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diff --git a/3545-0.txt b/3545-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..db05dfd --- /dev/null +++ b/3545-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,12459 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Complete Poetical Works of Oliver Goldsmith + +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 +www.gutenberg.org. 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. + +Title: The Complete Poetical Works of Oliver Goldsmith + +Author: Oliver Goldsmith + +Editor: Austin Dobson + +Release Date: November, 2002 [eBook #3545] +[Most recently updated: September 3, 2021] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +Produced by: Amy E Zelmer, Barb Grow, Derek Thompson and David Widger + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE COMPLETE POETICAL WORKS OF OLIVER GOLDSMITH *** + + + + +[Illustration: Oliver Goldsmith] + +OLIVER GOLDSMITH + (Sir Joshua Reynolds) + + _OXFORD EDITION_ + + + + + THE COMPLETE + POETICAL WORKS + OF + OLIVER GOLDSMITH + + Edited with Introduction and Notes + by + AUSTIN + DOBSON + HON. LL.D. EDIN. + + + + +PREFATORY NOTE + + + This volume is a reprint, extended and revised, of the _Selected Poems_ + 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. + + + AUSTIN DOBSON. + + + Ealing, _September_, 1906. + + +CONTENTS + + Introduction + Chronology of Goldsmith’s Life and Poems + + POEMS + Descriptive Poems + The Traveller; or, A Prospect of Society + The Deserted Village + Lyrical and Miscellaneous Pieces + Prologue of Laberius + On a Beautiful Youth struck Blind with Lightning + The Gift. To Iris, in Bow Street + The Logicians Refuted + A Sonnet + Stanzas on the Taking of Quebec + An Elegy on Mrs. Mary Blaize + Description of an Author’s Bedchamber + On seeing Mrs. *** perform in the Character of **** + On the Death of the Right Hon.*** + An Epigram. Addressed to the Gentlemen reflected on in ‘The Rosciad’, a Poem, by the Author + To G. C. and R. L. + Translation of a South American Ode + The Double Transformation. A Tale + A New Simile, in the Manner of Swift + Edwin and Angelina + Elegy on the Death of a Mad Dog + Song (‘When Lovely Woman,’ etc.) + Epilogue to _The Good Natur’d Man_ + Epilogue to _The Sister_ + Prologue to _Zobeide_ + Threnodia Augustalis: Sacred to the Memory of Her Late Royal Highness the Princess Dowager of Wales + Song (‘Let school-masters,’ etc.) + Epilogue to _She Stoops to Conquer_ + Retaliation + Song (‘Ah, me! when shall I marry me?’) + Translation (‘Chaste are their instincts’) + The Haunch of Venison + Epitaph on Thomas Parnell + The Clown’s Reply + Epitaph on Edward Purdon + Epilogue for Lee Lewes + Epilogue written for _She Stoops to Conquer_ (1) + Epilogue written for _She Stoops to Conquer_ (2) + The Captivity. An Oratorio + Verses in Reply to an Invitation to Dinner + Letter in Prose and Verse to Mrs. Bunbury + Vida’s Game of Chess + + NOTES + Introduction to the Notes + Editions of the Poems + The Traveller + The Deserted Village + Prologue of Laberius + On a Beautiful Youth struck Blind with Lightning + The Gift + The Logicians Refuted + A Sonnet + Stanzas on the Taking of Quebec + An Elegy on Mrs. Mary Blaize + Description of an Author’s Bedchamber + On seeing Mrs. *** perform in the Character of **** + On the Death of the Right Hon. *** + An Epigram + To G. C. and R. L. + Translation of a South American Ode + The Double Transformation + A New Simile + Edwin and Angelina + Elegy on the Death of a Mad Dog + Song (from _The Vicar of Wakefield_) + Epilogue (_The Good Natur’d Man_) + Epilogue (_The Sister_) + Prologue (_Zobeide_) + Threnodia Augustalis + Song (from _She Stoops to Conquer_) + Epilogue (_She Stoops to Conquer_) + Retaliation + Song intended for _She Stoops to Conquer_ + Translation + The Haunch of Venison + Epitaph on Thomas Parnell + The Clown’s Reply + Epitaph on Edward Purdon + Epilogue for Lee Lewes’s Benefit + Epilogue (_She Stoops to Conquer_) (1) + Epilogue (_She Stoops to Conquer_) (2) + The Captivity + Verses in Reply to an Invitation to Dinner + Letter in Prose and Verse to Mrs. Bunbury + Vida’s Game of Chess + + APPENDIXES + Portraits of Goldsmith + Descriptions of Newell’s Views of Lissoy, etc. + The Epithet ‘Sentimental’ + Fragments of Translations, etc., by Goldsmith + Goldsmith on Poetry under Anne and George the First + Criticisms from Goldsmith’s _Beauties of English Poesy_ + + + + +LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS + + + OLIVER GOLDSMITH. From Joseph Marchi’s mezzotint of 1770 after the portrait by Sir Joshua Reynolds. + PANE OF GLASS with Goldsmith’s autograph signature, dated March, 1746, now at Trinity College, Dublin. + VIGNETTE TO THE TRAVELLER. Drawn by Samuel Wale, and engraved by Charles Grignion. + HEADPIECE TO THE TRAVELLER. Engraved on wood by Charlton Nesbit for Bulmer’s _Poems of Goldsmith and Parnell_, 1795. + THE TRAVELLER. From a design by Richard Westall, R. A., engraved on wood by Thomas Bewick for Bulmer’s _Poems of Goldsmith and Parnell_, 1795. + VIGNETTE TO THE DESERTED VILLAGE, 1770. Drawn and engraved by Isaac Taylor. + HEADPIECE TO THE DESERTED VILLAGE. Engraved on wood by Charlton Nesbit for Bulmer’s _Poems of Goldsmith and Parnell_, 1795. + THE WATER-CRESS GATHERER. Drawn and engraved on wood by John Bewick for Bulmer’s _Poems of Goldsmith and Parnell_, 1795. + THE DEPARTURE. Drawn by Robert Johnson, and engraved on wood by Thomas Bewick for Bulmer’s _ Poems of Goldsmith and Parnell_, 1795. + EDWIN AND ANGELINA. From an original washed drawing made by Thomas Stothard, R.A., for Aikin’s _Goldsmith’s Poetical Works_, 1805. + PORTRAIT OF GOLDSMITH, after Sir Joshua Reynolds. From an etching by James Basire on the title-page of _Retaliation_, 1774. + SONG FROM THE CAPTIVITY. Facsimile of Goldsmith’s writing and signature, from Prior’s _ Life of Oliver Goldsmith, M.B._, 1837, ii, frontispiece. + GREEN ARBOUR COURT, OLD BAILEY. From an engraving in the _European Magazine_ for January, 1803. + KILKENNY WEST CHURCH. From an aquatint by S. Alken of a sketch by R. H. Newell (_Goldsmith’s Poetical Works_, 1811). + HAWTHORN TREE. From the same. + SOUTH VIEW FROM GOLDSMITH’S MOUNT. From the same . . . To face p. 183. [This picture is unavailable.] + THE SCHOOL HOUSE. From the same. + PORTRAIT OF GOLDSMITH. Drawn by Henry William Bunbury and etched by James Bretherton. From the _Haunch of Venison_, 1776. + PORTRAIT OF GOLDSMITH. From a silhouette by Ozias Humphry, R.A., in the National Portrait Gallery. + LISSOY (OR LISHOY) MILL. From an aquatint by S. Alken of a sketch by R. H. Newell (_Goldsmith’s Poetical Works_, 1811). + THE PARSONAGE. From the same. + + + + +INTRODUCTION + + + Two of the earlier, and, in some respects, more important _Memoirs_ + 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 + + 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,— + + Heralds! proclaim aloud! all saying, + + See _Aesop_ dancing, and his _monkey_ playing,— + + + 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. + + In June, 1744, after anticipating in his own person, the plot of his later + play of _She Stoops to Conquer_ 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. + +[Illustration: Goldsmith’s Autograph] +PANE OF GLASS WITH GOLDSMITH’S AUTOGRAPH + (Trinity +College, Dublin) + + 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 _folio_ 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. + + 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 + + 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. _Haud inexpertus loquor,_ 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 _disputed_ 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 _The Traveller_. + + 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 _Clarissa_. 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 + _Monthly Review._ 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 _antiqua + mater_ 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. + + 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 _ antiqua mater_ + 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 _Memoirs of a + Protestant, condemned to the Galleys of France for his Religion,_ + 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 + + 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. + + The publication of Marteilhe’s _Memoirs_ 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 _An Enquiry + into the Present State of Polite Learning in Europe_, 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, + + 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. + + 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 _Tales of a Traveller._ 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) _The Enquiry._ + ‘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.’ _The + Enquiry_ 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, + + it certainly raised his reputation with the book-selling world. A + connexion already begun with Smollett’s _Critical Review_ 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 _The Bee_; and contributing to the same publisher’s + _Lady’s Magazine_, as well as to _The Busy Body_ 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. + + He had still, however, to conquer the public. _The Bee_, + 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, _ + The British Magazine_; 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, _The Public Ledger_. + 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 _Lettres Persanes_ + 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 _The Citizen of the World_. He continued to + produce these letters periodically until the August of the following year, + when they were + + announced for republication in ‘two volumes of the usual _Spectator_ + size.’ In this form they appeared in May, 1762. + + 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. + + During the remainder of 1761 he continued busily to ply his pen. Besides + his contributions to _The Ledger_ and _The British + Magazine_, he edited _The Lady’s Magazine_, inserting in + it the _Memoirs of Voltaire_, drawn up some time earlier to + accompany a translation of the _Henriade_ 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 + _History of Mecklenburgh_, and a series of monthly volumes of + an abridgement of _Plutarch’s Lives_. In October of the same + year was published the _Life of Richard Nash_, 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 + + of 1762 he must have planned, if he had not, indeed, already in part + composed, a far more important effort, _The Vicar of Wakefield_. + 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 _The Vicar of Wakefield_ was nevertheless written, or was + being written, in 1762, is demonstrable from internal evidence. + + 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 _ History of England in a Series of + Letters addressed by a Nobleman to his Son_, 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 _Hannah_, he wrote the Oratorio of _The + Captivity_, 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 + _The Traveller; or, A Prospect of Society_. + + In the notes appended to _The Traveller_ 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 _The Traveller_ 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 _Essays + by Mr. Goldsmith_, including some of the best of his contributions + to _The Bee, The Busy Body, The Public Ledger_, and _The + British Magazine_, 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 _Edwin and Angelina_, otherwise known as _The + Hermit_. It originated in certain metrical discussions with Percy, + then engaged upon his famous _Reliques of English Poetry_; 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 _The Vicar of Wakefield_. + + 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 _The Vicar of + Wakefield_ 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 + + 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.’ + + A selection of _Poems for Young Ladies_, in the ‘Moral’ + division of which he included his own _Edwin and Angelina_; two + volumes of _Beauties of English Poesy_, 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 _Vicar_. 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 _The Clandestine Marriage_, then recently adapted by + Colman and Garrick from Hogarth’s _Marriage A-la-Mode_, 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, _The Good Natur’d Man_, 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 _The Rambler_ was, under the name of ‘Croaker,’ + one of its most prominent personages, pronounced it to be the best comedy + since Cibber’s _Provok’d Husband_. + + 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 _The Good Natur’d Man_ 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 _Nil_ + _te quaesiveris extra_ 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 _Roman History_ which he had already + engaged to write for Davies of Russell Street, came a more ambitious + project for Griffin, _A History of Animated Nature_; and after + this again, another _History of England_ 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.’ + + 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 _The + Deserted Village_. + + 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 _The Deserted Village_ was + dedicated. It appeared on the 26th of May, 1770, with a success equal, if + not superior, to that of _The Traveller_. 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 _The Deserted Village_ + in no wise falls short of _The Traveller_; and that its central + idea, and its sympathy with humanity, give it a higher value as a work of + art. + + After _The Deserted Village_ 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 _Life of Parnell_; and Davies now engaged him + on a _Life of Bolingbroke_, and an abridgement of the _Roman + History_. Thus, with visits to friends, among others to Lord Clare, + for whom he wrote the delightful occasional verses called _The Haunch + of Venison_, 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. + + His chief publications in the next two years were the above-mentioned + _History of England_, 1771; _Threnodia Augustalis_, + a poetical lament-to-order on the death of the Princess Dowager of Wales, + 1772; and the abridgement + of the _Roman History_, 1772. But in the former year he had + completed a new comedy, _She Stoops to Conquer; or, The Mistakes of a + Night_, 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 _The + Good Natur’d Man_, more various in its contrasts of character, + richer and stronger in humour and _vis comica_, _She Stoops to + Conquer_ 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.’ + + His gains from _She Stoops to Conquer_ 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 + + _Retaliation_, a group of epitaph-epigrams prompted by some + similar _jeux d’esprit_ 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 _affectuum potens, + at lenis dominator_, 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.’ + + 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 _Haunch of Venison_, + 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. + + 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 _The Traveller_, 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. + + +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 +_Animated Nature_; 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 _The Citizen of the World_, _The Vicar of Wakefield_, +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, +_The Traveller_, _The Hermit_, and _The Deserted Village_. 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. +_Retaliation_, _ The Haunch of Venison_, the _Letter in Prose and +Verse to Mrs. Bunbury_, 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 _The Traveller_ and +_The Deserted Village_. The true sequence of the poems, in their order of +publication, is, however, exactly indicated in the table which follows this +Introduction. + +CHRONOLOGY OF GOLDSMITH’S LIFE AND POEMS. + + + 1728 + + _November 10._ Born at Pallas, near Ballymahon, in the county of + Longford, Ireland. + + + 1730 + + Family remove to Lissoy, in the county of Westmeath. + + + 1731 + + Under Elizabeth Delap. + + + 1734 + + Under Mr. Thomas Byrne of the village school. + + + 1736–44 + + At school at Elphin (Mr. Griffin’s), Athlone (Mr. Campbell’s), + Edgeworthstown (Mr. Hughes’s). + + + 1744 + + _June 11._ Admitted a sizar of Trinity College, Dublin, _‘annum + agens_ 15.’ + + + 1747 + + Death of his father, the Rev. Charles Goldsmith. + _May._ + Takes part in a college riot. + _June 15._ Obtains a Smythe + exhibition. + Runs away from college. + + + 1749 + + _February 27._ Takes his degree as Bachelor of Arts. + + + 1751 + + Rejected for orders by the Bishop of Elphin. + Tutor to Mr. Flinn. + + Sets out for America (via Cork), but returns. + Letter to Mrs. + Goldsmith (his mother). + + + 1752 + + Starts as a law student, but loses his all at play. + Goes to + Edinburgh to become a medical student. + + + 1753 + + _January 13._ Admitted a member of the ‘Medical Society’ of + Edinburgh. + _May 8._ Letter to his Uncle Contarine. + _September + 26._ Letter to Robert Bryanton. + Letter to his Uncle Contarine. + + + 1754 + + Goes to Leyden. Letter to his Uncle Contarine. + + + 1755 + + _February._ Leaves Leyden. + Takes degree of Bachelor of + Medicine at Louvain (?). + Travels on foot in France, Germany, + Switzerland, and Italy. + Sketches _The Traveller_. + + + 1756 + + _February 1._ Returns to Dover. Low comedian; usher (?); + apothecary’s journeyman; poor physician in Bankside, Southwark. + + + 1757 + + Press corrector to Samuel Richardson, printer and novelist; assistant + at Peckham Academy (Dr. Milner’s). + _April._ Bound over to + Griffiths the bookseller. Quarrels with Griffiths. + _December + 27._ Letter to his brother-in-law, Daniel Hodson. + + + 1758 + + _February._ Publishes _The Memoirs of a Protestant, + condemned to the Galleys of France for his Religion_. + Gives + up literature and returns to Peckham. + _August._ Leaves + Peckham. Letters to Edward Mills, Bryanton, Mrs. Jane Lawder. + + Appointed surgeon and physician to a factory on the Coast of + Coromandel. + _November (?)._ Letter to Hodson. + Moves + into 12 Green Arbour Court, Old Bailey. + Coromandel appointment + comes to nothing. + _December 21._ Rejected at Surgeons’ Hall + as ‘not qualified’ for a hospital mate. + + + 1759 + + _February (?)._ Letter to Henry Goldsmith. + _March._ + Visited by Percy at 12 Green Arbour Court. + _April 2._ _Enquiry + into the Present State of Polite Learning in Europe_ published. + ‘Prologue of Laberius’ (_Enquiry_). + _October 6._ + _The Bee_ commenced. ‘On a Beautiful Youth struck blind + with Lightning’ (_Bee_). + _October 13._ ‘The Gift’ + (_Bee_). + _October 18._ ‘The Logicians Refuted’ (_Busy + Body_). + _October 20._ ‘A Sonnet’ (_Bee_). + + _October 22._ ‘Stanzas on the Taking of Quebec’ (_Busy Body_). + + _October 27._ ‘Elegy on Mrs. Mary Blaize’ (_Bee_). + + _November 24._ _The Bee_ closed. + + + 1760 + + _January 1._ _The British Magazine_ commenced. + _January + 12._ _The Public Ledger_ commenced. + _January 24._ + First Chinese Letter published (_Citizen of the World_). + + _May 2._ ‘Description of an Author’s Bedchamber’ (‘Chinese + Letter’ in _Public Ledger_). + _October 21._ ‘On + seeing Mrs. . . . perform,’ etc. (‘Chinese Letter’ in _Public + Ledger_). + Editing _Lady’s Magazine_. Compiling + Prefaces. + Moves into 6 Wine Office Court, Fleet Street. + + + 1761 + + _March 4._ ‘On the Death of the Right Hon. . . . (‘Chinese + Letter’ in _Public Ledger_). + _April 4–14._ ‘An + Epigram’; to G. C. and R. L. (‘Chinese Letter in _Public Ledger_). + + _May 13._ ‘Translation of a South American Ode.’ (‘Chinese + Letter’ in _Public Ledger_) + _August 14._ Last + Chinese Letter published (_Citizen of the World_). + + _Memoirs of M. de Voltaire_ published in _Lady’s + Magazine_. + + + 1762 + + _February 23._ Pamphlet on Cock Lane Ghost published. + _February + 26._ _History of Mecklenburgh_ published. + _May 1._ + _Citizen of the World_ published. + _May 1 to Nov. 1._ + _Plutarch’s Lives_, vol. i to vii, published. + At Bath + and Tunbridge. + _October 14._ _Life of Richard Nash_ + published. + _October 28._ Sells third share of _Vicar of + Wakefield_ to B. Collins, printer, Salisbury. + At Mrs. + Fleming’s at Islington. + + + 1763 + + _March 31._ Agrees with James Dodsley to write a _ + Chronological History of the Lives of Eminent Persons of Great Britain + and Ireland_. (Never done.) + + + 1764 + + ‘The Club,’ afterwards the Literary Club, founded. + Moves into + lodgings on the library staircase of the Temple. + _June 26._ + _History of England, in a series of Letters from a Nobleman to + his Son_ published. + _October 31._ Oratorio of _The + Captivity_ sold to James Dodsley. + _December 19._ _The + Traveller_ published. + + + 1765 + + _June 4._ _Essays by Mr. Goldsmith_ published. ‘The + Double Transformation,’ ‘A New Simile’ (_Essays_). + + _Edwin and Angelina_ (_The Hermit_) printed + privately for the amusement of the Countess of Northumberland. + + Resumes practice as a physician. + + + 1766 + + _March 27._ _Vicar of Wakefield_ published. ‘Elegy on + a Mad Dog’; ‘Olivia’s Song’ (_Vicar of Wakefield_). + _May + 31._ _Vicar of Wakefield_, 2nd edition. + _June._ + Translation of Formey’s _Concise History of Philosophy and + Philosophers_ published. + _August 29._ _Vicar of + Wakefield_, 3rd edition. + _December 15._ _Poems + for Young Ladies_ published. + + + 1766 + + _December 28._ _English Grammar_ written. + + + 1767 + + _April._ _Beauties of English Poesy_ published. + + _July 19._ Living in Garden Court, Temple. + _July 25._ + Letter to the _St. James’s Chronicle_. + _December 22._ + Death of John Newbery. + + + 1768 + + _February 5._ Publishes _The Good Natur’d Man_, a + Comedy, produced at Covent Garden, January 29. ‘Epilogue to _The + Good Natur’d Man_.’ + Moves to 2 Brick Court, Middle Temple. + + _May._ Death of Henry Goldsmith. + Living at Edgware. + + + 1769 + + _February 18._ ‘Epilogue to Mrs. Lenox’s _ Sister_.’ + + _February 29._ Agreement for ‘a new Natural History of Animals’ (_Animated + Nature_). + _May 18._ _Roman History_ + published. + _June 13._ Agreement for _History of England_. + + _December._ Appointed Professor of History to the Royal Academy. + + + 1770 + + _January._ Letter to Maurice Goldsmith. + _April 24–May 26._ + Portrait by Reynolds exhibited. + _May 26._ _The Deserted + Village_ published. + _July 13._ _Life of Thomas + Parnell_ published. + _July._ On the Continent with the + Hornecks. Letters to Reynolds. + _September 15._ Agreement for + abridgement of _Roman History_. + _December 1._ + Marchi’s print from Reynold’s portrait published. + _December 19._ + _Life of Bolingbroke_ published. + _Vicar of + Wakefield_, 4th edition. + + + 1771 + + _Haunch of Venison_ written. (?) + _August 6._ + _History of England_ published. + _December 11._ + ‘Prologue to Cradock’s _ Zobeide_.’ + + + 1772 + + _February 20._ _Threnodia Augustalis_ published. + + Watson’s Engraving of _Resignation_ published. + _December._ + Abridgement of _Roman History_ published. + + + 1773 + + _March 26._ Publishes _She Stoops to Conquer; or, The + Mistakes of a Night_, a Comedy, produced at Covent Garden, March + 15. ‘Song in _She Stoops to Conquer_,’ ‘Epilogue to _She + Stoops to Conquer_.’ + + + 1773 + + _March 24._ Kenrick’s libel in the _London Packet_. + + _March 31._ Letter in the _Daily Advertiser_. + _May + 8._ _The Grumbler_ produced. + Projects a _Dictionary + of Arts and Sciences_. + + + 1774 + + _March 25._ Illness. + _April 4._ Death. + _April 9._ + ‘Buried 9th April, Oliver Goldsmith, MB, late of Brick-court, Middle + Temple’ (Register of Burials, Temple Church). + _April 19._ + _Retaliation_ published. + _April._ _Vicar of + Wakefield_, 5th edition (dated 1773). + _June._ Song + (‘Ah me, when shall I marry me?’) published. + _June 28._ + Letters of Administration granted. + _June._ _An History + of the Earth and Animated Nature_ published. + ‘Translation + from Addison.’ (_History_, etc., 1774.) + + + 1776 + + _The Haunch of Venison_ published. ‘Epitaph on Thomas + Parnell,’ and ‘Two Songs from _The Captivity_ (_Haunch + of Venison_). + Monument with medallion by Nollekens erected + in the south transept of Westminster Abbey. + + + 1777 + + _Poems and Plays_ published. ‘The Clown’s Reply,’ ‘Epitaph + on Edward Purdon’ (_Poems_, etc., 1777). + + + 1779 + + _Vicar of Wakefield_, 6th edition. + + + 1780 + + _Poetical and Dramatic Works_, Evans’s edition, published. + + ‘Epilogue for Lee Lewes’ (_Poetical, etc., Works_, 1780). + + + 1801 + + _Miscellaneous Works_, Percy’s edition, published. + ‘Epilogues (unspoken) to _She Stoops to Conquer_’ (_Misc. + Works_, 1801). + + + 1820 + + _Miscellaneous Works_, ‘trade’ edition, published. An + Oratorio’ (_The Captivity_). (_Misc. Works_, + 1820.) + + + 1837 + + _Miscellaneous Works_, Prior’s edition, published. ‘Verses + in Reply to an Invitation to Dinner’; ‘Letter in Prose and Verse to + Mrs. Bunbury’ (_Misc. Works_, 1837). + Tablet erected in + the Temple Church. + + + 1854 + + _Goldsmith’s Works_, Cunningham’s edition, published. + ‘Translation of Vida’s _Game of Chess_’ (_Works_, + 1854, vol. iv). + + + 1864 + + _January 5._ J. H. Foley’s statue placed in front of Dublin + University. + + + + +[Illustration: Vignette to ‘The Traveller’] +VIGNETTE TO ‘THE TRAVELLER’ + (Samuel Wale) + + + + +DESCRIPTIVE POEMS + + + THE TRAVELLER + + OR + + A PROSPECT OF SOCIETY + + DEDICATION + TO THE REV. HENRY GOLDSMITH + + + DEAR SIR, + 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. + + 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. + + 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, + + 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. + + 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. + + 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. + + 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. + + I am, dear Sir, + Your most affectionate Brother, + + + OLIVER GOLDSMITH. + + + + +[Illustration: ] + + + THE TRAVELLER + + OR + + A PROSPECT OF + SOCIETY + + +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, +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, +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, +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; +While oft some temple’s mould’ring tops between +With venerable grandeur mark the scene 110 + + +[Illustration: ] +THE TRAVELLER + +(R. Westall) + + 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, +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 +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 +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 +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 +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 +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 +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 +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 +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 +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. + + + + +[Illustration: Vignette to ‘The Deserted Village’] +VIGNETTE TO ‘THE DESERTED VILLAGE’ + +(Isaac Taylor) + + + + +THE DESERTED VILLAGE + + + DEDICATION + + TO SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS + + + DEAR SIR, + 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. + + 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. + + 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. + + I am, Dear Sir, + + Your sincere friend, and ardent admirer, + + OLIVER GOLDSMITH. + + + + +[Illustration: ] + + + + +THE DESERTED VILLAGE + + +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 +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 + + 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 +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 +And, all his prospects bright’ning to the last, +His Heaven commences ere the world be pass’d! + + +[Illustration: ] +The Water-cress gatherer + +(John Bewick) + + 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 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 + + 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 +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 +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 +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 +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 +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. + + + + +[Illustration: ] +THE DEPARTURE + +(Thomas Bewick) + + 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 +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 +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 + + + + +LYRICAL AND MISCELLANEOUS + +PIECES + + + + +LYRICAL AND MISCELLANEOUS + +PIECES + +PART OF A PROLOGUE WRITTEN AND + +SPOKEN BY THE POET LABERIUS + + +A ROMAN KNIGHT, WHOM CAESAR FORCED + +UPON THE STAGE + + +PRESERVED BY MACROBIUS. + + + 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 + + + + +ON A BEAUTIFUL YOUTH STRUCK BLIND WITH LIGHTNING + +(_Imitated from the Spanish._) + + 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. + + + + +THE GIFT + +TO IRIS, IN BOW STREET, CONVENT GARDEN + + + 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 + + + + +THE LOGICIANS REFUTED + + IN IMITATION OF DEAN SWIFT + + + 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, + _Homo est ratione praeditum,_— + 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, + _Deus est anima brutorum_. + 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; + 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. + + + + +A SONNET + + + 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. + + + + +STANZAS + +ON THE TAKING OF QUEBEC, AND DEATH OF GENERAL WOLFE + + + 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! + + + + +AN ELEGY ON THAT GLORY OF HER SEX, + MRS. MARY BLAIZE + + + GOOD people all, with one accord, + Lament for Madam BLAIZE, + Who never wanted a good word— + _From those who spoke her praise._ + + The needy seldom pass’d her door, 5 + And always found her kind; + She freely lent to all the poor,— + _Who left a pledge behind._ + + She strove the neighbourhood to please, + With manners wond’rous winning, 10 + And never follow’d wicked ways,— + _Unless when she was sinning._ + + At church, in silks and satins new, + With hoop of monstrous size, + She never slumber’d in her pew,— 15 + _But when she shut her eyes._ + + Her love was sought, I do aver, + By twenty beaux and more; + The king himself has follow’d her,— + _When she has walk’d before._ 20 + + But now her wealth and finery fled, + Her hangers-on cut short all; + The doctors found, when she was dead,— + _Her last disorder mortal._ + + Let us lament, in sorrow sore, 25 + For Kent-street well may say, + That had she liv’d a twelve-month more,— + _She had not died to-day._ + + + + +DESCRIPTION OF AN AUTHOR’S BEDCHAMBER + + + 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 + + + + +ON SEEING MRS. ** PERFORM IN THE CHARACTER OF **** + + + 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. + + + + +OF THE DEATH OF THE LEFT HON. *** + + + YE Muses, pour the pitying tear + For Pollio snatch’d away; + O! had he liv’d another year!— + _He had not died to-day._ + + O! were he born to bless mankind, 5 + In virtuous times of yore, + Heroes themselves had fallen behind!— + _Whene’er he went before._ + + How sad the groves and plains appear, + And sympathetic sheep; 10 + Even pitying hills would drop a tear!— + _If hills could learn to weep._ + + His bounty in exalted strain + Each bard might well display; + Since none implor’d relief in vain!— 15 + _That went reliev’d away._ + + And hark! I hear the tuneful throng + His obsequies forbid, + He still shall live, shall live as long!— + _As ever dead man did._ 20 + + + + +AN EPIGRAM + + ADDRESSED TO THE GENTLEMEN REFLECTED + ON IN + THE ROSCIAD, A POEM, BY THE AUTHOR + + Worried with debts and past all hopes of bail, + His pen he + prostitutes t’ avoid a gaol. + + ROSCOM. + + + LET not the _hungry_ Bavius’ angry stroke + Awake resentment, or your rage provoke; + But pitying his distress, let virtue shine, + And giving each your bounty, _let him dine_; + 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 _pocket low_, + That caused his _putrid kennel_ to o’erflow. + + + + +TO G. C. AND R. L. + + + ’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. + + + + +TRANSLATION OF A SOUTH AMERICAN ODE + + + 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. + + + + +THE DOUBLE TRANSFORMATION + + A TALE + + + 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; + 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; + 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; + 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. + + + + +A NEW SIMILE + + IN THE MANNER OF SWIFT + + + 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; + 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. + 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? + + +[Illustration: ] +EDWIN AND ANGELINA + +(T. Stothard) + + + + +EDWIN AND ANGELINA + + A BALLAD + + + ‘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. + + ‘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. + + 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 + + ‘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. + + 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. + + ‘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 + + + + +ELEGY ON THE DEATH OF A MAD DOG + + + 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. + + 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. + + + + +SONG + + FROM ‘THE VICAR OF WAKEFIELD’ + + + 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. + + + + +EPILOGUE TO ‘THE GOOD NATUR’D MAN’ + + + 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; + 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 _Good Natur’d Man._ + + + + +EPILOGUE TO ‘THE SISTER’ + + + WHAT! five long acts—and all to make us wiser! + Our authoress sure has wanted an adviser. + Had she consulted _me_, 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! (_pausing_)—I’ve got my cue: + The world’s a masquerade! the maskers, you, you, you. + (_To Boxes, Pit, and Gallery._) + ——, 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 + (_Mimicking_) + + 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. + + + + +PROLOGUE TO ‘ZOBEIDE’ + + + 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. + (_Upper Gallery._) + There Mangroves spread, and larger than I’ve seen ’em— + (_Pit._) + Here trees of stately size—and turtles in ’em— 20 + (_Balconies._) + Here ill-condition’d oranges abound— + (_Stage._) + And apples (_takes up one and tastes it_), bitter apples + strew the ground. + 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; + (_Making signs._) + ’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. + + + + +THRENODIA AUGUSTALIS: + +SACRED TO THE MEMORY + OF HER LATE ROYAL HIGHNESS + THE PRINCESS DOWAGER OF WALES. + + + OVERTURE—A SOLEMN DIRGE. AIR—TRIO. + + + 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! + + CHORUS. + + When truth and virtue, etc. 5 + + MAN SPEAKER. + + 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. + + SONG. BY A MAN—AFFETTUOSO. + + 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. + + + WOMAN SPEAKER. + + 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 + + SONG. BY A MAN.—BASSO.—STACCATO.—SPIRITOSO. + + 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! + + MAN SPEAKER. + + 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; + May peace that claimed while here thy warmest love, 110 + May blissful endless peace be thine above! + + SONG. BY A WOMAN.—AMOROSO. + + 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. + + WOMAN SPEAKER. + + 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. + + + AIR. CHORUS.—POMPOSO. + + Let us, let all the world agree, + To profit by resembling thee. + + PART II + + OVERTURE—PASTORALE + + + MAN SPEAKER. + + + 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; + 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. + + CHORUS.—AFFETTUOSO.—LARGO. + + 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. + + MAN SPEAKER. + + 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.’ + + WOMAN SPEAKER. + + 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.’ + + SONG. BY A WOMAN. + + 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. + + MAN SPEAKER. + + 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. + 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 + + SONG. BY A MAN.—BASSO. SPIRITOSO. + + 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. + + WOMAN SPEAKER. + + 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. + ‘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.’ + + + SONG. BY A WOMAN.—PASTORALE. + + 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. + + CHORUS.—ALTRO MODO. + + 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. + + + + +SONG + + FROM ‘SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER’ + + + 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. + + + + +EPILOGUE TO ‘SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER’ + + + 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 _caro_, 25 + And quits her _Nancy Dawson_, for _Che faro_, + Doats upon dancing, and in all her pride, + Swims round the room, the Heinel of Cheapside; + 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 + + + + +[Illustration: ] +PORTRAIT OF GOLDSMITH + +AFTER REYNOLDS + +(Vignette to ‘Retaliation’) + + + + +RETALIATION + + A POEM + + +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; +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 _right_ to pursue the _expedient._ 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; +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; +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. +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 +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. + + + POSTSCRIPT + + 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:— + + ‘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. + “_In truth you may, my Boy_,” (replied he,) “_for it will be of no + use to me where I am going._”’ + +HERE Whitefoord reclines, and deny it who can, +Though he _merrily_ 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 +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 _bons mots_ 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) +_Cross-readings, Ship-news_, and _Mistakes of the Press._ + 170 + + Merry Whitefoord, farewell! for _thy_ 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.’ + + + + +SONG + + INTENDED TO HAVE BEEN SUNG IN + +‘SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER’ + + + 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. + + + + +TRANSLATION + + + 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. + + + + +THE HAUNCH OF VENISON + + A POETICAL EPISTLE TO LORD + CLARE + + +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 _virtù_; +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: +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. +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 _Snarler_, the other the _Scourge_; +Some think he writes _Cinna_—he owns to _Panurge._’ +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; +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: +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. + + + + +EPITAPH ON THOMAS PARNELL + + + 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 + + + + +THE CLOWN’S REPLY + + + 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.’ + + + + +EPITAPH ON EDWARD PURDON + + + 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. + + + + +EPILOGUE FOR MR. LEE LEWES + + + 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. + (_Takes off his mask._) + 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. + (_Taking a jump through the stage door._) + + + + +EPILOGUE + + INTENDED TO HAVE BEEN SPOKEN FOR + +‘SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER’ + + + + + _Enter_ MRS. BULKLEY, _who curtsies + very low as beginning to speak. Then enter_ MISS CATLEY, + _who stands full before her, and curtsies to the audience._ + + MRS. BULKLEY. + + + HOLD, Ma’am, your pardon. What’s your business here? + + MISS CATLEY. + + + The Epilogue. + + MRS. BULKLEY. + + + The Epilogue? + + MISS CATLEY. + + + Yes, the Epilogue, my dear. + + MRS. BULKLEY. + + + Sure you mistake, Ma’am. The Epilogue, _I_ bring it. + + MISS CATLEY. + + + Excuse me, Ma’am. The Author bid _me_ sing it. + + _Recitative._ + + + Ye beaux and belles, that form this splendid ring, 5 + Suspend your conversation while I sing. + + MRS. BULKLEY. + + + Why, sure the girl’s beside herself: an Epilogue of singing, + A hopeful end indeed to such a blest beginning. + Besides, a singer in a comic set!— + Excuse me, Ma’am, I know the etiquette. 10 + + MISS CATLEY. + + + What if we leave it to the House? + + MRS. BULKLEY. + + + The House!—Agreed. + + MISS CATLEY. + + + Agreed. + + MRS. BULKLEY. + + + 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. + + MISS CATLEY. + + + I’m for a different set.—Old men, whose trade is + Still to gallant and dangle with the ladies;— 20 + + _Recitative._ + + + Who mump their passion, and who, grimly smiling, + Still thus address the fair with voice beguiling:— + + _Air—Cotillon._ + + + 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. + Yes, I shall die, hu, hu, hu, hu! + Yes, I must die, ho, ho, ho, ho! + (_Da capo._) + + MRS. BULKLEY. + + + 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. + + MISS CATLEY. + + + 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 + + _Air—A bonny young lad is my Jockey._ + + 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. + + MRS. BULKLEY. + + + Ye gamesters, who, so eager in pursuit, + Make but of all your fortune one _va toute_; + 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. + + MISS CATLEY. + + _Air—Ballinamony._ + + 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. + + MRS. BULKLEY. + + + Well, Madam, what if, after all this sparring, 65 + We both agree, like friends, to end our jarring? + + MISS CATLEY. + + + And that our friendship may remain unbroken, + What if we leave the Epilogue unspoken? + + MRS. BULKLEY. + + + Agreed. + + + MISS CATLEY. + + + Agreed. + + MRS. BULKLEY. + + + 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. + (_Exeunt._) + + + + +EPILOGUE + + INTENDED TO HAVE BEEN SPOKEN FOR + +‘SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER’ + + + 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_ 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 _Ballet_, and calls for _Nancy Dawson._ + 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. + 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. + + + + +THE CAPTIVITY + AN + ORATORIO + + + + + THE PERSONS. + + + FIRST ISRAELITISH PROPHET. + SECOND ISRAELITISH PROPHET. + ISRAELITISH WOMAN. + FIRST CHALDEAN PRIEST. + SECOND CHALDEAN PRIEST. + CHALDEAN WOMAN. + CHORUS OF YOUTHS AND VIRGINS. + + SCENE—The Banks of the River Euphrates, near + Babylon. + + + + + THE CAPTIVITY + + ACT I—SCENE I. + + + _Israelites sitting on the Banks of the Euphrates._ + + + FIRST PROPHET. + + RECITATIVE. + + 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. + + FIRST PROPHET. + + AIR. + + 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 + + SECOND PROPHET. + + And though no temple richly drest, + Nor sacrifice is here; + We’ll make his temple in our breast, + And offer up a tear. + [_The first stanza repeated by the Chorus._ + + + SECOND PROPHET. + + RECITATIVE. + + 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! + + AIR. + + 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 + + FIRST PROPHET. + + RECITATIVE. + + 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. + + AIR. + + 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 + + SECOND PROPHET. + + RECITATIVE. + + 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. + + _Enter_ CHALDEAN PRIESTS _attended._ + + FIRST PRIEST. + + AIR. + + 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 + + + SECOND PRIEST. + + 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. + + A CHALDEAN WOMAN. + + AIR. + + Haste, ye sprightly sons of pleasure; 65 + Love presents the fairest treasure, + Leave all other joys for me. + + A CHALDEAN ATTENDANT. + + Or rather, Love’s delights despising, + Haste to raptures ever rising + Wine shall bless the brave and free. 70 + + FIRST PRIEST. + + Wine and beauty thus inviting, + Each to different joys exciting, + Whither shall my choice incline? + + SECOND PRIEST. + + I’ll waste no longer thought in choosing; + But, neither this nor that refusing, 75 + I’ll make them both together mine. + + RECITATIVE. + + 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? + + SECOND PROPHET. + + 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! + + FIRST PRIEST. + + + Insulting slaves! If gentler methods fail, + The whips and angry tortures shall prevail. + [_Exeunt Chaldeans_ + + FIRST PROPHET. + + + Why, let them come, one good remains to cheer; 95 + We fear the Lord, and know no other fear. + + CHORUS. + + + 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. + [_Exeunt._ + + + + + ACT II. + + _Scene as before._ CHORUS OF ISRAELITES. + + + 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. + + FIRST PRIEST. + + RECITATIVE. + + + 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. + + SECOND PRIEST. + + AIR. + + 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. + + + + +[Illustration: ] +GOLDSMITH’S AUTOGRAPH + +(Stanzas from ‘The Captivity’) + + ISRAELITISH WOMAN. + + RECITATIVE. + + + 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. + + AIR. + + + 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 + + SECOND PRIEST. RECITATIVE. + + + 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. + + CHALDEAN WOMAN. + + AIR. + + + See the ruddy morning smiling, + Hear the grove to bliss beguiling; + Zephyrs through the woodland playing, + Streams along the valley straying. 50 + + FIRST PRIEST. + + + While these a constant revel keep, + Shall Reason only teach to weep? + Hence, intruder! We’ll pursue + Nature, a better guide than you. + + SECOND PRIEST. + + + 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. + + FIRST PRIEST. + + RECITATIVE. + + + 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 + + FIRST PROPHET. + + AIR. + + + 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. + + SECOND PROPHET. + + + 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. + + FIRST PRIEST. + + RECITATIVE. + + + 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. + + CHORUS OF ALL. + + + Arise, all potent ruler, rise, + And vindicate thy people’s cause; + Till every tongue in every land 95 + Shall offer up unfeign’d applause. + [_Exeunt._ + + + + + ACT III. + + _Scene as before._ + + FIRST PRIEST. + + + RECITATIVE. + + 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. + + AIR. + + + Coeval with man + Our empire began, + And never shall fail + Till ruin shakes all; 10 + When ruin shakes all, + Then shall Babylon fall. + + + FIRST PROPHET. + + RECITATIVE. + + + ’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! + + AIR. + + + 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 + + SECOND PROPHET. + + RECITATIVE. + + + 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! + + ISRAELITISH WOMAN. + + AIR. + + + 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. + + FIRST PROPHET. + + RECITATIVE. + + + 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! + + CHORUS OF ISRAELITES. + + + 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. + + + FIRST PRIEST. + + RECITATIVE. + + + 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. + + FIRST AND SECOND PRIEST. + + AIR. + + + Thrice happy, who in happy hour 65 + To Heaven their praise bestow, + And own his all-consuming power + Before they feel the blow! + + FIRST PROPHET. + + RECITATIVE. + + + 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. + + AIR. + + + 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. + + + FIRST PROPHET. + + + 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. + + SECOND PROPHET. + + RECITATIVE. + + + 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 + + CHORUS OF YOUTHS. + + + Rise to transports past expressing, + Sweeter from remember’d woes; + Cyrus comes, our wrongs redressing, + Comes to give the world repose. + + CHORUS OF VIRGINS. + + + Cyrus comes, the world redressing, 95 + Love and pleasure in his train; + Comes to heighten every blessing, + Comes to soften every pain. + + + SEMI-CHORUS. + + + Hail to him with mercy reigning, + Skilled in every peaceful art; 100 + Who from bonds our limbs unchaining, + Only binds the willing heart. + + THE LAST CHORUS. + + + 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! + + + + +VERSES IN REPLY TO AN INVITATION TO + DINNER AT DR. BAKER’S. + + + ‘This _is_ a poem! This _is_ a copy of verses!’ + + + 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 + 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 _Advertiser_? + + + OLIVER GOLDSMITH. + + + + +LETTER IN PROSE AND VERSE TO MRS. BUNBURY + + + MADAM, + 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. + + 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:— + + + ‘I hope, my good Doctor, you soon will be here, + + And your spring-velvet coat very smart will appear, + + To open our ball the first day of the year.’ + + Pray, Madam, where did you ever find the epithet ‘good,’ applied to the + title of Doctor? Had you called me ‘learned Doctor,’ or ‘grave Doctor,’ or + ‘noble Doctor,’ it might be 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 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:— + + + ‘And bring with you a wig, that is modish and gay, + + dance with the girls that are makers of hay.’ + + 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. + +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. +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? +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 _handsome_, when people are thieves?’ 60 +‘But where is your justice? their cases are hard.’ +‘What signifies _justice_? I want the _reward_. + + + There’s the parish of Edmonton offers forty pounds; + there’s the parish of St. Leonard, Shoreditch, offers forty pounds; + there’s the parish of Tyburn, from the Hog-in-the-Pound to St. Giles’s + watchhouse, offers forty pounds,—I shall have all that if I convict + them!’— + +‘But consider their case,—it may yet be your own! +And see how they kneel! Is your heart made of stone?’ +This moves:—so at last I agree to relent, 65 +For ten pounds in hand, and ten pounds to be spent. + + + I challenge you all to answer this: I tell you, you cannot. It cuts deep;—but + now for the rest of the letter: and next— but I want room—so I + believe I shall battle the rest out at Barton some day next week. + + I don’t value you all! + + O. G. + + + + +VIDA’S GAME OF CHESS + + TRANSLATED + + +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. + + + + +NOTES + +INTRODUCTION + + + He was born . . . at Pallas. 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 _Journal_ + 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. + + his academic career was not a success. ‘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 _History of the University of Dublin_, + 1889, p. 201 n.) + + a scratched signature upon a window-pane. 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 _Works_ of + Goldsmith, [1864–5], pp. xiii-xiv n.) + + a poor physician. Where he obtained his diploma + is not known. It was certainly not at Padua (_Athenaeum_, 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, _Life_, 1837, i, + pp. 171, 178). + + declared it to be by Goldsmith. 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.’ (_Memoirs of a Protestant_, + etc., Dent’s edition, 1895, i, pp. xii-xviii.) + + 12, Green Arbour Court, Old Bailey. 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 _European Magazine_ for + January, 1803. + + or some of his imitators. The proximate cause of + the _Citizen of the World_, as the present writer has suggested + elsewhere, _ may_ have been Horace Walpole’s _Letter from XoHo_ + [Soho?], _a Chinese Philosopher at London, to his friend Lien Chi, at + Peking_. This was noticed as ‘in Montesquieu’s manner’ in the May issue + of the _Monthly Review_ for 1757, to which Goldsmith was a + contributor (_Eighteenth Century Vignettes_, first series, + second edition, 1897, pp. 108–9). + + demonstrable from internal evidence. e.g.—The + references to the musical glasses (ch. ix), which were the rage in 1761–2; + and to the _Auditor_ (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 _Life of Oliver Goldsmith_ (‘Great + Writers’ series), 1888, pp. 110–21. + + started with a loss. 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’ (_A Bookseller of + the Last Century_ [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.’ + + James’s Powder. This was a famous patent + panacea, invented by Johnson’s Lichfield townsman, Dr. Robert James of the + _Medicinal Dictionary_. 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 _in extremis_, + said he should use it if the house were on fire. William Hawes, the Strand + apothecary who attended Goldsmith, wrote an interesting _Account of the + late Dr. Goldsmith’s Illness, so far as relates to the Exhibition of Dr. + James’s Powders,_ 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). + +[Illustration: +Green Arbour Court, Little Old Bailey.] +GREEN ARBOUR COURT, + +LITTLE OLD BAILEY + +(as it appeared in 1803) + + + + +EDITIONS OF THE POEMS. + + + No collected edition of Goldsmith’s poetical works appeared until after + his death. But, in 1775, W. Griffin, who had published the _Essays_ + of ten years earlier, issued a volume entitled _The Miscellaneous + Works of Oliver Goldsmith, M.B., containing all his Essays and Poems_. + 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 _Retaliation_, + with which he included ‘The Hermit’ (‘Edwin and Angelina’), ‘The Gift,’ + ‘Madam Blaize,’ and the epilogues to _The Sister_ and _She + stoops to Conquer_;* while to an edition of _The Haunch of + Venison_, also put forth in 1776, he added the ‘Epitaph on Parnell’ + and two songs from the oratorio of _The Captivity_. The next + collection appeared in a volume of _Poems and Plays_ 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 _ Poetical and Dramatic Works, etc., now first collected_, + also having a ‘Memoir,’ and certainly fuller than anything which had gone + before. Next followed the long-deferred _Miscellaneous Works,_ + 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 + _Percy Memoir_, 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 _Miscellaneous Works_, etc., of 1837, comes after this; + then Bolton Corney’s excellent _Poetical Works_ of 1845; and + vol. i of Peter Cunningham’s _Works_, 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 _Works_, in five volumes, edited for + Messrs. George Bell and Sons by J. W. M. Gibbs. + + +* Some copies of this are dated 1777, and contain _The Haunch + of Venison_ and a few minor pieces. + + 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.* + + +* 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’ (_History + of England_, 1802, ii. 101). + + + + +THE TRAVELLER. + + + 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 _Letter from Italy to Lord Halifax_, + a work in which he found ‘a strain of political thinking that was, at that + time [1701]. new in our poetry.’ (_Beauties of English Poesy_, + 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. + + +* 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. + + 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 + _A Prospect of Society_. They obviously belonged to _The + Traveller_; 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 _Daily + News_ for March 31, 1902, since recast in his charming volume _From + a Cornish Window_, 1906, pp. 86–92. He showed conclusively that + _The Prospect_ was ‘merely an early draft of _The + Traveller_ 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. + + The didactic purpose of _The Traveller_ is defined in the + concluding paragraph of the _Dedication_; and, like many of the + thoughts which it contains, had been anticipated in a passage + of _The Citizen of the World_, 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 _Traveller_ 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.’ (_Encyclop. Britannica_, + Goldsmith, February, 1856.) + + The only definite record of payment for _ The Traveller_ is + ‘Copy of the Traveller, a Poem, 21_l_,’ 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. + + A Prospect, 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, _Diary_, + 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’ + (_Works_, by Malone, 1798, i. 105). The word is common on old + prints, e.g. _An Exact Prospect of the Magnificent Stone Bridge at + Westminster_, etc., 1751. + + Dedication. The Rev. Henry Goldsmith, says the + Percy _ Memoir_, 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.’ + + with an income of forty pounds a year. Cf. _The + Deserted Village_, ll. 141–2:— + + + A man he was, to all the country dear, + + And passing rich with _forty pounds a year_. + + + Cf. also Parson Adams in ch. iii of _Joseph Andrews_, who has + twenty-three; and Mr. Rivers, in the _Spiritual Quixote_, + 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 (_Vicar of Wakefield_, + chapters ii and iii). But Professor Hales (_Longer English Poems_, + 1885, p. 351) supplies an exact parallel in the case of Churchill, who, he + says, when a curate at Rainham, ‘prayed and starved on _ forty pounds a + year_.’ The latter words are Churchill’s own, and sound like a + quotation; but he was dead long before _The Deserted Village_ + appeared in 1770. There is an interesting paper in the _Gentleman’s + Magazine_ for November, 1763, on the miseries and hardships of the + ‘inferior clergy.’ + + But of all kinds of ambition, etc. 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. + + they engross all that favour once shown to her. + First version—‘They engross all favour to themselves.’ + + the elder’s birthright. Cunningham here aptly + compares Dryden’s epistle _To Sir Godfrey Kneller_, II. 89–92:— + + + Our arts are sisters, though not twins in birth; + + For hymns were sung in Eden’s happy earth: + + But oh, the painter muse, though last in place, + + Has seized the blessing first, like Jacob’s race. + + _Party_=faction. Cf. lines 31–2 on Edmund Burke in + _ Retaliation_:— + + + Who, born for the Universe, narrow’d his mind, + + And to _party_ gave up what was meant for mankind. + + Such readers generally admire, etc. ‘I suppose this + paragraph to be directed against Paul Whitehead, or Churchill,’ writes + Mitford. It was clearly aimed at Churchill, since Prior (_Life_, + 1837, ii. 54) quotes a portion of a contemporary article in the _St. + James’s Chronicle_ 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 [_The Traveller_] 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 _The Traveller_. 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. + + tawdry was added in the sixth edition of 1770. + + blank verse. Cf. _The Present State of Polite + Learning_, 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 _blank verse_. 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 _The + Monthly Review_, Dr. James Grainger, author of _The Sugar Cane_, + which was published in June, 1764. (Cf. also _The Bee_ for 24th + November, 1759, ‘An account of the Augustan Age of England.’) + + and that this principle, etc. 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.’ + + Remote, unfriended, melancholy, slow. Mitford + (Aldine edition, 1831, p. 7) compares the following lines from Ovid:— + + + Solus, inops, exspes, leto poenaeque relictus. + + _Metamorphoses_, xiv. 217. + + Exsul, inops erres, alienaque limina lustres, etc. + + _Ibis_. 113. + + slow. A well-known passage from Boswell must here be + reproduced:—‘Chamier once asked him [Goldsmith], what he meant by _slow_, + the last word in the first line of _The Traveller_, + + + Remote, unfriended, melancholy, slow. + + + 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 _Boswell_, 1887, iii. 252–3.) It is quite + possible, however, that Goldsmith meant no more than he said. + + the rude Carinthian boor. ‘Carinthia,’ says + Cunningham, ‘was visited by Goldsmith in 1755, and still (1853) retains + its character for inhospitality.’ + + Campania. ‘Intended,’ says Bolton Corney, ‘to denote + _La campagna di Roma_. The portion of it which extends from Rome to + Terracina is scarcely habitable.’ + + a lengthening chain. Prior compares Letter iii of + _The Citizen of the World_, 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 _Comical Lovers_, + 1707, Act v:—‘When I am with Florimel, it [my heart] is still your + prisoner, _it only draws a longer chain after it_.’ And earlier still + in Dryden’s ‘All for Love’, 1678, Act ii, Sc. 1:— + + + My life on’t, he still drags a chain along, + + That needs must clog his flight. + + with simple plenty crown’d. In the first edition + this read ‘where mirth and peace abound.’ + + the luxury of doing good. Prior compares Garth’s + _Claremont_, 1715, where he speaks of the Druids:— + + + Hard was their Lodging, homely was their Food, + + For all their _Luxury was doing Good_. + + my prime of life. He was seven-and-twenty when he + landed at Dover in February, 1756. + + That, like the circle bounding, etc. Cf. _Vicar + of Wakefield_, 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.] + + And find no spot of all the world my own. Prior + compares his namesake’s lines _In the Beginning of_ [Jacques] _Robbe’s + Geography_, 1700:— + + + My destin’d Miles I shall have gone, + + By THAMES or MAESE, by PO or RHONE, + + And _found no Foot of Earth my own._ + + above the storm’s career. Cf. 1. 190 of _The + Deserted Village._ + + should thankless pride repine? First edition, + ‘’twere thankless to repine.’ + + Say, should the philosophic mind, etc. First + edition:— + + + ’Twere affectation all, and school-taught pride, + + To spurn the splendid things by heaven supply’d + + hoard. ‘Sum’ in the first edition. + + Boldly proclaims that happiest spot his own. In the + first version this was— + + + Boldly asserts that country for his own. + + And yet, perhaps, etc. In the first edition, for + this and the following five lines appeared these eight:— + + + And yet, perhaps, if states with states we scan, + + Or estimate their bliss on Reason’s plan, + + Though patriots flatter, and though fools contend, + + We still shall find uncertainty suspend; + + Find that each good, by Art or Nature given, + + To these or those, but makes the balance even: + + Find that the bliss of all is much the same, + + And patriotic boasting reason’s shame! + + On Idra’s cliffs. 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 _Select + Poems of Goldsmith_, 1900, p. 87). Lines 84–5, it may be added, are + not in the first edition. + + And though the rocky-crested summits frown. In the + first edition:— + + + And though rough rocks or gloomy summits frown. + + lines 91–2. are not in the first editions. + + peculiar, i.e. ‘proper,’ ‘appropriate.’ + + winnow, i.e. ‘waft,’ ‘disperse.’ John Evelyn refers + to these ‘sea-born gales’ in the ‘Dedication’ of his _Fumifugium_, + 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].’ (_Miscellaneous + Writings_, 1825, p. 208.) + + Till, more unsteady, etc. In the first edition:— + + + But, more unsteady than the southern gale, + + Soon Commerce turn’d on other shores her sail. + + 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’ (_Humphry Clinker_, 1771, ii. 192. Letter of + Mr. Bramble to Dr. Lewis). + + lines 141–2. are not in the first edition. + + Its former strength was but plethoric ill. Cf. + _The Citizen of the World_, 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.] + + Yet still the loss, etc. In the first edition:— + + + Yet, though to fortune lost, here still abide + + Some splendid arts, the wrecks of former pride. + + The paste-board triumph and the cavalcade. ‘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 _Arcadi_]. Where in the midst of porticos, + processions, and cavalcades, abbes turn’d into shepherds, and + shepherdesses without sheep, indulge their innocent _ divertimenti_.’ + (_Present State of Polite Learning_, 1759, pp. 50–1.) Some of + the ‘paste-board triumphs’ may be studied in the plates of Jacques Callot. + + By sports like these, etc. 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:— + + + By sports like these are all their cares beguil’d; + + The sports of children satisfy the child. + + + (Forster’s _Life_, 1871, i. pp. 347–8). + + + The sports of children. This line, in the first + edition, was followed by:— + + + At sports like these, while foreign arms advance, + + In passive ease they leave the world to chance. + + Each nobler aim, etc. The first edition reads:— + + + When struggling Virtue sinks by long controul, + + She leaves at last, or feebly mans the soul. + + This was changed in the second, third, fourth, and fifth editions to:— + + + When noble aims have suffer’d long controul, + + They sink at last, or feebly man the soul. + + No product here, etc. The Swiss mercenaries, here + referred to, were long famous in European warfare. + + + They parted with a thousand kisses, + + And fight e’er since for pay, like Swisses. + + Gay’s _Aye and No, a Fable_. + + breasts This fine use of ‘breasts’—as + Cunningham points out—is given by Johnson as an example in his + Dictionary. + + With patient angle, trolls the finny deep. ‘Troll,’ + i.e. as for pike. Goldsmith uses ‘finny prey’ in _The Citizen of the + World_, 1762, ii. 99:—‘The best manner to draw up the _finny + prey_.’ Cf. also ‘warbling grove,’ _Deserted Village_, l. + 361, as a parallel to ‘finny deep.’ + + the struggling savage, 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 _ + reluctant savage_ into the toils, as the Indians when they hunt the + hyena or the rhinoceros.’ (_Citizen of the World_, 1762, i. + 112.) See also Pope’s _Iliad_, Bk. xvii:— + + + But if the _savage_ turns his glaring eye, + + They howl aloof, and round the forest fly. + + lines 201–2 are not in the first edition. + + For every want, etc. Mitford quotes a parallel + passage in _Animated Nature_, 1774, ii. 123:—‘Every want + thus becomes a means of pleasure, in the redressing.’ + + Their morals, like their pleasures, are but low. + 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, _Tom + Jones_, 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 _Low_ + and fell a Groaning.’ See also _Tom Jones_, 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 _ Vicar_, whose author is + eloquent on this topic in _The Present State of Polite Learning_, + 1759, pp. 154–6, and in + _She Stoops to Conquer_, 1773 (Act i); while Graves (_Spiritual + Quixote_, 1772, bk. i, ch. vi) gives the fashion the scientific + appellation of _ tapino-phoby,_ which he defines as ‘a dread of + everything that is _low_, either in writing or in conversation.’ To + Goldsmith, if we may trust George Colman’s _Prologue_ to Miss + Lee’s _Chapter of Accidents_, 1780, belongs the credit of + exorcising this particular form of depreciation:— + + + When Fielding, Humour’s fav’rite child, appear’d, + + _Low_ was the word—a word each author fear’d! + + Till chas’d at length, by pleasantry’s bright ray, + + Nature and mirth resum’d their legal sway; + + And Goldsmith’s genius bask’d in open day. + + According to Borrow’s _Lavengro_, ch. xli, Lord Chesterfield + considered that the speeches of Homer’s heroes were frequently + ‘exceedingly low.’ + + How often, etc. This and the lines which + immediately follow are autobiographical. Cf. George Primrose’s story in + _The Vicar of Wakefield_, 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.’ + + gestic lore, i.e. traditional gestures or motions. + Scott uses the word ‘gestic’ in _Peveril of the Peak_, 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 _gestic_ art.’ [Hales.] + + Thus idly busy rolls their world away. Pope has + ‘Life’s _idle business_’ (_Unfortunate Lady_, l. 81), and— + + + The _busy, idle_ blockheads of the ball. + + Donne’s _Satires_, iv. l. 203. + + And all are taught an avarice of praise. Professor + Hales (_Longer English Poems_) compares Horace of the Greeks:— + + + Praeter laudem, nullius avaris. + + _Ars Poetica_, l. 324. + + copper lace. ‘St Martin’s lace,’ for which, in + Strype’s day, Blowbladder St. was famous. Cf. the actress’s ‘copper tail’ + in _Citizen of the World_, 1762, ii. 60. + + To men of other minds, etc. Prior compares with the + description that follows a passage in vol. i. p. 276 of _Animated + Nature_, 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.’ + + Where the broad ocean leans against the land. Cf. + Dryden in _Annus Mirabilis_, 1666, st. clxiv. l. 654:— + + + And view the ocean leaning on the sky. + + the tall rampire’s, i.e. rampart’s (Old French, _rempart, + rempar_). Cf. _Timon of Athens_, Act v. Sc. 4:—‘Our + rampir’d gates.’ + + bosom reign in the first edition was ‘breast + obtain.’ + + Even liberty itself is barter’d here. ‘Slavery,’ + says Mitford, ‘was permitted in Holland; children were sold by their + parents for a certain number of years.’ + + A land of tyrants, and a den of slaves. Goldsmith + uses this very line as prose in Letter xxxiv of _The Citizen of the + World_, 1762, i. 147. + + dishonourable graves. _Julius Caesar_, + Act i. Sc. 2. + + Heavens! how unlike, etc. Prior compares a passage + from a manuscript _ Introduction to the History of the Seven Years’ + War_:—‘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.’* + + +* J. W. M. Gibbs (_Works_, v. 9) discovered that parts of + this _History_, hitherto supposed to have been written in 1761, were + published in the _Literary Magazine_, 1757–8. + + famed Hydaspes, i.e. the _fabulosus Hydaspes_ + of Horace, Bk. i. Ode xxii, and the _Medus Hydaspes_ of Virgil, + _ Georg_, 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. + + Pride in their port, etc. In the first edition + these two lines were inverted. + + Here by the bonds of nature feebly held. In the + first edition— + + + See, though by circling deeps together held. + + Nature’s ties was ‘social bonds’ in the first + edition. + + Where kings have toil’d, and poets wrote for fame. + In the first edition this line read:— + + + And monarchs toil, and poets pant for fame. + + Yet think not, etc. ‘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 _ + English History._) [Mitford.] + + Ye powers of truth, etc. The first version has:— + + + Perish the wish; for, inly satisfy’d, + + Above their pomps I hold my ragged pride. + + Mr. Forster thinks (_Life_, 1871, i. 375) that Goldsmith + altered this (i.e. ‘ragged pride’) because, like the omitted _Haud + inexpertus loquor_ of the _ Enquiry_, it involved an + undignified admission. + + lines 365–80 are not in the first edition. + + Contracting regal power to stretch their own. ‘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.’ (_Vicar of + Wakefield_, 1766, i. 202, ch. xix.) + + When I behold, etc. Prior compares a passage in + Letter xlix of _ The Citizen of the World_, 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.’ + + Laws grind the poor, and rich men rule the law. + Prior notes a corresponding utterance in _The Vicar of Wakefield_, + 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.’ + + I fly from petty tyrants to the throne. Cf. Dr. + Primrose, _ut supra_, 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, _The + Farewell_, ll. 363–4 and 369–70:— + + + Let not a Mob of Tyrants seize the helm, + + Nor titled upstarts league to rob the realm... + + Let us, some comfort in our griefs to bring, + + Be slaves to one, and be that one a King. + + lines 393–4. Goldsmith’s first thought was— + + + Yes, my lov’d brother, cursed be that hour + + When first ambition toil’d for foreign power,— + + + an entirely different couplet to that in the text, and certainly more + logical. (Dobell’s _Prospect of Society_, 1902, pp. xi, 2, and + Notes, v, vi). Mr. Dobell plausibly suggests that this Tory substitution + is due to Johnson. + + Have we not seen, etc. These lines contain the + first idea of the subsequent poem of _The Deserted Village_ (_q.v._). + + Where wild Oswego spreads her swamps around. The + Oswego is a river which runs between Lakes Oneida and Ontario. In the + _Threnodia Augustalis_, 1772, Goldsmith writes:— + + + Oswego’s dreary shores shall be my grave. + + 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 _An History of England, + in a Series of Letters from a Nobleman to his Son_, 1764, ii. 202–4. + + marks with murderous aim. In the first edition + ‘takes a deadly aim.’ + + pensive exile. This, in the version mentioned in + the next note, was ‘famish’d exile.’ + + To stop too fearful, and too faint to go. This + line, upon Boswell’s authority, is claimed for Johnson (Birkbeck Hill’s + _ Boswell_, 1887, ii. 6). Goldsmith’s original ran:— + + + And faintly fainter, fainter seems to go. + + + (Dobell’s _Prospect of Society_, 1902, p. 3). + + How small, of all, etc. 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 _Boswell_, _ut supra_). Like Goldsmith, he + sometimes worked his prose ideas into his verse. The first couplet is + apparently a reminiscence of a passage in his own _Rasselas_, + 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 _Johnson_, 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 _ Boswell_, + 1887, ii. 170). + + The lifted axe. Mitford here recalls Blackmore’s + + + Some the sharp axe, and some the painful wheel. + + 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. + + Luke’s iron crown. 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 _ Montaigne_, + 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 _ Poetical Works_, 1845, p. 36, corrected the line to— + + + _Zeck’s_ iron crown, etc., + + + an alteration which has been adopted by other editors. (See also Forster’s + _Life_, 1871, i. 370.) + + Damien’s bed of steel. Robert-Francois Damiens, + 1714–57. Goldsmith writes ‘Damien’s.’ In the _Gentlemen’s Magazine_ + 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 _History of England_, + 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 _Life_, 1871, i. 370.) At pp. 57–78 of + the _ Monthly Review_ 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 _Strange + Adventures of Captain Dangerous_, by George Augustus Sala, 1863, + iii. pp. 154–180. + + line 438. In the first edition of ‘The Traveller’ + there are only 416 lines. + + + + +THE DESERTED VILLAGE. + + + After having been for some time announced as in preparation, _The + Deserted Village_ 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 _The Deserted Village_ inferior to _The + Traveller_: but ‘time,’ to use Mr. Forster’s words, ‘has not + confirmed _that_ judgment.’ Its germ is perhaps to be found in ll. + 397–402 of the earlier poem. + + +* In the American _Bookman_ for February, 1901, pp. + 563–7, Mr. Luther S. Livingston gives an account (with facsimile + title-pages) of three _octavo_ (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 _Athenaeum_ + for June 20, 1896 (No. 3582). + + Much research has been expended in the endeavour to identify the scene + with Lissoy, the home of the poet’s youth (see _Introduction_, 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.’ (_Encyclop. Britannica_, 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 _The Deserted + Village_’ delighted and delights. It maintains its popularity by its + charming _genre_-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. + + Dedication. I am ignorant of that art in which you are + said to excel. This modest confession did not prevent Goldsmith from + making fun of the contemporary connoisseur. See the letter from the young + virtuoso in _The Citizen of the World_, 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 (_Vicar of Wakefield_, 1766, ii. 27–8). + + He is since dead. Henry Goldsmith died in May, + 1768, at the age of forty-five, being then curate of Kilkenny West. (See + note, p. 164.) + + a long poem. ‘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 _ Works_, at + end.) + + the increase of our luxuries. The evil of luxury + was a ‘common topick’ with Goldsmith. (Birkbeck Hill’s _Boswell_, + 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.’ (_Humphry + Clinker_, 1771, ii. 192.—Letter of Mr. Bramble to Dr. Lewis.) + + + Sweet AUBURN. Forster, _Life_, 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. + + Seats of my youth. This alone would imply that + Goldsmith had in mind the environment of his Irish home. + + The decent church that topp’d the neighbouring hill. + This corresponds with the church of Kilkenny West as seen from the house + at Lissoy. + +[Illustration: ] +KILKENNY WEST CHURCH + +(R. H. Newell) + + The hawthorn bush. 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.’ (_Essay + on Light Reading_, 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, _ Life_, 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 _Poetical Works_, R. H. Newell’s + edition, 1811, and is reproduced in the present volume. + +[Illustration: ] +HAWTHORN TREE + +(R. H. Newell) + + How often have I bless’d the coming day. Prior, + _Life_, 1837, ii. 261, finds in this an allusion ‘to the + Sundays or numerous holidays, usually kept in Roman Catholic countries.’ + + Amidst thy bowers the tyrant’s hand is seen. + Strean’s explanation (Mangin, _ut supra_, pp. 140–1) of this is as + follows:—‘The poem of _The Deserted Village_, 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 _Auburn_; in + consequence of which many families, here called _cottiers_, 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, “_with fainting steps,_” + to go in search of “_torrid tracts_” and “_distant climes._”’ + + Prior (_Life_, 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 _Works_ + (1741) of a Westmeath poet, Lawrence Whyte, which contains such passages + as these:— + + + Their native soil were forced to quit, + + So Irish landlords thought it fit; + + Who without ceremony or rout, + + For their improvements turn’d them out ... + + How many villages they razed, + + How many parishes laid waste ... + + Whole colonies, to shun the fate + + Of being oppress’d at such a rate, + + By tyrants who still raise their rent, + + Sail’d to the Western Continent. + + The hollow-sounding bittern guards its nest. ‘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.’ (_Animated Nature_, 1774, vi. 1–2, 4.) + + Bewick, who may be trusted to speak of a bird which he has drawn with such + exquisite fidelity, refers (_Water Birds_, 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 (_The Borough_, Letter xxii, ll. 197–8):— + + + And the loud bittern, from the bull-rush home, + + Gave from the salt-ditch side the bellowing boom. + + Princes and lords may flourish, or may fade; + + A breath can make them, as a breath has made. + + Mitford compares _Confessio Amantis_, fol. 152:— + + + A kynge may make a lorde a knave, + + And of a knave a lord also; + + and Professor Hales recalls Burns’s later line in the _Cotter’s + Saturday Night_, 1785:— + + + Princes and lords are but the breath of kings. + + But Prior finds the exact equivalent of the second line in the verses of + an old French poet, De. Caux, upon an hour-glass:— + + + C’est un verre qui luit, + + Qu’un souffle peut détruire, et qu’un souffle a +produit. + + A time there was, ere England’s griefs began. 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. + + opulence. In the first edition the word is + ‘luxury.’ + + And, many a year elapsed, return to view. ‘It is + strongly contended at Lishoy, that “_the Poet_,” 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.’ (_Poetical + Works, with Remarks_, etc., by the Rev. R. H. Newell, 1811, p. 74.) + + 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.’ (_Percy Memoir_, 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.) + + Where once the cottage stood, the hawthorn grew. + Here followed, in the first edition:— + + + Here, as with doubtful, pensive steps I range, + + Trace every scene, and wonder at the change, + + Remembrance, etc. + + In all my griefs—and God has given my share. + Prior notes a slight similarity here to a line of Collins:— + + + Ye mute companions of my toils, that bear, + + _In all my griefs_, a more than equal share! + + _Hassan; or, The Camel Driver._ + + In _The Present State of Polite Learning_, 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 _The Beauties of English Poesy_, 1767, + i. pp. 239–53. + + To husband out, etc. In the first edition this ran:— + + + My anxious day to husband near the close, + + And keep life’s flame from wasting by repose. + + Here to return—and die at home at last. + Forster compares a passage in _The Citizen of the World_, 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.’ (_Life_, 1871, ii. 202.) + +[Illustration: ] +South View from Goldsmith’s Mount + +(R.H. Newell) + + How happy he. ‘How blest is he’ in the first + edition. + + And, since ’tis hard to combat, learns to fly. + Mitford compares _The Bee_ 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.’ + + surly porter. Mr. J. M. Lobban compares the _Citizen + of the World_, 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.’ (_Select Poems of Goldsmith_, 1900, p. 98.) + + Bends. ‘Sinks’ in the first edition. _unperceived + decay_. Cf. Johnson, _Vanity of Human Wishes_, 1749, l. 292:— + + + An age that melts with unperceiv’d decay, + + And glides in modest innocence away; + + + and _Irene_, Act ii, Sc. 7:— + + + And varied life steal unperceiv’d away. + + While Resignation, 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 _The + Deserted Village_, is dedicated to Dr. Goldsmith, by his sincere + Friend and admirer, JOSHUA REYNOLDS.’ + + Up yonder hill. 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 _Poetical + Works_, 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.’ (_Percy Memoir_, 1801, p. 43.) + + And fill’d each pause the nightingale had made. In + _Animated Nature_, 1774, v. 328, Goldsmith says:—‘The + nightingale’s pausing song would be the proper epithet for this bird’s + music.’ [Mitford.] + + No cheerful murmurs fluctuate in the gale. (Cf. + Goldsmith’s Essay on _ Metaphors_ (_British Magazine_):—‘Armstrong + has used the word ‘fluctuate’ with admirable efficacy, in his + philosophical poem entitled _The Art of Preserving Health_. + + + Oh! when the growling winds contend, and all + + The sounding forest ‘fluctuates’ in the storm, + + To sink in warm repose, and hear the din + + Howl o’er the steady battlements. + + The sad historian of the pensive plain. 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 _Essay on Light + Reading_, 1808, p. 142.) + + The village preacher’s modest mansion rose. ‘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 (_Percy Memoir_, + 1801, p. 3). Others, relying perhaps upon the ‘forty pounds a year’ of the + Dedication to _The Traveller_, make the poet’s brother Henry + the original; others, again, incline to kindly Uncle Contarine (_vide + Introduction_). But as Prior justly says (_Life_, 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.’ + + with forty pounds a year. Cf. Dedication to _The + Traveller_, p. 3, l. 14. + + Unpractis’d. ‘Unskilful’ in the first edition. + + More skilled. ‘More bent’ in the first edition. + + The long remember’d beggar. ‘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.’ (_Life_, + 1837, ii. 269.) Cf. Scott on the Scottish mendicants in the + ‘Advertisement’ to _The Antiquary_, 1816, and Leland’s _Hist. + of Ireland_, 1773, i. 35. + + The broken soldier. 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 _Memoir_ + (‘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 (_Antiquary_)—it + may be remembered—had fought at Fontenoy. + + Allur’d to brighter worlds. Cf. Tickell on Addison—‘Saints + who taught and led the way to Heaven.’ + + And fools, who came to scoff, remained to pray. + Prior compares the opening lines of Dryden’s _Britannia Rediviva_:— + + + Our vows are heard betimes, and heaven takes care + + To grant, before we can conclude the prayer; + + Preventing angels met it half the way, + + And sent us back to praise, who came to pray. + + As some tall cliff, 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 _Academy_ + 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:— + + + Dans un paisible mouvement + + Tu t’élèves au firmament, + +Et laisses contre toi murmurer cette terre; + + Ainsi le haut Olympe, à son pied sablonneux, + +Laisse fumer la foudre et gronder le tonnerre, + + Et garde son sommet tranquille et lumineux. + + Or another French model—indicated by Mr. Forster (_Life_, + 1871, ii. 115–16) by the late Lord Lytton—may have been these lines + from a poem by the Abbé de Chaulieu (1639–1720):— + + + Au milieu cependant de ces peines cruelles + + De notre triste hiver, compagnes trop fidèles, + + Je suis tranquille et gai. Quel bien plus précieux + + Puis-je espérer jamais de la bonté des dieux! + + Tel qu’un rocher dont la tête, + + Égalant le Mont Athos, + + Voit à ses pieds la tempête + + Troubler le calme des flots, + + La mer autour bruit et gronde; + + Malgré ses emotions, + + Sur son front élevé règne une paix profonde, + + Que tant d’agitations + + Et que ses fureurs de l’onde + + Respectent à l’égal du nid des alcyons. + + On the other hand, Goldsmith may have gone no further than Young’s _Complaint: + Night the Second_, 1742, p. 42, where, as Mitford points out, occur + these lines:— + + + As some tall Tow’r, or lofty Mountain’s Brow, + + Detains the Sun, Illustrious from its Height, + + While rising Vapours, and descending Shades, + + With Damps, and Darkness drown the Spatious Vale: + + Undampt by Doubt, Undarken’d by Despair, + + _Philander_, thus, augustly rears his Head. + + Prior also (_Life_, 1837, ii. 252) prints a passage from _Animated + Nature_, 1774, i. 145, derived from Ulloa, which perhaps served as + the raw material of the simile. + + Full well they laugh’d, etc. Steele, in _Spectator_, + No. 49 (for April 26, 1711) has a somewhat similar thought:—‘_Eubulus_ + 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 _Eubulus_ seems to intimate + that Things go well.’ + + Yet he was kind, etc. For the rhyme of ‘fault’ and + ‘aught’ in this couplet Prior cites the precedent of Pope:— + + + Before his sacred name flies ev’ry fault, + + And each exalted stanza teems with thought! + + (_Essay on Criticism_, l. 422). He might also have cited + Waller, who elides the ‘l’:— + + + Were we but less indulgent to our fau’ts, + + And patience had to cultivate our thoughts. + + Goldsmith uses a like rhyme in _Edwin and Angelina_, Stanza + xxxv:— + + +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. + + Cf. also _Retaliation_, ll. 73–4. Perhaps—as indeed Prior + suggests—he pronounced ‘fault’ in this fashion. + +[Illustration: ] +THE SCHOOL HOUSE + +(R. H. Newell) + + That one small head could carry all he knew. 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.’ (_Percy Memoir_, 1801, pp. 3–4.) The name of this + worthy, according to Strean, was Burn (Byrne). (Mangin’s _ Essay on + Light Reading_, 1808, p. 142.) + + Near yonder thorn. See note to l. 13. + + The chest contriv’d a double debt to pay. Cf. the + _Description of an Author’s Bedchamber_, p. 48, l. ult.:— + + +A cap by night—a stocking all the day! + + The twelve good rules. ‘A constant one’ (i.e. + picture) ‘in every house was “King Charles’ Twelve Good Rules.”’ (Bewick’s + _Memoir_, ‘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, _Misc. + Works_, 1837, iv. 63, points out that Crabbe also + + makes the ‘Twelve Good Rules’ conspicuous in the _Parish Register_ + (ll. 51–2):— + + + There is King Charles, and all his Golden Rules, + + Who proved Misfortune’s was the best of schools. + + Her late Majesty, Queen Victoria, kept a copy of these rules in the + servants’ hall at Windsor Castle. + + the royal game of goose. The ‘Royal and + Entertaining Game of the Goose’ is described at length in Strutt’s _Sports + and Pastimes_, 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. + + While broken tea-cups. Cf. the _Description of + an Author’s Bedchamber_, p. 48, l. 18:— + + + And five crack’d teacups dress’d the chimney board. + + 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, _Life_, 1837, ii. 265.) + + Shall kiss the cup. Cf. Scott’s _Lochinvar_:— + + + The bride kissed the goblet: the knight took it up, + + He quaff’d off the wine and he threw down the cup. + + Cf. also _The History of Miss Stanton_ (_British Magazine_, + July, 1760).—‘The earthen mug went round. _Miss touched the cup_, + the stranger pledged the parson,’ etc. + + Between a splendid and a happy land. Prior compares + _The Citizen of the World_, 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.’ + + To see profusion that he must not share. Cf. _Animated + Nature_, iv. p. 43:—‘He only guards those luxuries he is not + fated to share.’ [Mitford.] + + To see those joys. Up to the third edition the + words were _each joy_. + + There the black gibbet glooms beside the way. 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. _Vicar of Wakefield_, 1706, ii. 122:—‘Our + possessions are paled up with new edicts every day, and hung round with + gibbets to scare every invader’; and _ Citizen of the World_, + 1762, ii. 63–7. Johnson, who wrote eloquently on capital punishment in + _The Rambler_ for April 20, 1751, No. 114, also refers to the + ceaseless executions in his _London_, 1738, ll. 238–43:— + + + Scarce can our fields, such crowds at Tyburn die, + + With hemp the gallows and the fleet supply. + + Propose your schemes, ye senatorian band, + + Whose ways and means support the sinking land: + + Lest ropes be wanting in the tempting spring, + + To rig another convoy for the king. + + Where the poor houseless shivering female lies. + Mitford compares Letter cxiv of _The Citizen of the World_, + 1762, ii. 211:—‘These _poor shivering females_ 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 _The Bee_, + 1759, p. 126 (_A City Night-Piece_). + + Near her betrayer’s door, etc. Cf. the foregoing + quotation. + + wild Altama, 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. + + crouching tigers, a poetical licence, as there are + no tigers in the locality named. But Mr. J. H. Lobban calls attention to a + passage from _Animated Nature_ [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.’ + + The good old sire. Cf. _Threnodia Augustalis_, + ll. 16–17:— + + + The good old sire, unconscious of decay, + + The modest matron, clad in homespun gray + + a father’s. ‘Her father’s’ in the first edition. + + silent. ‘Decent’ in the first edition. + + On Torno’s cliffs, or Pambamarca’s side. + ‘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.’ + + That trade’s proud empire, 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 + _ Deserted Village_, which are only the ‘last four’.’ (Birkbeck + Hill’s _Boswell_, 1887, ii. 7.) + + + + +PROLOGUE OF LABERIUS. + + + This translation, or rather imitation, was first published at pp. 176–7 of + _An Enquiry into the Present State of Polite Learning in Europe_, + 1759 (Chap. xii, ‘Of the Stage’), where it is prefaced as follows:— + ‘MACROBIUS 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 _Saturnalia_ of + Macrobius, lib. ii, cap. vii (_Opera_, London, 1694). He seems + to have confined himself to imitating the first fifteen:— + + + Necessitas, cujus cursus transversi impetum + + Voluerunt multi effugere, pauci potuerunt, + + Quo me detrusit paene extremis sensibus? + + Quem nulla ambitio, nulla umquam largitio, + + Nullus timor, vis nulla, nulla auctoritas + + Movere potuit in juventa de statu; + + Ecce in senecta ut facile labefecit loco + + Viri Excellentis mente clemente edita + + Submissa placide blandiloquens oratio! + + Etenim ipsi di negare cui nihil potuerunt, + + Hominem me denegare quis posset pati? + + Ergo bis tricenis annis actis sine tota + + Eques Romanus Lare egressus meo + + Domum revertar mimus. nimirum hoc die + + Uno plus vixi mihi quam vivendum fuit. + + + Rollin gives a French translation of this prologue in his _Traité + des Études_. It is quoted by Bolton Corney in his _Poetical + Works of Oliver Goldsmith_, 1845, pp. 203–4. In his Aldine edition + of 1831, p. 114, Mitford completed Goldsmith’s version as follows:— + + + Too lavish still in good, or evil hour, + + To show to man the empire of thy power, + + If fortune, at thy wild impetuous sway, + + The blossoms of my fame must drop away, + + Then was the time the obedient plant to strain + + When life was warm in every vigorous vein, + + To mould young nature to thy plastic skill, + + And bend my pliant boyhood to thy will. + + So might I hope applauding crowds to hear, + + Catch the quick smile, and HIS attentive ear. + + But ah! for what has thou reserv’d my age? + + Say, how can I expect the approving stage; + + Fled is the bloom of youth—the manly air— + + The vigorous mind that spurn’d at toil and care; + + Gone is the voice, whose clear and silver tone + + The enraptur’d theatre would love to own. + + As clasping ivy chokes the encumber’d tree, + + So age with foul embrace has ruined me. + + Thou, and the tomb, Laberius, art the same, + + Empty within, what hast thou but a name? + + 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 _Boswell_, 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. + + + + +ON A BEAUTIFUL YOUTH STRUCK BLIND WITH LIGHTNING. + + + This quatrain, the original of which does not appear to have been traced, + was first published in _The Bee_ for Saturday, the 6th of + October, 1759, p. 8. It is there succeeded by the following Latin epigram, + ‘in the same spirit’:— + + +LUMINE Acon dextro capta est Leonida sinistro + + Et poterat forma vincere uterque Deos. + +Parve puer lumen quod habes concede puellae + + Sic tu caecus amor sic erit illa Venus. + + + + + There are several variations of this in the _Gentleman’s Magazine_ + 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 _Remains_, 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 _ Quarterly + Review_, vol. 171, p. 296, prints the ‘original’ thus— + + +Lumine Acon dextro, capta est Leonilla sinistro, + + Et potis est forma vincere uterque Deos. + +Blande puer, lumen quod habes concede sorori; + + Sic tu caecus Amor, sic erit illa Venus; + + + and says ‘it was written by Girolamo Amalteo, and will be found in any of + the editions of the _Trium Fratrum Amaltheorum Carmina_, under + the title of ‘De gemellis, fratre et sorore, luscis.’ According to Byron + on Bowles (_Works_, 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. + + + + +THE GIFT. + + + This little trifle, in which a French levity is wedded to the language of + Prior, was first printed in _The Bee_, 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 _Ménagiana_, + (ed. 1729, iii, 397), and not far from the ditty of _le fameux la + Galisse_. (See _An Elegy on Mrs. Mary Blaize_, _ infra_, + p. 198):— + + + ETRENE A IRIS. + + Pour témoigner de ma flame, + + Iris, du meilleur de mon ame + + Je vous donne à ce nouvel an + + Non pas dentelle ni ruban, + + Non pas essence, ni pommade, + + Quelques boites de marmelade, + + Un manchon, des gans, un bouquet, + + Non pas heures, ni chapelet. + + Quoi donc? Attendez, je vous donne + + O fille plus belle que bonne ... + + Je vous donne: Ah! le puis-je dire? + + Oui, c’est trop souffrir le martyre, + + Il est tems de s’émanciper, + + Patience va m’échaper, + + Fussiez-vous cent fois plus aimable, + + Belle Iris, je vous donne ... au Diable. + + + In Bolton Corney’s edition of Goldsmith’s _ Poetical Works_, + 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 _Étrennes + en vers_, published in 1715. + + I’ll give thee. See an anecdote _à propos_ + of this anticlimax in Trevelyan’s _Life and Letters of Lord Macaulay_, + 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.’ + + + + +THE LOGICIANS REFUTED. + + + 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 _The Poetical and Dramatic Works of Oliver Goldsmith, + M.B._, 1780. They originally appeared in _The Busy Body_ + for Thursday, October the 18th, 1759 (No. v), having this notification + above the title: ‘The following Poem written by DR. SWIFT, + is communicated to the Public by the BUSY BODY, + 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. + + Wise Aristotle and Smiglecius. Cf. _The Life + of Parnell_, 1770, p. 3:—‘His imagination might have been too + warm to relish the cold logic of Burgersdicius, or the dreary subtleties + of _ Smiglesius_; 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 + _bête noire_ 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 _Smeglesius_, + 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 _Life of Swift_, 2nd ed., 1787, p. + 4.) + + Than reason-boasting mortal’s pride. So in _The + Busy Body_. Some editors—Mitford, for example—print the + line:— + + + Than reason,—boasting mortals’ pride. + + _Deus est anima brutorum_. Cf. Addison in + _Spectator_, No. 121 (July 19, 1711): ‘A modern Philosopher, + quoted by Monsieur _ Bale_ 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 _Deus est Anima Brutorum_, 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 _Dict. Hist. et Critique_ + (3rd ed., 1720, 2481_b_.) which Bayle cites from M. Bernard:—‘Il + me semble d’avoir lu quelque part cette Thèse, _Deus est anima + brutorum_: l’expression est un peu dure; mais elle peut recevoir un + fort bon sens.’ + + + B—b=Bob, i.e. Sir Robert Walpole, the Prime +Minister, for whom many venal ‘quills were drawn’ _circa_ +1715–42. Cf. Pope’s _Epilogue to the Satires_, 1738, Dialogue i, ll. +27–32:— + + Go see Sir ROBERT— + + P. See Sir ROBERT!—hum— + + And never laugh—for all my life to come? + + Seen him I have, but in his happier hour + + Of Social Pleasure, ill-exchang’d for Pow’r; + + Seen him, uncumber’d with the Venal tribe, + + Smile without Art, and win without a Bribe. + + A courtier any ape surpasses. Cf. Gay’s _Fables, + passim_. 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. + + And footmen, lords and dukes can act. Cf. _Gil + Blas_, 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 _Spectator_, No. 88, for June 11, 1711, ‘On the + Misbehaviour of Servants,’ a paper supposed to have afforded the hint for + Townley’s farce of _High Life below Stairs_, which, about a + fortnight after _The Logicians Refuted_ 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 _High Life below Stairs_,’ + in _ The Bee_ for November 3, 1759, pp. 154–7. + + + + +A SONNET. + + + This little piece first appears in _The Bee_ 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 _The + Bee_, 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. + + This and the following line in the first version + run:— + + + Yet, why this killing soft dejection? + + Why dim thy beauty with a tear? + + + + +STANZAS ON THE TAKING OF QUEBEC. + + + 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 _Montcalm and Wolfe_, + 1885, ii. 296–7.) In his _ History of England in a Series of Letters_, + 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 _The Busy Body_ (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 (_Life_, + 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 _Army + and Navy Gazette_ of January 20, 1893. + + +* He repeats this sentiment, in different words, in the later _History + of England_ of 1771, iv. 400. + + + + +AN ELEGY ON MRS. MARY BLAIZE. + + + The publication in February, 1751, of Gray’s _Elegy Wrote in a + Country Church Yard_ had set a fashion in poetry which long + continued. Goldsmith, who considered that work ‘a very fine poem, but + overloaded with epithet’ (_Beauties of English Poesy_, 1767, i. + 53), and once proposed to amend it ‘by leaving out an idle word in every + line’ [!] (Cradock’s _ Memoirs_, 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 _The Bee_ + for October 27, 1759, he had written in the _Critical Review_, + vii. 263, when noticing Langhorne’s _Death of Adonis_, 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 _Chinese Letter_ of March 4, 1761, in the + _Public Ledger_ (afterwards Letter ciii of _The Citizen of + the World_, 1762, ii. 162–5), which contains the lines _On the + Death of the Right Honourable ***_; and again, in _The Vicar of + Wakefield_, 1766, i. 174, _ à propos_ of the _Elegy + on the Death of a Mad Dog_, 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.’ + + The model for _An Elegy on Mrs. Mary Blaize_ 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 _Grand Dictionnaire + Universel du XIX_ me _Siècle_, x. p. 179. It is + there stated to have originated in some dozen stanzas suggested to la + Monnoye (_v. supra_, 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:— + + +Monsieur d’La Palice est mort, + + Mort devant Pavie; + +Un quart d’heure avant sa mort, + + _Il était encore en vie._ + + 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 _Ménagiana_, (ed. 1729, + iii, 384–391) where apparently by a typographical error, the hero is + called _‘le fameux la Galisse, homme imaginaire.’_ 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 _An + Elegy on the Death of a Mad Dog_, p. 212.) + + Who left a pledge behind. Caldecott cleverly + converted this line into the keynote of the poem, by making the heroine a + pawnbroker. + + When she has walk’d before. Cf. the French:— + + +On dit que dans ses amours + + Il fut caresse des belles, + +Qui le suivirent toujours, + + _Tant qu’il marcha devant elles._ + + Her last disorder mortal. Cf. the French:— + + +Il fut par un triste sort + + Blesse d’une main cruelle. + +On croit, puis qu’il en est mort, + + _Que la plaie étoit mortelle._ + + Kent Street, Southwark, ‘chiefly inhabited,’ said + Strype, ‘by Broom Men and Mumpers’; and Evelyn tells us (_Diary_ + 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 + _London_).* Goldsmith himself refers to it in _The Bee_ + for October 20, 1759, being the number immediately preceding that in which + _Madam Blaize_ first appeared:—‘You then, O ye beggars of + my acquaintance, whether in rags or lace; whether in _Kent-street_ + 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. + + +* In contemporary maps Kent (now Tabard) Street is shown extending + between the present New Kent Road and Blackman Street. + + + + +DESCRIPTION OF AN AUTHOR’S BEDCHAMBER. + + + In a letter written to the Rev. Henry Goldsmith in 1759 (_Percy + Memoir_, 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:— + + + The window, patch’d with paper, lent a ray, + + That feebly shew’d the state in which he lay. + + The sanded floor, that grits beneath the tread: + + The humid wall with paltry pictures spread; + + The game of goose was there expos’d to view + + And the twelve rules the royal martyr drew: + + The seasons, fram’d with listing, found a place, + + And Prussia’s monarch shew’d his lamp-black face + + The morn was cold; he views with keen desire, + + A rusty grate unconscious of a fire. + + An unpaid reck’ning on the frieze was scor’d, + + And five crack’d tea-cups dress’d the chimney board. + + + And now imagine after his soliloquy, the landlord to make his appearance, + in order to dun him for the reckoning:— + + + Not with that face, so servile and so gay, + + That welcomes every stranger that can pay, + + With sulky eye he smoak’d the patient man, + + Then pull’d his breeches tight, and thus began, etc. + + + 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.’ + + In Letter xxix of _The Citizen of the World_, 1762, i. 119–22, + which first appeared in _The Public Ledger_ 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. + + + Where the Red Lion, etc.’ + + +* i.e. accord, conform. + + 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 _The + Deserted Village_, 1770. (See ll. 227–36.) + + Where Calvert’s butt, and Parsons’ black champagne. + 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 + _ Beer Street_, 1751. + + The humid wall with paltry pictures spread. 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.’ (_Memoir_, + ‘Memorial Edition,’ 1887, p. 263.) + + The royal game of goose was there in view. (See + note, p. 188.) + + And the twelve rules the royal martyr drew. (See + note, p. 187.) + + The Seasons, fram’d with listing. See note to l. 10 + above, as to ‘The Seasons.’ Listing, ribbon, braid, or tape is still used + as a primitive _encadrement_. 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, _Life_, 1837, i. 271.) + + And brave Prince William. 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). + + With beer and milk arrears. 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 _Distrest Poet_, 1736, it will be + remembered, has already realized this expectation. + + A cap by night—a stocking all the day. ‘With + this last line,’ says _The Citizen of the World_, 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: + + + _A cap by night—a stocking all the day!_ + + + There is sound and sense, and truth, and nature in the trifling compass of + ten little syllables.”’ (Letter xxix.) Cf. also _The Deserted Village_, + l. 230:— + + + A bed by night, a chest of drawers by day. + + If Goldsmith’s lines did not belong to 1759, one might suppose he had in + mind the later _Pauvre Diable_ of his favourite Voltaire. (See + also APPENDIX B.) + + + + +ON SEEING MRS. ** PERFORM IN THE CHARACTER OF ****. + + + These verses, intended for a specimen of the newspaper Muse, are from + Letter lxxxii of _The Citizen of the World_, 1762, ii. 87, + first printed in _The Public Ledger_, October 21, 1760. + + + + +ON THE DEATH OF THE RIGHT HON. *** + + + From Letter ciii of _The Citizen of the World_, 1762, ii. 164, + first printed in _The Public Ledger_, 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 _An + Elegy on Mrs. Mary Blaize_, ante, p. 198. + + + + +AN EPIGRAM. + + + From Letter cx of _The Citizen of the World_, 1762, ii. 193, + first printed in _The Public Ledger_, 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 + _The Traveller_) was notorious; but this is one of his doubtful + pieces. + + virtue. ‘Charity’ (_Author’s note_). + + bounty. ‘Settled at One Shilling—the Price of + the Poem’ (_Author’s note_). + + + + +TO G. C. AND R. L. + + + From the same letter as the preceding. George Colman and Robert Lloyd of + the _St. James’s Magazine_ were supposed to have helped + Churchill in _The Rosciad_, the ‘it’ of the epigram. + + + + +TRANSLATION OF A SOUTH AMERICAN ODE. + + + From Letter cxiii of _The Citizen of the World_, 1762, ii. 209, + first printed in _The Public Ledger_, May 13, 1761. + + + + +THE DOUBLE TRANSFORMATION. + + + _The Double Transformation_ first appeared in _Essays: By + Mr. Goldsmith_, 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 (_Letters from a Nobleman to his + Son_, 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 _The Ladle_ and _Hans Carvel_ in his _Beauties + of English Poesy_, 1767, he refrained wisely from copying the + licence of his model. + + Jack Book-worm led a college life. The version of + 1765 reads ‘liv’d’ for ‘led’. + + And freshmen wonder’d as he spoke. The earlier + version adds here— + + + Without politeness aim’d at breeding, + + And laugh’d at pedantry and reading. + + Her presence banish’d all his peace. Here in the + first version the paragraph closes, and a fresh one is commenced as + follows:— + + + Our alter’d Parson now began + + To be a perfect ladies’ man; + + Made sonnets, lisp’d his sermons o’er, + + And told the tales he told before, + + Of bailiffs pump’d, and proctors bit, + + At college how he shew’d his wit; + + And, as the fair one still approv’d, + + He fell in love—or thought he lov’d. + + So with decorum, etc. + + 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 _Introduction_, + p. xi, l. 3.) + + usage. This word, perhaps by a printer’s error, is + ‘visage’ in the first version. + + Skill’d in no other arts was she. Cf. Prior:— + + + For in all Visits who but She, + + To Argue, or to Repartee. + + Five greasy nightcaps wrapp’d her head. Cf. _Spectator_, + 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 (_Essays_, 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.’ + + By day, ’twas gadding or coquetting. The first + version after ‘coquetting’ begins a fresh paragraph with— + + + Now tawdry madam kept, etc. + + A sigh in suffocating smoke. Here in the first + version follows:— + + + She, in her turn, became perplexing, + + And found substantial bliss in vexing. + + Thus every hour was pass’d, etc. + + Thus as her faults each day were known. First + version: ‘Each day, the more her faults,’ etc. + + Now, to perplex. The first version has ‘Thus.’ But + the alteration in line 61 made a change necessary. + + paste. First version ‘pastes.’ + + condemn’d to hack, i.e. to hackney, to plod. + + + + +A NEW SIMILE. + + + The _New Simile_ first appears in _Essays: By Mr. + Goldsmith_, 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 _The Double Transformation_. (See p. + 204.) + + Long had I sought in vain to find. The text of 1765 + reads— + + + ‘I long had rack’d my brains to find.’ + + Tooke’s Pantheon. 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 _ + Pantheon_, a revised translation from the Latin of the Jesuit, + Francis Pomey, was a popular school-book of mythology, with copper-plates. + + Wings upon either side—mark that. The petasus + of Mercury, like his sandals (l. 24), is winged. + + +No poppy-water half so good. 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 +_poppy-water_, that he may fold his ogling tail.’ (Congreve’s +_Love for Love_, 1695, iv. 3.) + + + With this he drives men’s souls to hell. + + + Tu.... + + ....virgaque levem coerces + + Aurea turbam.—Hor. _Od_. i. 10. + + Moreover, Merc’ry had a failing. + + + Te canam.... + + Callidum, quidquid placuit, iocoso + + Condere furto.—Hor. _Od_. i. 10. + + + Goldsmith, it will be observed, rhymes ‘failing’ and ‘stealing.’ But Pope + does much the same:— + + + That Jelly’s rich, this Malmsey healing, + + Pray dip your Whiskers and your tail in. + + (_Imitation of Horace_, Bk. ii, Sat. vi.) + + + 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. + + In which all modern bards agree. The text of 1765 + reads ‘our scribling bards.’ + + + + +EDWIN AND ANGELINA. + + + This ballad, usually known as _The Hermit_, 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 _The Haunch of + Venison_.) Its title was ‘_Edwin and Angelina. A Ballad_. + By Mr. Goldsmith.’ It was first published in _The Vicar of Wakefield_, + 1766, where it appears at pp. 70–7, vol. i. In July, 1767, Goldsmith was + accused [by Dr. Kenrick] in the _St. James’s Chronicle_ of + having taken it from Percy’s _ Friar of Orders Gray_. 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. OLIVER GOLDSMITH.’ (_St. + James’s Chronicle_, July 23–5, 1767.) No contradiction of this + statement appears to have been offered by Percy; but in re-editing his + _Reliques of Ancient English Poetry_ in 1775, shortly after + Goldsmith’s death, he affixed this note to _The Friar of Orders Gray_:—‘As + the foregoing song has been thought to have suggested to our late + excellent poet, Dr. Goldsmith, the plan of his beautiful ballad of _Edwin + and Emma_ [_Angelina_], first printed [published?] in his + _ Vicar of Wakefield_, 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, _Gentle Herdsman, etc._, 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 _Memoir_ + of Goldsmith drawn up under Percy’s superintendence for the _Miscellaneous + Works_ of 1801, and a few stanzas of _Gentle Herdsman_, + 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 _The Vicar of Wakefield_, 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 _Poems + for Young Ladies_, 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 _Memoirs_, 1828, iv. + 286.) + + +* 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. + + Turn, etc. The first version has— + + +Deign saint-like tenant of the dale, + + To guide my nightly way, + +To yonder fire, that cheers the vale + + With hospitable ray. + + For yonder faithless phantom flies. _The Vicar + of Wakefield_, first edition, has— + + + ‘For yonder phantom only flies.’ + + All. _ Vicar of Wakefield_, first + edition, ‘For.’ + + Man wants but little here below. Cf. Young’s _Complaint_, + 1743, _Night_ iv. 9, of which this and the next line are a + recollection. According to Prior (_Life_, 1837, ii. 83), they + were printed as a quotation in the version of 1765. Young’s line is— + + + Man wants but Little; nor that Little, long. + + modest. _Vicar of Wakefield_, first + edition, ‘grateful.’ + + Far in a wilderness obscure. First version, and + _Vicar of Wakefield_, first edition:— + + + Far shelter’d in a glade obscure + + The modest mansion lay. + + The wicket, opening with a latch. First version, + and _Vicar of Wakefield_, first edition:— + + + The door just opening with a latch. + + And now, when busy crowds retire. First version, + and _Vicar of Wakefield_, first edition:— + + + And now, when worldly crowds retire + + To revels or to rest. + + But nothing, etc. In the first version this stanza + runs as follows:— + + +But nothing mirthful could assuage + + The pensive stranger’s woe; + +For grief had seized his early age, + + And tears would often flow. + + modern. _Vicar of Wakefield_, first + edition, reads ‘haughty.’ + + His love-lorn guest betray’d. First version, and + _Vicar of Wakefield_, first edition:— + + + The bashful guest betray’d. + + Surpris’d, he sees, etc. First version, and _Vicar + of Wakefield_, first edition:— + + +He sees unnumber’d beauties rise, + + Expanding to the view; + +Like clouds that deck the morning skies, + + As bright, as transient too. + + The bashful look, the rising breast. First version, + and _Vicar of Wakefield_, first edition:— + + + Her looks, her lips, her panting breast. + + But let a maid, etc. For this, and the next two + stanzas, the first version substitutes:— + + +Forgive, and let thy pious care + + A heart’s distress allay; + +That seeks repose, but finds despair + + Companion of the way. + +My father liv’d, of high degree, + + Remote beside the Tyne; + +And as he had but only me, + + Whate’er he had was mine. + +To win me from his tender arms, + + Unnumber’d suitors came; + +Their chief pretence my flatter’d charms, + + My wealth perhaps their aim. + + a mercenary crowd. _Vicar of Wakefield_, + first edition, has:—‘the gay phantastic crowd.’ + + Amongst the rest young Edwin bow’d. First version:— + + +Among the rest young Edwin bow’d, + + Who offer’d only love. + + Wisdom and worth, etc. First version, and _Vicar + of Wakefield_, first edition:— + + +A constant heart was all he had, + + But that was all to me. + + And when beside me, etc. For this ‘additional + stanza,’ says the _Percy Memoir_, 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 _Miscellaneous Works_, 1801, ii. 25. In Prior’s edition of + the _Miscellaneous Works_, 1837, iv. 41, it is said to have + been ‘written some years after the rest of the poem.’ + + The blossom opening to the day, etc. For this and + the next two stanzas the first version substitutes:— + + +Whene’er he spoke amidst the train, + + How would my heart attend! + +And till delighted even to pain, + + How sigh for such a friend! + +And when a little rest I sought + + In Sleep’s refreshing arms, + +How have I mended what he taught, + + And lent him fancied charms! + +Yet still (and woe betide the hour!) + + I spurn’d him from my side, + +And still with ill-dissembled power + + Repaid his love with pride. + + For still I tried each fickle art, etc. Percy finds + the prototype of this in the following stanza of _Gentle Herdsman_:— + + +And grew soe coy and nice to please, + + As women’s lookes are often soe, + +He might not kisse, nor hand forsoothe, + + Unlesse I willed him soe to doe. + + Till quite dejected with my scorn, etc. The first + edition reads this stanza and the first two lines of the next thus:— + + +Till quite dejected by my scorn, + + He left me to deplore; + +And sought a solitude forlorn, + + And ne’er was heard of more. + +Then since he perish’d by my fault, + + This pilgrimage I pay, etc. + + And sought a solitude forlorn. Cf. _Gentle + Herdsman_:— + + +He gott him to a secrett place, + + And there he dyed without releeffe. + + And there forlorn, despairing, hid, etc. The first + edition for this and the next two stanzas substitutes the following:— + + +And there in shelt’ring thickets hid, + + I’ll linger till I die; + +’Twas thus for me my lover did, + + And so for him will I. + +‘Thou shalt not thus,’ the Hermit cried, + + And clasp’d her to his breast; + +The astonish’d fair one turned to chide,— + + ’Twas Edwin’s self that prest. + +For now no longer could he hide, + + What first to hide he strove; + +His looks resume their youthful pride, + + And flush with honest love. + + ’Twas so for me, etc. Cf. _Gentle Herdsman_:— + + +Thus every day I fast and pray, + + And ever will doe till I dye; + +And gett me to some secret place, + + For soe did hee, and soe will I. + + Forbid it, Heaven. _Vicar of Wakefield_, + first edition, like the version of 1765, has ‘Thou shalt not thus.’ + + My life. _Vicar of Wakefield_, first + edition, has ‘O thou.’ + + No, never from this hour, etc. The first edition + reads:— + + +No, never, from this hour to part, + + Our love shall still be new; + +And the last sigh that rends thy heart, + + Shall break thy Edwin’s too. + + The poem then concluded thus:— + + +Here amidst sylvan bowers we’ll rove, + + From lawn to woodland stray; + +Blest as the songsters of the grove, + + And innocent as they. + +To all that want, and all that wail, + + Our pity shall be given, + +And when this life of love shall fail, + + We’ll love again in heaven. + + These couplets, with certain alterations in the first and last lines, are + to be found in the version printed in _Poems for Young Ladies_, + 1767, p. 98. + + + + +AN ELEGY ON THE DEATH OF A MAD DOG. + + + This poem was first published in _The Vicar of Wakefield_, + 1766, i. 175–6, where it is sung by one of the little boys. In common + with the _Elegy on Mrs. Mary Blaize_ (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 (_v. Chinese Letter_ in _The Public Ledger_ + for August 29, 1760, afterwards Letter lxvi of _ The Citizen of the + World_, 1762, ii. 15). But it is ill jesting with hydrophobia. Like + _Madam Blaize_, these verses have been illustrated by Randolph + Caldecott. + + In Islington there was a man. 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 _Vicar_ + in its unprinted state. (See _Introduction_, + pp. xviii-xix.) + + The dog, to gain some private ends. The first + edition reads ‘his private ends.’ + + The dog it was that died. This catastrophe suggests + the couplet from the _Greek Anthology_, ed. Jacobs, 1813–7, ii. + 387:— + + + Kappadoken pot exidna kake daken alla kai aute + + katthane, geusamene aimatos iobolou. + + Goldsmith, however, probably went no farther back than Voltaire on Fréron:— + + + L’autre jour, au fond d’un vallon, + + Un serpent mordit Jean Fréron. + + Devinez ce qu’il arriva? + + Ce fut le serpent qui creva. + + + This again, according to M. Edouard Fournier (_L’Esprit des Autres_, + sixth edition, 1881, p. 288), is simply the readjustment of an earlier + quatrain, based upon a Latin distich in the _Epigrammatum delectus_, + 1659:— + + + Un gros serpent mordit Aurelle. + + Que croyez-vous qu’il arriva? + + Qu’Aurelle en mourut?—Bagatelle! + + Ce fut le serpent qui creva. + + + + +SONG + +FROM ‘THE VICAR OF WAKEFIELD.’ + + + First published in _The Vicar of Wakefield_, 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. + + 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 _St. James’s Gazette_ 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’:— + + +Lorsqu’une femme, après trop de tendresse, + + D’un homme sent la trahison, + +Comment, pour cette si douce foiblesse + + Peut-elle trouver une guérison? + +Le seul remède qu’elle peut ressentir, + + La seul revanche pour son tort, + +Pour faire trop tard l’amant repentir, + + Helas! trop tard—est la mort. + + 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 _ Burial of + Sir John Moore_ (_Les Funérailles de Beaumanoir_) + which has recently (August 1906) been going the round of the papers once + again. No Ségur volume of 1719 was, of course, forthcoming. + + Kenrick, as we have already seen, had in 1767 accused Goldsmith of taking + _Edwin and Angelina_ from Percy (p. 206). Thirty years later, + the charge of plagiarism was revived in a different way when _Raimond + and Angéline_, a French translation of the same poem, + appeared, as Goldsmith’s original, in a collection of Essays called _The + Quiz_, 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 _Lettres de deux Amans, Habitans de Lyon_ + (Prior’s _Life_, 1837, ii. 89–94). It may be added that, + according to the _ Biographie Universelle_, 1847, vol. 18 (Art. + ‘Goldsmith’), there were then no fewer than at least three French + imitations of _The Hermit_ besides Léonard’s. + + + + +EPILOGUE TO ‘THE GOOD NATUR’D MAN.’ + + + Goldsmith’s comedy of _The Good Natur’d Man_ 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 _The Public Advertiser_ for February 3. Two days later + the play was published, with the version here followed. + + As puffing quacks. Goldsmith had devoted a Chinese + letter to this subject. See _Citizen of the World_, 1762, ii. + 10 (Letter lxv). + + No, no: I’ve other contests, etc. 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 _ Dispensary_, + entitled _The Battle of the Wigs_, long extracts from which are + printed in _The Gentleman’s Magazine_ for March, 1768, p. 132. + The same number also reviews _The Siege of the Castle of Æsculapius, + an heroic Comedy, as it is acted in Warwick-Lane_. Goldsmith’s + couplet is, however, best illustrated by the title of one of Sayer’s + caricatures, _The March of the Medical Militants to the Siege of + Warwick-Lane-Castle in the Year_ 1767. The quarrel was finally + settled in favour of the college in June, 1771. + + Go, ask your manager. Colman, the manager of Covent + Garden, was not a prolific, although he was a happy writer of prologues + and epilogues. + + The quotation is from _King Lear_, Act + iii, Sc. 4. + + In the first version the last line runs:— + + + And view with favour, the ‘Good-natur’d Man.’ + + + + +EPILOGUE TO ‘THE SISTER.’ + + + _The Sister_, produced at Covent Garden February 18, 1769, was + a comedy by Mrs. Charlotte Lenox or Lennox, ‘an ingenious lady,’ says + _The Gentleman’s Magazine_ 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 + + same authority it was based upon one of the writer’s own novels, _Henrietta_, + published in 1758. Though tainted with the prevailing sentimentalism, + _The Sister_ 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 _Journal of a Voyage to + Lisbon_, 1755, p. 35 (first version), ‘the inimitable author of the + Female Quixote’; and Goldsmith, though he had no kindness for genteel + comedy (see _ post_, 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 _Life of Johnson_. (See + also Hawkins’ _Life_, 2nd ed. 1787, pp. 285–7.) + + + + +PROLOGUE TO ‘ZOBEIDE.’ + + + _Zobeide_, 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 _Les Scythes_, 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 _Memoirs_, 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 _She Stoops to Conquer_, who delivered it in the + character of a sailor. Cradock seems + subsequently to have sent a copy of _ Zobeide_ to Voltaire, who + replied in English as follows:— + + + 9e. 8bre. 1773. à ferney. + + + Sr. + + 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. + + + I am with the most sincere esteem and gratitude + + Sr. + + Yr. obdt. Servt. Voltaire. + + A Monsieur Monsieur J. Cradock. + + The text of the prologue is here given as printed in Cradock’s _Memoirs_, + 1828, iii. 8–9. It is unnecessary to specify the variations between this + and the earlier issue of 1771. + + In these bold times, etc. The reference is to Cook, + who, on June 12, 1771, had returned to England in the _Endeavour_, + after three years’ absence, having gone to Otaheite to observe the transit + of Venus (l. 4). + + Botanists. Mr. (afterward Sir Joseph) Banks and Dr. + Solander, of the British Museum, accompanied Cook. + + go simpling, i.e. gathering simples, or herbs. Cf. + _Merry Wives of Windsor_, Act iii, Sc. 3:— + + +‘—These lisping hawthorn buds that ... smell like Bucklersbury +in _simple_-time.’ + + In the caricatures of the day Solander figured as ‘The _simpling_ + Macaroni.’ (See note, p. 247, l. 31.) + + With Scythian stores. The scene of the play was + laid in Scythia (_v. supra_). + + to make palaver, 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 _ Life_, + 1871, ii. 397.) + + mercenary. Cradock gave the profits of _Zobeide_ + 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.’ (_Memoirs_, 1828, iv. + 211.) + + + + +THRENODIA AUGUSTALIS. + + + 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.:— + + ‘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. + + + SPEAKERS. + _Mr. Lee and Mrs. Bellamy._ + + SINGERS. + + _Mr. Champnes, Mr. Dine, and Miss Jameson; + with twelve chorus singers. The music prepared and adapted by Signor + Vento._ + +It is—as Cunningham calls it—a ‘hurried and unworthy +off-spring of the muse of Goldsmith.’ + + + (Part I). + Celestial-like her bounty fell. 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’ (_Augusta: Princess of Wales_, + by W. H. Wilkins, _ Nineteenth Century_, October, 1903, p. + 675). + + There faith shall come. This, and the three lines + that follow, are borrowed from Collins’s _Ode written in the + beginning of the year_ 1746. + + (Part II). + The towers of Kew. ‘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). + + Along the billow’d main. Cf. _The Captivity_, + Act ii, l. 18. + + Oswego’s dreary shores. Cf. _The Traveller_, + l. 411. + + And with the avenging fight. Varied from Collins’s + _Ode on the Death of Colonel Charles Ross at Fontenoy_. + + Its earliest bloom. Cf. Collins’s _Dirge in + Cymbeline_. + + + + +SONG + +FROM ‘SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER.’ + + + 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 _The + School for Scandal_, 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 _She Stoops + to Conquer_, 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 _The Good Natur’d Man_ of five years before, had insisted + upon the omission of the Bailiff scene:— + + ‘OMNES. + + Bravo, bravo! + + _First_ FELLOW. + + The ’Squire has got spunk in him. + + _Second_ FELLOW. + + I loves to hear him sing, bekeays he never gives us nothing that’s _low_ + . . . + + _Fourth_ FELLOW. + + The genteel thing is the genteel thing at any time. If so be that a + gentleman bees in a concatenation accordingly. + + _Third_ FELLOW. + + 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. _Water Parted_,* or the minuet in + _Ariadne_.’ + + +* i.e. Arne’s _Water Parted from the Sea_,—the song + of Arbaces in the opera of _ Artaxerxes_ 1762. The minuet in + _Ariadne_ was by Handel. It came at the end of the overture, + and is said to have been the best thing in the opera. + + When Methodist preachers, etc. 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 _Minor_ + (1760) and Bickerstaffe’s _ Hypocrite_ (1768); in art the _Credulity, + Superstition, and Fanaticism_ of Hogarth (1762); and in literature + the _New Bath Guide_ of Anstey (1766), the _Spiritual + Quixote_ of Graves, 1772, and the sarcasms of Sterne, Smollett and + Walpole. + + It is notable that the most generous contemporary portrait of these much + satirised sectaries came from one of the originals of the _Retaliation_ + gallery. Scott highly praises the character of Ezekiel Daw in Cumberland’s + _ Henry_, 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 _Miscellaneous + Prose Works_, 1834, iii. 222.) + + But of all the birds in the air. 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 _gay_ birds’ to + lengthen the line. There is no sanction for this in the earlier editions. + + + + +EPILOGUE TO ‘SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER.’ + + + 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.’ + + That pretty Bar-maids have done execution. Cf. + _The Vicar of Wakefield_, 1766, i. 7:—‘Sophia’s features + were not so striking at first; but often did more certain execution.’ + + coquets the guests. Johnson explains this word ‘to + entertain with compliments and amorous tattle,’ and quotes the following + illustration from Swift, ‘You are _coquetting_ a maid of honour, my + lord looking on to see how the gamesters play, and I railing at you both.’ + + Nancy Dawson. 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 _Beggar’s Opera_. + 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:— + + +Of all the girls in our town, + +The black, the fair, the red, the brown, + +Who dance and prance it up and down, + + There’s none like Nancy Dawson: + +Her easy mien, her shape so neat, + +She foots, she trips, she looks so sweet, + +Her ev’ry motion is complete; + + I die for Nancy Dawson. + + Its tune—says J. T. Smith (_Book for a Rainy Day_, + Whitten’s ed., 1905, p. 10) was ‘as lively as that of “Sir Roger de + Coverley.”’ + + Che farò, i.e. _Che farò senza + Euridice_, the lovely lament from Glück’s _Orfeo_, + 1764. + + the Heinel of Cheapside. 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 _danseuse_ 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 _regallo_ (present) of six + hundred pounds to the salary allowed her at the Haymarket. On April 1, + 1773, Metastasio’s _Artaserse_ 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.’ + + spadille, i.e. the ace of spades, the first trump + in the game of Ombre. Cf. Swift’s _Journal of a Modern Lady in a + Letter to a Person of Quality_, 1728:— + + + She draws up card by card, to find + + Good fortune peeping from behind; + + With panting heart, and earnest eyes, + + In hope to see _spadillo_ rise; + + In vain, alas! her hope is fed; + + She draws an ace, and sees it red. + + Bayes. The chief character in Buckingham’s _Rehearsal_, + 1672, and intended for John Dryden. Here the name is put for the ‘poet’ or + ‘dramatist.’ Cf. Murphy’s Epilogue to Cradock’s _ Zobeide_, + 1771:— + + + Not e’en poor ‘Bayes’ within must hope to be + + Free from the lash:—His Play he writ for me + + ’Tis true—and now my gratitude you’ll see; + + + and Colman’s Epilogue to _The School for Scandal_, 1777:— + + + So wills our virtuous bard—the motley _Bayes_ + + Of crying epilogues and laughing plays! + + + + +RETALIATION. + + + _Retaliation: A Poem. By Doctor Goldsmith. Including Epitaphs on the + Most Distinguished Wits of this Metropolis_, 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 _belonged to a + Club of_ Beaux Esprits, _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._ 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 _Works_, 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:— + + + Here lies NOLLY Goldsmith, for shortness call’d Noll, + + Who wrote like an angel, but talk’d like poor Poll. + + + 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 _ Retaliation_, 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 _ Retaliation_ 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 ‘_some of the most_ 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. + + 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 _ex post facto_ + 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 (_v._ Davies’s _Garrick_, 2nd ed., + 1780, ii. 157). Cumberland (_v. Gent. Mag._, Aug. 1778, p. 384) + parodied the poorest part of _ Retaliation_, 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:— + + +On him let all thy vengeance fall; + + On me you but misplace it: + +Remember how he called thee _Poll_— + + But, ah! he dares not face it. + + + For these, and other forgotten pieces arising out of _Retaliation_, + Garrick had apparently prepared the above-mentioned introduction. It may + be added that the statement, prefixed to the first edition, that + _Retaliation_, 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. + + Of old, when Scarron, etc. Paul Scarron (1610–60), + the author _inter alia_ of the _Roman Comique_, 1651–7, + upon a translation + of which Goldsmith was occupied during the last months of his life. It was + published by Griffin in 1776. + + Each guest brought his dish. ‘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. _Chacun apportait son plat_.’ (_Œuvres + de Scarron_, 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, _ Corneille et son Temps_, + 1862, 429–30.) + + If our landlord. 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 (_Memoirs_, + 1826, i. 228–30) speaks of dining _at the bottom of St. James’s Street_ + with Goldsmith, Percy, the two Burkes (_v. infra_), 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 “_Retaliation._”’ + + Our Dean. 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— + + +If I have thoughts, and can’t express them, + +Gibbon shall teach me how to dress them, + + In terms select and terse; + +Jones teach me modesty and Greek, + +Smith how to think, Burke how to speak, + + And Beauclerk to converse. + +Let Johnson teach me how to place + +In fairest light, each borrow’d grace, + + From him I’ll learn to write; + +Copy his clear, familiar style, + +And from the roughness of his file + + Grow like himself—polite. + + (Northcote’s _Life of Reynolds_, 2nd ed., 1819, i. 221.) + According to Cumberland (_Memoirs_, 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 _did_ draw caricatures, for a number of them were exhibited at + the Grosvenor Gallery (by the Duke of Devonshire) in the winter of 1883–4. + + Our Burke. The Right Hon. Edmund Burke, 1729–97. + + Our Will. ‘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 _ Letters_. 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 _Dict. Nat. Biography_, Art. ‘William Burke.’) + + And Dick. 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 _Retaliation_ was written (Forster’s + _ Life_, 1871, ii. 404). He died in 1794, Recorder of Bristol. + + Our Cumberland’s sweetbread. Richard Cumberland, + the poet, novelist, and dramatist, 1731–1811, author of _The West + Indian_, 1771, _The Fashionable Lover_, 1772, and many + other more or less sentimental plays. In his _Memoirs_, 1807, + i. 369–71, he gives an account of the origin of _ Retaliation_, + which adds a few dubious particulars to that of Garrick. But it was + written from memory long after the events it records. + + Douglas. ‘Dr. Douglas, since Bishop of Salisbury,’ + says Cumberland. He died in 1807 (_v. infra_). + + Ridge. ‘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.) + + Hickey. The commentator of the second edition of + _Retaliation_ calls this gentleman ‘honest Tom Hickey’. His + Christian name, however, was _Joseph_ (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. + + Magnanimous Goldsmith. According to Malone + (Reynolds’s _Works_, second edition, 1801, i. xc), Goldsmith + intended to have concluded with his own character. + + Tommy Townshend, M.P. for Whitchurch, Hampshire, + afterwards first Viscount Sydney. He died in 1800. Junius says Bolton + Corney, gives a portrait of him as _still life_. His presence in + _ Retaliation_ 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 _ Retaliation_ another person’s + name stood in the couplet where Mr. Townshend is now introduced.’ + (Birkbeck Hill’s _ Boswell_, 1887, iv. 318.) + + too deep for his hearers. ‘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 _Burke_, + 1882, 209–10.) + + And thought of convincing, while they thought of + dining. 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.’ + + To eat mutton cold. 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 + _Gray’s Works_, 1884, i. 127.) But both Gray and Goldsmith may + have been thinking of a line in the once popular song of _Ally + Croaker_:— + + + Too dull for a wit, too grave for a joker. + + honest William, i.e. William Burke (_v. supra_). + + Now breaking a jest, and now breaking a limb. A + note to the second edition says—‘The above Gentleman [Richard Burke, + _v. supra_] 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 _retributive_ justice for breaking his jests + on other people.’ + + Here Cumberland lies. According to Boaden’s _Life + of Kemble_, 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 _persiflage_. + Nevertheless, Cumberland himself (_Memoirs_, 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 _ Retaliation_.’ 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— + + + All mourn the poet, I lament the man— + + 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 _The + West Indian_ and _She Stoops to Conquer_. + + And Comedy wonders at being so fine. 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 _ Sentimental_ Comedy, in which the + virtues of Private Life are exhibited, rather than the Vices exposed; and + the Distresses rather than the Faults of Mankind, make our interest in the + piece. . . . In these Plays almost all the Characters are good, and + exceedingly generous; they are lavish enough of their _Tin_ Money on + the Stage, and though they want 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.’ (_Westminster Magazine_, 1772, i. 5.) Cf. also + the _Preface to The Good Natur’d Man_, 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 _Moliere_ from the stage, but it has banished all + spectators too.’ + + The scourge of impostors, the terror of quacks. Dr. + John Douglas (_v. supra_) 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 _History of the Popes_; + and William Lauder 1710–1771, who attempted to prove Milton a plagiarist. + Cf. Churchill’s _Ghost_, Bk. ii:— + + + By TRUTH inspir’d when _Lauder’s_ spight + + O’er MILTON cast the Veil of Night, + + DOUGLAS arose, and thro’ the maze + + Of intricate and winding ways, + + Came where the subtle Traitor lay, + + And dragg’d him trembling to the day. + + + ‘Lauder on Milton’ is one of the books bound to the trunk-maker’s in + Hogarth’s _Beer Street_, 1751. He imposed on Johnson, who wrote + him a ‘Preface’ and was consequently trounced by Churchill (_ut supra_) + as ‘_our Letter’d_ POLYPHEME.’ + + Our Dodds shall be pious. The reference is to the + Rev. Dr. William Dodd, who three years after the publication of _Retaliation_ + (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 _Boswell_, 1887, iii. 139–48.) There is an + account of Dodd’s execution at the end of vol. i of Angelo’s _Reminiscences_, + 1830. + + our Kenricks. 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 _The + London Packet_. Kenrick died in 1779. + + Macpherson. ‘David [James] Macpherson, Esq.; who + lately, from the mere _force of his style_, 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 _Boswell_, + 1887, ii. 298.) + + Our Townshend. See note to line 34. + + New Lauders and Bowers. See note to l. 80. + + And Scotchman meet Scotchman, and cheat in the dark. + Mitford compares Farquhar’s _Love and a Bottle_, 1699, Act iii— + + + But gods meet gods and jostle in the dark. + + + But Farquhar was quoting from Dryden and Lee’s _Oedipus_, 1679, + Act iv (at end). + + Here lies David Garrick. ‘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 _Life of Garrick_, + 2nd ed., 1780, ii. 159. Posterity has been less hesitating in its verdict. + ‘The lines on Garrick,’ says Forster, _Life of Goldsmith_, + 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.’ + + Ye Kenricks. See note to line 86. + + ye Kellys. Hugh Kelly (1739–1777), an Irishman, + the author of _False Delicacy_, 1768; _A Word to the Wise_, + 1770; _The School for Wives_, 1774, and other _sentimental + dramas,_ 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 _The Good + Natur’d Man_ appeared at Covent Garden, and obtained a success which + it ill deserved. _False Delicacy_—said Johnson truly + (Birkbeck Hill’s _ Boswell_, 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 _comédie sérieuse_ or _ larmoyante_ + of La Chaussée, Sedaine, and Diderot had already found votaries in + England. _False Delicacy_, weak, washy, and invertebrate as it + was, completed the transformation of ‘genteel’ into ‘sentimental’ comedy, + and establishing that _genre_ for the next few years, effectually retarded + the wholesome reaction towards humour and character which Goldsmith had + tried to promote by _The Good Natur’d Man_. (See note to l. + 66.) + + Woodfalls. ‘William Woodfall’—says Bolton + Corney—‘successively editor of _The London Packet_ and + _The Morning Chronicle_, 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 _ + always_ satisfied.’ He died in 1803. He must not be confounded with + Henry Sampson Woodfall, the editor of Junius’s _ Letters_. (See + note to l. 162.) + + To act as an angel. There is a sub-ironic touch in + this phrase which should not be overlooked. Cf. l. 102. + + Here Hickey reclines. See note to l. 15. In + Cumberland’s _Poetical Epistle to Dr. Goldsmith; or Supplement to his + Retaliation_ (_Gentleman’s Magazine_, Aug. 1778, p. 384) + Hickey’s genial qualities are thus referred to:— + + + Give RIDGE and HICKY, generous souls! + + Of WHISKEY PUNCH convivial bowls. + + a special attorney. A special attorney was merely + an attorney who practised in one court only. The species is now said to be + extinct. + + burn ye. 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.’ + + Here Reynolds is laid. 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 _Works_, second edition, 1801, i. xc), + ‘these were the last lines the author wrote.’ + + bland. Malone (_ut supra_, lxxxix) notes this + word as ‘eminently happy, and characteristick of his [Reynolds’s] easy and + placid manners.’ Boswell (Dedication of _Life of Johnson_) + refers to his ‘equal and placid temper.’ Cf. also Dean Barnard’s verses + (Northcote’s _Life of Reynolds_, 2nd ed., 1819, i. 220), and + Mrs. Piozzi’s lines in her _Autobiography_, 2nd ed., 1861, ii. + 175–6. + + He shifted his trumpet. 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 _Reynolds_, 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. + + and only took snuff. Sir Joshua was a great + snuff-taker. His snuff-box, described in the Catalogue as the one + ‘immortalized in Goldsmith’s _Retaliation_,’ 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.’ (_Life_, 1837, ii. 499.) See notes to ll. + 53, 56, and 91 of _The Haunch of Venison_. + + Here Whitefoord reclines. 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 _Life of Nollekens_, 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 _Letter of Introduction_, 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 _Whitefoord + Papers_, 1898, throw no light upon the story of the epitaph. + + a grave man. Cf. _Romeo and Juliet_, Act + iii, Sc. 1:—‘Ask for me to-morrow, and you shall find me _a grave + man_.’ This Shakespearean recollection is a little like Goldsmith’s + way. (See note to _The Haunch of Venison_, l. 120.) + + and rejoic’d in a pun. ‘Mr. W. is so notorious a + punster, that Doctor Goldsmith used to say, it was impossible to keep him + company, without being _infected_ with the _itch of punning_.’ + (Note to fifth edition.) + + ‘if the table he set on a roar.’ Cf. _Hamlet_, + Act v, Sc. I. + + Woodfall, i.e. Henry Sampson Woodfall, printer of + _The Public Advertiser_. He died in 1805. (See note to l. 115.) + + Cross-Readings, Ship-News, and Mistakes of the Press. + Over the _nom de guerre_ 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 _The + Public Advertiser_. The ‘Cross Readings’ were obtained by taking two + or three columns of a newspaper horizontally and ‘onwards’ instead of + ‘vertically’ and downwards, thus:— + + + Colds caught at this season are + + The Companion to the Playhouse. + + + or + + + To be sold to the best Bidder, + + My seat in Parliament being vacated. + + + A more elaborate example is + + + On Tuesday an address was presented; + + it unhappily missed fire and the villain made off, + + when the honour of knighthood was conferred on him + + to the great joy of that noble family + + + 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 _Life of Reynolds_, 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 _Boswell_, + 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 _bien + heureux_ 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 _Tatler_, vol. v [1720]. + + The fashion of the ‘Ship-News’ was in this wise: ‘August 25 [1765]. We + hear that his Majestys Ship _Newcastle_ will soon have a new + figurehead, the old one being almost worn out.’ The ‘Mistakes of the + Press’ explain themselves. (See also Smith’s _Life of Nollekens_, + 1828, i. 336–7; Debrett’s _New Foundling Hospital for Wit_, + 1784, vol. ii, and _Gentleman’s Magazine_, 1810, p. 300.) + + That a Scot may have humour, I had almost said wit. + Goldsmith,—if he wrote these verses,—must have forgotten that + he had already credited Whitefoord with ‘wit’ in l. 153. + + Thou best humour’d man with the worst humour’d muse. + Cf. Rochester of Lord Buckhurst, afterwards Earl of Dorset:— + + + The best good man, with the worst-natur’d muse. + + 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 _ Whitefoord Papers_, 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 _ + Life_, 2nd ed., 1819. See also Forster’s _ Goldsmith_, + 1871, ii. 408–9. + + + + +SONG FOR ‘SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER.’ + + + Boswell, to whom we are indebted for the preservation of this lively song, + sent it to _The London Magazine_ for June, 1774 (vol. xliii, p. + 295), with the following:— + + ‘To the Editor of _The London Magazine_. + + SIR,—I send you a small production of the late Dr. _Goldsmith_, + 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 _ Hardcastle_, in his admirable comedy, _She stoops to + conquer_; but it was left out, as Mrs. _Bulkley_ who played the + part did not sing. He sung it himself in private companies very agreeably. + The tune is a pretty Irish air, called _The Humours of Balamagairy_, + 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. + + + I am, Sir, + + Your humble Servant, + + JAMES BOSWELL.’ + + When, seventeen years later, Boswell published his _Life of Samuel + Johnson, LL.D._, 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 _Three Jolly Pigeons_, 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 [_Review; or the_] _Wags of Windsor_, + 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 _Irish Melodies_. 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:— + + +Sing—sing—Music was given, + + To brighten the gay, and kindle the loving; + +Souls here, like planets in Heaven, + + By harmony’s laws alone are kept moving, etc. + + + + +TRANSLATION. + + + These lines, which appear at p. 312 of vol. V of the _History of the + Earth and Animated Nature_, 1774, are freely translated from some + Latin verses by Addison in No 412 of the _Spectator_, 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 _Some Portions of Essays contributed to the Spectator by Mr. + Joseph Addison_ [by the late J. Dykes Campbell], 1864. + + + + +THE HAUNCH OF VENISON. + + + 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 _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_ [_James_] _ Bretherton._ + 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 + _last_ 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 + _Collection of Poems by Several Hands_, 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 _Poems for Young Ladies_. 1767, p. 114, + with Lyttelton’s better-known _ Advice to a Lady_ (‘The + counsels of + a friend, Belinda, hear’), also in Dodsley’s miscellany; while another + piece, an _Ode to William Pultney, Esq._, contains a stanza so + good that Gibbon worked it into his character of Brutus:— + + +What tho’ the good, the brave, the wise, + +With adverse force undaunted rise, + + To break th’ eternal doom! + +Tho’ CATO liv’d, tho’ TULLY spoke, + +Tho’ BRUTUS dealt the godlike stroke, + + Yet perish’d fated ROME. + + 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 _Works_, 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 _ + Memoir_ 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 (_Memoir_, + 1801, p. 66), he had been attracted to Goldsmith by the publication of + _The Traveller_ in 1764, and he mentioned him favourably to the + Earl of Northumberland, then Lord Lieutenant of Ireland. A note in + Forster’s _Life_, 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. + + Scott and others regarded _The Haunch of Venison_ 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 _Grand Question Debated_, 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 _Good Natur’d Man_ + 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 _Snarler_ and the _Scourge_. It may + indeed even be doubted whether, if _The Haunch of Venison_ 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 _jeu d’esprit_. + + The fat was so white, etc. The first version reads—‘The + white was so white, and the red was so ruddy.’ + + Though my stomach was sharp, etc. This couplet is + not in the first version. + + One gammon of bacon. Prior compared a passage from + Goldsmith’s _Animated Nature_, 1774, iii. 9, _à propos_ + 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.’ + + a bounce, i.e. a braggart falsehood. Steele, in No. + 16 of _The Lover_, 1715, p. 110, says of a manifest piece of + brag, ‘But this is supposed to be only a _Bounce_.’ + + Mr. Byrne, spelled ‘Burn’ in the earlier editions, + was a relative of Lord Clare. + + M—r—’s. MONROE’s in the + first version. ‘Dorothy Monroe,’ says Bolton Corney, ‘whose various charms + are celebrated in verse by Lord Townshend.’ + + There’s H—d, and C—y, and H—rth, and + H—ff. In the first version— + ‘There’s + COLEY, and WILLIAMS, and HOWARD, + and HIFF.’—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. + + H—gg—ns. 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 _The London Packet_ for March 24, 1773. Other accounts, + however, state that his companion was Captain Horneck (Prior, _Life_, + 1837, ii. 411–12). This couplet is not in the first version. + + Such dainties to them, etc. The first version + reads:— + + +Such dainties to them! It _would_ look like a flirt, + +Like sending ’em Ruffles when wanting a Shirt. + + + Cunningham quotes a similar idea from T. Brown’s _Laconics, Works_, + 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’ (_Percy + Memoir_, 1801, 87–8). His source was probably, not Brown’s _Laconics_, + but those French ‘ana’ he knew so well. According to M. J. J. Jusserand (_English + Essays from a French Pen_, 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 _Sorberiana_, Toulouse, 1691. + + _a flirt_ is a jibe or jeer. ‘He would sometimes . . . cast out a + jesting _flirt_ at me.’ (Morley’s _History of Thomas Ellwood_, + 1895, p. 104.) Swift also uses the word. + + An under-bred, fine-spoken fellow, etc. The first + version reads— + + + A fine-spoken Custom-house Officer he, + + Who smil’d as he gaz’d on the Ven’son and me. + + but I hate ostentation. Cf. Beau Tibbs:—‘She + was bred, _but that’s between ourselves_, under the inspection of the + Countess of All-night.’ (_Citizen of the World_, 1762, i. + 238.) + + We’ll have Johnson, and Burke. Cf. Boileau, _Sat._ + iii. ll. 25–6, which Goldsmith had in mind:— + + + Molière avec Tartufe y doit jouer son rôle, + + Et Lambert, qui plus est, m’a donné sa parole. + + What say you—a pasty? It shall, and it must. + The first version reads— + + + I’ll take no denial—you shall, and you must. + + Mr. J. H. Lobban, _Goldsmith, Select Poems_, 1900, notes a + hitherto undetected similarity between this and the ‘It _must_, and + it _shall_ be a barrack, my life’ of Swift’s _Grand Question + Debated_. See also ll. 56 and 91. + + No stirring, I beg—my dear friend—my dear + friend. In the first edition— + + + No words, my dear GOLDSMITH! my very good Friend! + + + Mr. Lobban compares:— + + + ‘Good morrow, good captain.’ ‘I’ll wait on you down,’— + + ‘You shan’t stir a foot.’ ‘You’ll think me a clown.’ + + ‘And nobody with me at sea but myself.’ 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 _The Public Advertiser_ for August 2 in the above + year:— + + + The Miser who wakes in a Fright for his Pelf, + + And finds _no one by him except his own Self_, etc. + + When come to the place, etc. Cf. Boileau, _ut + supra_, ll. 31–4:— + + + A peine étais-je entré, que ravi de me voir, + + Mon homme, en m’embrassant, m’est venu recevoir; + + Et montrant à mes yeux une allégresse entière, + + Nous n’avons, m’a-t-il dit, ni Lambert ni Molière. + + Lambert the musician, it may be added, had the special reputation of + accepting engagements which he never kept. + + and t’other with Thrale. 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 _Boswell_, 1887, iii. 225.) Line 72 in the + first edition reads— + + + The one at the House, and the other with THRALE. + + They both of them merry and authors like you. + ‘They’ should apparently be ‘they’re.’ The first version reads— + + + Who dabble and write in the Papers—like you. + + Some think he writes Cinna—he owns to Panurge. + ‘Panurge’ and ‘Cinna’ are signatures which were frequently to be found at + the foot of letters addressed to the _Public Advertiser_ 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.’ (_Life_, 1837, ii. 278.) There is a caricature portrait + of Scott at p. 141 of _The London Museum_ for February, 1771, + entitled ‘Twitcher’s Advocate,’ ‘Jemmy Twitcher’ being the nickname of + Lord Sandwich. + + Swinging, great, huge. ‘Bishop Lowth has just + finished the Dramas, and sent me word, that although I have paid him the + most _swinging_ compliment he ever received, he likes the whole book + more than he can say.’ (_Memoirs of Hannah More_, 1834, i. + 236.) + + pasty. The first version has Ven’son.’ + + So there I sat, etc. This couplet is not in the + first version. + + And, ‘Madam,’ quoth he. Mr. Lobban again quotes + Swift’s _Grand Question Debated_:— + + + And ‘Madam,’ says he, ‘if such dinners you give + + You’ll ne’er want for parsons as long as you live.’ + + These slight resemblances, coupled with the more obvious likeness of the + ‘Raphaels, Correggios, and stuff’ of _ Retaliation_ (ll. 145–6) + to the _Noueds_ and _ Bluturks_ and _Omurs_ and stuff’ + (also pointed out by Mr. Lobban) are interesting, because they show + plainly that Goldsmith remembered the works of Swift far better than _The + New Bath Guide_, which has sometimes been supposed to have set the + tune to the _Haunch_ and _Retaliation_. + + ‘may this bit be my poison.’ The gentleman in _She + Stoops to Conquer_, 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 _The Vicar of Wakefield_, 1766, i. 59. + + ‘The tripe,’ quoth the Jew, etc. The first version + reads— + + + ‘Your Tripe!’ quoth the _Jew_, ‘if the truth I may speak, + + I could eat of this Tripe seven days in the week.’ + + Re-echoed, i.e. ‘returned’ in the first edition. + + thot. 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. + + Wak’d Priam. Cf. 2 _Henry IV_, Act I, + Sc. 1:— + + + Even such a man, so faint, so spiritless, + + So dull, so dead in look, so woe-begone, + + Drew Priam’s curtain in the dead of night. + + And would have told him half his Troy was burnt. + + sicken’d over by learning. Cf. _Hamlet_, + Act iii, Sc. 1: + + + And thus the native hue of resolution + + Is _sicklied o’er_ with the pale cast of thought. + + Notwithstanding the condemnation of Shakespeare in the _Present State + of Polite Learning_, and elsewhere, Goldsmith frequently weaves + Shakespearean recollections into his work. Cf. _She Stoops to Conquer_, + 1773, Act i, p. 13, ‘We wanted no ghost to tell us that’ (_Hamlet_, + Act i, Sc. 5); and Act i, p. 9, where he uses Falstaff’s words (1 _Henry + IV_, Act v, Sc. 1):— + + + Would it were bed-time and all were well. + + as very well known. The first version has, ‘’tis + very well known.’ + + + + +EPITAPH ON THOMAS PARNELL. + + + This epitaph, apparently never used, was published with _The Haunch + of Venison_, 1776; and is supposed to have been written about 1770. + In that year Goldsmith wrote a _Life of Thomas Parnell, D.D._, + 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 (_Life + of Parnell_, 1770, p. v), and that he received assistance from the + poet’s nephew, Sir John Parnell, the singing gentleman who figures in + Hogarth’s _Election Entertainment_. 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 _Life_, 1887, iv. 54.) + + gentle Parnell’s name. Mitford compares Pope on + Parnell [_Epistle to Harley_, l. iv]:— + + + With softest manners, gentlest Arts adorn’d. + + Pope published Parnell’s _Poems_ 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:— + + + For him, thou oft hast bid the World attend, + + Fond to forget the statesman in the friend; + + For SWIFT and him despis’d the farce of state, + + The sober follies of the wise and great; + + Dext’rous the craving, fawning crowd to quit, + + And pleas’d to ’scape from Flattery to Wit. + + his sweetly-moral lay. Cf. _The Hermit_, + the _Hymn to Contentment_, the _Night Piece on Death_—which + Goldsmith certainly recalled in his own _City Night-Piece_. Of + the last-named Goldsmith says (_Life of Parnell_, 1770, p. + xxxii), not without an obvious side-stroke at Gray’s too-popular _Elegy_, + 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 + + + rustling hear in every breeze + +The laurels of Miltiades. + + Of Parnell, Hume wrote (_Essays_, 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 + _Works_, 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 _Elegy— to an Old Beauty_:— + + + And all that’s madly wild, or oddly gay, + + We call it only _pretty Fanny’s way_. + + + + +THE CLOWN’S REPLY. + + + This, though dated ‘Edinburgh 1753,’ was first printed in _Poems and + Plays_, 1777, p. 79. + + John Trott is a name for a clown or commonplace + character. Miss Burney (_Diary_, 1904, i. 222) says of Dr. + Delap:—‘As to his person and appearance, they are much in the _John-trot_ + style.’ Foote, Chesterfield, and Walpole use the phrase; Fielding + Scotticizes it into ‘John Trott-Plaid, Esq.’; and Bolingbroke employs it + as a pseudonym. + + I shall ne’er see your graces. ‘I shall never see + a Goose again without thinking on Mr. _Neverout_,’—says the + ‘brilliant Miss Notable’ in Swift’s _Polite Conversation_, + 1738, p. 156. + + + + +EPITAPH ON EDWARD PURDON. + + + The occasion of this quatrain, first published as Goldsmith’s* in _Poems + and Plays_, 1777, p. 79, is to be found in Forster’s _Life and + Times of Oliver Goldsmith_, 1871, ii. 60. Purdon died on March 27, + 1767 (_Gentleman’s Magazine_, April, 1767, p. 192). ‘“Dr. + Goldsmith made this epitaph,” says William Ballantyne [the author of _Mackliniana_], + “in his way from his chambers in the Temple to the Wednesday evening’s + club at the Globe. _I think he will never come back_, 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 _ Henriade_ 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 _Memoirs of M. de + Voltaire_ in Gibbs’s _Works of Oliver Goldsmith_, 1885, + iv. 2.) + + +* It had previously appeared as an extempore by a correspondent in + the _Weekly Magazine_, Edin., August 12, 1773 (_Notes and + Queries_, February 14, 1880). + + Forster says further, in a note, ‘The original . . . is the epitaph on “La + Mort du Sieur Etienne”:— + + +Il est au bout de ses travaux, + + Il a passé, le Sieur Etienne; + +En ce monde il eut tant des maux + + Qu’on ne croit pas qu’il revienne. + + + With this perhaps Goldsmith was familiar, and had therefore less scruple + in laying felonious hands on the epigram in the _Miscellanies_ + (Swift, xiii. 372):— + + +Well, then, poor G—— lies underground! + + So there’s an end of honest Jack. + +So little justice here he found, + + ’Tis ten to one he’ll ne’er come back.’ + + + Mr. Forster’s ‘felonious hands’ recalls a passage in Goldsmith’s _Life + of Parnell_, 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). + + + + +EPILOGUE FOR LEE LEWES’S BENEFIT. + + + This benefit took place at Covent Garden on May 7, 1773, the pieces + performed being Rowe’s _Lady Jane Grey_, and a popular + pantomimic after-piece by Theobald, called _Harlequin Sorcerer_, + Charles Lee Lewes (1740–1803) was the original ‘Young Marlow’ of _She + Stoops to Conquer_. 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. + + in thy black aspect, i.e. the half-mask of + harlequin, in which character the Epilogue was spoken. + + rosined lightning, stage-lightning, in which + rosin is an ingredient. + + + + +EPILOGUE INTENDED FOR +‘SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER.’ + + + This epilogue was first printed at pp. 82–6, vol. ii, of the _Miscellaneous + Works of_ 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 (_Miscellaneous Memoirs_, + 1826, i. 225–6):— + + ‘MY DEAR SIR, + The Play [_She + Stoops to Conquer_] 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. + + + I am, my dear Cradock, + your obliged, and obedient servant, + + OLIVER GOLDSMITH. + + P.S.—Present my most humble respects to Mrs. Cradock.’ + + +* It is so printed with the note—‘This came too late to be Spoken.’ + + According to Prior (_Miscellaneous Works_, 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. + + Who mump their passion, i.e. grimace their + passion. + + ye macaroni train. 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.’ (_Macaroni + and Theatrical Magazine_, Oct. 1772.) Cf. Sir Benjamin Backbite’s + later epigram in _The School for Scandal_, 1777, Act ii, Sc. 2:— + + + Sure never was seen two such beautiful ponies; + + Other horses are clowns, but these _macaronies_: + + To give them this title I’m sure can’t be wrong, + + Their legs are so slim and their tails are so long. + + Their hands are only lent to the Heinel. See note + to l. 28, p. 85. + + + + +EPILOGUE INTENDED FOR + +‘SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER.’ + + + This epilogue, given by Goldsmith to Dr. Percy in MS., was first published + in the _Miscellaneous Works_ of 1801, ii. 87–8, as _An + Epilogue intended for Mrs. Bulkley_. Percy did not remember for what + play it was intended; but it is plainly (see note to l. 40) the second + epilogue for _She Stoops to Conquer_ referred to in the letter + printed in this volume. + + There is a place, so Ariosto sings. ‘The poet + alludes to the thirty-fourth canto of _The Orlando furioso_. + Ariosto, as translated by Mr. Stewart Rose, observes of the _lunar world_; + + + There thou wilt find, if thou wilt thither post, + + Whatever thou on earth beneath hast lost. + + + 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 _Rape of the Lock_, Canto v, ll. 113–14: + + + Some thought it mounted to the Lunar sphere, + + Since all things lost on earth are treasur’d there. + + + Lord Chesterfield also refers to the ‘happy extravagancy’ of Astolpho’s + journey in his _Letters_, 1774, i. 557. + + at Foote’s Alone. ‘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 _The Handsome + Housemaid; or, Piety in Pattens_, which did as much as _ She + Stoops_ 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 + _Pamela_], 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 _ comédie + larmoyante_ received an appreciable check. Goldsmith himself had + prepared the way in a paper contributed to the _Westminster Magazine_ + 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 _The Handsome Housemaid_. There was one, for + instance, on Saturday, March 6, 1773. + + The Mohawk. 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 _Spectator_, + No. 324. See also _Spectator_, No. 347; Gay’s _ Trivia_, + 1716, Book iii. p. 74; Swift’s _Journal to Stella_, March 8 and + 26, 1712; and the _Wentworth Papers_, 1883, pp. 277–8. + + Still stoops among the low to copy nature. This + line, one would think, should have helped to convince Percy that the + epilogue was intended for _She Stoops to Conquer_, and for no + other play. + + + + +THE CAPTIVITY. + + + The Oratorio of the _Captivity_ 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 _ Miscellaneous Works_ issued by the + trade in that year. Prior reprinted it in 1837 (_Works_, iv. + Pp. 79–95) from the ‘original manuscript’ in Mr. Murray’s possession; and + Cunningham again in 1854 (_Works_, 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. + + AIR. Act i. This song had been published in the + first edition + of _The Haunch of Venison_, 1776, with the second stanza varied + thus:— + + +Thou, like the world, th’ opprest oppressing, + + Thy smiles increase the wretch’s woe’ + +And he who wants each other blessing, + + In thee must ever find a foe. + + AIR. Act ii. This song also had appeared in the + first edition of _The Haunch of Venison_, 1776, in a different + form:— + + +The Wretch condemn’d with life to part, + + Still, still on Hope relies; + +And ev’ry pang that rends the heart, + + Bids Expectation rise. + +Hope, like the glim’ring taper’s light, + + Adorns and chears the way; + +And still, as darker grows the night, + + Emits a brighter ray. + + Mitford, who printed _The Captivity_ 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. _The Captivity_ is not, in any + sense, one of Goldsmith’s important efforts. + + + + +VERSES IN REPLY TO AN INVITATION TO DINNER. + + + These were first published in the _ Miscellaneous Works_ 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. + + Horneck, 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 _Diary_, + for whose _Happy Ascetick_, 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. + + Nesbitt. 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. + + Kauffmann. 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. + + the Jessamy Bride. 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 (_Works_ + 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. + + The Reynoldses two, i.e. Sir Joshua and his + sister, Miss Reynolds. + + Little Comedy’s face. ‘Little Comedy’ was + Goldsmith’s name for the younger Miss Horneck, Catherine, and already + engaged to H. W. Bunbury (_v. supra_), to whom she was married in + 1771. She died in 1799, and had also been painted by Reynolds. + + the Captain in lace. 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.) + + to-day’s Advertiser. The lines referred to are + said by Prior to have been as follows:— + + + While fair Angelica, with matchless grace, + + Paints Conway’s lovely form and Stanhope’s face; + + Our hearts to beauty willing homage pay, + + We praise, admire, and gaze our souls away. + + But when the likeness she hath done for thee, + + O Reynolds! with astonishment we see, + + Forced to submit, with all our pride we own, + + Such strength, such harmony, excell’d by none, + + And thou art rivall’d by thyself alone. + + 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). + + + + +LETTER IN PROSE AND VERSE TO MRS. BUNBURY. + + + 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 _Verses in Reply to an Invitation to Dinner_, + 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 _Miscellaneous Works_ of 1837, iv. + 148–51, and again in 1838 in Sir Henry Bunbury’s _Correspondence of + Sir Thomas Hanmer, Bart._, 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 _Hanmer Correspondence_ it is stated that + they were ‘probably written in 1773 or 1774.’ + + your spring velvet coat. 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.) + + a wig, that is modish and gay. ‘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 _Life_, 1837, ii. 378–9). + + Naso contemnere adunco. Cf. Horace, _Sat_. + i. 6. 5:— + + + naso suspendis adunco + + Ignotos, + + + and Martial, _Ep_. i. 4. 6:— + + + Et pueri nasum Rhinocerotis habent. + + Loo, i.e. Lanctre- or Lanterloo, a popular + eighteenth-century game, in which _Pam_, l. 6, the knave of clubs, is + the highest card. Cf. Pope, _Rape of the Lock_, 1714, iii. 61:— + + + Ev’n might _Pam_, that Kings and Queens o’erthrew, + + And mow’d down armies in the fights of Lu; + + + and Colman’s epilogue to _The School for Scandal_, 1777:— + + + And at backgammon mortify my soul, + + That pants for _loo_, or flutters at a vole? + + Miss Horneck. Miss Mary Horneck, the ‘Jessamy + Bride’ _vide_ note, p. 251, l. 14). + + Fielding. 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. + + by quinto Elizabeth, Death without Clergy. 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 _Satires and Epistles_, i. 147–8:— + + + Consult the Statute: _quart_. I think, it is, + + _Edwardi sext._ or _prim. et quint. Eliz._ + + With bunches of fennel, and nosegays before ’em. + 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 _Life of Henry Fielding_, 1855, + p. 296.) The close observation of Cruikshank has not neglected this detail + in the Old Bailey plate of _The Drunkard’s Children_, 1848, v. + + mobs. The mob was a loose undress or _dèshabillè_, + sometimes a hood. ‘When we poor souls had presented ourselves with a + contrition suitable to our worthlessness, some pretty young ladies in _mobs_, + popped in here and there about the church.’ (_Guardian_, No. + 65, May 26, 1713.) Cf. also Addison’s ‘Fine Lady’s Diary’ (_Spectator_, + No. 323); ‘Went in our _Mobbs_ to the Dumb Man’ (Duncan Campbell). + + yon solemn-faced. Cf. _Introduction_, + p. xxvii. According to the ‘Jessamy Bride,’ Goldsmith sometimes aggravated + his plainness by an ‘assumed frown of countenance’ (Prior, _Life_, + 1837, ii. 379). + + Sir Charles, 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 _Pendennis_, 1850, vol. ii, + chap. 5 [or xliii], where this is humorously illustrated in Captain + Costigan’s ‘Sir _Chorlus_, I saw your neem at the Levee.’ Perhaps + this accounts for ‘failing’ and ‘stealing,’—‘day on’ and ‘Pantheon,’ + in the _New Simile_. Cooke (_European Magazine_, October, 1793, + p. 259) says that Goldsmith ‘rather cultivated (than endeavoured to get + rid of) his brogue.’ + + dy’d in grain, i.e. fixed, ineradicable. To ‘dye + in grain’ means primarily to colour with the scarlet or purple dye + produced by the _kermes_ insect, called _granum_ in Latin, from + its similarity to small seeds. Being what is styled a ‘fast’ dye the + phrase is used by extension to signify permanence. + + + + + VIDA’S GAME OF CHESS. + + + Forster thus describes the MS. of this poem in his _Life of Goldsmith_:—‘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 _Goldsmith_, 1871, ii. 235–6). + + 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 _ Works_ of 1854, and subsequently in the Aldine + _ Poems_ of 1866. + + 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 + _Game of Chess_ before Goldsmith. Lowndes mentions Rowbotham, + 1562; Jeffreys, 1736; Erskine, 1736; Pullin, 1750; and _Anon_. + (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. + + + + +APPENDIXES + + A. PORTRAITS OF GOLDSMITH. + B. DESCRIPTIONS OF NEWELL’S VIEWS OF LISSOY, ETC. + C. THE EPITHET ‘SENTIMENTAL.’ + D. FRAGMENTS OF TRANSLATIONS, ETC. BY GOLDSMITH. + E. GOLDSMITH ON POETRY UNDER ANNE AND GEORGE THE FIRST. + F. CRITICISMS FROM GOLDSMITH’S ‘BEAUTIES OF ENGLISH POESY.’ + + +[Illustration: ] +OLIVER GOLDSMITH + +(M. W. Bunbury) + + APPENDIX A + + PORTRAITS OF GOLDSMITH. + + + PORTRAITS 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 _Haunch of Venison_; and it was etched in + facsimile by James Bretherton. The plate is dated May 24, 1776. In his + loyal but despotic _Life of Goldsmith_ (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 _Life_, 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 _The Deserted Village_ 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’ (_Ib_. 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.** + + +* 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 _Life_, 1837, i. 219–20.) + +** 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 _Haunch of Venison_; it is certainly the + better known; and (as we believe) cannot ever have been intended for a + caricature. + +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 (_Whitefoord +Papers_, 1898, p. xxvii). A small circular print, based upon Reynolds, and +etched by James Basire, figures on the title-page of _Retaliation_. 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 _ Life_ (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 _Poetical and +Dramatic Works_ 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’ (_Misc. +Works_, 1801, p. 88). + +* There is also a sketch by Reynolds (?) at the British Museum. + + + + +[Illustration: ] +SILHOUETTE OF GOLDSMITH + +(Ozias Humphry) + + 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. + + +** 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. + + + + + APPENDIX B + +DESCRIPTIONS OF NEWELL’S VIEWS OF LISSOY, ETC. + + + In 1811, the Rev. R. H. Newell, B.D. and Fellow of St. John’s College, + Cambridge, issued an edition of the _ Poetical Works_ 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 _The Deserted Village_.’ 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.’ + +LISHOY, OR LISSOY MILL. + + 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). + +[Illustration: ] +LISSOY MILL + +(R. H. Newell) + + +KILKENNY WEST CHURCH. + + 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). + + +HAWTHORN TREE. + + 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). + + +SOUTH VIEW FROM GOLDSMITH’S MOUNT. + + 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— + + + Up yonder hill the distant murmur rose. + + + A flat of bogland extends from the narrow lake in the centre to the mount + on the right of the foreground (p. 84). + + +THE PARSONAGE. + + 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. + + +* See note to l. 114 of _The Deserted Village_. + + 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) + + + And the long grass o’ertops the mould’ring wall. + +(pp. 84–5). + +[Illustration: ] +THE PARSONAGE + +(R. H. Newell) + + +THE SCHOOL-HOUSE. + + 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). + + 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 _Three + Pidgeons_ 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 _Citizen of the World_, 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 _The + Deserted Village_. 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. + + +* What follows is taken from the writer’s ‘Introduction’ to Mr. + Edwin Abbey’s illustrated edition of _ The Deserted Village_, + 1902, p. ix. + + + + +APPENDIX C + +THE EPITHET ‘SENTIMENTAL.’ + + + Goldsmith’s use of ‘sentimental’ in the ‘prologue’ to _She Stoops to + Conquer_ (p. 109, l. 36)—the only occasion upon which he seems + to have employed it in his _Poems_—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 _N. E. D._ Johnson, who must often have heard it, + ignores it altogether; and in Todd’s edition of his _Dictionary_ + (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 _Dictionary of National Biography_ + 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 _Tristram Shandy_ 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 _sentimental_ 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 _Works_ 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 _sentimental_, + 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—_sentimental_. + 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 _sentimental_ man; we were a _sentimental_ + party; I have been taking a _ sentimental_ 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 _ + sentimental_ 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 _Correspondence_, + 1804, iv. pp. 282–3). The reply of the author of _Clarissa_, + 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 _Polly Honeycombe_. ‘And then,’ he says, + commenting upon the fiction of the period,— + + + And then so _sentimental_ is the Stile, + + So chaste, yet so bewitching all the while! + + Plot, and elopement, passion, rape, and rapture, + + The total sum of ev’ry dear—dear—Chapter. + + With February, 1768, came Sterne’s _ Sentimental Journey_ upon + which Wesley has this comment:—‘I casually took a volume of what is + called, “A Sentimental Journey through France and Italy.” _Sentimental_! + what is that? It is not English: he might as well say, _ Continental_ + [!]. 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!’ (_Journal_, February 11, 1772). In 1773, + Goldsmith puts it in the ‘Dedication’ to _She Stoops_:—‘The + undertaking a comedy, not merely _sentimental_, was very dangerous;’ and + Garrick (forgetting Kelly and _False Delicacy_) uses it more + than once in his ‘Prologue’ to the same play, e.g.—‘Faces are blocks + in _sentimental_ 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 + + + The goddess of the woful countenance, + + The _sentimental_ Muse!— + + + in an occasional ‘Prologue’ to _The Rivals_. 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 _History + of English Poetry_; and it figures in the _Essays_ of + Vicesimus Knox. Thus academically launched, we need no longer follow its + fortunes. + + + + +APPENDIX D + +FRAGMENTS OF TRANSLATIONS, ETC., BY GOLDSMITH. + + + To the Aldine edition of 1831, the Rev. John Mitford added several + fragments of translation from Goldsmith’s _Essays_. About a + third of these were traced by Bolton Corney in 1845 to the _Horace_ + of Francis. He therefore compiled a fresh collection, here given. + + + _From a French version of Homer_. + + + The shouting army cry’d with joy extreme, + + He sure must conquer, who himself can tame! + + _The Bee_, 1759, p. 90. + + The next is also from Homer, and is proposed as an improvement of Pope:— + + + They knew and own’d the monarch of the main: + + The sea subsiding spreads a level plain: + + The curling waves before his coursers fly: + + The parting surface leaves his brazen axle dry. + + _Miscellaneous Works_, 1801, iv. 410. + + From the same source comes number three, a quatrain from Vida’s _Eclogues_:— + + + Say heavenly muse, their youthful frays rehearse; + + Begin, ye daughters of immortal verse; + + Exulting rocks have crown’d the power of song! + + And rivers listen’d as they flow’d along. + + _Miscellaneous Works_, 1801, iv. 427. + + Another is a couplet from Ovid, the fish referred to being the _scarus_ + or bream:— + + + Of all the fish that graze beneath the flood, + + He, _only_, ruminates his former food. + + _History of the Earth,_ etc., 1774, iii. 6. + + Bolton Corney also prints the translation from the _Spectator_, + already given in this volume. His last fragment is from the posthumous + translation of Scarron’s _ Roman Comique_:— + + +Thus, when soft love subdues the heart + + With smiling hopes and chilling fears, + +The soul rejects the aid of art, + + And speaks in moments more than years. + + _The Comic Romance of Monsieur Scarron_, 1775, ii. 161. + + 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 _Morning Chronicle_ 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 _The Fair Thief_ was revived in July, 1893, by an + anonymous writer in the _Daily_ + _Chronicle_, 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 _Noble Authors_ + (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 _Works_, already burdened with much which that + critical author would never have reprinted. + + + + +APPENDIX E + +GOLDSMITH ON POETRY UNDER ANNE AND GEORGE THE FIRST. + + + In Letter xvi, vol. ii. pp.139–41, of _An History of England in a + Series of Letters from a Nobleman to his Son_, 1764, Goldsmith gives + the following short account of the state of poetry in the first quarter of + the Eighteenth Century. + + ‘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, _The + Splendid Shilling_; 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 _The + Beaux’ Strategem_, being the best of his productions. Addison, both + as a poet and prose writer, deserves the highest regard and imitation. His + _Campaign_, and _Letter to Lord Halifax from Italy_, + are masterpieces in the former, and his _Essays_ published in + the _ Spectator_ 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, + _The Dispensary_, 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, _The Hermit_, yet has + found a place among the English first rate poets. Gay, likewise, by his + _Fables_ and _Pastorals_, 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.’ + + + + +APPENDIX F + +CRITICISMS FROM GOLDSMITH’S ‘BEAUTIES OF ENGLISH POESY.’ + + + To _The Beauties of English Poesy_, 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 _History of England_. + + +THE RAPE OF THE LOCK. + + 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. + + +THE HERMIT. + + + 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. + + +*Parnell’s _Poems_, 1770, xxiv. + + +IL PENSEROSO. + + 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 [_Il Penseroso_ + and _ l’Allegro_], than from his _Paradise Lost_. 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. + + +AN ELEGY, WRITTEN IN A COUNTRY CHURCH YARD. + + + 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. + + +†This is a + strange complaint to come from Goldsmith, whose own _Hermit_, + as was pointed out to the present Editor by the late Mr. Kegan Paul, is + certainly open to this impeachment. + + +LONDON. IN IMITATION OF THE THIRD SATIRE + OF JUVENAL. + + 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. + + +THE SCHOOL-MISTRESS. IN IMITATION OF SPENSER. + + 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. + + +COOPER’S HILL. + + 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. + + +ELOISA TO ABELARD. + + 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. + + +AN EPISTLE FROM MR. PHILIPS [Ambrose Philips] TO THE EARL OF DORSET. + + The opening of this poem is incomparably fine. The latter part is tedious + and trifling. + + +A LETTER FROM ITALY, TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLECHARLES LORD HALIFAX. + + In the Year MDCCI. + + 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.* + + +* See introductory note to _The Traveller_, p. 162. + + + ALEXANDER’S FEAST; OR, THE POWER OF MUSIC. + + AN ODE, IN HONOUR OF ST. CECILIA’S DAY. + + 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. + + +ODE FOR MUSIC ON ST. CECILIA’S DAY. + + 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.* + + +*_A Pindaric Essay upon Musick_—says Gibbs—by + ‘Mr. Wilson’,’ which appears at p. 401 of Tate’s Collection of 1685. + + +THE SHEPHERD’S WEEK. IN SIX PASTORALS. + + 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. + + +MAC FLECKNOE. + + 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. + + + †‘Aquila non capit muscas’ (Apostolius). + +ON POETRY. A RHAPSODY. + + 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. + + +OF THE USE OF RICHES. + + 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. + + +FROM THE DISPENSARY. + + This sixth canto of the _Dispensary_, 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.* + + +* Cf. Dedication of _The Traveller_, ll. 34–45. + + + ECLOGUE I. + + SELIM: OR, THE SHEPHERD’S + MORAL. + + 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. + + + † i.e.—Selim, Hassan, Agib and Secander, and Abra. Goldsmith + admired Collins, whom he calls in the _ Enquiry_, 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 _Threnodia + Augustalis_, q.v. + + +THE SPLENDID SHILLING. + + BY MR. + J. PHILIPS. + + 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. + + +A PIPE OF TOBACCO: + + IN IMITATION OF + SIX SEVERAL AUTHORS. + + 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. + + +A NIGHT-PIECE ON DEATH. + + 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. + + +A FAIRY TALE. + +BY DR. PARNELL. + + Never was the old manner of speaking more happily applied, or a tale + better told, than this. + + +PALEMON AND LAVINIA. + [From _The Seasons_.] + + 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. + + +THE BASTARD. + + 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. + + +THE POET AND HIS PATRON. + + 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 _Fables for the Ladies_] he chiefly founded his + reputation; yet they are, by no means, his best production. + + +AN EPISTLE TO A LADY. + + 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. + + +HANS CARVEL. + + 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. + + +BAUCIS AND PHILEMON. + + This poem [by Swift] is very fine; and though in the same strain with the + preceding [Prior’s _Ladle_] is yet superior. + + +TO THE EARL OF WARWICK, ON THE DEATH + OF MR. ADDISON. + + 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. + + + COLIN AND LUCY. + + 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. + + +THE TEARS OF SCOTLAND. + + WRITTEN IN THE YEAR + MDCCXLVI. + + 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. + + +ON THE DEATH OF THE LORD PROTECTOR. + + 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.’ + + +THE STORY OF PHOEBUS AND DAPHNE APPLIED. + + The French claim this [by Mr. Waller] as belonging to them. To whomsoever + it belongs the thought is finely turned. + + + NIGHT THOUGHTS. + + BY DR. YOUNG. + + 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. + + + SATIRE I. + + 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. + + +A PASTORAL BALLAD. + + 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. + + +PHOEBE. A PASTORAL. + + This, by Dr. Byrom, is a better effort than the preceding [a ballad by + Shenstone]. + + +A SONG. + + This [‘Despairing beside a clear stream’] by Mr. Rowe, is better than + anything of the kind in our language. + + +AN ESSAY ON POETRY. + + 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. + + +CADENUS AND VANESSA. + + 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. + + +ALMA: OR, THE PROGRESS OF THE MIND. + + 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. 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