation have been carefully counted, and the number is + marked in Goldsmith’s hand at the close of his transcription. Such a fact + is, of course, only to be taken in aid of other proof; but a man is not + generally at the pains of counting, still less, I should say in such a + case as Goldsmith’s, of elaborately transcribing, lines which are not his + own.’ (Forster’s <i>Goldsmith</i>, 1871, ii. 235–6). + </p> + + <p> + When Forster wrote the above, the MS. was in the possession of Mr. Bolton + Corney, who had not been aware of its existence when he edited Goldsmith’s + Poems in 1845. In 1854 it was, with his permission, included in vol. iv of + Cunningham’s <i> Works</i> of 1854, and subsequently in the Aldine + <i> Poems</i> of 1866. + </p> + + <p> + Mark Jerome Vida of Cremona, 1490–1566, was Bishop of Alba, and favourite + of Leo the Magnificent. Several translators had tried their hand at his + <i>Game of Chess</i> before Goldsmith. Lowndes mentions Rowbotham, + 1562; Jeffreys, 1736; Erskine, 1736; Pullin, 1750; and <i>Anon</i>. + (Eton), 1769 (who may have preceded Goldsmith). But after his + (Goldsmith’s) death appeared another Oxford anonymous version, 1778, and + one by Arthur Murphy, 1786. + </p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="appendix" id="appendix"></a> +APPENDIXES +</h2> + +<table summary="" style=""> + +<tr> +<td> A. P<small>ORTRAITS OF</small> G<small>OLDSMITH.</small></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> B. D<small>ESCRIPTIONS OF</small> N<small>EWELL’S</small> V<small>IEWS OF</small> L<small>ISSOY, ETC.</small></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> C. T<small>HE</small> E<small>PITHET</small> ‘S<small>ENTIMENTAL</small>.’</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> D. F<small>RAGMENTS OF</small> T<small>RANSLATIONS, ETC. BY</small> G<small>OLDSMITH.</small></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> E. G<small>OLDSMITH ON</small> P<small>OETRY UNDER</small> A<small>NNE AND</small> G<small>EORGE THE</small> F<small>IRST.</small></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> F. C<small>RITICISMS FROM</small> G<small>OLDSMITH’S</small> ‘B<small>EAUTIES OF</small> E<small>NGLISH</small> P<small>OESY</small>.’</td> +</tr> + +</table> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> +<a name="oliver"></a> +<img src="images/oliver.jpg" width="201" height="272" alt="[Illustration: ]" /> +<p class="caption">OLIVER GOLDSMITH<br /> +(M. W. Bunbury)</p> +</div> + + <h3><a name="appe01"></a> + APPENDIX A + </h3> + + <p class="center"> + <br /> PORTRAITS OF GOLDSMITH. <br /> + </p> + <p> + P<small>ORTRAITS</small> of Goldsmith are not numerous; and the best known + are those of Reynolds and H. W. Bunbury. That by Sir Joshua was painted in + 1766–70, and exhibited in the Royal Academy (No. 151) from April 24th to + May 28th in the latter year. It represents the poet in a plain white + collar, furred mantle open at the neck, and holding a book in his right + hand. Its general characteristics are given at p. xxviii of the + ‘Introduction.’ It was scraped in mezzotint in 1770 by Reynolds’s Italian + pupil, Giuseppe, or Joseph Marchi; and it is dated 1st December.* + Bunbury’s portrait first appeared, after Goldsmith’s death, as a + frontispiece to the <i>Haunch of Venison</i>; and it was etched in + facsimile by James Bretherton. The plate is dated May 24, 1776. In his + loyal but despotic <i>Life of Goldsmith</i> (Bk. iv, ch. 6), Mr. + John Forster reproduces these portraits side by side; in order, he + professes, to show ‘the distinction between truth and a caricature of it.’ + Bunbury, it may be, was primarily a caricaturist, and possibly looked at + most things from a more or less grotesque point of view; but this sketch—it + should be observed—was meant for a likeness, and we have the express + testimony of one who, if she was Bunbury’s sister-in-law, was also + Goldsmith’s friend, that it rendered Goldsmith accurately. It ‘gives the + head with admirable fidelity’—says the ‘Jessamy Bride’ (afterwards + Mrs. Gwyn)—‘as he actually lived among us; nothing can exceed its + truth’ (Prior’s <i>Life</i>, 1837, ii. 380). In other words, it + delineates Goldsmith as his contemporaries saw him, with bulbous + forehead, indecisive chin, and long protruding upper lip,—awkward, + insignificant, ill at ease,—restlessly burning ‘to get in and + shine.’ It enables us moreover to understand how people who knew nothing + of his better and more lovable qualities, could speak of him as an + ‘inspired idiot,’ as ‘silly Dr. Goldsmith,’ as ‘talking like poor Poll.’ + It is, in short, his external, objective presentment. The picture by Sir + Joshua, on the contrary, is almost wholly subjective. Draped judiciously + in a popular studio costume, which is not that of the sitter’s day, it + reveals to us the author of <i>The Deserted Village</i> as Reynolds + conceived him to be at his best, serious, dignified, introspective, with + his physical defects partly extenuated by art, partly over-mastered by his + intellectual power. To quote the ‘Jessamy Bride’ once more—it is ‘a + fine poetical head for the admiration of posterity, but as it is divested + of his wig and with the shirt collar open, it was not the man as seen in + daily life’ (<i>Ib</i>. ii. 380). Had Goldsmith lived in our era of + photography, photography would doubtless have given us something which + would have been neither the one nor the other, but more like Bunbury than + Reynolds. Yet we may be grateful for both. For Bunbury’s sketch and + Reynolds’s portrait are alike indispensable to the true comprehension of + Goldsmith’s curiously dual personality.** + </p> + +<p class="footnote"> +* This was the print to which Goldsmith referred in a well-known + anecdote. Speaking to his old Peckham pupil, Samuel Bishop, whom, after + many years, he met accidentally in London, he asked him eagerly whether he + had got an engraving of the new portrait, and finding he had not, ‘said + with some emotion, “if your picture had been published, I should not have + suffered an hour to elapse without procuring it.”’ But he was speedily + ‘appeased by apologies.’ (Prior’s <i>Life</i>, 1837, i. 219–20.) + </p> + +<p class="footnote"> +** There is in existence another undated etching by Bretherton after + Bunbury on a larger scale, which comes much nearer to Reynolds; and it is + of course possible, though not in our opinion probable, that Mrs. Gwyn may + have referred to this. But Forster selected the other for his comparison; + it is prefixed to the <i>Haunch of Venison</i>; it is certainly the + better known; and (as we believe) cannot ever have been intended for a + caricature. + </p> + +<p> +The portrait by Reynolds, above referred to, was painted for the Thrale Gallery +at Streatham, on the dispersion of which, in May, 1816, it was bought for the +Duke of Bedford for £133 7s. It is now at Woburn Abbey (Cat. No. 254). At +Knole, Lord Sackville possesses another version (Cat. No. 239), which was +purchased in 1773 by the Countess Delawarr, and was shown at South Kensington +in 1867. Here the dress is a black coat and a brown mantle with fur. The +present owner exhibited it at the Guelph Exhibition of 1891. A third version, +now in the Irish National Gallery, once belonged to Goldsmith himself, and then +to his brother-in-law, Daniel Hodson. Finally there is a copy, by a pupil of +Reynolds, in the National Portrait Gallery, to which it was bequeathed in 1890 +by Dr. Leifchild, having formerly been the property of Caleb Whitefoord. Caleb +Whitefoord also had an ‘admirable miniature’ by Reynolds, which +belongs to the Rev. Benjamin Whitefoord, Hon. Canon of Salisbury (<i>Whitefoord +Papers</i>, 1898, p. xxvii). A small circular print, based upon Reynolds, and +etched by James Basire, figures on the title-page of <i>Retaliation</i>. Some +of the plates are dated April 18, 1774.* The National Portrait Gallery has also +a silhouette, attributed to Ozias Humphry, R.A., which was presented in 1883 by +Sir Theodore Martin, K.C.B. Then there is the portrait by Hogarth shown at +South Kensington in 1867 by the late Mr. Studley Martin of Liverpool. It +depicts the poet writing at a round table in a black cap, claret-coloured coat +and ruffles. Of this there is a wood-cut in the later editions of +Forster’s <i> Life</i> (Bk. iii, ch. 14). The same exhibition of 1867 +contained a portrait of Goldsmith in a brown coat and red waistcoat, ‘as +a young man.’ It was said to be extremely like him in face, and was +attributed to Gainsborough. In Evans’s edition of the <i>Poetical and +Dramatic Works</i> is another portrait engraved by Cook, said, on some copies, +to be ‘from an original drawing’; and there is in the Print Room at +the British Museum yet another portrait still, engraved by William Ridley +‘from a painting in the possession of the Rev. Mr. Williams,’ no +doubt Goldsmith’s friend, the Rev. David Williams, founder of the Royal +Literary Fund. One of these last may have been the work to which the poet +refers in a letter to his brother Maurice in January, 1770. ‘I have sent +my cousin Jenny [Jane Contarine] a miniature picture of myself . . . The face +you well know, is ugly enough, but it is finely painted’ (<i>Misc. +Works</i>, 1801, p. 88). +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +* There is also a sketch by Reynolds (?) at the British Museum. +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> +<a name="silhouette"></a> +<img src="images/silhouette.jpg" width="187" height="263" alt="[Illustration: ]" /> +<p class="caption">SILHOUETTE OF GOLDSMITH<br /> +(Ozias Humphry)</p> +</div> + + <p> + In front of Dublin University is a bronze statue of Goldsmith by J. H. + Foley, R.A., erected in 1864.** Of this there is a good engraving by + G. Stodart. On the memorial in Westminster Abbey erected in 1776 is a + medallion by Joseph Nollekens. + </p> + +<p class="footnote"> +** Goldsmith’s traditional ill-luck pursued him after death. During + some public procession in front of Trinity College, a number of + undergraduates climbed on the statue, with the result that the thin metal + of the poet’s head was flattened or crushed in, requiring for its + readjustment very skilful restorative treatment. The Editor is indebted + for this item of information to the kindness of Mr. Percy Fitzgerald, who + was present at the subsequent operation. + </p> + + <h3><a name="appe02"></a><a name="page_262" id="page_262"></a> + APPENDIX B + </h3> + +<p class="center"> +DESCRIPTIONS OF NEWELL’S VIEWS OF LISSOY, ETC. + </p> + <p> + In 1811, the Rev. R. H. Newell, B.D. and Fellow of St. John’s College, + Cambridge, issued an edition of the <i> Poetical Works</i> of + Goldsmith. The distinctive feature of this lay in the fact that it was + illustrated by a number of aquatints ‘by Mr. Alkin’ (i.e. Samuel Alken), + after drawings made by Newell in 1806–9, and was accompanied by a series + of ‘Remarks, attempting to ascertain, chiefly from local observation, the + actual scene of <i>The Deserted Village</i>.’ Some quotations from + these ‘Remarks’ have already been made in the foregoing notes; but as + copies of six of the drawings are given in this volume, it may be well, in + each case, to reproduce Newell’s ‘descriptions.’ + </p> +<p class="center"> +LISHOY, OR LISSOY MILL. + </p> + <p> + The west end of it, as seen from a field near the road; to the north the + country slopes away in coarsely cultivated enclosures, and the distance + eastward is bounded by the Longford hills. The stream ran from the south + side of the mill (where it is still of some width though nearly choked + up), and fell over the once busy wheel, into a deep channel, now overgrown + with weeds. Neglect and poverty appear all around. The farm house and + barn-like buildings, which fill up the sketch, seem to have no + circumstances of interest attached to them (p. 83). + </p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> +<a name="lissoy"></a> +<img src="images/lissoy.jpg" width="318" height="219" alt="[Illustration: ]" /> +<p class="caption">LISSOY MILL<br /> +<small>(R. H. Newell)</small></p> +</div> + +<p class="center"> +KILKENNY WEST CHURCH. +</p> + + <p> + This south-west view was taken from the road, which passes by the church, + towards Lishoy, and overlooks the adjacent country to the west. The church + appears neat, its exterior having been lately repaired. The tree added to + the foreground is the only liberty taken with the subject (p. 83). + </p> + +<p class="center"> +HAWTHORN TREE. + </p> + <p> + An east view of the tree, as it stood in August, 1806. The Athlone road + occupies the centre of the sketch, winding round + the stone wall to the right, into the village, and to the left leading + toward the church. The cottage and tree opposite the hawthorn, adjoin the + present public-house; the avenue before the parsonage tops the distant + eminence (p. 84). + </p> + +<p class="center"> +SOUTH VIEW FROM GOLDSMITH’S MOUNT. + </p> + <p> + In this sketch ‘the decent church,’ at the top of the hill in the + distance, is an important object, from its exact correspondence with the + situation given it in the poem. Half-way up stands the solitary ruin of + Lord Dillon’s castle. The hill in shadow, on the left, is above the + village, and is supposed to be alluded to in the line— + </p> + +<p class="poem"> + Up yonder hill the distant murmur rose. +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> + A flat of bogland extends from the narrow lake in the centre to the mount + on the right of the foreground (p. 84). + </p> + +<p class="center"> +THE PARSONAGE. + </p> + <p> + A south view from the Athlone road, which runs parallel with the stone + wall, and nearly east and west: the gateway is that mentioned in + Goldsmith’s letter,* the mount being directly opposite, in a field + contiguous with the road. + </p> + +<p class="footnote"> +* See note to l. 114 of <i>The Deserted Village</i>. + </p> + + <p> + The ruinous stone wall in this and three other sketches, which is a + frequent sort of fence in the neighbourhood, gives a characteristic + propriety to the line (48) + </p> + +<p class="poem"> + And the long grass o’ertops the mould’ring wall. +</p> +<p class="noindent"> +(pp. 84–5). + </p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> +<a name="parsonage"></a> +<img src="images/parsonage.jpg" width="317" height="231" alt="[Illustration: ]" /> +<p class="caption">THE PARSONAGE<br /> +(R. H. Newell)</p> +</div> + +<p class="center"> +THE SCHOOL-HOUSE. + </p> + <p> + This cottage is situated, as the poem describes it, by the road-side, just + where it forms a sharp angle by branching out from the village eastward: + at this point a south-west view was taken (p. 85). + </p> + + <p> + Newell’s book was reissued in 1820; but no alterations were made in the + foregoing descriptions which, it must be borne in + mind, refer to 1806–9. His enthusiastic identifications will no doubt be + taken by the reader with the needful grain of salt. Goldsmith probably + remembered the hawthorn bush, the church upon the hill, the watercress + gatherer, and some other familiar objects of the ‘seats of his youth.’ But + distance added charm to the regretful retrospect; and in the details his + fancy played freely with his memories. It would be unwise, for example, to + infer—as Mr. Hogan did—the decorations of the <i>Three + Pidgeons</i> at Lissoy from the account of the inn in the poem.* Some + twelve years before its publication, when he was living miserably in Green + Arbour Court, Goldsmith had submitted to his brother Henry a sample of a + heroi-comic poem describing a Grub Street writer in bed in ‘a paltry + ale-house.’ In this ‘the sanded floor,’ the ‘twelve good rules’ and the + broken tea-cups all played their parts as accessories, and even the + double-dealing chest had its prototype in the poet’s night-cap, which was + ‘a cap by night—a stocking all the day.’ A year or two later he + expanded these lines in the <i>Citizen of the World</i>, and the + scene becomes the Red Lion in Drury Lane. From this second version he + adapted, or extended again, the description of the inn parlour in <i>The + Deserted Village</i>. It follows therefore, either that he borrowed for + London the details of a house in Ireland, or that he used for Ireland the + details of a house in London. If, on the other hand, it be contended that + those details were common to both places, then the identification in these + particulars of Auburn with Lissoy falls hopelessly to the ground. + </p> + +<p class="footnote"> +* What follows is taken from the writer’s ‘Introduction’ to Mr. + Edwin Abbey’s illustrated edition of <i> The Deserted Village</i>, + 1902, p. ix. + </p> + +<h3><a name="appe03"></a>APPENDIX C</h3> + +<p class="center"> +THE EPITHET ‘SENTIMENTAL.’ + </p> + <p> + Goldsmith’s use of ‘sentimental’ in the ‘prologue’ to <i>She Stoops to + Conquer</i> (p. 109, l. 36)—the only occasion upon which he seems + to have employed it in his <i>Poems</i>—affords an excuse for + bringing together one or two dispersed illustrations of the rise and + growth of this once highly-popular adjective, not as yet + reached in the <i>N. E. D.</i> Johnson, who must often have heard it, + ignores it altogether; and in Todd’s edition of his <i>Dictionary</i> + (1818) it is expressly marked with a star as one of the modern words which + are ‘not’ to be found in the Doctor’s collection. According to Mr. Sidney + Lee’s admirable article in the <i>Dictionary of National Biography</i> + on Sterne, that author is to be regarded as the ‘only begetter’ of the + epithet. Mr. Lee says that it first occurs in a letter of 1740 written by + the future author of <i>Tristram Shandy</i> to the Miss Lumley he + afterwards married. Here is the precise and characteristic passage:—‘I + gave a thousand pensive, penetrating looks at the chair thou hadst so + often graced, in those quiet and <i>sentimental</i> repasts—then + laid down my knife and fork, and took out my handkerchief, and clapped it + across my face, and wept like a child’ (Sterne’s <i>Works</i> by + Saintsbury, 1894, v. 25). Nine years later, however circulated, + ‘sentimental’ has grown ‘so much in vogue’ that it has reached from London + to the provinces. ‘Mrs. Belfour’ (Lady Bradshaigh) writing from + Lincolnshire to Richardson says:—‘Pray, Sir, give me leave to ask + you . . . what, in your opinion, is the meaning of the word <i>sentimental</i>, + so much in vogue amongst the polite, both in town and country? In letters + and common conversation, I have asked several who make use of it, and have + generally received for answer, it is—it is—<i>sentimental</i>. + Every thing clever and agreeable is comprehended in that word; but [I] am + convinced a wrong interpretation is given, because it is impossible every + thing clever and agreeable can be so common as this word. I am frequently + astonished to hear such a one is a <i>sentimental</i> man; we were a <i>sentimental</i> + party; I have been taking a <i> sentimental</i> walk. And that I might be + reckoned a little in the fashion, and, as I thought, show them the proper + use of the word, about six weeks ago, I declared I had just received a <i> + sentimental</i> letter. Having often laughed at the word, and found fault + with the application of it, and this being the first time I ventured to + make use of it, I was loudly congratulated upon the occasion: but I should + be glad to know your interpretation of it’ (Richardson’s <i>Correspondence</i>, + 1804, iv. pp. 282–3). The reply of the author of <i>Clarissa</i>, + which would have been interesting, is not given; but it is clear that by + this date (1749) ‘sentimental’ must already have been rather overworked by + ‘the polite.’ Eleven years after this we meet with it in the Prologue to + Colman’s + ‘Dramatick Novel’ of <i>Polly Honeycombe</i>. ‘And then,’ he says, + commenting upon the fiction of the period,— + </p> + +<p class="poem"> + And then so <i>sentimental</i> is the Stile,<br/> + So chaste, yet so bewitching all the while!<br/> + Plot, and elopement, passion, rape, and rapture,<br/> + The total sum of ev’ry dear—dear—Chapter. +</p> + + <p> + With February, 1768, came Sterne’s <i> Sentimental Journey</i> upon + which Wesley has this comment:—‘I casually took a volume of what is + called, “A Sentimental Journey through France and Italy.” <i>Sentimental</i>! + what is that? It is not English: he might as well say, <i> Continental</i> + [!]. It is not sense. It conveys no determinate idea; yet one fool makes + many. And this nonsensical word (who would believe it?) is become a + fashionable one!’ (<i>Journal</i>, February 11, 1772). In 1773, + Goldsmith puts it in the ‘Dedication’ to <i>She Stoops</i>:—‘The + undertaking a comedy, not merely <i>sentimental</i>, was very dangerous;’ and + Garrick (forgetting Kelly and <i>False Delicacy</i>) uses it more + than once in his ‘Prologue’ to the same play, e.g.—‘Faces are blocks + in <i>sentimental</i> scenes.’ Further examples might easily be multiplied, for + the word, in spite of Johnson, had now come to stay. Two years + subsequently we find Sheridan referring to + </p> + +<p class="poem"> + The goddess of the woful countenance,<br/> + The <i>sentimental</i> Muse!— +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> + in an occasional ‘Prologue’ to <i>The Rivals</i>. It must already + have passed into the vocabulary of the learned. Todd gives examples from + Shenstone and Langhorne. Warton has it more than once in his <i>History + of English Poetry</i>; and it figures in the <i>Essays</i> of + Vicesimus Knox. Thus academically launched, we need no longer follow its + fortunes. + </p> + +<h3><a name="appe04"></a>APPENDIX D</h3> + +<p class="center"> +FRAGMENTS OF TRANSLATIONS, ETC., BY GOLDSMITH. + </p> + <p> + To the Aldine edition of 1831, the Rev. John Mitford added several + fragments of translation from Goldsmith’s <i>Essays</i>. About a + third of these were traced by Bolton Corney in 1845 to the <i>Horace</i> + of Francis. He therefore compiled a fresh collection, here given. + </p> + +<p class="center"> + <i>From a French version of Homer</i>. + </p> +<p class="poem"> + The shouting army cry’d with joy extreme,<br/> + He sure must conquer, who himself can tame!<br/> + <i>The Bee</i>, 1759, p. 90. +</p> + + <p> + The next is also from Homer, and is proposed as an improvement of Pope:— + </p> + +<p class="poem"> + They knew and own’d the monarch of the main:<br/> + The sea subsiding spreads a level plain:<br/> + The curling waves before his coursers fly:<br/> + The parting surface leaves his brazen axle dry.<br/> + <i>Miscellaneous Works</i>, 1801, iv. 410. +</p> + + <p> + From the same source comes number three, a quatrain from Vida’s <i>Eclogues</i>:— + </p> + +<p class="poem"> + Say heavenly muse, their youthful frays rehearse;<br/> + Begin, ye daughters of immortal verse;<br/> + Exulting rocks have crown’d the power of song!<br/> + And rivers listen’d as they flow’d along.<br/> + <i>Miscellaneous Works</i>, 1801, iv. 427. +</p> + + <p> + Another is a couplet from Ovid, the fish referred to being the <i>scarus</i> + or bream:— + </p> + +<p class="poem"> + Of all the fish that graze beneath the flood,<br/> + He, <i>only</i>, ruminates his former food.<br/> + <i>History of the Earth,</i> etc., 1774, iii. 6. +</p> + + <p> + Bolton Corney also prints the translation from the <i>Spectator</i>, + already given in this volume. His last fragment is from the posthumous + translation of Scarron’s <i> Roman Comique</i>:— + </p> + +<p class="poem"> +Thus, when soft love subdues the heart<br/> + With smiling hopes and chilling fears,<br/> +The soul rejects the aid of art,<br/> + And speaks in moments more than years.<br/> + <i>The Comic Romance of Monsieur Scarron</i>, 1775, ii. 161. +</p> + + <p> + It is unnecessary to refer to any other of the poems attributed to + Goldsmith. Mitford included in his edition a couple of quatrains inserted + in the <i>Morning Chronicle</i> for April 3, 1800, which were said + to be by the poet; but they do not resemble his manner. Another piece with + the title of <i>The Fair Thief</i> was revived in July, 1893, by an + anonymous writer in the <i>Daily</i> + <i>Chronicle</i>, as being possibly by Goldsmith, to whom it was + assigned in an eighteenth-century anthology (1789–80). Its discoverer, + however, subsequently found it given in Walpole’s <i>Noble Authors</i> + (Park’s edition, 1806) to Charles Wyndham, Earl of Egremont. It has no + great merit; and may safely be neglected as an important addition to + Goldsmith’s <i>Works</i>, already burdened with much which that + critical author would never have reprinted. + </p> + +<h3><a name="appe05"></a>APPENDIX E</h3> + +<p class="center"> +GOLDSMITH ON POETRY UNDER ANNE AND GEORGE THE FIRST. +</p> + <p> + In Letter xvi, vol. ii. pp.139–41, of <i>An History of England in a + Series of Letters from a Nobleman to his Son</i>, 1764, Goldsmith gives + the following short account of the state of poetry in the first quarter of + the Eighteenth Century. + </p> + + <p> + ‘But, of all the other arts, poetry in this age was carried to the + greatest perfection. The language, for some ages, had been improving, but + now it seemed entirely divested of its roughness and barbarity. Among the + poets of this period we may place John Philips, author of several poems, + but of none more admired than that humourous one, entitled, <i>The + Splendid Shilling</i>; he lived in obscurity, and died just above want. + William Congreve deserves also particular notice; his comedies, some of + which were but coolly received upon their first appearance, seemed to mend + upon repetition; and he is, at present, justly allowed the foremost in + that species of dramatic poesy. His wit is ever just and brilliant; his + sentiments new and lively; and his elegance equal to his regularity. Next + him Vanbrugh is placed, whose humour seems more natural, and characters + more new; but he owes too many obligations to the French, entirely to pass + for an original; and his total disregard to decency, in a great measure, + impairs his merit. Farquhar is still more lively, and, perhaps more + entertaining than either; his pieces still continue the favourite + performances of the stage, and bear frequent repetition without satiety; + but he often mistakes pertness for wit, and seldom strikes his characters + with proper force or originality. However, he died very young; and it is + remarkable, that he + continued to improve as he grew older; his last play, entitled <i>The + Beaux’ Strategem</i>, being the best of his productions. Addison, both + as a poet and prose writer, deserves the highest regard and imitation. His + <i>Campaign</i>, and <i>Letter to Lord Halifax from Italy</i>, + are masterpieces in the former, and his <i>Essays</i> published in + the <i> Spectator</i> are inimitable specimens of the latter. + Whatever he treated of was handled with elegance and precision; and that + virtue which was taught in his writings, was enforced by his example. + Steele was Addison’s friend and admirer; his comedies are perfectly + polite, chaste, and genteel; nor were his other works contemptible; he + wrote on several subjects, and yet it is amazing, in the multiplicity of + his pursuits, how he found leisure for the discussion of any. Ever + persecuted by creditors, whom his profuseness drew upon him, or pursuing + impracticable schemes, suggested by ill-grounded ambition. Dean Swift was + the professed antagonist both of Addison and him. He perceived that there + was a spirit of romance mixed with all the works of the poets who preceded + him; or, in other words, that they had drawn nature on the most pleasing + side. There still therefore was a place left for him, who, careless of + censure, should describe it just as it was, with all its deformities; he + therefore owes much of his fame, not so much to the greatness of his + genius, as to the boldness of it. He was dry, sarcastic, and severe; and + suited his style exactly to the turn of his thought, being concise and + nervous. In this period also flourished many of subordinate fame. Prior + was the first who adopted the French elegant easy manner of telling a + story; but if what he has borrowed from that nation be taken from him, + scarce anything will be left upon which he can lay any claim to applause + in poetry. Rowe was only outdone by Shakespeare and Otway as a tragic + writer; he has fewer absurdities than either; and is, perhaps, as pathetic + as they; but his flights are not so bold, nor his characters so strongly + marked. Perhaps his coming later than the rest may have contributed to + lessen the esteem he deserves. Garth had success as a poet; and, for a + time, his fame was even greater than his desert. In his principal work, + <i>The Dispensary</i>, his versification is negligent; and his plot + is now become tedious; but whatever he may lose as a poet, it would be + improper to rob him of the merit he deserves for having written the prose + dedication, and preface, to the poem already mentioned; in which he + has shown the truest wit, with the most refined elegance. Parnell, though + he has written but one poem, namely, <i>The Hermit</i>, yet has + found a place among the English first rate poets. Gay, likewise, by his + <i>Fables</i> and <i>Pastorals</i>, has acquired an equal + reputation. But of all who have added to the stock of English Poetry, + Pope, perhaps, deserves the first place. On him, foreigners look as one of + the most successful writers of his time; his versification is the most + harmonious, and his correctness the most remarkable of all our poets. A + noted contemporary of his own calls the English the finest writers on + moral topics, and Pope the noblest moral writer of all the English. Mr. + Pope has somewhere named himself the last English Muse; and, indeed, since + his time, we have seen scarce any production that can justly lay claim to + immortality; he carried the language to its highest perfection; and those + who have attempted still farther to improve it, instead of ornament, have + only caught finery.’ + </p> + +<h3><a name="appe06"></a>APPENDIX F</h3> + +<p class="center"> +CRITICISMS FROM GOLDSMITH’S ‘BEAUTIES OF ENGLISH POESY.’ +</p> + <p> + To <i>The Beauties of English Poesy</i>, 2 vols., 1767, Goldsmith + prefixed, in each case, ‘short introductory criticisms.’ They are, as he + says, ‘rather designed for boys than men’; and aim only at being ‘obvious + and sincere’; but they carry his views on the subject somewhat farther + than the foregoing account from the <i>History of England</i>. + </p> + +<p class="center"> +THE RAPE OF THE LOCK. + </p> + <p> + This seems to be Mr. Pope’s most finished production, and is, perhaps, the + most perfect in our language. It exhibits stronger powers of imagination, + more harmony of numbers, and a greater knowledge of the world, than any + other of this poet’s works; and it is probable, if our country were called + upon to show a specimen of their genius to foreigners, this would be the + work here fixed upon. + </p> + +<p class="center"> +THE HERMIT. +</p> + <p> + This poem is held in just esteem, the versification being chaste, and + tolerably harmonious, and the story told with perspicuity and conciseness. + It seems to have cost great labour, both to Mr. Pope and Parnell himself, + to bring it to this perfection.* It may not be amiss to observe that the + fable is taken from one of Dr. Henry More’s Dialogues. + </p> + +<p class="footnote"> +*Parnell’s <i>Poems</i>, 1770, xxiv. +</p> + +<p class="center"> +IL PENSEROSO. + </p> + <p> + I have heard a very judicious critic say, that he had an higher idea of + Milton’s style in poetry, from the two following poems [<i>Il Penseroso</i> + and <i> l’Allegro</i>], than from his <i>Paradise Lost</i>. It + is certain the imagination shown in them is correct and strong. The + introduction to both in irregular measure is borrowed from the Italian, + and hurts an English ear. + </p> + +<p class="center"> +AN ELEGY, WRITTEN IN A COUNTRY CHURCH YARD. +</p> + <p> + This is a very fine poem, but overloaded with epithet.† The heroic + measure with alternate rhyme is very properly adapted to the solemnity of + the subject, as it is the slowest movement that our language admits of. + The latter part of the poem is pathetic and interesting. + </p> + +<p class="footnote"> +†This is a + strange complaint to come from Goldsmith, whose own <i>Hermit</i>, + as was pointed out to the present Editor by the late Mr. Kegan Paul, is + certainly open to this impeachment. +</p> + +<p class="center"> +LONDON. IN IMITATION OF THE THIRD SATIRE<br /> OF JUVENAL. + </p> + <p> + This poem of Mr. Johnson’s is the best imitation of the original that has + appeared in our language, being possessed of all the force and satirical + resentment of Juvenal. Imitation gives us a much truer idea of the + ancients than even translation could do. + </p> + +<p class="center"> +THE SCHOOL-MISTRESS. IN IMITATION OF SPENSER. + </p> + <p> + This poem is one of those happinesses in which a poet excels himself, as + there is nothing in all Shenstone which in any way approaches it in merit; + and, though I dislike the imitations of + our old English poets in general, yet, on this minute subject, the + antiquity of the style produces a very ludicrous solemnity. + </p> + +<p class="center"> +COOPER’S HILL. + </p> + <p> + This poem, by Denham, though it may have been exceeded by later attempts + in description, yet deserves the highest applause, as it far surpasses all + that went before it: the concluding part, though a little too much + crowded, is very masterly. + </p> + +<p class="center"> +ELOISA TO ABELARD. + </p> + <p> + The harmony of numbers in this poem is very fine. It is rather drawn out + to too tedious a length, although the passions vary with great judgement. + It may be considered as superior to anything in the epistolary way; and + the many translations which have been made of it into the modern + languages, are in some measure a proof of this. + </p> + +<p class="center"> +AN EPISTLE FROM MR. PHILIPS [Ambrose Philips] TO THE EARL OF DORSET. + </p> + <p> + The opening of this poem is incomparably fine. The latter part is tedious + and trifling. + </p> + +<p class="center"> +A LETTER FROM ITALY, TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLECHARLES LORD HALIFAX.<br /> <br /> In the Year MDCCI. + </p> + <p> + Few poems have done more honour to English genius than this. There is in + it a strain of political thinking that was, at that time, new in our + poetry. Had the harmony of this been equal to that of Pope’s + versification, it would be incontestably the finest poem in our language; + but there is a dryness in the numbers which greatly lessens the pleasure + excited both by the poet’s judgement and imagination.* + </p> + +<p class="footnote"> +* See introductory note to <i>The Traveller</i>, p. 162. +</p> + +<p class="center"> + ALEXANDER’S FEAST; OR, THE POWER OF MUSIC.<br /> + AN ODE, IN HONOUR OF ST. CECILIA’S DAY. + </p> + <p> + This ode [by Mr. Dryden] has been more applauded, perhaps, than it has + been felt, however, it is a very fine one, and gives its beauties rather + at a third, or fourth, than at a first perusal. + </p> + +<p class="center"> +ODE FOR MUSIC ON ST. CECILIA’S DAY. + </p> + <p> + This ode [by Mr. Pope] has by many been thought equal to the former. As it + is a repetition of Dryden’s manner, it is so far inferior to him. The + whole hint of Orpheus, and many of the lines, have been taken from an + obscure Ode upon Music, published in Tate’s Miscellanies.* + </p> + +<p class="footnote"> +*<i>A Pindaric Essay upon Musick</i>—says Gibbs—by + ‘Mr. Wilson’,’ which appears at p. 401 of Tate’s Collection of 1685. +</p> + +<p class="center"> +THE SHEPHERD’S WEEK. IN SIX PASTORALS. + </p> + <p> + These are Mr. Gay’s principal performances. They were originally intended, + I suppose, as a burlesque on those of [Ambrose] Philips; but, perhaps + without designing it, he has hit the true spirit of pastoral poetry. In + fact, he more resembles Theocritus than any other English pastoral writer + whatsoever. There runs through the whole a strain of rustic pleasantry + which should ever distinguish this species of composition; but how far the + antiquated expressions used here may contribute to the humour, I will not + determine; for my own part, I could wish the simplicity were preserved, + without recurring to such obsolete antiquity for the manner of expressing + it. + </p> + +<p class="center"> +MAC FLECKNOE. + </p> + <p> + The severity of this satire, and the excellence of its versification give + it a distinguished rank in this species of composition. At present, an + ordinary reader would scarce suppose that Shadwell, who is here meant by + Mac Flecknoe, was worth being chastised, and that Dryden’s descending to + such game was like an eagle’s stooping to catch flies.† The truth + however is, Shadwell, at one time, held divided reputation with this great + poet. Every + age produces its fashionable dunces, who, by following the transient + topic, or humour, of the day, supply talkative ignorance with materials + for conversation. + </p> + +<p class="footnote"> + †‘Aquila non capit muscas’ (Apostolius). + </p> + +<p class="center"> +ON POETRY. A RHAPSODY. + </p> + <p> + Here follows one of the best versified poems in our language, and the most + masterly production of its author. The severity with which Walpole is here + treated, was in consequence of that minister having refused to provide for + Swift in England, when applied to for that purpose in the year 1725 (if I + remember right). The severity of a poet, however, gave Walpole very little + uneasiness. A man whose schemes, like this minister’s, seldom extended + beyond the exigency of the year, but little regarded the contempt of + posterity. + </p> + +<p class="center"> +OF THE USE OF RICHES. + </p> + <p> + This poem, as Mr. Pope tells us himself, cost much attention and labour; + and, from the easiness that appears in it, one would be apt to think as + much. + </p> + +<p class="center"> +FROM THE DISPENSARY. + </p> + <p> + This sixth canto of the <i>Dispensary</i>, by Dr. Garth, has more + merit than the whole preceding part of the poem, and, as I am told, in the + first edition of this work it is more correct than as here exhibited; but + that edition I have not been able to find. The praises bestowed on this + poem are more than have been given to any other; but our approbation, at + present, is cooler, for it owed part of its fame to party.* + </p> + +<p class="footnote"> +* Cf. Dedication of <i>The Traveller</i>, ll. 34–45. +</p> + +<p class="center"> + ECLOGUE I.<br /> <br /> S<small>ELIM: OR, THE</small> S<small>HEPHERD’S</small> + M<small>ORAL.</small> + </p> + <p> + The following eclogues,† written by Mr. Collins, are very pretty: + the images, it must be owned, are not very local; for the pastoral subject + could not well admit of it. The description + of Asiatic magnificence, and manners, is a subject as yet unattempted + amongst us, and I believe, capable of furnishing a great variety of + poetical imagery. + </p> + +<p class="footnote"> + † i.e.—Selim, Hassan, Agib and Secander, and Abra. Goldsmith + admired Collins, whom he calls in the <i> Enquiry</i>, 1759, p. 143, + ‘the neglected author of the Persian eclogues, which, however inaccurate, + excel any in our language.’ He borrowed freely from him in the <i>Threnodia + Augustalis</i>, q.v. + </p> + +<p class="center">THE SPLENDID SHILLING.<br /> <br /> B<small>Y</small> M<small>R.</small> + J. P<small>HILIPS.</small> + </p> + <p> + This is reckoned the best parody of Milton in our language: it has been an + hundred times imitated, without success. The truth is, the first thing in + this way must preclude all future attempts; for nothing is so easy as to + burlesque any man’s manner, when we are once showed the way. + </p> + +<p class="center"> +A PIPE OF TOBACCO:<br /> <br /> I<small>N</small> I<small>MITATION OF</small> + S<small>IX</small> S<small>EVERAL</small> A<small>UTHORS.</small> + </p> + <p> + Mr. Hawkins Browne, the author of these, as I am told, had no good + original manner of his own, yet we see how well he succeeded when he turns + an imitator; for the following are rather imitations than ridiculous + parodies. + </p> + +<p class="center"> +A NIGHT-PIECE ON DEATH. + </p> + <p> + The great fault of this piece, written by Dr. Parnell, is that it is in + eight-syllable lines, very improper for the solemnity of the subject; + otherwise, the poem is natural, and the reflections just. + </p> + +<p class="center"> +A FAIRY TALE.<br /> <br /> +B<small>Y</small> D<small>R.</small> P<small>ARNELL.</small> + </p> + <p> + Never was the old manner of speaking more happily applied, or a tale + better told, than this. + </p> + +<p class="center"> +PALEMON AND LAVINIA.<br /> [From <i>The Seasons</i>.] + </p> + <p> + Mr. Thomson, though, in general, a verbose and affected poet, has told + this story with unusual simplicity: it is rather given here for being much + esteemed by the public, than by the editor. + </p> + +<p class="center"> +THE BASTARD. + </p> + <p> + Almost all things written from the heart, as this certainly was, have some + merit. The poet here describes sorrows and misfortunes which were by no + means imaginary; and, thus, there + runs a truth of thinking through this poem, without which it would be of + little value, as Savage is, in other respects, but an indifferent poet. + </p> + +<p class="center"> +THE POET AND HIS PATRON. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Mo[o]re was a poet that never had justice done him while living; there + are few of the moderns have a more correct taste, or a more pleasing + manner of expressing their thoughts. It was upon these fables [Nos. v, vi, + and xvi of the <i>Fables for the Ladies</i>] he chiefly founded his + reputation; yet they are, by no means, his best production. + </p> + +<p class="center"> +AN EPISTLE TO A LADY. + </p> + <p> + This little poem, by Mr. Nugent [afterwards Lord Clare] is very pleasing. + The easiness of the poetry, and the justice of the thoughts, constitute + its principal beauty. + </p> + +<p class="center"> +HANS CARVEL. + </p> + <p> + This bagatelle, for which, by the by, Mr. Prior has got his greatest + reputation, was a tale told in all the old Italian collections of jests, + and borrowed from thence by Fontaine. It had been translated once or twice + before into English, yet was never regarded till it fell into the hands of + Mr. Prior. A strong instance how everything is improved in the hands of a + man of genius. + </p> + +<p class="center"> +BAUCIS AND PHILEMON. + </p> + <p> + This poem [by Swift] is very fine; and though in the same strain with the + preceding [Prior’s <i>Ladle</i>] is yet superior. + </p> + +<p class="center"> +TO THE EARL OF WARWICK, ON THE DEATH<br /> OF MR. ADDISON. + </p> + <p> + This elegy (by Mr. Ticknell) is one of the finest in our language; there + is so little new that can be said upon the death of a friend, after the + complaints of Ovid and the Latin Italians, in this way, that one is + surprised to see so much novelty in this to strike us, and so much + interest to affect. + </p> + +<p class="center"> + COLIN AND LUCY. + </p> + <p> + Through all Tickell’s works there is a strain of ballad-thinking, if I may + so express it; and, in this professed ballad, he seems to have surpassed + himself. It is, perhaps, the best in our language in this way. + </p> + +<p class="center"> +THE TEARS OF SCOTLAND.<br /> <br /> W<small>RITTEN IN THE</small> Y<small>EAR</small> + MDCCXLVI. + </p> + <p> + This ode, by Dr. Smollett, does rather more honour to the author’s + feelings than his taste. The mechanical part, with regard to numbers and + language, is not so perfect as so short a work as this requires; but the + pathetic it contains, particularly in the last stanza but one, is + exquisitely fine. + </p> + +<p class="center"> +ON THE DEATH OF THE LORD PROTECTOR. + </p> + <p> + Our poetry was not quite harmonized in Waller’s time; so that this, which + would be now looked upon as a slovenly sort of versification, was, with + respect to the times in which it was written, almost a prodigy of harmony. + A modern reader will chiefly be struck with the strength of thinking, and + the turn of the compliments bestowed upon the usurper. Everybody has heard + the answer our poet made Charles II; who asked him how his poem upon + Cromwell came to be finer than his panegyric upon himself. ‘Your majesty,’ + replies Waller, ‘knows, that poets always succeed best in fiction.’ + </p> + +<p class="center"> +THE STORY OF PHOEBUS AND DAPHNE APPLIED. + </p> + <p> + The French claim this [by Mr. Waller] as belonging to them. To whomsoever + it belongs the thought is finely turned. + </p> + +<p class="center"> + NIGHT THOUGHTS.<br /> <br /> B<small>Y</small> D<small>R.</small> Y<small>OUNG.</small> + </p> + <p> + These seem to be the best of the collection; from whence only the two + first are taken. They are spoken of differently, either with exaggerated + applause or contempt, as the reader’s disposition is either turned to + mirth or melancholy. + </p> + +<p class="center"> + SATIRE I. + </p> + <p> + Young’s Satires were in higher reputation when published, than they stand + in at present. He seems fonder of dazzling than pleasing; of raising our + admiration for his wit, than our dislike of the follies he ridicules. + </p> + +<p class="center"> +A PASTORAL BALLAD. + </p> + <p> + These ballads of Mr. Shenstone are chiefly commended for the natural + simplicity of the thoughts and the harmony of the versification. However, + they are not excellent in either. + </p> + +<p class="center"> +PHOEBE. A PASTORAL. + </p> + <p> + This, by Dr. Byrom, is a better effort than the preceding [a ballad by + Shenstone]. + </p> + +<p class="center"> +A SONG. + </p> + <p> + This [‘Despairing beside a clear stream’] by Mr. Rowe, is better than + anything of the kind in our language. + </p> + +<p class="center"> +AN ESSAY ON POETRY. + </p> + <p> + This work, by the Duke of Buckingham, is enrolled among our great English + productions. The precepts are sensible, the poetry not indifferent, but it + has been praised more than it deserves. + </p> + +<p class="center"> +CADENUS AND VANESSA. + </p> + <p> + This is thought one of Dr. Swift’s correctest pieces; its chief merit, + indeed, is the elegant ease with which a story, but ill-conceived in + itself, is told. + </p> + +<p class="center"> +ALMA: OR, THE PROGRESS OF THE MIND. + </p> + <p> + What Prior meant by this poem I can’t understand; by the Greek motto to it + one would think it was either to laugh at the subject or the reader. There + are some parts of it very fine; and let them save the badness of the rest. + </p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div style='display:block; margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE COMPLETE POETICAL WORKS OF OLIVER GOLDSMITH ***</div> +<div style='text-align:left'> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will +be renamed. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright +law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, +so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United +States without permission and without paying copyright +royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part +of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project +Gutenberg™ electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG™ +concept and trademark. 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