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diff --git a/7993-h/7993-h.htm b/7993-h/7993-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..ecece67 --- /dev/null +++ b/7993-h/7993-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,12170 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?> + +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=UTF-8" /> + <title> + Oliver Goldsmith, by Washington Irving + </title> + <meta content="pg2html (binary v0.17)" /> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .75em; margin-bottom: .75em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 5%; margin-right: 5%; text-align: justify; font-size: 80%; font-style: italic;} + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + .xx-small {font-size: 60%;} + .x-small {font-size: 75%;} + .small {font-size: 85%;} + .large {font-size: 115%;} + .x-large {font-size: 130%;} + .indent5 { margin-left: 5%;} + .indent10 { margin-left: 10%;} + .indent15 { margin-left: 15%;} + .indent20 { margin-left: 20%;} + .indent25 { margin-left: 25%;} + .indent30 { margin-left: 30%;} + .indent35 { margin-left: 35%;} + .indent40 { margin-left: 40%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + .pagenum {position: absolute; right: 1%; font-size: 0.6em; + font-variant: normal; font-style: normal; + text-align: right; background-color: #FFFACD; + border: 1px solid; padding: 0.3em;text-indent: 0em;} + .side { float: left; font-size: 75%; width: 15%; padding-left: 0.8em; + border-left: dashed thin; text-align: left; + text-indent: 0; font-weight: bold; font-style: italic; + font-weight: bold; color: black; background: #eeeeee; border: solid 1px;} + .head { float: left; font-size: 90%; width: 98%; padding-left: 0.8em; + border-left: dashed thin; text-align: center; + text-indent: 0; font-weight: bold; font-style: italic; + font-weight: bold; color: black; background: #eeeeee; border: solid 1px;} + p.pfirst, p.noindent {text-indent: 0} + span.dropcap { float: left; margin: 0 0.1em 0 0; line-height: 0.8 } + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} +</style> + </head> + <body> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Oliver Goldsmith, by Washington Irving + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere 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 + + +Title: Oliver Goldsmith + +Author: Washington Irving + + +Release Date: April, 2005 [EBook #7993] +First Posted: June 10, 2003 +Last Updated: October 12, 2018 + + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK OLIVER GOLDSMITH *** + + + + +Etext produced by Charles Aldarondo, Tiffany Vergon, William +Craig, Charles Franks, and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team + +HTML file produced by David Widger + + + + + + +</pre> + <div style="height: 8em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h1> + OLIVER GOLDSMITH + </h1> + <h3> + A Biography + </h3> + <h2> + By Washington Irving + </h2> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <p> + <b>CONTENTS</b> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_PREF"> PREFACE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0001"> CHAPTER ONE -- I. Birth and Parentage—Characteristics + of the Goldsmith Race—Poetical Birthplace—Goblin House—Scenes + of Boyhood—Lissoy—Picture of a Country Parson—Goldsmith’s + Schoolmistress—Byrne, the Village Schoolmaster— Goldsmith’s + Hornpipe and Epigram—Uncle Contarine—School Studies and School + Sports—Mistakes of a Night</a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0002"> CHAPTER TWO -- II. Improvident Marriages in the + Goldsmith Family—Goldsmith at the University—Situation of a + Sizer—Tyranny of Wilder, the Tutor—Pecuniary Straits—Street + Ballads—College Riot—Gallows Walsh—College Prize—A + Dance Interrupted</a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0003"> CHAPTER THREE -- III. Goldsmith rejected by the + Bishop—Second Sally to see the World—Takes Passage for America—Ship + sails without him—Return on Fiddleback—A Hospitable Friend—The + Counselor</a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0004"> CHAPTER FOUR -- IV. Sallies forth as a Law + Student—Stumbles at the Outset—Cousin Jane and the Valentine—A + Family Oracle—Sallies forth as a Student of Medicine—Hocus-pocus + of a Boarding-house—Transformations of a Leg of Mutton—The + Mock Ghost—Sketches of Scotland—Trials of Toryism—A Poet’s + Purse for a Continental Tour</a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0005"> CHAPTER FIVE -- V. The agreeable + Fellow-passengers—Risks from Friends picked up by the Wayside—Sketches + of Holland and the Dutch—Shifts while a Poor Student at Leyden—The + Tulip Speculation—The Provident Flute—Sojourn at Paris— + Sketch of Voltaire—Traveling Shifts of a Philosophic Vagabond</a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0006"> CHAPTER SIX -- VI. Landing In England—Shifts + of a Man without Money—The Pestle and Mortar—Theatricals in a + Barn—Launch upon London—A City Night Scene—Struggles + with Penury—Miseries of a Tutor—A Doctor in the Suburb—Poor + Practice and Second-hand Finery—A Tragedy in Embryo—Project of + the Written Mountains</a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0007"> CHAPTER SEVEN -- VII. Life as a Pedagogue—Kindness + to Schoolboys—Pertness In Return—Expensive Charities—The + Griffiths and the “Monthly Review”—Toils of a Literary + Hack—Rupture with the Griffiths</a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0008"> CHAPTER EIGHT -- VIII. Newbery, of Picture-book + Memory—How to keep up Appearances—Miseries of Authorship—A + Poor Relation—Letter to Hodson</a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0009"> CHAPTER NINE -- IX. Hackney Authorship—Thoughts + of Literary Suicide—Return to Peckham— Oriental Projects—Literary + Enterprise to raise Funds—Letter to Edward Wells—To Robert + Bryanton—Death of Uncle Contarine—Letter to Cousin Jane</a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0010">CHAPTER TEN -- X. Oriental Appointment, and + Disappointment—Examination at the College of Surgeons—How to + procure a Suit of Clothes—Fresh Disappointment—A Tale of + Distress—The Suit of Clothes in Pawn—Punishment for doing an + act of Charity—Gayeties of Green-Arbor Court—Letter to his + Brother—Life of Voltaire—Scroggins, an attempt at Hock Heroic + Poetry</a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0011"> CHAPTER ELEVEN -- XI. Publication of “The + Inquiry”—Attacked by Griffith’s “Review”—Kenrick, + the Literary Ishmaelite—Periodical Literature—Goldsmith’s + Essays—Garrick as a Manager—Smollett and his Schemes—Change + of Lodgings—The Robin Hood Club</a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0012"> CHAPTER TWELVE -- XII. New Lodgings—Visits + of Ceremony—Hangers-on—Pilkington and the White Mouse—Introduction + to Dr. Johnson—Davies and his Bookshop—Pretty Mrs. Davies—Foote + and his Projects—Criticism of the Cudgel</a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0013"> CHAPTER THIRTEEN -- XIII. Oriental Projects—Literary + Jobs—The Cherokee Chiefs—Merry Islington and the White Conduit + House—Letters on the History of England—James Boswell—Dinner + of Davies—Anecdotes of Johnson and Goldsmith</a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0014"> CHAPTER FOURTEEN -- XIV. Hogarth a Visitor at + Islington—His Character—Street Studies—Sympathies + between Authors and Painters—Sir Joshua Reynolds—His Character—His + Dinners—The Literary Club—Its Members—Johnson’s + Revels with Lanky and Beau—Goldsmith at the Club</a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0015"> CHAPTER -- XV. Johnson a Monitor to Goldsmith—Finds + him in Distress with his Landlady—Relieved by the Vicar of Wakefield—The + Oratorio—Poem of The Traveler—The Poet and his Dog—Success + of the Poem—Astonishment of the Club—Observations on the + PoemFIFTEEN </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0016"> CHAPTER SIXTEEN -- XVI. New Lodgings—Johnson’s + Compliment—A Titled Patron—The Poet at Northumberland House—His + Independence of the Great—The Countess of Northumberland—Edwin + and Angelina—Gosford and Lord Clare—Publication of Essays—Evils + of a rising Reputation—Hangers-on—Job Writing—Goody + Two-shoes—A Medical Campaign—Mrs. Sidebotham</a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0017"> CHAPTER SEVENTEEN -- XVII. Publication of the + Vicar of Wakefield—Opinions concerning it—Of Dr. Johnson—Of + Rogers the Poet—Of Goethe—Its Merits—Exquisite Extract—Attack + by Kenrick—Reply—Book-building—Project of a Comedy</a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0018"> CHAPTER EIGHTEEN -- XVIII. Social Condition of + Goldsmith—His Colloquial Contests with Johnson—Anecdotes and + Illustrations</a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0019"> CHAPTER NINETEEN -- XIX. Social Resorts—The + Shilling Whist Club—A Practical Joke—The Wednesday Club—The + “Ton of Man”—The Pig Butcher—Tom King—Hugh + Kelly—Glover and his Characteristics</a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0020"> CHAPTER TWENTY -- XX. The Great Cham of + Literature and the King—Scene at Sir Joshua Reynolds’s—Goldsmith + accused of Jealousy—Negotiations with Garrick—The Author and + the Actor—Their Correspondence</a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0021"> CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE -- XXI. More Hack Authorship—Tom + Davies and the Roman History—Canonbury Castle—Political + Authorship—Pecuniary Temptation—Death of Newbery the elder</a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0022"> CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO -- XXII. Theatrical + Maneuvering—The Comedy of False Delicacy—First Performance of + The Good-Natured Man—Conduct of Johnson—Conduct of the Author—Intermeddling + of the Press</a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0023"> CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE -- XXIII. Burning the Candle + at both Ends—Fine Apartments—Fine Furniture—Fine Clothes—Fine + Acquaintances—Shoemaker’s Holiday and Jolly Pigeon Associates—Peter + Barlow, Glover, and the Hampstead Hoax—Poor Friends among Great + Acquaintances</a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0024"> CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR -- XXIV. Reduced again to + Book-building—Rural Retreat at Shoemaker’s Paradise—Death + of Henry Goldsmith—Tributes to his memory in The Deserted Village</a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0025"> CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE -- XXV. Dinner at Bickerstaff’s—Hiffernan + and his Impecuniosity—Kenrick’s Epigram—Johnson’s + Consolation—Goldsmith’s Toilet—The bloom-colored Coat—New + Acquaintances—The Hornecks—A touch of Poetry and Passion—The + Jessamy Bride</a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0026"> CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX -- XXVI. Goldsmith in the + Temple—Judge Day and Grattan—Labor and Dissipation—Publication + of the Roman History—Opinions of it—History of Animated Nature—Temple + Rooker—Anecdotes of a Spider</a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0027"> CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN -- XXVII. Honors at the + Royal Academy—Letter to his brother Maurice—Family Fortunes—Jane + Contarine and the Miniature—Portraits and Engravings—School + Associations—Johnson and Goldsmith in Westminster Abbey</a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0028"> CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT -- XXVIII. Publication of + the Deserted Village—Notices and Illustrations of it</a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0029"> CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE -- XXIX. The Poet among the + Ladies—Description of his Person and Manners— Expedition to + Paris with the Horneck Family—The Traveler of Twenty and the + Traveler of Forty—Hickey, the Special Attorney—An Unlucky + Exploit</a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0030"> CHAPTER THIRTY -- XXX. Death of Goldsmith’s + Mother—Biography of Parnell—Agreement with Davies for the + History of Rome—Life of Bolingbroke—The Haunch of Venison</a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0031"> CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE -- XXXI. Dinner at the Royal + Academy—The Rowley Controversy—Horace Walpole’s Conduct + to Chatterton—Johnson at Redcliffe Church—Goldsmith’s + History of England—Davies’s Criticism—Letter to Bennet + Langton</a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0032"> CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO -- XXXII. Marriage of Little + Comedy—Goldsmith at Barton—Practical Jokes at the Expense of + his Toilet—Amusements at Barton—Aquatic Misadventure</a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0033"> CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE -- XXXIII. Dinner at General + Oglethorpe’s—Anecdotes of the General—Dispute about + Dueling—Ghost Stories</a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0034"> CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR -- XXXIV. Mr. Joseph Cradock—An + Author’s Confidings—An Amanuensis—Life at Edgeware—Goldsmith + Conjuring—George Colman—The Fantoccini</a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0035"> CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE -- XXXV. Broken Health—Dissipation + and Debts—The Irish Widow—Practical Jokes—Scrub—A + Misquoted Pun—Malagrida—Goldsmith proved to be a Fool—Distressed + Ballad-Singers—The Poet at Ranelagh</a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0036"> CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX -- XXXVI. Invitation to + Christmas—The Spring-velvet Coat—The Haymaking Wig —The + Mischances of Loo—The fair Culprit—A dance with the Jessamy + Bride</a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0037"> CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN -- XXXVII. Theatrical delays—Negotiations + with Colman—Letter to Garrick—Croaking of the Manager—Naming + of the Play—She Stoops to Conquer—Foote’s Primitive + Puppet Show, Piety on Pattens—First Performance of the Comedy—Agitation + of the Author—Success—Colman Squibbed out of Town</a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0038"> CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT -- XXXVIII. A Newspaper + Attack—The Evans Affray—Johnson’s Comment </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0039"> CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE -- XXXIX. Boswell in + Holy-Week—Dinner at Oglethorpe’s—Dinner at Paoli’s—The + policy of Truth—Goldsmith affects Independence of Royalty—Paoli’s + Compliment—Johnson’s Eulogium on the Fiddle—Question + about Suicide—Boswell’s Subserviency</a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0040"> CHAPTER FORTY -- XL. Changes in the Literary Club—Johnson’s + objection to Garrick—Election of Boswell</a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0041"> CHAPTER FORTY-ONE -- XLI. Dinner at Dilly’s—Conversations + on Natural History—Intermeddling of Boswell—Dispute about + Toleration—Johnson’s Rebuff to Goldsmith—His Apology—Man-worship—Doctors + Major and Minor—A Farewell Visit</a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0042"> CHAPTER FORTY-TWO -- XLII. Project of a + Dictionary of Arts and Sciences—Disappointment—Negligent + Authorship—Application for a Pension—Beattie’s Essay on + Truth—Public Adulation—A high-minded Rebuke</a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0043"> CHAPTER FORTY-THREE -- XLIII. Toil without Hope—The + Poet in the Green-room—In the Flower Garden—At Vauxhall—Dissipation + without Gayety—Cradock in Town—Friendly Sympathy—A + Parting Scene—An Invitation to Pleasure</a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0044"> CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR -- XLIV. A return to Drudgery—Forced + Gayety—Retreat to the Country—The Poem of Retaliation—Portrait + of Garrick—Of Goldsmith—of Reynolds—Illness of the Poet—His + Death—Grief of his Friends—A last Word respecting the Jessamy + Bride</a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0045"> CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE -- XLV. The Funeral—The + Monument—The Epitaph—Concluding Reflections</a> + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_PREF" id="link2H_PREF"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + PREFACE + </h2> + <p> + In the course of a revised edition of my works I have come to a + biographical sketch of Goldsmith, published several years since. It was + written hastily, as introductory to a selection from his writings; and, + though the facts contained in it were collected from various sources, I + was chiefly indebted for them to the voluminous work of Mr. James Prior, + who had collected and collated the most minute particulars of the poet’s + history with unwearied research and scrupulous fidelity; but had rendered + them, as I thought, in a form too cumbrous and overlaid with details and + disquisitions, and matters uninteresting to the general reader. + </p> + <p> + When I was about of late to revise my biographical sketch, preparatory to + republication, a volume was put into my hands, recently given to the + public by Mr. John Forster, of the Inner Temple, who, likewise availing + himself of the labors of the indefatigable Prior, and of a few new lights + since evolved, has produced a biography of the poet, executed with a + spirit, a feeling, a grace and an eloquence, that leave nothing to be + desired. Indeed it would have been presumption in me to undertake the + subject after it had been thus felicitously treated, did I not stand + committed by my previous sketch. That sketch now appeared too meager and + insufficient to satisfy public demand; yet it had to take its place in the + revised series of my works unless something more satisfactory could be + substituted. Under these circumstances I have again taken up the subject, + and gone into it with more fullness than formerly, omitting none of the + facts which I considered illustrative of the life and character of the + poet, and giving them in as graphic a style as I could command. Still the + hurried manner in which I have had to do this amid the pressure of other + claims on my attention, and with the press dogging at my heels, has + prevented me from giving some parts of the subject the thorough handling I + could have wished. Those who would like to see it treated still more at + large, with the addition of critical disquisitions and the advantage of + collateral facts, would do well to refer themselves to Mr. Prior’s + circumstantial volumes, or to the elegant and discursive pages of Mr. + Forster. + </p> + <p> + For my own part, I can only regret my shortcomings in what to me is a + labor of love; for it is a tribute of gratitude to the memory of an author + whose writings were the delight of my childhood, and have been a source of + enjoyment to me throughout life; and to whom, of all others, I may address + the beautiful apostrophe of Dante to Virgil: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Tu se’ lo mio maestro, e ‘l mio autore: + Tu se’ solo colui, da cu, io tolsi + Lo bello stile, che m’ ha fato onore.” + </pre> + <h3> + W.I. + </h3> + <p> + SUNNYSIDE, <i>Aug. 1, 1849.</i> + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER ONE + </h2> + <p> + BIRTH AND PARENTAGE—CHARACTERISTICS OF THE GOLDSMITH RACE—POETICAL + BIRTHPLACE—GOBLIN HOUSE—SCENES OF BOYHOOD—LISSOY—PICTURE + OF A COUNTRY PARSON—GOLDSMITH’S SCHOOLMISTRESS—BYRNE, + THE VILLAGE SCHOOLMASTER —GOLDSMITH’S HORNPIPE AND EPIGRAM—UNCLE + CONTARINE—SCHOOL STUDIES AND SCHOOL SPORTS—MISTAKES OF A NIGHT + </p> + <p> + There are few writers for whom the reader feels such personal kindness as + for Oliver Goldsmith, for few have so eminently possessed the magic gift + of identifying themselves with their writings. We read his character in + every page, and grow into familiar intimacy with him as we read. The + artless benevolence that beams throughout his works; the whimsical, yet + amiable views of human life and human nature; the unforced humor, blending + so happily with good feeling and good sense, and singularly dashed at + times with a pleasing melancholy; even the very nature of his mellow, and + flowing, and softly-tinted style, all seem to bespeak his moral as well as + his intellectual qualities, and make us love the man at the same time that + we admire the author. While the productions of writers of loftier + pretension and more sounding names are suffered to moulder on our shelves, + those of Goldsmith are cherished and laid in our bosoms. We do not quote + them with ostentation, but they mingle with our minds, sweeten our + tempers, and harmonize our thoughts; they put us in good humor with + ourselves and with the world, and in so doing they make us happier and + better men. + </p> + <p> + An acquaintance with the private biography of Goldsmith lets us into the + secret of his gifted pages. We there discover them to be little more than + transcripts of his own heart and picturings of his fortunes. There he + shows himself the same kind, artless, good-humored, excursive, sensible, + whimsical, intelligent being that he appears in his writings. Scarcely an + adventure or character is given in his works that may not be traced to his + own party-colored story. Many of his most ludicrous scenes and ridiculous + incidents have been drawn from his own blunders and mischances, and he + seems really to have been buffeted into almost every maxim imparted by him + for the instruction of his reader. + </p> + <p> + Oliver Goldsmith was born on the 10th of November, 1728, at the hamlet of + Pallas, or Pallasmore, county of Longford, in Ireland. He sprang from a + respectable, but by no means a thrifty stock. Some families seem to + inherit kindliness and incompetency, and to hand down virtue and poverty + from generation to generation. Such was the case with the Goldsmiths. + “They were always,” according to their own accounts, “a + strange family; they rarely acted like other people; their hearts were in + the right place, but their heads seemed to be doing anything but what they + ought.”—“They were remarkable,” says another + statement, “for their worth, but of no cleverness in the ways of the + world.” Oliver Goldsmith will be found faithfully to inherit the + virtues and weaknesses of his race. + </p> + <p> + His father, the Rev. Charles Goldsmith, with hereditary improvidence, + married when very young and very poor, and starved along for several years + on a small country curacy and the assistance of his wife’s friends. + His whole income, eked out by the produce of some fields which he farmed, + and of some occasional duties performed for his wife’s uncle, the + rector of an adjoining parish, did not exceed forty pounds. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “And passing rich with forty pounds a year.” + </pre> + <p> + He inhabited an old, half rustic mansion that stood on a rising ground in + a rough, lonely part of the country, overlooking a low tract occasionally + flooded by the river Inny. In this house Goldsmith was born, and it was a + birthplace worthy of a poet; for, by all accounts, it was haunted ground. + A tradition handed down among the neighboring peasantry states that, in + after years, the house, remaining for some time untenanted, went to decay, + the roof fell in, and it became so lonely and forlorn as to be a resort + for the “good people” or fairies, who in Ireland are supposed + to delight in old, crazy, deserted mansions for their midnight revels. All + attempts to repair it were in vain; the fairies battled stoutly to + maintain possession. A huge misshapen hobgoblin used to bestride the house + every evening with an immense pair of jack-boots, which, in his efforts at + hard riding, he would thrust through the roof, kicking to pieces all the + work of the preceding day. The house was therefore left to its fate, and + went to ruin. + </p> + <p> + Such is the popular tradition about Goldsmith’s birthplace. About + two years after his birth a change came over the circumstances of his + father. By the death of his wife’s uncle he succeeded to the rectory + of Kilkenny West; and, abandoning the old goblin mansion, he removed to + Lissoy, in the county of Westmeath, where he occupied a farm of seventy + acres, situated on the skirts of that pretty little village. + </p> + <p> + This was the scene of Goldsmith’s boyhood, the little world whence + he drew many of those pictures, rural and domestic, whimsical and + touching, which abound throughout his works, and which appeal so + eloquently both to the fancy and the heart. Lissoy is confidently cited as + the original of his “Auburn” in the Deserted Village; his + father’s establishment, a mixture of farm and parsonage, furnished + hints, it is said, for the rural economy of the Vicar of Wakefield; and + his father himself, with his learned simplicity, his guileless wisdom, his + amiable piety, and utter ignorance of the world, has been exquisitely + portrayed in the worthy Dr. Primrose. Let us pause for a moment, and draw + from Goldsmith’s writings one or two of those pictures which, under + feigned names, represent his father and his family, and the happy fireside + of his childish days. + </p> + <p> + “My father,” says the “Man in Black,” who, in some + respects, is a counterpart of Goldsmith himself, “my father, the + younger son of a good family, was possessed of a small living in the + church. His education was above his fortune, and his generosity greater + than his education. Poor as he was, he had his flatterers poorer than + himself; for every dinner he gave them, they returned him an equivalent in + praise; and this was all he wanted. The same ambition that actuates a + monarch at the head of his army influenced my father at the head of his + table: he told the story of the ivy-tree, and that was laughed at; he + repeated the jest of the two scholars and one pair of breeches, and the + company laughed at that; but the story of Taffy in the sedan chair was + sure to set the table in a roar. Thus his pleasure increased in proportion + to the pleasure he gave; he loved all the world, and he fancied all the + world loved him. + </p> + <p> + “As his fortune was but small, he lived up to the very extent of it; + he had no intention of leaving his children money, for that was dross; he + resolved they should have learning, for learning, he used to observe, was + better than silver or gold. For this purpose he undertook to instruct us + himself, and took as much care to form our morals as to improve our + understanding. We were told that universal benevolence was what first + cemented society; we were taught to consider all the wants of mankind as + our own; to regard the <i>human face divine</i> with affection and esteem; + he wound us up to be mere machines of pity, and rendered us incapable of + withstanding the slightest impulse made either by real or fictitious + distress. In a word, we were perfectly instructed in the art of giving + away thousands before we were taught the necessary qualifications of + getting a farthing.” + </p> + <p> + In the Deserted Village we have another picture of his father and his + father’s fireside: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “His house was known to all the vagrant train, + He chid their wanderings, but relieved their pain; + The long-remembered beggar was his guest, + Whose beard, descending, swept his aged breast; + The ruin’d spendthrift, now no longer proud + Claim’d kindred there, and had his claims allow’d; + The broken soldier, kindly bade to stay. + Sat by his fire, and talk’d the night away; + Wept o’er his wounds, or tales of sorrow done, + Shoulder’d his crutch, and show’d how fields were won. + Pleased with his guests, the good man learned to glow + And quite forgot their vices in their woe; + Careless their merits or their faults to scan, + His pity gave ere charity began.” + </pre> + <p> + The family of the worthy pastor consisted of five sons and three + daughters. Henry, the eldest, was the good man’s pride and hope, and + he tasked his slender means to the utmost in educating him for a learned + and distinguished career. Oliver was the second son, and seven years + younger than Henry, who was the guide and protector of his childhood, and + to whom he was most tenderly attached throughout life. + </p> + <p> + Oliver’s education began when he was about three years old; that is + to say, he was gathered under the wings of one of those good old motherly + dames, found in every village, who cluck together the whole callow brood + of the neighborhood, to teach them their letters and keep them out of harm’s + way. Mistress Elizabeth Delap, for that was her name, flourished in this + capacity for upward of fifty years, and it was the pride and boast of her + declining days, when nearly ninety years of age, that she was the first + that had put a book (doubtless a hornbook) into Goldsmith’s hands. + Apparently he did not much profit by it, for she confessed he was one of + the dullest boys she had ever dealt with, insomuch that she had sometimes + doubted whether it was possible to make anything of him: a common case + with imaginative children, who are apt to be beguiled from the dry + abstractions of elementary study by the picturings of the fancy. + </p> + <p> + At six years of age he passed into the hands of the village schoolmaster, + one Thomas (or, as he was commonly and irreverently named, Paddy) Byrne, a + capital tutor for a poet. He had been educated for a pedagogue, but had + enlisted in the army, served abroad during the wars of Queen Anne’s + time, and risen to the rank of quartermaster of a regiment in Spain. At + the return of peace, having no longer exercise for the sword, he resumed + the ferule, and drilled the urchin populace of Lissoy. Goldsmith is + supposed to have had him and his school in view in the following sketch in + his Deserted Village: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Beside yon straggling fence that skirts the way, + With blossom’d furze unprofitably gay, + There, in his noisy mansion, skill’d to rule, + The village master taught his little school; + A man severe he was, and stern to view, + I knew him well, and every truant knew: + Well had the boding tremblers learned to trace + The day’s disasters in his morning face; + 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, + The love he bore to learning was in fault; + The village all declared how much he knew, + ‘Twas certain he could write and cipher too; + Lands he could measure, terms and tides presage, + And e’en the story ran that he could gauge: + In arguing, too, the parson own’d his skill, + For, e’en though vanquished, he could argue still; + While words of learned length and thund’ring sound + Amazed the gazing rustics ranged around— + And still they gazed, and still the wonder grew, + That one small head could carry all he knew.” + </pre> + <p> + There are certain whimsical traits in the character of Byrne, not given in + the foregoing sketch. He was fond of talking of his vagabond wanderings in + foreign lands, and had brought with him from the wars a world of + campaigning stories, of which he was generally the hero, and which he + would deal forth to his wondering scholars when he ought to have been + teaching them their lessons. These travelers’ tales had a powerful + effect upon the vivid imagination of Goldsmith, and awakened an + unconquerable passion for wandering and seeking adventure. + </p> + <p> + Byrne was, moreover, of a romantic vein, and exceedingly superstitious. He + was deeply versed in the fairy superstitions which abound in Ireland, all + which he professed implicitly to believe. Under his tuition Goldsmith soon + became almost as great a proficient in fairy lore. From this branch of + good-for-nothing knowledge, his studies, by an easy transition, extended + to the histories of robbers, pirates, smugglers, and the whole race of + Irish rogues and rapparees. Everything, in short, that savored of romance, + fable, and adventure was congenial to his poetic mind, and took instant + root there; but the slow plants of useful knowledge were apt to be + overrun, if not choked, by the weeds of his quick imagination. + </p> + <p> + Another trait of his motley preceptor, Byrne, was a disposition to dabble + in poetry, and this likewise was caught by his pupil. Before he was eight + years old Goldsmith had contracted a habit of scribbling verses on small + scraps of paper, which, in a little while, he would throw into the fire. A + few of these sybilline leaves, however, were rescued from the flames and + conveyed to his mother. The good woman read them with a mother’s + delight, and saw at once that her son was a genius and a poet. From that + time she beset her husband with solicitations to give the boy an education + suitable to his talents. The worthy man was already straitened by the + costs of instruction of his eldest son Henry, and had intended to bring + his second son up to a trade; but the mother would listen to no such + thing; as usual, her influence prevailed, and Oliver, instead of being + instructed in some humble but cheerful and gainful handicraft, was devoted + to poverty and the Muse. + </p> + <p> + A severe attack of the small-pox caused him to be taken from under the + care of his story-telling preceptor, Byrne. His malady had nearly proved + fatal, and his face remained pitted through life. On his recovery he was + placed under the charge of the Rev. Mr. Griffin, schoolmaster of Elphin, + in Roscommon, and became an inmate in the house of his uncle, John + Goldsmith, Esq., of Ballyoughter, in that vicinity. He now entered upon + studies of a higher order, but without making any uncommon progress. Still + a careless, easy facility of disposition, an amusing eccentricity of + manners, and a vein of quiet and peculiar humor, rendered him a general + favorite, and a trifling incident soon induced his uncle’s family to + concur in his mother’s opinion of his genius. + </p> + <p> + A number of young folks had assembled at his uncle’s to dance. One + of the company, named Cummings, played on the violin. In the course of the + evening Oliver undertook a hornpipe. His short and clumsy figure, and his + face pitted and discolored with the small-pox, rendered him a ludicrous + figure in the eyes of the musician, who made merry at his expense, dubbing + him his little Aesop. Goldsmith was nettled by the jest, and, stopping + short in the hornpipe, exclaimed: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Our herald hath proclaimed this saying, + See Aesop dancing, and his monkey playing.” + </pre> + <p> + The repartee was thought wonderful for a boy of nine years old, and Oliver + became forthwith the wit and the bright genius of the family. It was + thought a pity he should not receive the same advantages with his elder + brother Henry, who had been sent to the University; and, as his father’s + circumstances would not afford it, several of his relatives, spurred on by + the representations of his mother, agreed to contribute toward the + expense. The greater part, however, was borne by his uncle, the Rev. + Thomas Contarine. This worthy man had been the college companion of Bishop + Berkeley, and was possessed of moderate means, holding the living of + Carrick-on-Shannon. He had married the sister of Goldsmith’s father, + but was now a widower, with an only child, a daughter, named Jane. + Contarine was a kind-hearted man, with a generosity beyond his means. He + took Goldsmith into favor from his infancy; his house was open to him + during the holidays; his daughter Jane, two years older than the poet, was + his early playmate, and uncle Contarine continued to the last one of his + most active, unwavering, and generous friends. + </p> + <p> + Fitted out in a great measure by this considerate relative, Oliver was now + transferred to schools of a higher order, to prepare him for the + University; first to one at Athlone, kept by the Rev. Mr. Campbell, and, + at the end of two years, to one at Edgeworthstown, under the + superintendence of the Rev. Patrick Hughes. + </p> + <p> + Even at these schools his proficiency does not appear to have been + brilliant. He was indolent and careless, however, rather than dull, and, + on the whole, appears to have been well thought of by his teachers. In his + studies he inclined toward the Latin poets and historians; relished Ovid + and Horace, and delighted in Livy. He exercised himself with pleasure in + reading and translating Tacitus, and was brought to pay attention to style + in his compositions by a reproof from his brother Henry, to whom he had + written brief and confused letters, and who told him in reply that if he + had but little to say to endeavor to say that little well. + </p> + <p> + The career of his brother Henry at the University was enough to stimulate + him to exertion. He seemed to be realizing all his father’s hopes, + and was winning collegiate honors that the good man considered indicative + of his future success in life. + </p> + <p> + In the meanwhile Oliver, if not distinguished among his teachers, was + popular among his schoolmates. He had a thoughtless generosity extremely + captivating to young hearts; his temper was quick and sensitive, and + easily offended; but his anger was momentary, and it was impossible for + him to harbor resentment. He was the leader of all boyish sports and + athletic amusements, especially ball-playing, and he was foremost in all + mischievous pranks. Many years afterward, an old man, Jack Fitzimmons, one + of the directors of the sports and keeper of the ball-court at Ballymahon, + used to boast of having been schoolmate of “Noll Goldsmith,” + as he called him, and would dwell with vainglory on one of their exploits, + in robbing the orchard of Tirlicken, an old family residence of Lord + Annaly. The exploit, however, had nearly involved disastrous consequences; + for the crew of juvenile depredators were captured, like Shakespeare and + his deer-stealing colleagues, and nothing but the respectability of + Goldsmith’s connections saved him from the punishment that would + have awaited more plebeian delinquents. + </p> + <p> + An amusing incident is related as occurring in Goldsmith’s last + journey homeward from Edgeworthstown. His father’s house was about + twenty miles distant; the road lay through a rough country, impassable for + carriages. Goldsmith procured a horse for the journey, and a friend + furnished him with a guinea for traveling expenses. He was but a stripling + of sixteen, and being thus suddenly mounted on horseback, with money in + his pocket, it is no wonder that his head was turned. He determined to + play the man, and to spend his money in independent traveler’s + style. Accordingly, instead of pushing directly for home, he halted for + the night at the little town of Ardagh, and, accosting the first person he + met, inquired, with somewhat of a consequential air, for the best house in + the place. Unluckily, the person he had accosted was one Kelly, a + notorious wag, who was quartered in the family of one Mr. Featherstone, a + gentleman of fortune. Amused with the self-consequence of the stripling, + and willing to play off a practical joke at his expense, he directed him + to what was literally “the best house in the place,” namely, + the family mansion of Mr. Featherstone. Goldsmith accordingly rode up to + what he supposed to be an inn, ordered his horse to be taken to the + stable, walked into the parlor, seated himself by the fire, and demanded + what he could have for supper. On ordinary occasions he was diffident and + even awkward in his manners, but here he was “at ease in his inn,” + and felt called upon to show his manhood and enact the experienced + traveler. His person was by no means calculated to play off his + pretensions, for he was short and thick, with a pock-marked face, and an + air and carriage by no means of a distinguished cast. The owner of the + house, however, soon discovered his whimsical mistake, and, being a man of + humor, determined to indulge it, especially as he accidentally learned + that this intruding guest was the son of an old acquaintance. + </p> + <p> + Accordingly Goldsmith was “fooled to the top of his bent,” and + permitted to have full sway throughout the evening. Never was schoolboy + more elated. When supper was served, he most condescendingly insisted that + the landlord, his wife and daughter should partake, and ordered a bottle + of wine to crown the repast and benefit the house. His last flourish was + on going to bed, when he gave especial orders to have a hot cake at + breakfast. His confusion and dismay, on discovering the next morning that + he had been swaggering in this free and easy way in the house of a private + gentleman, may be readily conceived. True to his habit of turning the + events of his life to literary account, we find this chapter of ludicrous + blunders and cross purposes dramatized many years afterward in his + admirable comedy of “She Stoops to Conquer, or the Mistakes of a + Night.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER TWO + </h2> + <p> + IMPROVIDENT MARRIAGES IN THE GOLDSMITH FAMILY—GOLDSMITH AT THE + UNIVERSITY—SITUATION OF A SIZER—TYRANNY OF WILDER, THE TUTOR—PECUNIARY + STRAITS—STREET BALLADS—COLLEGE RIOT—GALLOWS WALSH—COLLEGE + PRIZE—A DANCE INTERRUPTED + </p> + <p> + While Oliver was making his way somewhat negligently through the schools, + his elder brother Henry was rejoicing his father’s heart by his + career at the University. He soon distinguished himself at the + examinations, and obtained a scholarship in 1743. This is a collegiate + distinction which serves as a stepping-stone in any of the learned + professions, and which leads to advancement in the University should the + individual choose to remain there. His father now trusted that he would + push forward for that comfortable provision, a fellowship, and thence to + higher dignities and emoluments. Henry, however, had the improvidence or + the “unworldliness” of his race; returning to the country + during the succeeding vacation, he married for love, relinquished, of + course, all his collegiate prospects and advantages, set up a school in + his father’s neighborhood, and buried his talents and acquirements + for the remainder of his life in a curacy of forty pounds a year. + </p> + <p> + Another matrimonial event occurred not long afterward in the Goldsmith + family, to disturb the equanimity of its worthy head. This was the + clandestine marriage of his daughter Catherine with a young gentleman of + the name of Hodson, who had been confided to the care of her brother Henry + to complete his studies. As the youth was of wealthy parentage, it was + thought a lucky match for the Goldsmith family; but the tidings of the + event stung the bride’s father to the soul. Proud of his integrity, + and jealous of that good name which was his chief possession, he saw + himself and his family subjected to the degrading suspicion of having + abused a trust reposed in them to promote a mercenary match. In the first + transports of his feelings he is said to have uttered a wish that his + daughter might never have a child to bring like shame and sorrow on her + head. The hasty wish, so contrary to the usual benignity of the man, was + recalled and repented of almost as soon as uttered; but it was considered + baleful in its effects by the superstitious neighborhood; for, though his + daughter bore three children, they all died before her. + </p> + <p> + A more effectual measure was taken by Mr. Goldsmith to ward off the + apprehended imputation, but one which imposed a heavy burden on his + family. This was to furnish a marriage portion of four hundred pounds, + that his daughter might not be said to have entered her husband’s + family empty-handed. To raise the sum in cash was impossible; but he + assigned to Mr. Hodson his little farm and the income of his tithes until + the marriage portion should be paid. In the meantime, as his living did + not amount to £200 per annum, he had to practice the strictest economy to + pay off gradually this heavy tax incurred by his nice sense of honor. + </p> + <p> + The first of his family to feel the effects of this economy was Oliver. + The time had now arrived for him to be sent to the University, and, + accordingly, on the 11th of June, 1747, when sixteen years of age, he + entered Trinity College, Dublin; but his father was no longer able to + place him there as a pensioner, as he had done his eldest son Henry; he + was obliged, therefore, to enter him as a sizer or “poor scholar.” + He was lodged in one of the top rooms adjoining the library of the + building, numbered 35, where it is said his name may still be seen, + scratched by himself upon a window frame. + </p> + <p> + A student of this class is taught and boarded gratuitously, and has to pay + but a very small sum for his room. It is expected, in return for these + advantages, that he will be a diligent student, and render himself useful + in a variety of ways. In Trinity College, at the time of Goldsmith’s + admission, several derogatory and indeed menial offices were exacted from + the sizer, as if the college sought to indemnify itself for conferring + benefits by inflicting indignities. He was obliged to sweep part of the + courts in the morning, to carry up the dishes from the kitchen to the + fellows’ table, and to wait in the hall until that body had dined. + His very dress marked the inferiority of the “poor student” to + his happier classmates. It was a black gown of coarse stuff without + sleeves, and a plain black cloth cap without a tassel. We can conceive + nothing more odious and ill-judged than these distinctions, which attached + the idea of degradation to poverty, and placed the indigent youth of merit + below the worthless minion of fortune. They were calculated to wound and + irritate the noble mind, and to render the base mind baser. + </p> + <p> + Indeed, the galling effect of these servile tasks upon youths of proud + spirits and quick sensibilities became at length too notorious to be + disregarded. About fifty years since, on a Trinity Sunday, a number of + persons were assembled to witness the college ceremonies; and as a sizer + was carrying up a dish of meat to the fellows’ table, a burly + citizen in the crowd made some sneering observation on the servility of + his office. Stung to the quick, the high-spirited youth instantly flung + the dish and its contents at the head of the sneerer. The sizer was + sharply reprimanded for this outbreak of wounded pride, but the degrading + task was from that day forward very properly consigned to menial hands. + </p> + <p> + It was with the utmost repugnance that Goldsmith entered college in this + capacity. His shy and sensitive nature was affected by the inferior + station he was doomed to hold among his gay and opulent fellow-students, + and he became, at times, moody and despondent. A recollection of these + early mortifications induced him, in after years, most strongly to + dissuade his brother Henry, the clergyman, from sending a son to college + on a like footing. “If he has ambition, strong passions, and an + exquisite sensibility of contempt, do not send him there, unless you have + no other trade for him except your own.” + </p> + <p> + To add to his annoyances the fellow of the college who had the peculiar + control of his studies, the Rev. Theaker Wilder, was a man of violent and + capricious temper, and of diametrically opposite tastes. The tutor was + devoted to the exact sciences; Goldsmith was for the classics. Wilder + endeavored to force his favorite studies upon the student by harsh means, + suggested by his own coarse and savage nature. He abused him in presence + of the class as ignorant and stupid; ridiculed him as awkward and ugly, + and at times in the transports of his temper indulged in personal + violence. The effect was to aggravate a passive distaste into a positive + aversion. Goldsmith was loud in expressing his contempt for mathematics + and his dislike of ethics and logic; and the prejudices thus imbibed + continued through life. Mathematics he always pronounced a science to + which the meanest intellects were competent. + </p> + <p> + A truer cause of this distaste for the severer studies may probably be + found in his natural indolence and his love of convivial pleasures. + “I was a lover of mirth, good humor, and even sometimes of fun,” + said he, “from my childhood.” He sang a good song, was a boon + companion, and could not resist any temptation to social enjoyment. He + endeavored to persuade himself that learning and dullness went hand in + hand, and that genius was not to be put in harness. Even in riper years, + when the consciousness of his own deficiencies ought to have convinced him + of the importance of early study, he speaks slightingly of college honors. + </p> + <p> + “A lad,” says he, “whose passions are not strong enough + in youth to mislead him from that path of science which his tutors, and + not his inclination, have chalked out, by four or five years’ + perseverance will probably obtain every advantage and honor his college + can bestow. I would compare the man whose youth has been thus passed in + the tranquillity of dispassionate prudence, to liquors that never ferment, + and, consequently, continue always muddy.” + </p> + <p> + The death of his worthy father, which took place early in 1747, rendered + Goldsmith’s situation at college extremely irksome. His mother was + left with little more than the means of providing for the wants of her + household, and was unable to furnish him any remittances. He would have + been compelled, therefore, to leave college, had it not been for the + occasional contributions of friends, the foremost among whom was his + generous and warm-hearted uncle Contarine. Still these supplies were so + scanty and precarious that in the intervals between them he was put to + great straits. He had two college associates from whom he would + occasionally borrow small sums; one was an early schoolmate, by the name + of Beatty; the other a cousin, and the chosen companion of his frolics, + Robert (or rather Bob) Bryanton, of Ballymulvey House, near Ballymahon. + When these casual supplies failed him he was more than once obliged to + raise funds for his immediate wants by pawning his books. At times he sank + into despondency, but he had what he termed “a knack at hoping,” + which soon buoyed him up again. He began now to resort to his poetical + vein as a source of profit, scribbling street-ballads, which he privately + sold for five shillings each at a shop which dealt in such small wares of + literature. He felt an author’s affection for these unowned + bantlings, and we are told would stroll privately through the streets at + night to hear them sung, listening to the comments and criticisms of + bystanders, and observing the degree of applause which each received. + </p> + <p> + Edmund Burke was a fellow-student with Goldsmith at the college. Neither + the statesman nor the poet gave promise of their future celebrity, though + Burke certainly surpassed his contemporary in industry and application, + and evinced more disposition for self-improvement, associating himself + with a number of his fellow-students in a debating club, in which they + discussed literary topics, and exercised themselves in composition. + </p> + <p> + Goldsmith may likewise have belonged to this association, but his + propensity was rather to mingle with the gay and thoughtless. On one + occasion we find him implicated in an affair that came nigh producing his + expulsion. A report was brought to college that a scholar was in the hands + of the bailiffs. This was an insult in which every gownsman felt himself + involved. A number of the scholars flew to arms, and sallied forth to + battle, headed by a hare-brained fellow nicknamed Gallows Walsh, noted for + his aptness at mischief and fondness for riot. The stronghold of the + bailiff was carried by storm, the scholar set at liberty, and the + delinquent catchpole borne off captive to the college, where, having no + pump to put him under, they satisfied the demands of collegiate law by + ducking him in an old cistern. + </p> + <p> + Flushed with this signal victory, Gallows Walsh now harangued his + followers, and proposed to break open Newgate, or the Black Dog, as the + prison was called, and effect a general jail delivery. He was answered by + shouts of concurrence, and away went the throng of madcap youngsters, + fully bent upon putting an end to the tyranny of law. They were joined by + the mob of the city, and made an attack upon the prison with true Irish + precipitation and thoughtlessness, never having provided themselves with + cannon to batter its stone walls. A few shots from the prison brought them + to their senses, and they beat a hasty retreat, two of the townsmen being + killed, and several wounded. + </p> + <p> + A severe scrutiny of this affair took place at the University. Four + students, who had been ringleaders, were expelled; four others, who had + been prominent in the affray, were publicly admonished; among the latter + was the unlucky Goldsmith. + </p> + <p> + To make up for this disgrace, he gained, within a month afterward, one of + the minor prizes of the college. It is true it was one of the very + smallest, amounting in pecuniary value to but thirty shillings, but it was + the first distinction he had gained in his whole collegiate career. This + turn of success and sudden influx of wealth proved too much for the head + of our poor student. He forthwith gave a supper and dance at his chamber + to a number of young persons of both sexes from the city, in direct + violation of college rules. The unwonted sound of the fiddle reached the + ears of the implacable Wilder. He rushed to the scene of unhallowed + festivity, inflicted corporal punishment on the “father of the + feast,” and turned his astonished guests neck and heels out of + doors. + </p> + <p> + This filled the measure of poor Goldsmith’s humiliations; he felt + degraded both within college and without. He dreaded the ridicule of his + fellow-students for the ludicrous termination of his orgy, and he was + ashamed to meet his city acquaintances after the degrading chastisement + received in their presence, and after their own ignominious expulsion. + Above all, he felt it impossible to submit any longer to the insulting + tyranny of Wilder; he determined, therefore, to leave, not merely the + college, but also his native land, and to bury what he conceived to be his + irretrievable disgrace in some distant country. He accordingly sold his + books and clothes, and sallied forth from the college walls the very next + day, intending to embark at Cork for—he scarce knew where—America, + or any other part beyond sea. With his usual heedless imprudence, however, + he loitered about Dublin until his finances were reduced to a shilling; + with this amount of specie he set out on his journey. + </p> + <p> + For three whole days he subsisted on his shilling; when that was spent, he + parted with some of the clothes from his back, until, reduced almost to + nakedness, he was four-and-twenty hours without food, insomuch that he + declared a handful of gray peas, given to him by a girl at a wake, was one + of the most delicious repasts he had ever tasted. Hunger, fatigue, and + destitution brought down his spirit and calmed his anger. Fain would he + have retraced his steps, could he have done so with any salvo for the + lingerings of his pride. In his extremity he conveyed to his brother Henry + information of his distress, and of the rash project on which he had set + out. His affectionate brother hastened to his relief; furnished him with + money and clothes; soothed his feelings with gentle counsel; prevailed + upon him to return to college, and effected an indifferent reconciliation + between him and Wilder. + </p> + <p> + After this irregular sally upon life he remained nearly two years longer + at the University, giving proofs of talent in occasional translations from + the classics, for one of which he received a premium, awarded only to + those who are the first in literary merit. Still he never made much figure + at college, his natural disinclination to study being increased by the + harsh treatment he continued to experience from his tutor. + </p> + <p> + Among the anecdotes told of him while at college is one indicative of that + prompt but thoughtless and often whimsical benevolence which throughout + life formed one of the most eccentric yet endearing points of his + character. He was engaged to breakfast one day with a college intimate, + but failed to make his appearance. His friend repaired to his room, + knocked at the door, and was bidden to enter. To his surprise, he found + Goldsmith in his bed, immersed to his chin in feathers. A serio-comic + story explained the circumstance. In the course of the preceding evening’s + stroll he had met with a woman with five children, who implored his + charity. Her husband was in the hospital; she was just from the country, a + stranger, and destitute, without food or shelter for her helpless + offspring. This was too much for the kind heart of Goldsmith. He was + almost as poor as herself, it is true, and had no money in his pocket; but + he brought her to the college gate, gave her the blankets from his bed to + cover her little brood, and part of his clothes for her to sell and + purchase food; and, finding himself cold during the night, had cut open + his bed and buried himself among the feathers. + </p> + <p> + At length, on the 27th of February, 1749, O.S., he was admitted to the + degree of Bachelor of Arts, and took his final leave of the University. He + was freed from college rule, that emancipation so ardently coveted by the + thoughtless student, and which too generally launches him amid the cares, + the hardships, and vicissitudes of life. He was freed, too, from the + brutal tyranny of Wilder. If his kind and placable nature could retain any + resentment for past injuries, it might have been gratified by learning + subsequently that the passionate career of Wilder was terminated by a + violent death in the course of a dissolute brawl; but Goldsmith took no + delight in the misfortunes even of his enemies. + </p> + <p> + He now returned to his friends, no longer the student to sport away the + happy interval of vacation, but the anxious man, who is henceforth to + shift for himself and make his way through the world. In fact, he had no + legitimate home to return to. At the death of his father, the paternal + house at Lissoy, in which Goldsmith had passed his childhood, had been + taken by Mr. Hodson, who had married his sister Catherine. His mother had + removed to Ballymahon, where she occupied a small house, and had to + practice the severest frugality. His elder brother Henry served the curacy + and taught the school of his late father’s parish, and lived in + narrow circumstances at Goldsmith’s birthplace, the old goblin house + at Pallas. + </p> + <p> + None of his relatives were in circumstances to aid him with anything more + than a temporary home, and the aspect of every one seemed somewhat + changed. In fact, his career at college had disappointed his friends, and + they began to doubt his being the great genius they had fancied him. He + whimsically alludes to this circumstance in that piece of autobiography, + “The Man in Black,” in the Citizen of the World. + </p> + <p> + “The first opportunity my father had of finding his expectations + disappointed was in the middling figure I made at the University; he had + flattered himself that he should soon see me rising into the foremost rank + in literary reputation, but was mortified to find me utterly unnoticed and + unknown. His disappointment might have been partly ascribed to his having + overrated my talents, and partly to my dislike of mathematical reasonings + at a time when my imagination and memory, yet unsatisfied, were more eager + after new objects than desirous of reasoning upon those I knew. This, + however, did not please my tutors, who observed, indeed, that I was a + little dull, but at the same time allowed that I seemed to be very + good-natured, and had no harm in me.” [Footnote: Citizen of the + World, Letter xxvii.] + </p> + <p> + The only one of his relatives who did not appear to lose faith in him was + his uncle Contarine. This kind and considerate man, it is said, saw in him + a warmth of heart requiring some skill to direct, and a latent genius that + wanted time to mature, and these impressions none of his subsequent + follies and irregularities wholly obliterated. His purse and affection, + therefore, as well as his house, were now open to him, and he became his + chief counselor and director after his father’s death. He urged him + to prepare for holy orders, and others of his relatives concurred in the + advice. Goldsmith had a settled repugnance to a clerical life. This has + been ascribed by some to conscientious scruples, not considering himself + of a temper and frame of mind for such a sacred office; others attributed + it to his roving propensities, and his desire to visit foreign countries; + he himself gives a whimsical objection in his biography of the “Man + in Black”: “To be obliged to wear a long wig when I liked a + short one, or a black coat when I generally dressed in brown, I thought + such a restraint upon my liberty that I absolutely rejected the proposal.” + </p> + <p> + In effect, however, his scruples were overruled, and he agreed to qualify + himself for the office. He was now only twenty-one, and must pass two + years of probation. They were two years of rather loitering, unsettled + life. Sometimes he was at Lissoy, participating with thoughtless enjoyment + in the rural sports and occupations of his brother-in-law, Mr. Hodson; + sometimes he was with his brother Henry, at the old goblin mansion at + Pallas, assisting him occasionally in his school. The early marriage and + unambitious retirement of Henry, though so subversive of the fond plans of + his father, had proved happy in their results. He was already surrounded + by a blooming family; he was contented with his lot, beloved by his + parishioners, and lived in the daily practice of all the amiable virtues, + and the immediate enjoyment of their reward. Of the tender affection + inspired in the breast of Goldsmith by the constant kindness of this + excellent brother, and of the longing recollection with which, in the + lonely wanderings of after years, he looked back upon this scene of + domestic felicity, we have a touching instance in the well-known opening + to his poem of The Traveler: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Remote, unfriended, melancholy, slow, + Or by the lazy Scheld or wandering Po; + + “Where’er I roam, whatever realms to see, + My heart untravel’d fondly turns to thee; + Still to my brother turns with ceaseless pain, + And drags at each remove a lengthening chain. + + “Eternal blessings crown my earliest friend, + And round his dwelling guardian saints attend; + Bless’d be that spot, where cheerful guests retire + To pause from toil, and trim their evening fire; + Bless’d that abode, where want and pain repair, + And every stranger finds a ready chair: + Bless’d be those feasts with simple plenty crown’d, + Where all the ruddy family around + Laugh at the jests or pranks that never fail, + Or sigh with pity at some mournful tale; + Or press the bashful stranger to his food, + And learn the luxury of doing good.” + </pre> + <p> + During this loitering life Goldsmith pursued no study, but rather amused + himself with miscellaneous reading; such as biography, travels, poetry, + novels, plays—everything, in short, that administered to the + imagination. Sometimes he strolled along the banks of the river Inny, + where, in after years, when he had become famous, his favorite seats and + haunts used to be pointed out. Often he joined in the rustic sports of the + villagers, and became adroit at throwing the sledge, a favorite feat of + activity and strength in Ireland. Recollections of these “healthful + sports” we find in his Deserted Village: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “How often have I bless’d the coming day, + When toil remitting lent its turn to play, + And all the village train, from labor free, + Led up their sports beneath the spreading tree: + And many a gambol frolicked o’er the ground, + And sleights of art and feats of strength went round.” + </pre> + <p> + A boon companion in all his rural amusements was his cousin and college + crony, Robert Bryanton, with whom he sojourned occasionally at Ballymulvey + House in the neighborhood. They used to make excursions about the country + on foot, sometimes fishing, sometimes hunting otter in the Inny. They got + up a country club at the little inn of Ballymahon, of which Goldsmith soon + became the oracle and prime wit, astonishing his unlettered associates by + his learning, and being considered capital at a song and a story. From the + rustic conviviality of the inn at Ballymahon, and the company which used + to assemble there, it is surmised that he took some hints in after life + for his picturing of Tony Lumpkin and his associates: “Dick Muggins, + the exciseman; Jack Slang, the horse doctor; little Aminidab, that grinds + the music-box, and Tom Twist, that spins the pewter platter.” Nay, + it is thought that Tony’s drinking song at the Three Jolly Pigeons + was but a revival of one of the convivial catches at Ballymahon: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “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 forever. + Let some cry of woodcock or hare, + Your bustards, your ducks, and your widgeons, + But of all the gay birds in the air, + Here’s a health to the Three Jolly Pigeons. + Toroddle, toroddle, toroll.” + </pre> + <p> + Notwithstanding all these accomplishments and this rural popularity, his + friends began to shake their heads and shrug their shoulders when they + spoke of him; and his brother Henry noted with anything but satisfaction + his frequent visits to the club at Ballymahon. He emerged, however, + unscathed from this dangerous ordeal, more fortunate in this respect than + his comrade Bryanton; but he retained throughout life a fondness for + clubs; often, too, in the course of his checkered career, he looked back + to this period of rural sports and careless enjoyments as one of the few + sunny spots of his cloudy life; and though he ultimately rose to associate + with birds of a finer feather, his heart would still yearn in secret after + the THREE JOLLY PIGEONS. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER THREE + </h2> + <p> + GOLDSMITH REJECTED BY THE BISHOP—SECOND SALLY TO SEE THE WORLD—TAKES + PASSAGE FOR AMERICA—SHIP SAILS WITHOUT HIM—RETURN ON + FIDDLE-BACK—A HOSPITABLE FRIEND—THE COUNSELOR + </p> + <p> + The time was now arrived for Goldsmith to apply for orders, and he + presented himself accordingly before the Bishop of Elfin for ordination. + We have stated his great objection to clerical life, the obligation to + wear a black coat; and, whimsical as it may appear, dress seems in fact to + have formed an obstacle to his entrance into the church. He had ever a + passion for clothing his sturdy but awkward little person in gay colors; + and on this solemn occasion, when it was to be supposed his garb would be + of suitable gravity, he appeared luminously arrayed in scarlet breeches! + He was rejected by the bishop; some say for want of sufficient studious + preparation; his rambles and frolics with Bob Bryanton, and his revels + with the club at Ballymahon, having been much in the way of his + theological studies; others attribute his rejection to reports of his + college irregularities, which the bishop had received from his old tryant + Wilder; but those who look into the matter with more knowing eyes + pronounce the scarlet breeches to have been the fundamental objection. + “My friends,” says Goldsmith, speaking through his humorous + representative, the “Man in Black”—“my friends + were now perfectly satisfied I was undone; and yet they thought it a pity + for one that had not the least harm in him, and was so very good-natured.” + His uncle Contarine, however, still remained unwavering in his kindness, + though much less sanguine in his expectations. He now looked round for a + humbler sphere of action, and through his influence and exertions Oliver + was received as tutor in the family of a Mr. Flinn, a gentleman of the + neighborhood. The situation was apparently respectable; he had his seat at + the table, and joined the family in their domestic recreations and their + evening game at cards. There was a servility, however, in his position, + which was not to his taste; nor did his deference for the family increase + upon familiar intercourse. He charged a member of it with unfair play at + cards. A violent altercation ensued, which ended in his throwing up his + situation as tutor. On being paid off he found himself in possession of an + unheard of amount of money. His wandering propensity and his desire to see + the world were instantly in the ascendency. Without communicating his + plans or intentions to his friends, he procured a good horse, and with + thirty pounds in his pocket made his second sally forth into the world. + </p> + <p> + The worthy niece and housekeeper of the hero of La Mancha could not have + been more surprised and dismayed at one of the Don’s clandestine + expeditions than were the mother and friends of Goldsmith when they heard + of his mysterious departure. Weeks elapsed, and nothing was seen or heard + of him. It was feared that he had left the country on one of his wandering + freaks, and his poor mother was reduced almost to despair, when one day he + arrived at her door almost as forlorn in plight as the prodigal son. Of + his thirty pounds not a shilling was left; and instead of the goodly steed + on which he had issued forth on his errantry, he was mounted on a sorry + little pony, which he had nicknamed Fiddle-back. As soon as his mother was + well assured of his safety, she rated him soundly for his inconsiderate + conduct. His brothers and sisters, who were tenderly attached to him, + interfered, and succeeded in mollifying her ire; and whatever lurking + anger the good dame might have, was no doubt effectually vanquished by the + following whimsical narrative which he drew up at his brother’s + house and dispatched to her: + </p> + <p> + “My dear mother, if you will sit down and calmly listen to what I + say, you shall be fully resolved in every one of those many questions you + have asked me. I went to Cork and converted my horse, which you prize so + much higher than Fiddle-back, into cash, took my passage in a ship bound + for America, and, at the same time, paid the captain for my freight and + all the other expenses of my voyage. But it so happened that the wind did + not answer for three weeks; and you know, mother, that I could not command + the elements. My misfortune was that, when the wind served, I happened to + be with a party in the country, and my friend the captain never inquired + after me, but set sail with as much indifference as if I had been on + board. The remainder of my time I employed in the city and its environs, + viewing everything curious, and you know no one can starve while he has + money in his pocket. + </p> + <p> + “Reduced, however, to my last two guineas, I began to think of my + dear mother and friends whom I had left behind me, and so bought that + generous beast Fiddle-back, and bade adieu to Cork with only five + shillings in my pocket. This, to be sure, was but a scanty allowance for + man and horse toward a journey of above a hundred miles; but I did not + despair, for I knew I must find friends on the road. + </p> + <p> + “I recollected particularly an old and faithful acquaintance I made + at college, who had often and earnestly pressed me to spend a summer with + him, and he lived but eight miles from Cork. This circumstance of vicinity + he would expatiate on to me with peculiar emphasis. ‘We shall,’ + says he, ‘enjoy the delights of both city and country, and you shall + command my stable and my purse.’ + </p> + <p> + “However, upon the way I met a poor woman all in tears, who told me + her husband had been arrested for a debt he was not able to pay, and that + his eight children must now starve, bereaved as they were of his industry, + which had been their only support. I thought myself at home, being not far + from my friend’s house, and therefore parted with a moiety of all my + store; and pray, mother, ought I not to have given her the other half + crown, for what she got would be of little use to her? However, I soon + arrived at the mansion of my affectionate friend, guarded by the vigilance + of a huge mastiff, who flew at me and would have torn me to pieces but for + the assistance of a woman, whose countenance was not less grim than that + of the dog; yet she with great humanity relieved me from the jaws of this + Cerberus, and was prevailed on to carry up my name to her master. + </p> + <p> + “Without suffering me to wait long, my old friend, who was then + recovering from a severe fit of sickness, came down in his nightcap, + night-gown, and slippers, and embraced me with the most cordial welcome, + showed me in, and, after giving me a history of his indisposition, assured + me that he considered himself peculiarly fortunate in having under his + roof the man he most loved on earth, and whose stay with him must, above + all things, contribute to perfect his recovery. I now repented sorely I + had not given the poor woman the other half crown, as I thought all my + bills of humanity would be punctually answered by this worthy man. I + revealed to him my whole soul; I opened to him all my distresses; and + freely owned that I had but one half crown in my pocket; but that now, + like a ship after weathering out the storm, I considered myself secure in + a safe and hospitable harbor. He made no answer, but walked about the + room, rubbing his hands as one in deep study. This I imputed to the + sympathetic feelings of a tender heart, which increased my esteem for him, + and, as that increased, I gave the most favorable interpretation to his + silence. I construed it into delicacy of sentiment, as if he dreaded to + wound my pride by expressing his commiseration in words, leaving his + generous conduct to speak for itself. + </p> + <p> + “It now approached six o’clock in the evening; and as I had + eaten no breakfast, and as my spirits were raised, my appetite for dinner + grew uncommonly keen. At length the old woman came into the room with two + plates, one spoon, and a dirty cloth, which she laid upon the table. This + appearance, without increasing my spirits, did not diminish my appetite. + My protectress soon returned with a small bowl of sago, a small porringer + of sour milk, a loaf of stale brown bread, and the heel of an old cheese + all over crawling with mites. My friend apologized that his illness + obliged him to live on slops, and that better fare was not in the house; + observing, at the same time, that a milk diet was certainly the most + healthful; and at eight o’clock he again recommended a regular life, + declaring that for his part he would <i>lie down with the lamb and rise + with the lark</i>. My hunger was at this time so exceedingly sharp that I + wished for another slice of the loaf, but was obliged to go to bed without + even that refreshment. + </p> + <p> + “This lenten entertainment I had received made me resolve to depart + as soon as possible; accordingly, next morning, when I spoke of going, he + did not oppose my resolution; he rather commended my design, adding some + very sage counsel upon the occasion. ‘To be sure,’ said he, + ‘the longer you stay away from your mother, the more you will grieve + her and your other friends; and possibly they are already afflicted at + hearing of this foolish expedition you have made.’ Notwithstanding + all this, and without any hope of softening such a sordid heart, I again + renewed the tale of my distress, and asking ‘how he thought I could + travel above a hundred miles upon one half crown?’ I begged to + borrow a single guinea, which I assured him should be repaid with thanks. + ‘And you know, sir,’ said I, ‘it is no more than I have + done for you.’ To which he firmly answered, ‘Why, look you, + Mr. Goldsmith, that is neither here nor there. I have paid you all you + ever lent me, and this sickness of mine has left me bare of cash. But I + have bethought myself of a conveyance for you; sell your horse, and I will + furnish you a much better one to ride on.’ I readily grasped at his + proposal, and begged to see the nag; on which he led me to his bedchamber, + and from under the bed he pulled out a stout oak stick. ‘Here he is,’ + said he; ‘take this in your hand, and it will carry you to your + mother’s with more safety than such a horse as you ride.’ I + was in doubt, when I got it into my hand, whether I should not, in the + first place, apply it to his pate; but a rap at the street door made the + wretch fly to it, and when I returned to the parlor, he introduced me, as + if nothing of the kind had happened, to the gentleman who entered, as Mr. + Goldsmith, his most ingenious and worthy friend, of whom he had so often + heard him speak with rapture. I could scarcely compose myself, and must + have betrayed indignation in my mien to the stranger, who was a + counselor-at-law in the neighborhood, a man of engaging aspect and polite + address. + </p> + <p> + “After spending an hour, he asked my friend and me to dine with him + at his house. This I declined at first, as I wished to have no further + communication with my hospitable friend; but at the solicitation of both I + at last consented, determined as I was by two motives: one, that I was + prejudiced in favor of the looks and manner of the counselor; and the + other, that I stood in need of a comfortable dinner. And there, indeed, I + found everything that I could wish, abundance without profusion and + elegance without affectation. In the evening, when my old friend, who had + eaten very plentifully at his neighbor’s table, but talked again of + lying down with the lamb, made a motion to me for retiring, our generous + host requested I should take a bed with him, upon which I plainly told my + old friend that he might go home and take care of the horse he had given + me, but that I should never re-enter his doors. He went away with a laugh, + leaving me to add this to the other little things the counselor already + knew of his plausible neighbor. + </p> + <p> + “And now, my dear mother, I found sufficient to reconcile me to all + my follies; for here I spent three whole days. The counselor had two sweet + girls to his daughters, who played enchantingly on the harpsichord; and + yet it was but a melancholy pleasure I felt the first time I heard them; + for that being the first time also that either of them had touched the + instrument since their mother’s death, I saw the tears in silence + trickle down their father’s cheeks. I every day endeavored to go + away, but every day was pressed and obliged to stay. On my going, the + counselor offered me his purse, with a horse and servant to convey me + home; but the latter I declined, and only took a guinea to bear my + necessary expenses on the road. + </p> + <h3> + “OLIVER GOLDSMITH. + </h3> + <p> + “To Mrs. Anne Goldsmith, Ballymahon.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + Such is the story given by the poet-errant of this his second sally in + quest of adventures. We cannot but think it was here and there touched up + a little with the fanciful pen of the future essayist, with a view to + amuse his mother and soften her vexation; but even in these respects it is + valuable as showing the early play of his humor, and his happy knack of + extracting sweets from that worldly experience which to others yields + nothing but bitterness. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0004" id="link2HCH0004"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER FOUR + </h2> + <p> + SALLIES FORTH AS A LAW STUDENT—STUMBLES AT THE OUTSET—COUSIN + JANE AND THE VALENTINE—A FAMILY ORACLE—SALLIES FORTH AS A + STUDENT OF MEDICINE—HOCUS-POCUS OF A BOARDING-HOUSE—TRANSFORMATIONS + OF A LEG OF MUTTON—THE MOCK GHOST—SKETCHES OF SCOTLAND—TRIALS + OF TOADYISM—A POET’S PURSE FOR A CONTINENTAL TOUR + </p> + <p> + A new consultation was held among Goldsmith’s friends as to his + future course, and it was determined he should try the law. His uncle + Contarine agreed to advance the necessary funds, and actually furnished + him with fifty pounds, with which he set off for London, to enter on his + studies at the Temple. Unfortunately, he fell in company at Dublin with a + Roscommon acquaintance, one whose wits had been sharpened about town, who + beguiled him into a gambling-house, and soon left him as penniless as when + he bestrode the redoubtable Fiddle-back. + </p> + <p> + He was so ashamed of this fresh instance of gross heedlessness and + imprudence that he remained some time in Dublin without communicating to + his friends his destitute condition. They heard of it, however, and he was + invited back to the country, and indulgently forgiven by his generous + uncle, but less readily by his mother, who was mortified and disheartened + at seeing all her early hopes of him so repeatedly blighted. His brother + Henry, too, began to lose patience at these successive failures, resulting + from thoughtless indiscretion; and a quarrel took place, which for some + time interrupted their usually affectionate intercourse. + </p> + <p> + The only home where poor erring Goldsmith still received a welcome was the + parsonage of his affectionate, forgiving uncle. Here he used to talk of + literature with the good, simple-hearted man, and delight him and his + daughter with his verses. Jane, his early playmate, was now the woman + grown; their intercourse was of a more intellectual kind than formerly; + they discoursed of poetry and music; she played on the harpsichord, and he + accompanied her with his flute. The music may not have been very artistic, + as he never performed but by ear; it had probably as much merit as the + poetry, which, if we may judge by the following specimen, was as yet but + juvenile: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + TO A YOUNG LADY ON VALENTINE’S DAY + + WITH THE DRAWING OF A HEART + + With submission at your shrine, + Comes a heart your Valentine; + From the side where once it grew, + See it panting flies to you. + Take it, fair one, to your breast, + Soothe the fluttering thing to rest; + Let the gentle, spotless toy, + Be your sweetest, greatest joy; + Every night when wrapp’d in sleep, + Next your heart the conquest keep. + Or if dreams your fancy move, + Hear it whisper me and love; + Then in pity to the swain, + Who must heartless else remain, + Soft as gentle dewy show’rs, + Slow descend on April flow’rs; + Soft as gentle riv’lets glide, + Steal unnoticed to my side; + If the gem you have to spare, + Take your own and place it there. +</pre> + <p> + If this valentine was intended for the fair Jane, and expressive of a + tender sentiment indulged by the stripling poet, it was unavailing, as not + long afterward she was married to a Mr. Lawder. We trust, however, it was + but a poetical passion of that transient kind which grows up in idleness + and exhales itself in rhyme. While Oliver was thus piping and poetizing at + the parsonage, his uncle Contarine received a visit from Dean Goldsmith of + Cloyne; a kind of magnate in the wide but improvident family connection, + throughout which his word was law and almost gospel. This august dignitary + was pleased to discover signs of talent in Oliver, and suggested that as + he had attempted divinity and law without success, he should now try + physic. The advice came from too important a source to be disregarded, and + it was determined to send him to Edinburgh to commence his studies. The + Dean having given the advice, added to it, we trust, his blessing, but no + money; that was furnished from the scantier purses of Goldsmith’s + brother, his sister (Mrs. Hodson), and his ever-ready uncle, Contarine. + </p> + <p> + It was in the autumn of 1752 that Goldsmith arrived in Edinburgh. His + outset in that city came near adding to the list of his indiscretions and + disasters. Having taken lodgings at haphazard, he left his trunk there, + containing all his worldly effects, and sallied forth to see the town. + After sauntering about the streets until a late hour, he thought of + returning home, when, to his confusion, he found he had not acquainted + himself with the name either of his landlady or of the street in which she + lived. Fortunately, in the height of his whimsical perplexity, he met the + cawdy or porter who had carried his trunk, and who now served him as a + guide. + </p> + <p> + He did not remain long in the lodgings in which he had put up. The hostess + was too adroit at that hocus-pocus of the table which often is practiced + in cheap boarding-houses. No one could conjure a single joint through a + greater variety of forms. A loin of mutton, according to Goldsmith’s + account, would serve him and two fellow-students a whole week. “A + brandered chop was served up one day, a fried steak another, collops with + onion sauce a third, and so on until the fleshy parts were quite consumed, + when finally a dish of broth was manufactured from the bones on the + seventh day, and the landlady rested from her labors.” Goldsmith had + a good-humored mode of taking things, and for a short time amused himself + with the shifts and expedients of his landlady, which struck him in a + ludicrous manner; he soon, however, fell in with fellow-students from his + own country, whom he joined at more eligible quarters. + </p> + <p> + He now attended medical lectures, and attached himself to an association + of students called the Medical Society. He set out, as usual, with the + best intentions, but, as usual, soon fell into idle, convivial, + thoughtless habits. Edinburgh was indeed a place of sore trial for one of + his temperament. Convivial meetings were all the vogue, and the tavern was + the universal rallying-place of good-fellowship. And then Goldsmith’s + intimacies lay chiefly among the Irish students, who were always ready for + a wild freak and frolic. Among them he was a prime favorite and somewhat + of a leader, from his exuberance of spirits, his vein of humor, and his + talent at singing an Irish song and telling an Irish story. + </p> + <p> + His usual carelessness in money matters attended him. Though his supplies + from home were scanty and irregular, he never could bring himself into + habits of prudence and economy; often he was stripped of all his present + finances at play; often he lavished them away in fits of unguarded charity + or generosity. Sometimes among his boon companions he assumed a ludicrous + swagger in money matters, which no one afterward was more ready than + himself to laugh at. At a convivial meeting with a number of his + fellow-students, he suddenly proposed to draw lots with any one present + which of the two should treat the whole party to the play. The moment the + proposition had bolted from his lips his heart was in his throat. “To + my great though secret joy,” said he, “they all declined the + challenge. Had it been accepted, and had I proved the loser, a part of my + wardrobe must have been pledged in order to raise the money.” + </p> + <p> + At another of these meetings there was an earnest dispute on the question + of ghosts, some being firm believers in the possibility of departed + spirits returning to visit their friends and familiar haunts. One of the + disputants set sail the next day for London, but the vessel put back + through the stress of weather. His return was unknown except to one of the + believers in ghosts, who concerted with him a trick to be played off on + the opposite party. In the evening, at a meeting of the students, the + discussion was renewed; and one of the most strenuous opposers of ghosts + was asked whether he considered himself proof against ocular + demonstration? He persisted in his scoffing. Some solemn process of + conjuration was performed, and the comrade supposed to be on his way to + London made his appearance. The effect was fatal. The unbeliever fainted + at the sight, and ultimately went mad. We have no account of what share + Goldsmith took in this transaction, at which he was present. + </p> + <p> + The following letter to his friend Bryanton contains some of Goldsmith’s + impressions concerning Scotland and its inhabitants, and gives indications + of that humor which characterized some of his later writings. + </p> + <p> + “<i>Robert Bryanton, at Ballymahon, Ireland</i>. + </p> + <p> + “EDINBURGH, September 26, 1753. + </p> + <p> + “MY DEAR BOB—How many good excuses (and you know I was ever + good at an excuse) might I call up to vindicate my past shameful silence. + I might tell how I wrote a long letter on my first coming hither, and seem + vastly angry at my not receiving an answer; I might allege that business + (with business you know I was always pestered) had never given me time to + finger a pen. But I suppress those and twenty more as plausible, and as + easily invented, since they might be attended with a slight inconvenience + of being known to be lies. Let me then speak truth. An hereditary + indolence (I have it from the mother’s side) has hitherto prevented + my writing to you, and still prevents my writing at least twenty-five + letters more, due to my friends in Ireland. No turn-spit-dog gets up into + his wheel with more reluctance than I sit down to write; yet no dog ever + loved the roast meat he turns better than I do him I now address. + </p> + <p> + “Yet what shall I say now I am entered? Shall I tire you with a + description of this unfruitful country; where I must lead you over their + hills all brown with heath, or their valleys scarcely able to feed a + rabbit? Man alone seems to be the only creature who has arrived to the + natural size in this poor soil. Every part of the country presents the + same dismal landscape. No grove, nor brook, lend their music to cheer the + stranger, or make the inhabitants forget their poverty. Yet with all these + disadvantages to call him down to humility, a Scotchman is one of the + proudest things alive. The poor have pride ever ready to relieve them. If + mankind should happen to despise them, they are masters of their own + admiration, and that they can plentifully bestow upon themselves. + </p> + <p> + “From their pride and poverty, as I take it, results one advantage + this country enjoys—namely, the gentlemen here are much better bred + than among us. No such character here as our fox-hunters; and they have + expressed great surprise when I informed them that some men in Ireland of + one thousand pounds a year spend their whole lives in running after a + hare, and drinking to be drunk. Truly if such a being, equipped in his + hunting dress, came among a circle of Scotch gentry, they would behold him + with the same astonishment that a countryman does King George on + horseback. + </p> + <p> + “The men here have generally high cheek bones, and are lean and + swarthy, fond of action, dancing in particular. Now that I have mentioned + dancing, let me say something of their balls, which are very frequent + here. When a stranger enters the dancing-hall, he sees one end of the room + taken up by the ladies, who sit dismally in a group by themselves; in the + other end stand their pensive partners that are to be; but no more + intercourse between the sexes than there is between two countries at war. + The ladies indeed may ogle, and the gentlemen sigh; but an embargo is laid + on any closer commerce. At length, to interrupt hostilities, the lady + directress, or intendant, or what you will, pitches upon a lady and + gentleman to walk a minuet; which they perform with a formality that + approaches to despondence. After five or six couple have thus walked the + gantlet, all stand up to country dances; each gentleman furnished with a + partner from the aforesaid lady directress; so they dance much, say + nothing, and thus concludes our assembly. I told a Scotch gentleman that + such profound silence resembled the ancient procession of the Roman + matrons in honor of Ceres; and the Scotch gentleman told me (and, faith, I + believe he was right) that I was a very great pedant for my pains. + </p> + <p> + “Now I am come to the ladies; and to show that I love Scotland, and + everything that belongs to so charming a country, I insist on it, and will + give him leave to break my head that denies it—that the Scotch + ladies are ten thousand times finer and handsomer than the Irish. To be + sure, now, I see your sisters Betty and Peggy vastly surprised at my + partiality—but tell them flatly, I don’t value them—or + their fine skins, or eyes, or good sense, or——, a potato;—for + I say, and will maintain it; and as a convincing proof (I am in a great + passion) of what I assert, the Scotch ladies say it themselves. But to be + less serious; where will you find a language so prettily become a pretty + mouth as the broad Scotch? And the women here speak it in its highest + purity; for instance, teach one of your young ladies at home to pronounce + the ‘Whoar wull I gong?’ with a becoming widening of mouth, + and I’ll lay my life they’ll wound every hearer. + </p> + <p> + “We have no such character here as a coquette, but alas! how many + envious prudes! Some days ago I walked into my Lord Kilcoubry’s (don’t + be surprised, my lord is but a glover), [Footnote: William Maclellan, who + claimed the title, and whose son succeeded in establishing the claim in + 1773. The father is said to have voted at the election of the sixteen + Peers for Scotland, and to have sold gloves in the lobby at this and other + public assemblages.] when the Duchess of Hamilton (that fair who + sacrificed her beauty to her ambition, and her inward peace to a title and + gilt equipage) passed by in her chariot; her battered husband, or more + properly the guardian of her charms, sat by her side. Straight envy began, + in the shape of no less than three ladies who sat with me, to find faults + in her faultless form.—‘For my part,’ says the first, + ‘I think what I always thought, that the duchess has too much of the + red in her complexion.’ ‘Madam, I am of your opinion,’ + says the second; ‘I think her face has a palish cast too much on the + delicate order.’ ‘And let me tell you,’ added the third + lady, whose mouth was puckered up to the size of an issue, ‘that the + duchess has fine lips, but she wants a mouth.’—At this every + lady drew up her mouth as if going to pronounce the letter P. + </p> + <p> + “But how ill, my Bob, does it become me to ridicule women with whom + I have scarcely any correspondence! There are, ’tis certain, + handsome women here; and ’tis certain they have handsome men to keep + them company. An ugly and poor man is society only for himself, and such + society the world lets me enjoy in great abundance. Fortune has given you + circumstances, and nature a person to look charming in the eyes of the + fair. Nor do I envy my dear Bob such blessings, while I may sit down and + laugh at the world and at myself—the most ridiculous object in it. + But you see I am grown downright splenetic, and perhaps the fit may + continue till I receive an answer to this. I know you cannot send me much + news from Ballymahon, but such as it is, send it all; everything you send + will be agreeable to me. + </p> + <p> + “Has George Conway put up a sign yet; or John Binley left off + drinking drams; or Tom Allen got a new wig? But I leave you to your own + choice what to write. While I live, know you have a true friend in yours, + etc., etc. + </p> + <h3> + “OLIVER GOLDSMITH. + </h3> + <p> + “P.S.—Give my sincere respects (not compliments, do you mind) + to your agreeable family, and give my service to my mother, if you see + her; for, as you express it in Ireland, I have a sneaking kindness for her + still. Direct to me, ——, Student in Physic, in Edinburgh.” + </p> + <p> + Nothing worthy of preservation appeared from his pen during his residence + in Edinburgh; and indeed his poetical powers, highly as they had been + estimated by his friends, had not as yet produced anything of superior + merit. He made on one occasion a month’s excursion to the Highlands. + “I set out the first day on foot,” says he, in a letter to his + uncle Contarine, “but an ill-natured corn I have on my toe has for + the future prevented that cheap mode of traveling; so the second day I + hired a horse about the size of a ram, and he walked away (trot he could + not) as pensive as his master.” + </p> + <p> + During his residence in Scotland his convivial talents gained him at one + time attentions in a high quarter, which, however, he had the good sense + to appreciate correctly. “I have spent,” says he, in one of + his letters, “more than a fortnight every second day at the Duke of + Hamilton’s; but it seems they like me more as a jester than as a + companion, so I disdained so servile an employment as unworthy my calling + as a physician.” Here we again find the origin of another passage in + his autobiography, under the character of the “Man in Black,” + wherein that worthy figures as a flatterer to a great man. “At + first,” says he, “I was surprised that the situation of a + flatterer at a great man’s table could be thought disagreeable; + there was no great trouble in listening attentively when his lordship + spoke, and laughing when he looked round for applause. This, even good + manners might have obliged me to perform. I found, however, too soon, his + lordship was a greater dunce than myself, and from that moment flattery + was at an end. I now rather aimed at setting him right, than at receiving + his absurdities with submission: to flatter those we do not know is an + easy task; but to flatter our intimate acquaintances, all whose foibles + are strongly in our eyes, is drudgery insupportable. Every time I now + opened my lips in praise, my falsehood went to my conscience; his lordship + soon perceived me to be very unfit for his service: I was therefore + discharged; my patron at the same time being graciously pleased to observe + that he believed I was tolerably good-natured, and had not the least harm + in me.” + </p> + <p> + After spending two winters at Edinburgh, Goldsmith prepared to finish his + medical studies on the Continent, for which his uncle Contarine agreed to + furnish the funds. “I intend,” said he, in a letter to his + uncle, “to visit Paris, where the great Farheim, Petit, and Du + Hammel de Monceau instruct their pupils in all the branches of medicine. + They speak French, and consequently I shall have much the advantage of + most of my countrymen, as I am perfectly acquainted with that language, + and few who leave Ireland are so. I shall spend the spring and summer in + Paris, and the beginning of next winter go to Leyden. The great Albinus is + still alive there, and ’twill be proper to go, though only to have + it said that we have studied in so famous a university. + </p> + <p> + “As I shall not have another opportunity of receiving money from + your bounty till my return to Ireland, so I have drawn for the last sum + that I hope I shall ever trouble you for; ’tis £20. And now, dear + sir, let me here acknowledge the humility of the station in which you + found me; let me tell how I was despised by most, and hateful to myself. + Poverty, hopeless poverty, was my lot, and Melancholy was beginning to + make me her own. When you—but I stop here, to inquire how your + health goes on? How does my cousin Jenny, and has she recovered her late + complaint? How does my poor Jack Goldsmith? I fear his disorder is of such + a nature as he won’t easily recover. I wish, my dear sir, you would + make me happy by another letter before I go abroad, for there I shall + hardly hear from you.... Give my—how shall I express it? Give my + earnest love to Mr. and Mrs. Lawder.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Lawder was Jane, his early playmate—the object of his valentine—his + first poetical inspiration. She had been for some time married. + </p> + <p> + Medical instruction, it will be perceived, was the ostensible motive for + this visit to the Continent, but the real one, in all probability, was his + long-cherished desire to see foreign parts. This, however, he would not + acknowledge even to himself, but sought to reconcile his roving + propensities with some grand moral purpose. “I esteem the traveler + who instructs the heart,” says he, in one of his subsequent + writings, “but despise him who only indulges the imagination. A man + who leaves home to mend himself and others is a philosopher; but he who + goes from country to country, guided by the blind impulse of curiosity, is + only a vagabond.” He, of course, was to travel as a philosopher, and + in truth his outfits for a continental tour were in character. “I + shall carry just £33 to France,” said he, “with good store of + clothes, shirts, etc., and that with economy will suffice.” He + forgot to make mention of his flute, which it will be found had + occasionally to come in play when economy could not replenish his purse, + nor philosophy find him a supper. Thus slenderly provided with money, + prudence, or experience, and almost as slightly guarded against “hard + knocks” as the hero of La Mancha, whose head-piece was half iron, + half pasteboard, he made his final sally forth upon the world; hoping all + things; believing all things; little anticipating the checkered ills in + store for him; little thinking when he penned his valedictory letter to + his good uncle Contarine that he was never to see him more; never to + return after all his wandering to the friend of his infancy; never to + revisit his early and fondly-remembered haunts at “sweet Lissoy” + and Ballymahon. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0005" id="link2HCH0005"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER FIVE + </h2> + <p> + THE AGREEABLE FELLOW-PASSENGERS—RISKS FROM FRIENDS PICKED UP BY THE + WAYSIDE—SKETCHES OF HOLLAND AND THE DUTCH—SHIFTS WHILE A POOR + STUDENT AT LEYDEN—THE TULIP SPECULATION—THE PROVIDENT FLUTE—SOJOURN + AT PARIS—SKETCH OF VOLTAIRE—TRAVELING SHIFTS OF A PHILOSOPHIC + VAGABOND + </p> + <p> + His usual indiscretion attended Goldsmith at the very outset of his + foreign enterprise. He had intended to take shipping at Leith for Holland, + but on arriving at that port he found a ship about to sail for Bordeaux, + with six agreeable passengers, whose acquaintance he had probably made at + the inn. He was not a man to resist a sudden impulse; so, instead of + embarking for Holland, he found himself plowing the seas on his way to the + other side of the Continent. Scarcely had the ship been two days at sea + when she was driven by stress of weather to Newcastle-upon-Tyne. Here + “of course” Goldsmith and his agreeable fellow-passengers + found it expedient to go on shore and “refresh themselves after the + fatigues of the voyage.” “Of course” they frolicked and + made merry until a late hour in the evening, when, in the midst of their + hilarity, the door was burst open, and a sergeant and twelve grenadiers + entered with fixed bayonets, and took the whole convivial party prisoners. + </p> + <p> + It seems that the agreeable companions with whom our greenhorn had struck + up such a sudden intimacy were Scotchmen in the French service, who had + been in Scotland enlisting recruits for the French army. + </p> + <p> + In vain Goldsmith protested his innocence; he was marched off with his + fellow-revelers to prison, whence he with difficulty obtained his release + at the end of a fortnight. With his customary facility, however, at + palliating his misadventures, he found everything turn out for the best. + His imprisonment saved his life, for during his detention the ship + proceeded on her voyage, but was wrecked at the mouth of the Garonne, and + all on board perished. + </p> + <p> + Goldsmith’s second embarkation was for Holland direct, and in nine + days he arrived at Rotterdam, whence he proceeded, without any more + deviations, to Leyden. He gives a whimsical picture, in one of his + letters, of the appearance of the Hollanders. “The modern Dutchman + is quite a different creature from him of former times; he in everything + imitates a Frenchman but in his easy, disengaged air. He is vastly + ceremonious, and is, perhaps, exactly what a Frenchman might have been in + the reign of Louis XIV. Such are the better bred. But the downright + Hollander is one of the oddest figures in nature. Upon a lank head of hair + he wears a half-cocked narrow hat, laced with black ribbon; no coat, but + seven waistcoats and nine pair of breeches, so that his hips reach up + almost to his armpits. This well-clothed vegetable is now fit to see + company or make love. But what a pleasing creature is the object of his + appetite! why, she wears a large fur cap, with a deal of Flanders lace; + and for every pair of breeches he carries, she puts on two petticoats. + </p> + <p> + “A Dutch lady burns nothing about her phlegmatic admirer but his + tobacco. You must know, sir, every woman carries in her hand a stove of + coals, which, when she sits, she snugs under her petticoats, and at this + chimney dozing Strephon lights his pipe.” + </p> + <p> + In the same letter, he contrasts Scotland and Holland. “There hills + and rocks intercept every prospect; here it is all a continued plain. + There you might see a well-dressed duchess issuing from a dirty close, and + here a dirty Dutchman inhabiting a palace. The Scotch may be compared to a + tulip, planted in dung; but I can never see a Dutchman in his own house + but I think of a magnificent Egyptian temple dedicated to an ox.” + </p> + <p> + The country itself awakened his admiration. “Nothing,” said + he, “can equal its beauty; wherever I turn my eyes, fine houses, + elegant gardens, statues, grottoes, vistas, present themselves; but when + you enter their towns you are charmed beyond description. No misery is to + be seen here; every one is usefully employed.” And again, in his + noble description in The Traveler: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “To men of other minds my fancy flies, + Imbosom’d in the deep where Holland lies. + Methinks her patient sons before me stand, + Where the broad ocean leans against the land, + And, sedulous to stop the coming tide, + Lift the tall rampire’s artificial pride. + Onward, methinks, and diligently slow, + The firm connected bulwark seems to grow; + Spreads its long arms amid the watery roar, + Scoops out an empire, and usurps the shore. + While the pent ocean, rising o’er the pile, + Sees an amphibious world before him smile; + The slow canal, the yellow blossom’d vale, + The willow-tufted bank, the gliding sail, + The crowded mart, the cultivated plain, + A new creation rescued from his reign.” + </pre> + <p> + He remained about a year at Leyden, attending the lectures of Gaubius on + chemistry and Albinus on anatomy; though his studies are said to have been + miscellaneous, and directed to literature rather than science. The + thirty-three pounds with which he had set out on his travels were soon + consumed, and he was put to many a shift to meet his expenses until his + precarious remittances should arrive. He had a good friend on these + occasions in a fellow-student and countryman, named Ellis, who afterward + rose to eminence as a physician. He used frequently to loan small sums to + Goldsmith, which were always scrupulously paid. Ellis discovered the + innate merits of the poor awkward student, and used to declare in after + life that “it was a common remark in Leyden, that in all the + peculiarities of Goldsmith, an elevation of mind was to be noted; a + philosophical tone and manner; the feelings of a gentleman, and the + language and information of a scholar.” + </p> + <p> + Sometimes, in his emergencies, Goldsmith undertook to teach the English + language. It is true he was ignorant of the Dutch, but he had a smattering + of the French, picked up among the Irish priests at Ballymahon. He depicts + his whimsical embarrassment in this respect, in his account in the Vicar + of Wakefield of the <i>philosophical vagabond</i> who went to Holland to + teach the natives English, without knowing a word of their own language. + Sometimes, when sorely pinched, and sometimes, perhaps, when flush, he + resorted to the gambling tables, which in those days abounded in Holland. + His good friend Ellis repeatedly warned him against this unfortunate + propensity, but in vain. It brought its own cure, or rather its own + punishment, by stripping him of every shilling. + </p> + <p> + Ellis once more stepped in to his relief with a true Irishman’s + generosity, but with more considerateness than generally characterizes an + Irishman, for he only granted pecuniary aid on condition of his quitting + the sphere of danger. Goldsmith gladly consented to leave Holland, being + anxious to visit other parts. He intended to proceed to Paris and pursue + his studies there, and was furnished by his friend with money for the + journey. Unluckily, he rambled into the garden of a florist just before + quitting Leyden. The tulip mania was still prevalent in Holland, and some + species of that splendid flower brought immense prices. In wandering + through the garden Goldsmith recollected that his uncle Contarine was a + tulip fancier. The thought suddenly struck him that here was an + opportunity of testifying, in a delicate manner, his sense of that + generous uncle’s past kindnesses. In an instant his hand was in his + pocket; a number of choice and costly tulip-roots were purchased and + packed up for Mr. Contarine; and it was not until he had paid for them + that he bethought himself that he had spent all the money borrowed for his + traveling expenses. Too proud, however, to give up his journey, and too + shamefaced to make another appeal to his friend’s liberality, he + determined to travel on foot, and depend upon chance and good luck for the + means of getting forward; and it is said that he actually set off on a + tour of the Continent, in February, 1775, with but one spare shirt, a + flute, and a single guinea. + </p> + <p> + “Blessed,” says one of his biographers, “with a good + constitution, an adventurous spirit, and with that thoughtless, or, + perhaps, happy disposition which takes no care for to-morrow, he continued + his travels for a long time in spite of innumerable privations.” In + his amusing narrative of the adventures of a “Philosophic Vagabond” + in the Vicar of Wakefield, we find shadowed out the expedients he pursued. + “I had some knowledge of music, with a tolerable voice; I now turned + what was once my amusement into a present means of subsistence. I passed + among the 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 + toward nightfall, I played one of my merriest tunes, and that procured me + not only a lodging, but subsistence for the next day; but in truth I must + own, whenever I attempted to entertain persons of a higher rank, they + always thought my performance odious, and never made me any return for my + endeavors to please them.” + </p> + <p> + At Paris he attended the chemical lectures of Rouelle, then in great + vogue, where he says he witnessed as bright a circle of beauty as graced + the court of Versailles. His love of theatricals, also, led him to attend + the performances of the celebrated actress Mademoiselle Clairon, with + which he was greatly delighted. He seems to have looked upon the state of + society with the eye of a philosopher, but to have read the signs of the + times with the prophetic eye of a poet. In his rambles about the environs + of Paris he was struck with the immense quantities of game running about + almost in a tame state; and saw in those costly and rigid preserves for + the amusement and luxury of the privileged few a sure “badge of the + slavery of the people.” This slavery he predicted was drawing toward + a close. “When I consider that these parliaments, the members of + which are all created by the court, and the presidents of which can only + act by immediate direction, presume even to mention privileges and + freedom, who till of late received directions from the throne with + implicit humility; when this is considered, I cannot help fancying that + the genius of Freedom has entered that kingdom in disguise. If they have + but three weak monarchs more successively on the throne, the mask will be + laid aside and the country will certainly once more be free.” Events + have testified to the sage forecast of the poet. + </p> + <p> + During a brief sojourn in Paris he appears to have gained access to + valuable society, and to have had the honor and pleasure of making the + acquaintance of Voltaire; of whom, in after years, he wrote a memoir. + “As a companion,” says he, “no man ever exceeded him + when he pleased to lead the conversation; which, however, was not always + the case. In company which he either disliked or despised, few could be + more reserved than he; but when he was warmed in discourse, and got over a + hesitating manner, which sometimes he was subject to, it was rapture to + hear him. His meager visage seemed insensibly to gather beauty; every + muscle in it had meaning, and his eye beamed with unusual brightness. The + person who writes this memoir,” continues he, “remembers to + have seen him in a select company of wits of both sexes at Paris, when the + subject happened to turn upon English taste and learning. Fontenelle (then + nearly a hundred years old), who was of the party, and who being + unacquainted with the language or authors of the country he undertook to + condemn, with a spirit truly vulgar began to revile both. Diderot, who + liked the English, and knew something of their literary pretensions, + attempted to vindicate their poetry and learning, but with unequal + abilities. The company quickly perceived that Fontenelle was superior in + the dispute, and were surprised at the silence which Voltaire had + preserved all the former part of the night, particularly as the + conversation happened to turn upon one of his favorite topics. Fontenelle + continued his triumph until about twelve o’clock, when Voltaire + appeared at last roused from his reverie. His whole frame seemed animated. + He began his defense with the utmost defiance mixed with spirit, and now + and then let fall the finest strokes of raillery upon his antagonist; and + his harangue lasted till three in the morning. I must confess that, + whether from national partiality or from the elegant sensibility of his + manner, I never was so charmed, nor did I ever remember so absolute a + victory as he gained in this dispute.” + </p> + <p> + Goldsmith’s ramblings took him into Germany and Switzerland, from + which last mentioned country he sent to his brother in Ireland the first + brief sketch, afterward amplified into his poem of The Traveler. + </p> + <p> + At Geneva he became traveling tutor to a mongrel young gentleman, son of a + London pawnbroker, who had been suddenly elevated into fortune and + absurdity by the death of an uncle. The youth, before setting up for a + gentleman, had been an attorney’s apprentice, and was an arrant + pettifogger in money matters. Never were two beings more illy assorted + than he and Goldsmith. We may form an idea of the tutor and the pupil from + the following extract from the narrative of the “Philosophic + Vagabond.” + </p> + <p> + “I was to be the young gentleman’s governor, but with a + proviso that he should always be permitted to govern himself. My pupil, in + fact, understood the art of guiding in money concerns much better than I. + He was heir to a fortune of about two hundred thousand pounds, left him by + an uncle in the West Indies; and his guardians, to qualify him for the + management of it, had bound him apprentice to an attorney. Thus avarice + was his prevailing passion; all his questions on the road were how money + might be saved—which was the least expensive course of travel—whether + anything could be bought that would turn to account when disposed of again + in London. Such curiosities on the way as could be seen for nothing he was + ready enough to look at; but if the sight of them was to be paid for, he + usually asserted that he had been told that they were not worth seeing. He + never paid a bill that he would not observe how amazingly expensive + traveling was; and all this though not yet twenty-one.” + </p> + <p> + In this sketch Goldsmith undoubtedly shadows forth his annoyances as + traveling tutor to this concrete young gentleman, compounded of the + pawnbroker, the pettifogger, and the West Indian heir, with an overlaying + of the city miser. They had continual difficulties on all points of + expense until they reached Marseilles, where both were glad to separate. + </p> + <p> + Once more on foot, but freed from the irksome duties of “bear + leader,” and with some of his pay, as tutor, in his pocket, + Goldsmith continued his half-vagrant peregrinations through part of France + and Piedmont, and some of the Italian States. He had acquired, as has been + shown, a habit of shifting along and living by expedients, and a new one + presented itself in Italy. “My skill in music,” says he, in + the “Philosophic Vagabond,” “could avail me nothing in a + country where every peasant was a better musician than I; but by this time + I had acquired another talent, which answered my purpose as well, and this + was a skill in disputation. In all the foreign universities and convents + there are, upon certain days, philosophical theses maintained against + every adventitious disputant; for which, if the champion opposes with any + dexterity, he can claim a gratuity in money, a dinner, and a bed for one + night.” Though a poor wandering scholar, his reception in these + learned piles was as free from humiliation as in the cottages of the + peasantry. “With the members of these establishments,” said + he, “I could converse on topics of literature, <i>and then I always + forgot the meanness of my circumstances</i>.” + </p> + <p> + At Padua, where he remained some months, he is said to have taken his + medical degree. It is probable he was brought to a pause in this city by + the death of his uncle Contarine, who had hitherto assisted him in his + wanderings by occasional, though, of course, slender remittances. Deprived + of this source of supplies he wrote to his friends in Ireland, and + especially to his brother-in-law Hodson, describing his destitute + situation. His letters brought him neither money nor reply. It appears + from subsequent correspondence that his brother-in-law actually exerted + himself to raise a subscription for his assistance among his relatives, + friends, and acquaintance, but without success. Their faith and hope in + him were most probably at an end; as yet he had disappointed them at every + point, he had given none of the anticipated proofs of talent, and they + were too poor to support what they may have considered the wandering + propensities of a heedless spendthrift. + </p> + <p> + Thus left to his own precarious resources, Goldsmith gave up all further + wandering in Italy, without visiting the south, though Rome and Naples + must have held out powerful attractions to one of his poetical cast. Once + more resuming his pilgrim staff, he turned his face toward England, + “walking along from city to city, examining mankind more nearly, and + seeing both sides of the picture.” In traversing France his flute—his + magic flute—was once more in requisition, as we may conclude, by the + following passage in his Traveler: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Gay, sprightly land of mirth and social ease, + Pleased with thyself, whom all the world can please, + How often have I led thy sportive choir + With tuneless pipe beside the murmuring Loire! + Where shading elms along the margin grew, + And freshened from the wave the zephyr flew; + And haply though my harsh note falt’ring still, + But mocked all tune, and marr’d the dancer’s skill; + Yet would the village praise my wondrous power, + And dance forgetful of the noontide hour. + Alike all ages: Dames of ancient days + Have led their children through the mirthful maze, + And the gay grandsire, skill’d in gestic lore, + Has frisk’d beneath the burden of threescore.” + </pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0006" id="link2HCH0006"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER SIX + </h2> + <p> + LANDING IN ENGLAND—SHIFTS OF A MAN WITHOUT MONEY—THE PESTLE + AND MORTAR—THEATRICALS IN A BARN—LAUNCH UPON LONDON—A + CITY NIGHT SCENE—STRUGGLES WITH PENURY—MISERIES OF A TUTOR—A + DOCTOR IN THE SUBURB—POOR PRACTICE AND SECOND-HAND FINERY—A + TRAGEDY IN EMBRYO—PROJECT OF THE WRITTEN MOUNTAINS + </p> + <p> + After two years spent in roving about the Continent, “pursuing + novelty,” as he said, “and losing content,” Goldsmith + landed at Dover early in 1756. He appears to have had no definite plan of + action. The death of his uncle Contarine, and the neglect of his relatives + and friends to reply to his letters, seem to have produced in him a + temporary feeling of loneliness and destitution, and his only thought was + to get to London and throw himself upon the world. But how was he to get + there? His purse was empty. England was to him as completely a foreign + land as any part of the Continent, and where on earth is a penniless + stranger more destitute? His flute and his philosophy were no longer of + any avail; the English boors cared nothing for music; there were no + convents; and as to the learned and the clergy, not one of them would give + a vagrant scholar a supper and night’s lodging for the best thesis + that ever was argued. “You may easily imagine,” says he, in a + subsequent letter to his brother-in-law, “what difficulties I had to + encounter, left as I was without friends, recommendations, money, or + impudence, and that in a country where being born an Irishman was + sufficient to keep me unemployed. Many, in such circumstances, would have + had recourse to the friar’s cord or the suicide’s halter. But, + with all my follies, I had principle to resist the one, and resolution to + combat the other.” + </p> + <p> + He applied at one place, we are told, for employment in the shop of a + country apothecary; but all his medical science gathered in foreign + universities could not gain him the management of a pestle and mortar. He + even resorted, it is said, to the stage as a temporary expedient, and + figured in low comedy at a country town in Kent. This accords with his + last shift of the “Philosophic Vagabond,” and with the + knowledge of country theatricals displayed in his Adventures of a + Strolling Player, or may be a story suggested by them. All this part of + his career, however, in which he must have trod the lowest paths of + humility, are only to be conjectured from vague traditions, or scraps of + autobiography gleaned from his miscellaneous writings. + </p> + <p> + At length we find him launched on the great metropolis, or rather drifting + about its streets, at night, in the gloomy month of February, with but a + few half-pence in his pocket. The deserts of Arabia are not more dreary + and inhospitable than the streets of London at such a time, and to a + stranger in such a plight. Do we want a picture as an illustration? We + have it in his own words, and furnished, doubtless, from his own + experience. + </p> + <p> + “The clock has just struck two; what a gloom hangs all around! no + sound is heard but of the chiming clock, or the distant watch-dog. How few + appear in those streets, which but some few hours ago were crowded! But + who are those who make the streets their couch, and find a short repose + from wretchedness at the doors of the opulent? They are strangers, + wanderers, and orphans, whose circumstances are too humble to expect + redress, and whose distresses are too great even for pity. Some are + without the covering even of rags, and others emaciated with disease; the + world has disclaimed them; society turns its back upon their distress, and + has given them up to nakedness and hunger. <i>These poor shivering females + have once seen happier days, and been flattered into beauty.</i> They are + now turned out to meet the severity of winter. Perhaps now, lying at the + doors of their betrayers, they sue to wretches whose hearts are + insensible, or debauchees who may curse, but will not relieve them. + </p> + <p> + “Why, why was I born a man, and yet see the sufferings of wretches I + cannot relieve! Poor houseless creatures! The world will give you + reproaches, but will not give you relief.” + </p> + <p> + Poor houseless Goldsmith! we may here ejaculate—to what shifts he + must have been driven to find shelter and sustenance for himself in this + his first venture into London! Many years afterward, in the days of his + social elevation, he startled a polite circle at Sir Joshua Reynolds’ + by humorously dating an anecdote about the time he “lived among the + beggars of Axe Lane.” Such may have been the desolate quarters with + which he was fain to content himself when thus adrift upon the town, with + but a few half-pence in his pocket. + </p> + <p> + The first authentic trace we have of him in this new part of his career, + is filling the situation of an usher to a school, and even this employ he + obtained with some difficulty, after a reference for a character to his + friends in the University of Dublin. In the Vicar of Wakefield he makes + George Primrose undergo a whimsical catechism concerning the requisites + for an usher. “Have you been bred apprentice to the business?” + “No.” “Then you won’t do for a school. Can you + dress the boys’ hair?” “No.” “Then you won’t + do for a school. Can you lie three in a bed?” “No.” + “Then you will never do for a school. Have you a good stomach?” + “Yes.” “Then you will by no means do for a school. I + have been an usher in a boarding-school myself, and may I die of an + anodyne necklace, but I had rather be under-turnkey in Newgate. I was up + early and late; I was browbeat by the master, hated for my ugly face by + the mistress, worried by the boys.” + </p> + <p> + Goldsmith remained but a short time in this situation, and to the + mortifications experienced there we doubtless owe the picturings given in + his writings of the hardships of an usher’s life. “He is + generally,” says he, “the laughingstock of the school. Every + trick is played upon him; the oddity of his manner, his dress, or his + language, is a fund of eternal ridicule; the master himself now and then + cannot avoid joining in the laugh; and the poor wretch, eternally + resenting this ill-usage, lives in a state of war with all the family.”—“He + is obliged, perhaps, to sleep in the same bed with the French teacher, who + disturbs him for an hour every night in papering and filleting his hair, + and stinks worse than a carrion with his rancid pomatums, when he lays his + head beside him on the bolster.” + </p> + <p> + His next shift was as assistant in the laboratory of a chemist near Fish + Street Hill. After remaining here a few months, he heard that Dr. Sleigh, + who had been his friend and fellow-student at Edinburgh, was in London. + Eager to meet with a friendly face in this land of strangers, he + immediately called on him; “but though it was Sunday, and it is to + be supposed I was in my best clothes, Sleigh scarcely knew me—such + is the tax the unfortunate pay to poverty. However, when he did recollect + me, I found his heart as warm as ever, and he shared his purse and + friendship with me during his continuance in London.” + </p> + <p> + Through the advice and assistance of Dr. Sleigh, he now commenced the + practice of medicine, but in a small way, in Bankside, Southwark, and + chiefly among the poor; for he wanted the figure, address, polish, and + management, to succeed among the rich. His old schoolmate and college + companion, Beatty, who used to aid him with his purse at the university, + met him about this time, decked out in the tarnished finery of a + second-hand suit of green and gold, with a shirt and neckcloth of a + fortnight’s wear. + </p> + <p> + Poor Goldsmith endeavored to assume a prosperous air in the eyes of his + early associate. “He was practicing physic,” he said, “and + <i>doing very well!</i>” At this moment poverty was pinching him to + the bone in spite of his practice and his dirty finery. His fees were + necessarily small, and ill paid, and he was fain to seek some precarious + assistance from his pen. Here his quondam fellow-student, Dr. Sleigh, was + again of service, introducing him to some of the booksellers, who gave him + occasional, though starveling employment. According to tradition, however, + his most efficient patron just now was a journeyman printer, one of his + poor patients of Bankside, who had formed a good opinion of his talents, + and perceived his poverty and his literary shifts. The printer was in the + employ of Mr. Samuel Richardson, the author of Pamela, Clarissa, and Sir + Charles Grandison; who combined the novelist and the publisher, and was in + flourishing circumstances. Through the journeyman’s intervention + Goldsmith is said to have become acquainted with Richardson, who employed + him as reader and corrector of the press, at his printing establishment in + Salisbury Court; an occupation which he alternated with his medical + duties. + </p> + <p> + Being admitted occasionally to Richardson’s parlor, he began to form + literary acquaintances, among whom the most important was Dr. Young, the + author of Night Thoughts, a poem in the height of fashion. It is not + probable, however, that much familiarity took place at the time between + the literary lion of the day and the poor Aesculapius of Bankside, the + humble corrector of the press. Still the communion with literary men had + its effect to set his imagination teeming. Dr. Farr, one of his Edinburgh + fellow-students, who was at London about this time, attending the + hospitals and lectures, gives us an amusing account of Goldsmith in his + literary character. + </p> + <p> + “Early in January he called upon me one morning before I was up, + and, on my entering the room, I recognized my old acquaintance, dressed in + a rusty, full-trimmed black suit, with his pockets full of papers, which + instantly reminded me of the poet in Garrick’s farce of Lethe. After + we had finished our breakfast he drew from his pocket part of a tragedy, + which he said he had brought for my correction. In vain I pleaded + inability, when he began to read; and every part on which I expressed a + doubt as to the propriety was immediately blotted out. I then most + earnestly pressed him not to trust to my judgment, but to take the opinion + of persons better qualified to decide on dramatic compositions. He now + told me he had submitted his productions, so far as he had written, to Mr. + Richardson, the author of Clarissa, on which I peremptorily declined + offering another criticism on the performance.” + </p> + <p> + From the graphic description given of him by Dr. Farr, it will be + perceived that the tarnished finery of green and gold had been succeeded + by a professional suit of black, to which, we are told, were added the wig + and cane indispensable to medical doctors in those days. The coat was a + second-hand one, of rusty velvet, with a patch on the left breast, which + he adroitly covered with his three-cornered hat during his medical visits; + and we have an amusing anecdote of his contest of courtesy with a patient + who persisted in endeavoring to relieve him from the hat, which only made + him press it more devoutly to his heart. + </p> + <p> + Nothing further has ever been heard of the tragedy mentioned by Dr. Farr; + it was probably never completed. The same gentleman speaks of a strange + Quixotic scheme which Goldsmith had in contemplation at the time, “of + going to decipher the inscriptions on the <i>written mountains</i>,” + though he was altogether ignorant of Arabic, or the language in which they + might be supposed to be written. “The salary of three hundred + pounds,” adds Dr. Farr, “which had been left for the purpose, + was the temptation.” This was probably one of many dreamy projects + with which his fervid brain was apt to teem. On such subjects he was prone + to talk vaguely and magnificently, but inconsiderately, from a kindled + imagination rather than a well-instructed judgment. He had always a great + notion of expeditions to the East, and wonders to be seen and effected in + the Oriental countries. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0007" id="link2HCH0007"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER SEVEN + </h2> + <p> + LIFE OP A PEDAGOGUE—KINDNESS TO SCHOOLBOYS—PERTNESS IN RETURN—EXPENSIVE + CHARITIES—THE GRIFFITHS AND THE “MONTHLY REVIEW”—TOILS + OF A LITERARY HACK—RUPTURE WITH THE GRIFFITHS + </p> + <p> + Among the most cordial of Goldsmith’s intimates in London during + this time of precarious struggle were certain of his former + fellow-students in Edinburgh. One of these was the son of a Dr. Milner, a + dissenting minister, who kept a classical school of eminence at Peckham, + in Surrey. Young Milner had a favorable opinion of Goldsmith’s + abilities and attainments, and cherished for him that good will which his + genial nature seems ever to have inspired among his school and college + associates. His father falling ill, the young man negotiated with + Goldsmith to take temporary charge of the school. The latter readily + consented; for he was discouraged by the slow growth of medical reputation + and practice, and as yet had no confidence in the coy smiles of the muse. + Laying by his wig and cane, therefore, and once more wielding the ferule, + he resumed the character of the pedagogue, and for some time reigned as + vicegerent over the academy at Peckham. He appears to have been well + treated by both Dr. Milner and his wife, and became a favorite with the + scholars from his easy, indulgent good nature. He mingled in their sports, + told them droll stories, played on the flute for their amusement, and + spent his money in treating them to sweetmeats and other schoolboy + dainties. His familiarity was sometimes carried too far; he indulged in + boyish pranks and practical jokes, and drew upon himself retorts in kind, + which, however, he bore with great good humor. Once, indeed, he was + touched to the quick by a piece of schoolboy pertness. After playing on + the flute, he spoke with enthusiasm of music, as delightful in itself, and + as a valuable accomplishment for a gentleman, whereupon a youngster, with + a glance at his ungainly person, wished to know if he considered himself a + gentleman. Poor Goldsmith, feelingly alive to the awkwardness of his + appearance and the humility of his situation, winced at this unthinking + sneer, which long rankled in his mind. + </p> + <p> + As usual, while in Dr. Milner’s employ, his benevolent feelings were + a heavy tax upon his purse, for he never could resist a tale of distress, + and was apt to be fleeced by every sturdy beggar; so that, between his + charity and his munificence, he was generally in advance of his slender + salary. “You had better, Mr. Goldsmith, let me take care of your + money,” said Mrs. Milner one day, “as I do for some of the + young gentlemen.”—“In truth, madam, there is equal need!” + was the good-humored reply. + </p> + <p> + Dr. Milner was a man of some literary pretensions, and wrote occasionally + for the “Monthly Review,” of which a bookseller, by the name + of Griffiths, was proprietor. This work was an advocate for Whig + principles, and had been in prosperous existence for nearly eight years. + Of late, however, periodicals had multiplied exceedingly, and a formidable + Tory rival had started up in the “Critical Review,” published + by Archibald Hamilton, a bookseller, and aided by the powerful and popular + pen of Dr. Smollett. Griffiths was obliged to recruit his forces. While so + doing he met Goldsmith, a humble occupant of a seat at Dr. Milner’s + table, and was struck with remarks on men and books which fell from him in + the course of conversation. He took occasion to sound him privately as to + his inclination and capacity as a reviewer, and was furnished by him with + specimens of his literary and critical talents. They proved satisfactory. + The consequence was that Goldsmith once more changed his mode of life, and + in April, 1757, became a contributor to the “Monthly Review,” + at a small fixed salary, with board and lodging, and accordingly took up + his abode with Mr. Griffiths, at the sign of the Dunciad, Paternoster Row. + As usual we trace this phase of his fortunes in his semi-fictitious + writings; his sudden transmutation of the pedagogue into the author being + humorously set forth in the case of “George Primrose,” in the + Vicar of “Wakefield.” “Come,” says George’s + adviser, “I see you are a lad of spirit and some learning; what do + you think of commencing author like me? You have read in books, no doubt, + of men of genius starving at the trade; at present I’ll show you + forty very dull fellows about town that live by it in opulence. All + honest, jog-trot men, who go on smoothly and dully, and write history and + politics, and are praised: men, sir, who, had they been bred cobblers, + would all their lives only have mended shoes, but never made them.” + “Finding” (says George) “that there is no great degree + of gentility affixed to the character of an usher, I resolved to accept + his proposal; and having the highest respect for literature, hailed the <i>antiqua + mater</i> of Grub Street with reverence. I thought it my glory to pursue a + track which Dryden and Otway trod before me. Alas, Dryden struggled with + indigence all his days; and Otway, it is said, fell a victim to famine in + his thirty-fifth year, being strangled by a roll of bread, which he + devoured with the voracity of a starving man.” + </p> + <p> + In Goldsmith’s experience the track soon proved a thorny one. + Griffiths was a hard business man, of shrewd, worldly good sense, but + little refinement or cultivation. He meddled, or rather muddled with + literature, too, in a business way, altering and modifying occasionally + the writings of his contributors, and in this he was aided by his wife, + who, according to Smollett, was “an antiquated female critic and a + dabbler in the ‘Review.’” Such was the literary + vassalage to which Goldsmith had unwarily subjected himself. A diurnal + drudgery was imposed on him, irksome to his indolent habits, and attended + by circumstances humiliating to his pride. He had to write daily from nine + o’clock until two, and often throughout the day; whether in the vein + or not, and on subjects dictated by his taskmaster, however foreign to his + taste; in a word, he was treated as a mere literary hack. But this was not + the worst; it was the critical supervision of Griffiths and his wife which + grieved him: the “illiterate, bookselling Griffiths,” as + Smollett called them, “who presumed to revise, alter, and amend the + articles contributed to their ‘Review.’ Thank heaven,” + crowed Smollett, “the ‘Critical Review’ is not written + under the restraint of a bookseller and his wife. Its principal writers + are independent of each other, unconnected with booksellers, and unawed by + old women!” + </p> + <p> + This literary vassalage, however, did not last long. The bookseller became + more and more exacting. He accused his hack writer of idleness; of + abandoning his writing-desk and literary workshop at an early hour of the + day; and of assuming a tone and manner <i>above his situation</i>. + Goldsmith, in return, charged him with impertinence; his wife with + meanness and parsimony in her household treatment of him, and both of + literary meddling and marring. The engagement was broken off at the end of + five months, by mutual consent, and without any violent rupture, as it + will be found they afterward had occasional dealings with each other. + </p> + <p> + Though Goldsmith was now nearly thirty years of age, he had produced + nothing to give him a decided reputation. He was as yet a mere writer for + bread. The articles he had contributed to the “Review” were + anonymous, and were never avowed by him. They have since been, for the + most part, ascertained; and though thrown off hastily, often treating on + subjects of temporary interest, and marred by the Griffith interpolations, + they are still characterized by his sound, easy, good sense, and the + genial graces of his style. Johnson observed that Goldsmith’s genius + flowered late; he should have said it flowered early, but was late in + bringing its fruit to maturity. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0008" id="link2HCH0008"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER EIGHT + </h2> + <p> + NEWBERY, OF PICTURE-BOOK MEMORY—HOW TO KEEP UP APPEARANCES—MISERIES + OF AUTHORSHIP—A POOR RELATION—LETTER TO HODSON + </p> + <p> + Being now known in the publishing world, Goldsmith began to find casual + employment in various quarters; among others he wrote occasionally for the + “Literary Magazine,” a production set on foot by Mr. John + Newbery, bookseller, St. Paul’s Churchyard, renowned in nursery + literature throughout the latter half of the last century for his + picture-books for children. Newbery was a worthy, intelligent, + kind-hearted man, and a seasonable though cautious friend to authors, + relieving them with small loans when in pecuniary difficulties, though + always taking care to be well repaid by the labor of their pens. Goldsmith + introduces him in a humorous yet friendly manner in his novel of the Vicar + of Wakefield. “This person was no other than the philanthropic + bookseller in St. Paul’s Churchyard, who has written so many little + books for children; he called himself their friend; but he was the friend + of all mankind. He was no sooner alighted but he was in haste to be gone; + for he was ever on business of importance, and was at that time actually + compiling materials for the history of one Mr. Thomas Trip. I immediately + recollected this good-natured man’s red-pimpled face.” + </p> + <p> + Besides his literary job work, Goldsmith also resumed his medical + practice, but with very trifling success. The scantiness of his purse + still obliged him to live in obscure lodgings somewhere in the vicinity of + Salisbury Square, Fleet Street; but his extended acquaintance and rising + importance caused him to consult appearances. He adopted an expedient, + then very common, and still practiced in London among those who have to + tread the narrow path between pride and poverty; while he burrowed in + lodgings suited to his means, he “hailed,” as it is termed, + from the Temple Exchange Coffeehouse near Temple Bar. Here he received his + medical calls; hence he dated his letters, and here he passed much of his + leisure hours, conversing with the frequenters of the place. “Thirty + pounds a year,” said a poor Irish painter, who understood the art of + shifting, “is enough to enable a man to live in London without being + contemptible. Ten pounds will find him in clothes and linen; he can live + in a garret on eighteen pence a week; hail from a coffee-house, where, by + occasionally spending threepence, he may pass some hours each day in good + company; he may breakfast on bread and milk for a penny; dine for + sixpence; do without supper; and on <i>clean-shirt-day</i> he may go + abroad and pay visits.” + </p> + <p> + Goldsmith seems to have taken a leaf from this poor devil’s manual + in respect to the coffee-house at least. Indeed, coffee-houses in those + days were the resorts of wits and literati, where the topics of the day + were gossiped over, and the affairs of literature and the drama discussed + and criticised. In this way he enlarged the circle of his intimacy, which + now embraced several names of notoriety. + </p> + <p> + Do we want a picture of Goldsmith’s experience in this part of his + career? we have it in his observations on the life of an author in the + “Inquiry into the State of Polite Learning,” published some + years afterward. + </p> + <p> + “The author, unpatronized by the great, has naturally recourse to + the bookseller. There cannot, perhaps, be imagined a combination more + prejudicial to taste than this. It is the interest of the one to allow as + little for writing, and for the other to write as much as possible; + accordingly tedious compilations and periodical magazines are the result + of their joint endeavors. In these circumstances the author bids adieu to + fame; writes for bread; and for that only imagination is seldom called in. + He sits down to address the venal muse with the most phlegmatic apathy; + and, as we are told of the Russian, courts his mistress by falling asleep + in her lap.” + </p> + <p> + Again. “Those who are unacquainted with the world are apt to fancy + the man of wit as leading a very agreeable life. They conclude, perhaps, + that he is attended with silent admiration, and dictates to the rest of + mankind with all the eloquence of conscious superiority. Very different is + his present situation. He is called an author, and all know that an author + is a thing only to be laughed at. His person, not his jest, becomes the + mirth of the company. At his approach the most fat, unthinking face + brightens into malicious meaning. Even aldermen laugh, and avenge on him + the ridicule which was lavished on their forefathers.... The poet’s + poverty is a standing topic of contempt. His writing for bread is an + unpardonable offense. Perhaps of all mankind an author in these times is + used most hardly. We keep him poor, and yet revile his poverty. We + reproach him for living by his wit, and yet allow him no other means to + live. His taking refuge in garrets and cellars has of late been violently + objected to him, and that by men who, I hope, are more apt to pity than + insult his distress. Is poverty a careless fault? No doubt he knows how to + prefer a bottle of champagne to the nectar of the neighboring ale-house, + or a venison pasty to a plate of potatoes. Want of delicacy is not in him, + but in those who deny him the opportunity of making an elegant choice. Wit + certainly is the property of those who have it, nor should we be + displeased if it is the only property a man sometimes has. We must not + underrate him who uses it for subsistence, and flees from the ingratitude + of the age even to a bookseller for redress.”... + </p> + <p> + “If the author be necessary among us, let us treat him with proper + consideration as a child of the public, not as a rent-charge on the + community. And indeed a child of the public he is in all respects; for + while so well able to direct others, how incapable is he frequently found + of guiding himself. His simplicity exposes him to all the insidious + approaches of cunning; his sensibility, to the slightest invasions of + contempt. Though possessed of fortitude to stand unmoved the expected + bursts of an earthquake, yet of feelings so exquisitely poignant as to + agonize under the slightest disappointment. Broken rest, tasteless meals, + and causeless anxieties shorten life, and render it unfit for active + employments; prolonged vigils and intense application still further + contract his span, and make his time glide insensibly away.” + </p> + <p> + While poor Goldsmith was thus struggling with the difficulties and + discouragements which in those days beset the path of an author, his + friends in Ireland received accounts of his literary success and of the + distinguished acquaintances he was making. This was enough to put the wise + heads at Lissoy and Ballymahon in a ferment of conjectures. With the + exaggerated notions of provincial relatives concerning the family great + man in the metropolis, some of Goldsmith’s poor kindred pictured him + to themselves seated in high places, clothed in purple and fine linen, and + hand and glove with the givers of gifts and dispensers of patronage. + Accordingly, he was one day surprised at the sudden apparition, in his + miserable lodging, of his younger brother Charles, a raw youth of + twenty-one, endowed with a double share of the family heedlessness, and + who expected to be forthwith helped into some snug by-path to fortune by + one or other of Oliver’s great friends. Charles was sadly + disconcerted on learning that, so far from being able to provide for + others, his brother could scarcely take care of himself. He looked round + with a rueful eye on the poet’s quarters, and could not help + expressing his surprise and disappointment at finding him no better off. + “All in good tune, my dear boy,” replied poor Goldsmith, with + infinite good-humor; “I shall be richer by-and-by. Addison, let me + tell you, wrote his poem of the Campaign in a garret in the Haymarket, + three stones high, and you see I am not come to that yet, for I have only + got to the second story.” + </p> + <p> + Charles Goldsmith did not remain long to embarrass his brother in London. + With the same roving disposition and inconsiderate temper of Oliver, he + suddenly departed in a humble capacity to seek his fortune in the West + Indies, and nothing was heard of him for above thirty years, when, after + having been given up as dead by his friends, he made his reappearance in + England. + </p> + <p> + Shortly after his departure Goldsmith wrote a letter to his + brother-in-law, Daniel Hodson, Esq., of which the following is an extract; + it was partly intended, no doubt, to dissipate any further illusions + concerning his fortunes which might float on the magnificent imagination + of his friends in Ballymahon. + </p> + <p> + “I suppose you desire to know my present situation. As there is + nothing in it at which I should blush, or which mankind could censure, I + see no reason for making it a secret. In short, by a very little practice + as a physician, and a very little reputation as a poet, I make a shift to + live. Nothing is more apt to introduce us to the gates of the muses than + poverty; but it were well if they only left us at the door. The mischief + is they sometimes choose to give us their company to the entertainment; + and want, instead of being gentleman-usher, often turns master of the + ceremonies. + </p> + <p> + “Thus, upon learning I write, no doubt you imagine I starve; and the + name of an author naturally reminds you of a garret. In this particular I + do not think proper to undeceive my friends. But, whether I eat or starve, + live in a first floor or four pairs of stairs high, I still remember them + with ardor; nay, my very country comes in for a share of my affection. + Unaccountable fondness for country, this <i>maladie du pais</i>, as the + French call it! Unaccountable that he should still have an affection for a + place, who never, when in it, received above common civility; who never + brought anything out of it except his brogue and his blunders. Surely my + affection is equally ridiculous with the Scotchman’s, who refused to + be cured of the itch because it made him unco’ thoughtful of his + wife and bonny Inverary. + </p> + <p> + “But now, to be serious: let me ask myself what gives me a wish to + see Ireland again. The country is a fine one, perhaps? No. There are good + company in Ireland? No. The conversation there is generally made up of a + smutty toast or a bawdy song; the vivacity supported by some humble + cousin, who had just folly enough to earn his dinner. Then, perhaps, there’s + more wit and learning among the Irish? Oh, Lord, no! There has been more + money spent in the encouragement of the Padareen mare there one season + than given in rewards to learned men since the time of Usher. All their + productions in learning amount to perhaps a translation, or a few tracts + in divinity; and all their productions in wit to just nothing at all. Why + the plague, then, so fond of Ireland? Then, all at once, because you, my + dear friend, and a few more who are exceptions to the general picture, + have a residence there. This it is that gives me all the pangs I feel in + separation. I confess I carry this spirit sometimes to the souring the + pleasures I at present possess. If I go to the opera, where Signora + Columba pours out all the mazes of melody, I sit and sigh for Lissoy + fireside, and Johnny Armstrong’s ‘Last Good-night’ from + Peggy Golden. If I climb Hampstead Hill, than where nature never exhibited + a more magnificent prospect, I confess it fine; but then I had rather be + placed on the little mount before Lissoy gate, and there take in, to me, + the most pleasing horizon in nature. + </p> + <p> + “Before Charles came hither my thoughts sometimes found refuge from + severer studies among my friends in Ireland. I fancied strange revolutions + at home; but I find it was the rapidity of my own motion that gave an + imaginary one to objects really at rest. No alterations there. Some + friends, he tells me, are still lean, but very rich; others very fat, but + still very poor. Nay, all the news I hear of you is, that you sally out in + visits among the neighbors, and sometimes make a migration from the blue + bed to the brown. I could from my heart wish that you and she (Mrs. + Hodson), and Lissoy and Ballymahon, and all of you, would fairly make a + migration into Middlesex; though, upon second thoughts, this might be + attended with a few inconveniences. Therefore, as the mountain will not + come to Mohammed, why Mohammed shall go to the mountain; or, to speak + plain English, as you cannot conveniently pay me a visit, if next summer I + can contrive to be absent six weeks from London, I shall spend three of + them among my friends in Ireland. But first, believe me, my design is + purely to visit, and neither to cut a figure nor levy contributions; + neither to excite envy nor solicit favor; in fact, my circumstances are + adapted to neither. I am too poor to be gazed at, and too rich to need + assistance.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0009" id="link2HCH0009"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER NINE + </h2> + <p> + HACKNEY AUTHORSHIP—THOUGHTS OF LITERARY SUICIDE—RETURN TO + PECKHAM—ORIENTAL PROJECTS—LITERARY ENTERPRISE TO RAISE FUNDS—LETTER + TO EDWARD WELLS—TO ROBERT BRYANTON—DEATH OF UNCLE CONTARINE—LETTER + TO COUSIN JANE + </p> + <p> + For some time Goldsmith continued to write miscellaneously for reviews and + other periodical publications, but without making any decided hit, to use + a technical term. Indeed, as yet he appeared destitute of the strong + excitement of literary ambition, and wrote only on the spur of necessity + and at the urgent importunity of his bookseller. His indolent and truant + disposition, ever averse from labor and delighting in holiday, had to be + scourged up to its task; still it was this very truant disposition which + threw an unconscious charm over everything he wrote; bringing with it + honeyed thoughts and pictured images which had sprung up in his mind in + the sunny hours of idleness: these effusions, dashed off on compulsion in + the exigency of the moment, were published anonymously; so that they made + no collective impression on the public, and reflected no fame on the name + of their author. + </p> + <p> + In an essay published some time subsequently in the “Bee,” + Goldsmith adverts, in his own humorous way, to his impatience at the + tardiness with which his desultory and unacknowledged essays crept into + notice. “I was once induced,” says he, “to show my + indignation against the public by discontinuing my efforts to please; and + was bravely resolved, like Raleigh, to vex them by burning my manuscripts + in a passion. Upon reflection, however, I considered what set or body of + people would be displeased at my rashness. The sun, after so sad an + accident, might shine next morning as bright as usual; men might laugh and + sing the next day, and transact business as before; and not a single + creature feel any regret but myself. Instead of having Apollo in mourning + or the Muses in a fit of the spleen; instead of having the learned world + apostrophizing at my untimely decease; perhaps all Grub Street might laugh + at my fate, and self-approving dignity be unable to shield me from + ridicule.” + </p> + <p> + Circumstances occurred about this time to give a new direction to + Goldsmith’s hopes and schemes. Having resumed for a brief period the + superintendence of the Peckham school during a fit of illness of Dr. + Milner, that gentleman, in requital for his timely services, promised to + use his influence with a friend, an East India director, to procure him a + medical appointment in India. + </p> + <p> + There was every reason to believe that the influence of Dr. Milner would + be effectual; but how was Goldsmith to find the ways and means of fitting + himself out for a voyage to the Indies? In this emergency he was driven to + a more extended exercise of the pen than he had yet attempted. His + skirmishing among books as a reviewer, and his disputatious ramble among + the schools and universities and literati of the Continent, had filled his + mind with facts and observations which he now set about digesting into a + treatise of some magnitude, to be entitled “An Inquiry into the + Present State of Polite Learning in Europe.” As the work grew on his + hands his sanguine temper ran ahead of his labors. Feeling secure of + success in England, he was anxious to forestall the piracy of the Irish + press; for as yet, the Union not having taken place, the English law of + copyright did not extend to the other side of the Irish Channel. He wrote, + therefore, to his friends in Ireland, urging them to circulate his + proposals for his contemplated work, and obtain subscriptions payable in + advance; the money to be transmitted to a Mr. Bradley, an eminent + bookseller in Dublin, who would give a receipt for it and be accountable + for the delivery of the books. The letters written by him on this occasion + are worthy of copious citation as being full of character and interest. + One was to his relative and college intimate, Edward Wells, who had + studied for the bar, but was now living at ease on his estate at + Roscommon. “You have quitted,” writes Goldsmith, “the + plan of life which you once intended to pursue, and given up ambition for + domestic tranquillity. I cannot avoid feeling some regret that one of my + few friends has declined a pursuit in which he had every reason to expect + success. I have often let my fancy loose when you were the subject, and + have imagined you gracing the bench, or thundering at the bar: while I + have taken no small pride to myself, and whispered to all that I could + come near, that this was my cousin. Instead of this, it seems, you are + merely contented to be a happy man; to be esteemed by your acquaintances; + to cultivate your paternal acres; to take unmolested a nap under one of + your own hawthorns or in Mrs. Wells’ bedchamber, which, even a poet + must confess, is rather the more comfortable place of the two. But, + however your resolutions may be altered with regard to your situation in + life, I persuade myself they are unalterable with respect to your friends + in it. I cannot think the world has taken such entire possession of that + heart (once so susceptible of friendship) as not to have left a corner + there for a friend or two, but I flatter myself that even I have a place + among the number. This I have a claim to from the similitude of our + dispositions; or setting that aside, I can demand it as a right by the + most equitable law of nature; I mean that of retaliation; for indeed you + have more than your share in mine. I am a man of few professions; and yet + at this very instant I cannot avoid the painful apprehension that my + present professions (which speak not half my feelings) should be + considered only as a pretext to cover a request, as I have a request to + make. No, my dear Ned, I know you are too generous to think so, and you + know me too proud to stoop to unnecessary insincerity—I have a + request, it is true, to make; but as I know to whom I am a petitioner, I + make it without diffidence or confusion. It is in short, this, I am going + to publish a book in London,” etc. The residue of the letter + specifies the nature of the request, which was merely to aid in + circulating his proposals and obtaining subscriptions. The letter of the + poor author, however, was unattended to and unacknowledged by the + prosperous Mr. Wells, of Roscommon, though in after years he was proud to + claim relationship to Dr. Goldsmith, when he had risen to celebrity. + </p> + <p> + Another of Goldsmith’s letters was to Robert Bryanton, with whom he + had long ceased to be in correspondence. “I believe,” writes + he, “that they who are drunk, or out of their wits, fancy everybody + else in the same condition. Mine is a friendship that neither distance nor + tune can efface, which is probably the reason that, for the soul of me, I + can’t avoid thinking yours of the same complexion; and yet I have + many reasons for being of a contrary opinion, else why, in so long an + absence, was I never made a partner in your concerns? To hear of your + success would have given me the utmost pleasure; and a communication of + your very disappointments would divide the uneasiness I too frequently + feel for my own. Indeed, my dear Bob, you don’t conceive how + unkindly you have treated one whose circumstances afford him few prospects + of pleasure, except those reflected from the happiness of his friends. + However, since you have not let me hear from you, I have in some measure + disappointed your neglect by frequently thinking of you. Every day or so I + remember the calm anecdotes of your life, from the fireside to the + easy-chair; recall the various adventures that first cemented our + friendship; the school, the college, or the tavern; preside in fancy over + your cards; and am displeased at your bad play when the rubber goes + against you, though not with all that agony of soul as when I was once + your partner. Is it not strange that two of such like affections should be + so much separated, and so differently employed as we are? You seem placed + at the center of fortune’s wheel, and, let it revolve ever so fast, + are insensible of the motion. I seem to have been tied to the + circumference, and whirled disagreeably round, as if on a whirligig.” + </p> + <p> + He then runs into a whimsical and extravagant tirade about his future + prospects. The wonderful career of fame and fortune that awaits him, and + after indulging in all kinds of humorous gasconades, concludes: “Let + me, then, stop my fancy to take a view of my future self—and, as the + boys say, light down to see myself on horseback. Well, now that I am down, + where the d—l <i>is I</i>? Oh gods! gods! here in a garret, writing + for bread, and expecting to be dunned for a milk score!” + </p> + <p> + He would, on this occasion, have doubtless written to his uncle Contarine, + but that generous friend was sunk into a helpless, hopeless state from + which death soon released him. + </p> + <p> + Cut off thus from the kind co-operation of his uncle, he addresses a + letter to his daughter Jane, the companion of his schoolboy and happy + days, now the wife of Mr. Lawder. The object was to secure her interest + with her husband in promoting the circulation of his proposals. The letter + is full of character. + </p> + <p> + “If you should ask,” he begins, “why, in an interval of + so many years, you never heard from me, permit me, madam, to ask the same + question. I have the best excuse in recrimination. I wrote to Kilmore from + Leyden in Holland, from Louvain in Flanders, and Rouen in France, but + received no answer. To what could I attribute this silence but to + displeasure or forgetfulness? Whether I was right in my conjecture I do + not pretend to determine; but this I must ingenuously own that I have a + thousand times in my turn endeavored to forget <i>them</i>, whom I could + not but look upon as forgetting <i>me</i>. I have attempted to blot their + names from my memory, and, I confess it, spent whole days in efforts to + tear their image from my heart. Could I have succeeded, you had not now + been troubled with this renewal of a discontinued correspondence; but, as + every effort the restless make to procure sleep serves but to keep them + waking, all my attempts contributed to impress what I would forget deeper + on my imagination. But this subject I would willingly turn from, and yet, + ‘for the soul of me,’ I can’t till I have said all. I + was, madam, when I discontinued writing to Kilmore, in such circumstances + that all my endeavors to continue your regards might be attributed to + wrong motives. My letters might be looked upon as the petitions of a + beggar, and not the offerings of a friend; while all my professions, + instead of being considered as the result of disinterested esteem, might + be ascribed to venal insincerity. I believe, indeed, you had too much + generosity to place them in such a light, but I could not bear even the + shadow of such a suspicion. The most delicate friendships are always most + sensible of the slightest invasion, and the strongest jealousy is ever + attendant on the warmest regard. I could not—I own I could not—continue + a correspondence in which every acknowledgment for past favors might be + considered as an indirect request for future ones; and where it might be + thought I gave my heart from a motive of gratitude alone, when I was + conscious of having bestowed it on much more disinterested principles. It + is true, this conduct might have been simple enough; but yourself must + confess it was in character. Those who know me at all, know that I have + always been actuated by different principles from the rest of mankind: and + while none regarded the interest of his friend more, no man on earth + regarded his own less. I have often affected bluntness to avoid the + imputation of flattery; have frequently seemed to overlook those merits + too obvious to escape notice, and pretended disregard to those instances + of good nature and good sense, which I could not fail tacitly to applaud; + and all this lest I should be ranked among the grinning tribe, who say + ‘very true’ to all that is said; who fill a vacant chair at a + tea-table; whose narrow souls never moved in a wider circle than the + circumference of a guinea; and who had rather be reckoning the money in + your pocket than the virtue in your breast. All this, I say, I have done, + and a thousand other very silly, though very disinterested, things in my + time, and for all which no soul cares a farthing about me.... Is it to be + wondered that he should once in his life forget you, who has been all his + life forgetting himself? However, it is probable you may one of these days + see me turned into a perfect hunks, and as dark and intricate as a + mouse-hole. I have already given my landlady orders for an entire reform + in the state of my finances. I declaim against hot suppers, drink less + sugar in my tea, and check my grate with brickbats. Instead of hanging my + room with pictures, I intend to adorn it with maxims of frugality. Those + will make pretty furniture enough, and won’t be a bit too expensive; + for I will draw them all out with my own hands, and my landlady’s + daughter shall frame them with the parings of my black waistcoat. Each + maxim is to be inscribed on a sheet of clean paper, and wrote with my best + pen; of which the following will serve as a specimen. <i>Look sharp: Mind + the main chance: Money is money now: If you have a thousand pounds you can + put your hands by your sides, and say you are worth a thousand pounds + every day of the year: Take a farthing from a hundred and it will be a + hundred no longer.</i> Thus, which way soever I turn my eyes, they are + sure to meet one of those friendly monitors; and as we are told of an + actor who hung his room round with looking-glass to correct the defects of + his person, my apartment shall be furnished in a peculiar manner, to + correct the errors of my mind. Faith! madam, I heartily wish to be rich, + if it were only for this reason, to say without a blush how much I esteem + you. But, alas! I have many a fatigue to encounter before that happy times + comes, when your poor old simple friend may again give a loose to the + luxuriance of his nature; sitting by Kilmore fireside, recount the various + adventures of a hard-fought life; laugh over the follies of the day; join + his flute to your harpsichord; and forget that ever he starved in those + streets where Butler and Otway starved before him. And now I mention those + great names—my uncle! he is no more that soul of fire as when I once + knew him. Newton and Swift grew dim with age as well as he. But what shall + I say? His mind was too active an inhabitant not to disorder the feeble + mansion of its abode: for the richest jewels soonest wear their settings. + Yet who but the fool would lament his condition! He now forgets the + calamities of life. Perhaps indulgent Heaven has given him a foretaste of + that tranquillity here, which he so well deserves hereafter. But I must + come to business; for business, as one of my maxims tells me, must be + minded or lost. I am going to publish in London a book entitled ‘The + Present State of Taste and Literature in Europe.’ The booksellers in + Ireland republish every performance there without making the author any + consideration. I would, in this respect, disappoint their avarice and have + all the profits of my labor to myself. I must therefore request Mr. Lawder + to circulate among his friends and acquaintances a hundred of my proposals + which I have given the bookseller, Mr. Bradley, in Dame Street, directions + to send to him. If, in pursuance of such circulation, he should receive + any subscriptions, I entreat, when collected, they may be sent to Mr. + Bradley, as aforesaid, who will give a receipt, and be accountable for the + work, or a return of the subscription. If this request (which, if it be + complied with, will in some measure be an encouragement to a man of + learning) should be disagreeable or troublesome, I would not press it; for + I would be the last man on earth to have my labors go a-begging; but if I + know Mr. Lawder (and sure I ought to know him), he will accept the + employment with pleasure. All I can say—if he writes a book, I will + get him two hundred subscribers, and those of the best wits in Europe. + Whether this request is complied with or not, I shall not be uneasy; but + there is one petition I must make to him and to you, which I solicit with + the warmest ardor, and in which I cannot bear a refusal. I mean, dear + madam, that I may be allowed to subscribe myself, your ever affectionate + and obliged kinsman, OLIVER GOLDSMITH. Now see how I blot and blunder, + when I am asking a favor.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0010" id="link2HCH0010"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER TEN + </h2> + <p> + ORIENTAL APPOINTMENT—AND DISAPPOINTMENT—EXAMINATION AT THE + COLLEGE OF SURGEONS—HOW TO PROCURE A SUIT OF CLOTHES—FRESH + DISAPPOINTMENT—A TALE OF DISTRESS—THE SUIT OF CLOTHES IN PAWN—PUNISHMENT + FOR DOING AN ACT OF CHARITY—GAYETIES OF GREEN ARBOR COURT—LETTER + TO HIS BROTHER—LIFE OF VOLTAIRE—SCROGGIN, AN ATTEMPT AT MOCK + HEROIC POETRY + </p> + <p> + While Goldsmith was yet laboring at his treatise, the promise made him by + Dr. Milner was carried into effect, and he was actually appointed + physician and surgeon to one of the factories on the coast of Coromandel. + His imagination was immediately on fire with visions of Oriental wealth + and magnificence. It is true the salary did not exceed one hundred pounds, + but then, as appointed physician, he would have the exclusive practice of + the place, amounting to one thousand pounds per annum; with advantages to + be derived from trade, and from the high interest of money—twenty + per cent; in a word, for once in his life, the road to fortune lay broad + and straight before him. + </p> + <p> + Hitherto, in his correspondence with his friends, he had said nothing of + his India scheme; but now he imparted to them his brilliant prospects, + urging the importance of their circulating his proposals and obtaining him + subscriptions and advances on his forthcoming work, to furnish funds for + his outfit. + </p> + <p> + In the meantime he had to task that poor drudge, his muse, for present + exigencies. Ten pounds were demanded for his appointment-warrant. Other + expenses pressed hard upon him. Fortunately, though as yet unknown to + fame, his literary capability was known to “the trade,” and + the coinage of his brain passed current in Grub Street. Archibald + Hamilton, proprietor of the “Critical Review,” the rival to + that of Griffiths, readily made him a small advance on receiving three + articles for his periodical. His purse thus slenderly replenished, + Goldsmith paid for his warrant; wiped off the score of his milkmaid; + abandoned his garret, and moved into a shabby first floor in a forlorn + court near the Old Bailey; there to await the time for his migration to + the magnificent coast of Coromandel. + </p> + <p> + Alas! poor Goldsmith! ever doomed to disappointment. Early in the gloomy + month of November, that mouth of fog and despondency in London, he learned + the shipwreck of his hope. The great Coromandel enterprise fell through; + or rather the post promised to him was transferred to some other + candidate. The cause of this disappointment it is now impossible to + ascertain. The death of his quasi patron, Dr. Milner, which happened about + this time, may have had some effect in producing it; or there may have + been some heedlessness and blundering on his own part; or some obstacle + arising from his insuperable indigence; whatever may have been the cause, + he never mentioned it, which gives some ground to surmise that he himself + was to blame. His friends learned with surprise that he had suddenly + relinquished his appointment to India, about which he had raised such + sanguine expectations: some accused him of fickleness and caprice; others + supposed him unwilling to tear himself from the growing fascinations of + the literary society of London. + </p> + <p> + In the meantime, cut down in his hopes and humiliated in his pride by the + failure of his Coromandel scheme, he sought, without consulting his + friends, to be examined at the College of Physicians for the humble + situation of hospital mate. Even here poverty stood in his way. It was + necessary to appear in a decent garb before the examining committee; but + how was he to do so? He was literally out at elbows as well as out of + cash. Here again the muse, so often jilted and neglected by him, came to + his aid. In consideration of four articles furnished to the “Monthly + Review,” Griffiths, his old taskmaster, was to become his security + to the tailor for a suit of clothes. Goldsmith said he wanted them but for + a single occasion, on which depended his appointment to a situation in the + army; as soon as that temporary purpose was served they would either be + returned or paid for. The books to be reviewed were accordingly lent to + him; the muse was again set to her compulsory drudgery; the articles were + scribbled off and sent to the bookseller, and the clothes came in due time + from the tailor. + </p> + <p> + From the records of the College of Surgeons, it appears that Goldsmith + underwent his examination at Surgeons’ Hall, on the 21st of + December, 1758. + </p> + <p> + Either from a confusion of mind incident to sensitive and imaginative + persons on such occasions, or from a real want of surgical science, which + last is extremely probable, he failed in his examination, and was rejected + as unqualified. The effect of such a rejection was to disqualify him for + every branch of public service, though he might have claimed a + re-examination, after the interval of a few months devoted to further + study. Such a re-examination he never attempted, nor did he ever + communicate his discomfiture to any of his friends. + </p> + <p> + On Christmas day, but four days after his rejection by the College of + Surgeons, while he was suffering under the mortification of defeat and + disappointment, and hard pressed for means of subsistence, he was + surprised by the entrance into his room of the poor woman of whom he hired + his wretched apartment, and to whom he owed some small arrears of rent. + She had a piteous tale of distress, and was clamorous in her afflictions. + Her husband had been arrested in the night for debt, and thrown into + prison. This was too much for the quick feelings of Goldsmith; he was + ready at any time to help the distressed, but in this instance he was + himself in some measure a cause of the distress. What was to be done? He + had no money, it is true; but there hung the new suit of clothes in which + he had stood his unlucky examination at Surgeons’ Hall. Without + giving himself time for reflection, he sent it off to the pawnbroker’s, + and raised thereon a sufficient sum to pay off his own debt, and to + release his landlord from prison. + </p> + <p> + Under the same pressure of penury and despondency, he borrowed from a + neighbor a pittance to relieve his immediate wants, leaving as a security + the books which he had recently reviewed. In the midst of these straits + and harassments, he received a letter from Griffiths, demanding in + peremptory terms the return of the clothes and books, or immediate payment + for the same. It appears that he had discovered the identical suit at the + pawnbroker’s. The reply of Goldsmith is not known; it was out of his + power to furnish either the clothes or the money; but he probably offered + once more to make the muse stand his bail. His reply only increased the + ire of the wealthy man of trade, and drew from him another letter still + more harsh than the first, using the epithets of knave and sharper, and + containing threats of prosecution and a prison. + </p> + <p> + The following letter from poor Goldsmith gives the most touching picture + of an inconsiderate but sensitive man, harassed by care, stung by + humiliations, and driven almost to despondency. + </p> + <p> + “Sir—I know of no misery but a jail to which my own + imprudences and your letter seem to point. I have seen it inevitable these + three or four weeks, and, by heavens! request it as a favor—as a + favor that may prevent something more fatal. I have been some years + struggling with a wretched being—with all that contempt that + indigence brings with it—with all those passions which make contempt + insupportable. What, then, has a jail that is formidable. I shall at least + have the society of wretches, and such is to me true society. I tell you, + again and again, that I am neither able nor willing to pay you a farthing, + but I will be punctual to any appointment you or the tailor shall make: + thus far, at least, I do not act the sharper, since, unable to pay my own + debts one way, I would generally give some security another. No, sir; had + I been a sharper—had I been possessed of less good-nature and native + generosity, I might surely now have been in better circumstances. + </p> + <p> + “I am guilty, I own, of meannesses which poverty unavoidably brings + with it: my reflections are filled with repentance for my imprudence, but + not with any remorse for being a villain; that may be a character you + unjustly charge me with. Your books, I can assure you, are neither pawned + nor sold, but in the custody of a friend, from whom my necessities obliged + me to borrow some money: whatever becomes of my person, you shall have + them in a month. It is very possible both the reports you have heard and + your own suggestions may have brought you false information with, respect + to my character; it is very possible that the man whom you now regard with + detestation may inwardly burn with grateful resentment. It is very + possible that, upon a second perusal of the letter I sent you, you may see + the workings of a mind strongly agitated with gratitude and jealousy. If + such circumstances should appear, at least spare invective till my book + with Mr. Dodsley shall be published, and then, perhaps, you may see the + bright side of a mind, when my professions shall not appear the dictates + of necessity, but of choice. + </p> + <p> + “You seem to think Dr. Milner knew me not. Perhaps so; but he was a + man I shall ever honor; but I have friendships only with the dead! I ask + pardon for taking up so much time; nor shall I add to it by any other + professions than that I am, sir, your humble servant, + </p> + <h3> + “OLIVER GOLDSMITH. + </h3> + <p> + “P.S.—I shall expect impatiently the result of your + resolutions.” + </p> + <p> + The dispute between the poet and the publisher was afterward imperfectly + adjusted, and it would appear that the clothes were paid for by a short + compilation advertised by Griffiths in the course of the following month; + but the parties were never really friends afterward, and the writings of + Goldsmith were harshly and unjustly treated in the “Monthly Review.” + </p> + <p> + We have given the preceding anecdote in detail, as furnishing one of the + many instances in which Goldsmith’s prompt and benevolent impulses + outran all prudent forecast, and involved him in difficulties and + disgraces which a more selfish man would have avoided. The pawning of the + clothes, charged upon him as a crime by the grinding bookseller, and + apparently admitted by him as one of “the meannesses which poverty + unavoidably brings with it,” resulted, as we have shown, from a + tenderness of heart and generosity of hand in which another man would have + gloried; but these were such natural elements with him that he was + unconscious of their merit. It is a pity that wealth does not oftener + bring such “meannesses” in its train. + </p> + <p> + And now let us be indulged in a few particulars about these lodgings in + which Goldsmith was guilty of this thoughtless act of benevolence. They + were in a very shabby house, No. 12, Green Arbor Court, between the Old + Bailey and Fleet Market. An old woman was still living in 1820 who was a + relative of the identical landlady whom Goldsmith relieved by the money + received from the pawnbroker. She was a child about seven years of age at + the time that the poet rented his apartment of her relative, and used + frequently to be at the house in Green Arbor Court. She was drawn there, + in a great measure, by the good-humored kindness of Goldsmith, who was + always exceedingly fond of the society of children. He used to assemble + those of the family in his room, give them cakes and sweetmeats, and set + them dancing to the sound of his flute. He was very friendly to those + around him, and cultivated a kind of intimacy with a watchmaker in the + court, who possessed much native wit and humor. He passed most of the day, + however, in his room, and only went out in the evenings. His days were no + doubt devoted to the drudgery of the pen, and it would appear that he + occasionally found the booksellers urgent taskmasters. On one occasion a + visitor was shown up to his room, and immediately their voices were heard + in high altercation, and the key was turned within the lock. The landlady, + at first, was disposed to go to the assistance of her lodger; but a calm + succeeding, she forbore to interfere. + </p> + <p> + Late in the evening the door was unlocked; a supper ordered by the visitor + from a neighboring tavern, and Goldsmith and his intrusive guest finished + the evening in great good-humor. It was probably his old taskmaster + Griffiths, whose press might have been wailing, and who found no other + mode of getting a stipulated task from Goldsmith than by locking him in, + and staying by him until it was finished. + </p> + <p> + But we have a more particular account of these lodgings in Green Arbor + Court from the Rev. Thomas Percy, afterward Bishop of Dromore, and + celebrated for his relics of ancient poetry, his beautiful ballads, and + other works. During an occasional visit to London, he was introduced to + Goldsmith by Grainger, and ever after continued one of his most steadfast + and valued friends. The following is his description of the poet’s + squalid apartment: “I called on Goldsmith at his lodgings in March, + 1759, and found him writing his ‘Inquiry’ in a miserable, + dirty-looking room, in which there was but one chair; and when, from + civility, he resigned it to me, he himself was obliged to sit in the + window. While we were conversing together some one tapped gently at the + door, and, being desired to come in, a poor, ragged little girl, of a very + becoming demeanor, entered the room, and, dropping a courtesy, said, + ‘My mamma sends her compliments and begs the favor of you to lend + her a chamber-pot full of coals.’” + </p> + <p> + “We are reminded in this anecdote of Goldsmith’s picture of + the lodgings of Beau Tibbs, and of the peep into the secrets of a + makeshift establishment given to a visitor by the blundering old Scotch + woman. + </p> + <p> + “By this time we were arrived as high as the stairs would permit us + to ascend, till we came to what he was facetiously pleased to call the + first floor down the chimney; and, knocking at the door, a voice from + within demanded ‘Who’s there?’ My conductor answered + that it was him. But this not satisfying the querist, the voice again + repeated the demand, to which he answered louder than before; and now the + door was opened by an old woman with cautious reluctance. + </p> + <p> + “When we got in he welcomed me to his house with great ceremony; + and, turning to the old woman, asked where was her lady. ‘Good + troth,’ replied she, in a peculiar dialect, ‘she’s + washing your twa shirts at the next door, because they have taken an oath + against lending the tub any longer.’ ‘My two shirts,’ + cried he, in a tone that faltered with confusion; ‘what does the + idiot mean?’ ‘I ken what I mean weel enough,’ replied + the other; ‘she’s washing your twa shirts at the next door, + because—’ ‘Fire and fury! no more of thy stupid + explanations,’ cried he; ‘go and inform her we have company. + Were that Scotch hag to be forever in my family, she would never learn + politeness, nor forget that absurd poisonous accent of hers, or testify + the smallest specimen of breeding or high life; and yet it is very + surprising, too, as I had her from a Parliament man, a friend of mine from + the Highlands, one of the politest men in the world; but that’s a + secret.’” [Footnote: Citizen of the World, Letter iv.] + </p> + <p> + Let us linger a little in Green Arbor Court, a place consecrated by the + genius and the poverty of Goldsmith, but recently obliterated in the + course of modern improvements. The writer of this memoir visited it not + many years since on a literary pilgrimage, and may be excused for + repeating a description of it which he has heretofore inserted in another + publication. “It then existed in its pristine state, and was a small + square of tall and miserable houses, the very intestines of which seemed + turned inside out, to judge from the old garments and frippery that + fluttered from every window. It appeared to be a region of washerwomen, + and lines were stretched about the little square, on which clothes were + dangling to dry. + </p> + <p> + “Just as we entered the square, a scuffle took place between two + viragoes about a disputed right to a washtub, and immediately the whole + community was in a hubbub. Heads in mob caps popped out of every window, + and such a clamor of tongues ensued that I was fain to stop my ears. Every + Amazon took part with one or other of the disputants, and brandished her + arms, dripping with soapsuds, and fired away from her window as from the + embrasure of a fortress; while the screams of children nestled and cradled + in every procreant chamber of this hive, waking with the noise, set up + their shrill pipes to swell the general concert.” [Footnote: Tales + of a Traveler.] + </p> + <p> + While in these forlorn quarters, suffering under extreme depression of + spirits, caused by his failure at Surgeons’ Hall, the disappointment + of his hopes, and his harsh collisions with Griffiths, Goldsmith wrote the + following letter to his brother Henry, some parts of which are most + touchingly mournful. + </p> + <p> + “DEAR SIR—Your punctuality in answering a man whose trade is + writing is more than I had reason to expect; and yet you see me generally + fill a whole sheet, which is all the recompense I can make for being so + frequently troublesome. The behavior of Mr. Wells and Mr. Lawder is a + little extraordinary. However, their answering neither you nor me is a + sufficient indication of their disliking the employment which I assigned + them. As their conduct is different from what I had expected, so I have + made an alteration in mine. I shall, the beginning of next month, send + over two hundred and fifty books, [Footnote: The Inquiry into Polite + Literature. His previous remarks apply to the subscription.] which are all + that I fancy can be well sold among you, and I would have you make some + distinction in the persons who have subscribed. The money, which will + amount to sixty pounds, may be left with Mr. Bradley as soon as possible. + I am not certain but I shall quickly have occasion for it. + </p> + <p> + “I have met with no disappointment with respect to my East India + voyage, nor are my resolutions altered; though, at the same time, I must + confess, it gives me some pain to think I am almost beginning the world at + the age of thirty-one. Though I never had a day’s sickness since I + saw you, yet I am not that strong, active man you once knew me. You + scarcely can conceive how much eight years of disappointment, anguish, and + study have worn me down. If I remember right you are seven or eight years + older than me, yet I dare venture to say, that, if a stranger saw Us both, + he would pay me the honors of seniority. Imagine to yourself a pale, + melancholy visage, with two great wrinkles between the eyebrows, with an + eye disgustingly severe, and a big wig; and you may have a perfect picture + of my present appearance. On the other hand, I conceive you as perfectly + sleek and healthy, passing many a happy day among your own children or + those who knew you a child. + </p> + <p> + “Since I knew what it was to be a man, this is a pleasure I have not + known. I have passed my days among a parcel of cool, designing beings, and + have contracted all their suspicious manner in my own behavior. I should + actually be as unfit for the society of my friends at home, as I detest + that which I am obliged to partake of here. I can now neither partake of + the pleasure of a revel, nor contribute to raise its jollity. I can + neither laugh nor drink; have contracted a hesitating, disagreeable manner + of speaking, and a visage that looks ill-nature itself; in short, I have + thought myself into a settled melancholy, and an utter disgust of all that + life brings with it. Whence this romantic turn that all our family are + possessed with? Whence this love for every place and every country but + that in which we reside—for every occupation but our own? this + desire of fortune, and yet this eagerness to dissipate? I perceive, my + dear sir, that I am at intervals for indulging this splenetic manner, and + following my own taste, regardless of yours. + </p> + <p> + “The reasons you have given me for breeding up your son a scholar + are judicious and convincing; I should, however, be glad to know for what + particular profession he is designed If he be assiduous and divested of + strong passions (for passions in youth always lead to pleasure), he may do + very well in your college; for it must be owned that the industrious poor + have good encouragement there, perhaps better than in any other in Europe. + But if he has ambition, strong passions, and an exquisite sensibility of + contempt, do not send him there, unless you have no other trade for him + but your own. It is impossible to conceive how much may be done by proper + education at home. A boy, for instance, who understands perfectly well + Latin, French, arithmetic, and the principles of the civil law, and can + write a fine hand, has an education that may qualify him for any + undertaking; and these parts of learning should be carefully inculcated, + let him be designed for whatever calling he will. + </p> + <p> + “Above all things, let him never touch a romance or novel; these + paint beauty in colors more charming than nature, and describe happiness + that man never tastes. How delusive, how destructive, are those pictures + of consummate bliss! They teach the youthful mind to sigh after beauty and + happiness that never existed; to despise the little good which fortune has + mixed in our cup, by expecting more than she ever gave; and, in general, + take the word of a man who has seen the world, and who has studied human + nature more by experience than precept; take my word for it, I say, that + books teach us very little of the world. The greatest merit in a state of + poverty would only serve to make the possessor ridiculous—may + distress, but cannot relieve him. Frugality, and even avarice, in the + lower orders’ of mankind, are true ambition. These afford the only + ladder for the poor to rise to preferment. Teach then, my dear sir, to + your son, thrift and economy. Let his poor wandering uncle’s example + be placed before his eyes. I had learned from books to be disinterested + and generous before I was taught from experience the necessity of being + prudent. I had contracted the habits and notions of a philosopher, while I + was exposing myself to the approaches of insidious cunning; and often by + being, even with my narrow finances, charitable to excess, I forgot the + rules of justice, and placed myself in the very situation of the wretch + who thanked me for my bounty. When I am in the remotest part of the world, + tell him this, and perhaps he may improve from my example. But I find + myself again falling into my gloomy habits of thinking. + </p> + <p> + “My mother, I am informed, is almost blind; even though I had the + utmost inclination to return home, under such circumstances I could not, + for to behold her in distress without a capacity of relieving her from it + would add much to my splenetic habit. Your last letter was much too short; + it should have answered some queries I had made in my former. Just sit + down as I do, and write forward until you have filled all your paper. It + requires no thought, at least from the ease with which my own sentiments + rise when they are addressed to you. For, believe me, my head has no share + in all I write; my heart dictates the whole. Pray give my love to Bob + Bryanton, and entreat him from me not to drink. My dear sir, give me some + account about poor Jenny. [Footnote: His sister, Mrs. Johnston; her + marriage, like that of Mrs. Hodson, was private, but in pecuniary matters + much less fortunate.] Yet her husband loves her; if so, she cannot be + unhappy. + </p> + <p> + “I know not whether I should tell you—yet why should I conceal + these trifles, or, indeed, anything from you? There is a book of mine will + be published in a few days; the life of a very extraordinary man; no less + than the great Voltaire. You know already by the title that it is no more + than a catchpenny. However, I spent but four weeks on the whole + performance, for which I received twenty pounds. When published, I shall + take some method of conveying it to you, unless you may think it dear of + the postage, which may amount to four or five shillings. However, I fear + you will not find an equivalent of amusement. + </p> + <p> + “Your last letter, I repeat it, was too short; you should have given + me your opinion of the design of the heroi-comical poem which I sent you. + You remember I intended to 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 in this way: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “‘The window, patched with paper, lent a ray + That feebly show’d the state in which he lay; + The sanded floor that grits beneath the tread, + The humid wall with paltry pictures spread; + The game of goose was there exposed to view, + And the twelve rules the royal martyr drew; + The Seasons, framed with listing, found a place. + And Prussia’s monarch show’d his lampblack face. + The morn was cold: he views with keen desire + A rusty grate unconscious of a fire; + An unpaid reckoning on the frieze was scored, + And five crack’d teacups dress’d the chimney board.’ +</pre> + <p> + “And now imagine, after his soliloquy, the landlord to make his + appearance in order to dun him for the reckoning: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +“‘Not with that face, so servile and so gay, + That welcomes every stranger that can pay: + With sulky eye he smoked the patient man, + hen pull’d his breeches tight, and thus began,’ etc. +</pre> + <p> + [Footnote: The projected poem, of which the above were specimens, appears + never to have been completed.] + </p> + <p> + “All this is taken, you see, from nature. It is a good remark of + Montaigne’s, that the wisest men often hare friends with whom they + do not care how much they play the fool. Take my present follies as + instances of my regard. Poetry is a much easier and more agreeable species + of composition than prose; and could a man live by it, it were not + unpleasant employment to be a poet. I am resolved to leave no space, + though I should fill it up only by telling you, what you very well know + already, I mean that I am your most affectionate friend and brother, + </p> + <h3> + “OLIVER GOLDSMITH.” + </h3> + <p> + The Life of Voltaire, alluded to in the latter part of the preceding + letter, was the literary job undertaken to satisfy the demands of + Griffiths. It was to hare preceded a translation of the Henriade, by Ned + Purdon, Goldsmith’s old schoolmate, now a Grub Street writer, who + starved rather than lived by the exercise of his pen, and often tasked + Goldsmith’s scanty means to relieve his hunger. His miserable career + was summed up by our poet in the following lines written some years after + the tune we are treating of, on hearing that he had suddenly dropped dead + in Smithfield: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Here lies poor Ned Purdon, from misery freed, + Who long was a bookseller’s hack; + He led such a damnable life in this world, + I don’t think he’ll wish to come back.” + </pre> + <p> + The memoir and translation, though advertised to form a volume, were not + published together; but appeared separately in a magazine. + </p> + <p> + As to the heroi-comical poem, also, cited in the foregoing letter, it + appears to have perished in embryo. Had it been brought to maturity we + should have had further traits of autobiography, the room already + described was probably his own squalid quarters in Green Arbor Court; and + in a subsequent morsel of the poem we have the poet himself, under the + euphonious name of Scroggin: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Where the Red Lion peering o’er the way, + Invites each passing stranger that can pay; + Where Calvert’s butt and Parson’s black champagne + Regale the drabs and bloods of Drury Lane: + There, in a lonely room, from bailiffs snug, + The muse found Scroggin stretch’d beneath a rug; + A nightcap deck’d his brows instead of bay, + A cap by night, a stocking all the day!” + </pre> + <p> + It is to be regretted that this poetical conception was not carried out; + like the author’s other writings, it might have abounded with + pictures of life and touches of nature drawn from his own observation and + experience, and mellowed by his own humane and tolerant spirit; and might + have been a worthy companion or rather contrast to his Traveler and + Deserted Village, and have remained in the language a first-rate specimen + of the mock-heroic. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0011" id="link2HCH0011"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER ELEVEN + </h2> + <p> + PUBLICATION OF THE INQUIRY—ATTACKED BY GRIFFITHS’ REVIEW—KENRICK + THE LITERARY ISHMAELITE—PERIODICAL LITERATURE—GOLDSMITH’S + ESSAYS—GARRICK AS A MANAGER—SMOLLETT AND HIS SCHEMES—CHANGE + OF LODGINGS—THE ROBIN HOOD CLUB + </p> + <p> + Toward the end of March, 1759, the treatise on which Goldsmith had laid so + much stress, on which he at one time had calculated to defray the expenses + of his outfit to India, and to which he had adverted in his correspondence + with Griffiths, made its appearance. It was published by the Dodsleys, and + entitled An Inquiry into the Present State of Polite Learning in Europe. + </p> + <p> + In the present day, when the whole field of contemporary literature is so + widely surveyed and amply discussed, and when the current productions of + every country are constantly collated and ably criticised, a treatise like + that of Goldsmith would be considered as extremely limited and + unsatisfactory; but at that time it possessed novelty in its views and + wideness in its scope, and being indued with the peculiar charm of style + inseparable from the author, it commanded public attention and a + profitable sale. As it was the most important production that had yet come + from Goldsmith’s pen, he was anxious to have the credit of it; yet + it appeared without his name on the title-page. The authorship, however, + was well known throughout the world of letters, and the author had now + grown into sufficient literary importance to become an object of hostility + to the underlings of the press. One of the most virulent attacks upon him + was in a criticism on this treatise, and appeared in the “Monthly + Review,” to which he himself had been recently a contributor. It + slandered him as a man while it decried him as an author, and accused him, + by innuendo, of “laboring under the infamy of having, by the vilest + and meanest actions, forfeited all pretensions to honor and honesty,” + and of practicing “those acts which bring the sharper to the cart’s + tail or the pillory.” + </p> + <p> + It will be remembered that the “Review” was owned by Griffiths + the bookseller, with whom Goldsmith had recently had a misunderstanding. + The criticism, therefore, was no doubt dictated by the lingerings of + resentment; and the imputations upon Goldsmith’s character for honor + and honesty, and the vile and mean actions hinted at, could only allude to + the unfortunate pawning of the clothes. All this, too, was after Griffiths + had received the affecting letter from Goldsmith, drawing a picture of his + poverty and perplexities, and after the latter had made him a literary + compensation. Griffiths, in fact, was sensible of the falsehood and + extravagance of the attack, and tried to exonerate himself by declaring + that the criticism was written by a person in his employ; but we see no + difference in atrocity between him who wields the knife and him who hires + the cut-throat. It may be well, however, in passing, to bestow our mite of + notoriety upon the miscreant who launched the slander. He deserves it for + a long course of dastardly and venomous attacks, not merely upon + Goldsmith, but upon most of the successful authors of the day. His name + was Kenrick. He was originally a mechanic, but, possessing some degree of + talent and industry, applied himself to literature as a profession. This + he pursued for many years, and tried his hand in every department of prose + and poetry; he wrote plays and satires, philosophical tracts, critical + dissertations, and works on philology; nothing from his pen ever rose to + first-rate excellence, or gained him a popular name, though he received + from some university the degree of Doctor of Laws. Dr. Johnson + characterized his literary career in one short sentence. “Sir, he is + one of the many who have made themselves <i>public</i> without making + themselves <i>known</i>.” + </p> + <p> + Soured by his own want of success, jealous of the success of others, his + natural irritability of temper increased by habits of intemperance, he at + length abandoned himself to the practice of reviewing, and became one of + the Ishmaelites of the press. In this his malignant bitterness soon gave + him a notoriety which his talents had never been able to attain. We shall + dismiss him for the present with the following sketch of him by the hand + of one of his contemporaries: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Dreaming of genius which he never had, + Half wit, half fool, half critic, and half mad; + Seizing, like Shirley, on the poet’s lyre, + With all his rage, but not one spark of fire; + Eager for slaughter, and resolved to tear + From other’s brows that wreath he most not wear + Next Kenrick came: all furious and replete + With brandy, malice, pertness, and conceit; + Unskill’d in classic lore, through envy blind + To all that’s beauteous, learned, or refined; + For faults alone behold the savage prowl, + With reason’s offal glut his ravening soul; + Pleased with his prey, its inmost blood he drinks, + And mumbles, paws, and turns it—till it stinks.” + </pre> + <p> + The British press about this time was extravagantly fruitful of periodical + publications. That “oldest inhabitant,” the “Gentleman’s + Magazine,” almost coeval with St. John’s gate which graced its + title-page, had long been elbowed by magazines and reviews of all kinds; + Johnson’s Rambler had introduced the fashion of periodical essays, + which he had followed up in his Adventurer and Idler. Imitations had + sprung up on every side, under every variety of name; until British + literature was entirely overrun by a weedy and transient efflorescence. + Many of these rival periodicals choked each other almost at the outset, + and few of them have escaped oblivion. + </p> + <p> + Goldsmith wrote for some of the most successful, such as the “Bee,” + the “Busy-Body,” and the “Lady’s Magazine.” + His essays, though characterized by his delightful style, his pure, + benevolent morality, and his mellow, unobtrusive humor, did not produce + equal effect at first with more garish writings of infinitely less value; + they did not “strike,” as it is termed; but they had that rare + and enduring merit which rises in estimation on every perusal. They + gradually stole upon the heart of the public, were copied into numerous + contemporary publications, and now they are garnered up among the choice + productions of British literature. + </p> + <p> + In his Inquiry into the State of Polite Learning, Goldsmith had given + offense to David Garrick, at that time the autocrat of the Drama, and was + doomed to experience its effect. A clamor had been raised against Garrick + for exercising a despotism over the stage, and bringing forward nothing + but old plays to the exclusion of original productions. Walpole joined in + this charge. “Garrick,” said he, “is treating the town + as it deserves and likes to be treated; with scenes, fireworks, and <i>his + own writings</i>. A good new play I never expect to see more; nor have + seen since the Provoked Husband, which came out when I was at school.” + Goldsmith, who was extremely fond of the theater, and felt the evils of + this system, inveighed in his treatise against the wrongs experienced by + authors at the hands of managers. “Our poet’s performance,” + said he, “must undergo a process truly chemical before it is + presented to the public. It must be tried in the manager’s fire; + strained through a licenser, suffer from repeated corrections, till it may + be a mere <i>caput mortuum</i> when it arrives before the public.” + Again. “Getting a play on even in three or four years is a privilege + reserved only for the happy few who have the arts of courting the manager + as well as the muse; who have adulation to please his vanity, powerful + patrons to support their merit, or money to indemnify disappointment. Our + Saxon ancestors had but one name for a wit and a witch. I will not dispute + the propriety of uniting those characters then; but the man who under + present discouragements ventures to write for the stage, whatever claim he + may have to the appellation of a wit, at least has no right to be called a + conjurer.” But a passage which perhaps touched more sensibly than + all the rest on the sensibilities of Garrick was the following. + </p> + <p> + “I have no particular spleen against the fellow who sweeps the stage + with the besom, or the hero who brushes it with his train. It were a + matter of indifference to me whether our heroines are in keeping, or our + candle snuffers burn their fingers, did not such make a great part of + public care and polite conversation. Our actors assume all that state off + the stage which they do on it; and, to use an expression borrowed from the + green room, every one is <i>up</i> in his part. I am sorry to say it, they + seem to forget their real characters.” + </p> + <p> + These strictures were considered by Garrick as intended for himself, and + they were rankling in his mind when Goldsmith waited upon him and + solicited his vote for the vacant secretaryship of the Society of Arts, of + which the manager was a member. Garrick, puffed up by his dramatic renown + and his intimacy with the great, and knowing Goldsmith only by his budding + reputation, may not have considered him of sufficient importance to be + conciliated. In reply to his solicitations, he observed that he could + hardly expect his friendly exertions after the unprovoked attack he had + made upon his management. Goldsmith replied that he had indulged in no + personalities, and had only spoken what he believed to be the truth. He + made no further apology nor application; failed to get the appointment, + and considered Garrick his enemy. In the second edition of his treatise he + expunged or modified the passages which had given the manager offense; but + though the author and actor became intimate in after years, this false + step at the outset of their intercourse was never forgotten. + </p> + <p> + About this time Goldsmith engaged with Dr. Smollett, who was about to + launch the “British Magazine.” Smollett was a complete schemer + and speculator in literature, and intent upon enterprises that had money + rather than reputation in view. Goldsmith has a good-humored hit at this + propensity in one of his papers in the “Bee,” in which he + represents Johnson, Hume, and others taking seats in the stagecoach bound + for Fame, while Smollett prefers that destined for Riches. + </p> + <p> + Another prominent employer of Goldsmith was Mr. John Newbery, who engaged + him to contribute occasional essays to a newspaper entitled the “Public + Ledger,” which made its first appearance on the 12th of January, + 1760. His most valuable and characteristic contributions to this paper + were his Chinese Letters, subsequently modified into the Citizen of the + World. These lucubrations attracted general attention; they were reprinted + in the various periodical publications of the day, and met with great + applause. The name of the author, however, was as yet but little known. + </p> + <p> + Being now in easier circumstances, and in the receipt of frequent sums + from the booksellers, Goldsmith, about the middle of 1760, emerged from + his dismal abode in Green Arbor Court, and took respectable apartments in + Wine-Office Court, Fleet Street. + </p> + <p> + Still he continued to look back with considerate benevolence to the poor + hostess, whose necessities he had relieved by pawning his gala coat, for + we are told that “he often supplied her with food from his own + table, and visited her frequently with the sole purpose to be kind to her.” + </p> + <p> + He now became a member of a debating club, called the Robin Hood, which + used to meet near Temple Bar, and in which Burke, while yet a Temple + student, had first tried his powers. Goldsmith spoke here occasionally, + and is recorded in the Robin Hood archives as “a candid disputant, + with a clear head and an honest heart, though coming but seldom to the + society.” His relish was for clubs of a more social, jovial nature, + and he was never fond of argument. An amusing anecdote is told of his + first introduction to the club by Samuel Derrick, an Irish acquaintance of + some humor. On entering, Goldsmith was struck with the self-important + appearance of the chairman ensconced in a large gilt chair. “This,” + said he, “must be the Lord Chancellor at least.” “No, + no,” replied Derrick, “he’s only master of the <i>rolls</i>.”—The + chairman was a <i>baker</i>. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0012" id="link2HCH0012"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER TWELVE + </h2> + <p> + NEW LODGINGS—VISITS OF CEREMONY—HANGERS-ON—PILKINGTON + AND THE WHITE MOUSE—INTRODUCTION TO DR. JOHNSON—DAVIES AND HIS + BOOKSHOP—PRETTY MRS. DAVIES—FOOTE AND HIS PROJECTS—CRITICISM + OF THE CUDGEL + </p> + <p> + In his new lodgings in Wine-Office Court, Goldsmith began to receive + visits of ceremony and to entertain his literary friends. Among the latter + he now numbered several names of note, such as Guthrie, Murphy, + Christopher Smart, and Bickerstaff. He had also a numerous class of + hangers-on, the small-fry of literature; who, knowing his almost utter + incapacity to refuse a pecuniary request, were apt, now that he was + considered flush, to levy continual taxes upon his purse. + </p> + <p> + Among others, one Pilkington, an old college acquaintance, but now a + shifting adventurer, duped him in the most ludicrous manner. He called on + him with a face full of perplexity. A lady of the first rank having an + extraordinary fancy for curious animals, for which she was willing to give + enormous sums, he had procured a couple of white mice to be forwarded to + her from India. They were actually on board of a ship in the river. Her + grace had been apprised of their arrival, and was all impatience to see + them. Unfortunately, he had no cage to put them in, nor clothes to appear + in before a lady of her rank. Two guineas would be sufficient for his + purpose, but where were two guineas to be procured! + </p> + <p> + The simple heart of Goldsmith was touched; but, alas! he had but half a + guinea in his pocket. It was unfortunate, but after a pause his friend + suggested, with some hesitation, “that money might be raised upon + his watch; it would but be the loan of a few hours.” So said, so + done; the watch was delivered to the worthy Mr. Pilkington to be pledged + at a neighboring pawnbroker’s, but nothing further was ever seen of + him, the watch, or the white mice. The next that Goldsmith heard of the + poor shifting scapegrace, he was on his deathbed, starving with want, upon + which, forgetting or forgiving the trick he had played upon him, he sent + him a guinea. Indeed, he used often to relate with great humor the + foregoing anecdote of his credulity, and was ultimately in some degree + indemnified by its suggesting to him the amusing little story of Prince + Bonbennin and the White House in the Citizen of the World. + </p> + <p> + In this year Goldsmith became personally acquainted with Dr. Johnson, + toward whom he was drawn by strong sympathies, though their natures were + widely different. Both had struggled from early life with poverty, but had + struggled in different ways. Goldsmith, buoyant, heedless, sanguine, + tolerant of evils and easily pleased, had shifted along by any temporary + expedient; cast down at every turn, but rising again with indomitable + good-humor, and still carried forward by his talent at hoping. Johnson, + melancholy, and hypochondriacal, and prone to apprehend the worst, yet + sternly resolute to battle with and conquer it, had made his way doggedly + and gloomily, but with a noble principle of self-reliance and a disregard + of foreign aid. Both had been irregular at college, Goldsmith, as we have + shown, from the levity of his nature and his social and convivial habits; + Johnson, from his acerbity and gloom. When, in after life, the latter + heard himself spoken of as gay and frolicsome at college, because he had + joined in some riotous excesses there, “Ah, sir!” replied he, + “I was mad and violent. It was bitterness which they mistook for + frolic. <i>I was miserably poor, and I thought to fight my way by my + literature and my wit</i>. So I disregarded all power and all authority.” + </p> + <p> + Goldsmith’s poverty was never accompanied by bitterness; but neither + was it accompanied by the guardian pride which kept Johnson from falling + into the degrading shifts of poverty. Goldsmith had an unfortunate + facility at borrowing, and helping himself along by the contributions of + his friends; no doubt trusting, in his hopeful way, of one day making + retribution. Johnson never hoped, and therefore never borrowed. In his + sternest trials he proudly bore the ills he could not master. In his + youth, when some unknown friend, seeing his shoes completely worn out, + left a new pair at his chamber door, he disdained to accept the boon, and + threw them away. + </p> + <p> + Though like Goldsmith an immethodical student, he had imbibed deeper + draughts of knowledge, and made himself a riper scholar. While Goldsmith’s + happy constitution and genial humors carried him abroad into sunshine and + enjoyment, Johnson’s physical infirmities and mental gloom drove him + upon himself; to the resources of reading and meditation; threw a deeper + though darker enthusiasm into his mind, and stored a retentive memory with + all kinds of knowledge. + </p> + <p> + After several years of youth passed in the country as usher, teacher, and + an occasional writer for the press, Johnson, when twenty-eight years of + age, came up to London with a half-written tragedy in his pocket; and + David Garrick, late his pupil, and several years his junior, as a + companion, both poor and penniless, both, like Goldsmith, seeking their + fortune in the metropolis. “We rode and tied,” said Garrick + sportively in after years of prosperity, when he spoke of their humble + wayfaring. “I came to London,” said Johnson, “with + twopence halfpenny in my pocket.” “Eh, what’s that you + say?” cried Garrick, “with twopence halfpenny in your pocket?” + “Why, yes; I came with twopence halfpenny in <i>my</i> pocket, and + thou, Davy, with but three halfpence in thine.” Nor was there much + exaggeration in the picture; for so poor were they in purse and credit + that after their arrival they had, with difficulty, raised five pounds, by + giving their joint note to a bookseller in the Strand. + </p> + <p> + Many, many years had Johnson gone on obscurely in London, “fighting + his way by his literature and his wit”; enduring all the hardships + and miseries of a Grub Street writer; so destitute at one time that he and + Savage the poet had walked all night about St. James’s Square, both + too poor to pay for a night’s lodging, yet both full of poetry and + patriotism, and determined to stand by their country; so shabby in dress + at another time, that when he dined at Cave’s, his bookseller, when + there was prosperous company, he could not make his appearance at table, + but had his dinner handed to him behind a screen. + </p> + <p> + Yet through all the long and dreary struggle, often diseased in mind as + well as in body, he had been resolutely self-dependent, and proudly + self-respectful; he had fulfilled his college vow, he had “fought + his way by his literature and his wit.” His Rambler and Idler had + made him the great moralist of the age, and his Dictionary and History of + the English Language, that stupendous monument of individual labor, had + excited the admiration of the learned world. He was now at the head of + intellectual society; and had become as distinguished by his + conversational as his literary powers. He had become as much an autocrat + in his sphere as his fellow-wayfarer and adventurer Garrick had become of + the stage, and had been humorously dubbed by Smollett, “The Great + Cham of Literature.” + </p> + <p> + Such was Dr. Johnson, when on the 31st of May, 1761, he was to make his + appearance as a guest at a literary supper given by Goldsmith, to a + numerous party at his new lodgings in Wine-Office Court. It was the + opening of their acquaintance. Johnson had felt and acknowledged the merit + of Goldsmith as an author, and been pleased by the honorable mention made + of himself in the “Bee” and the Chinese Letters. Dr. Percy + called upon Johnson to take him to Goldsmith’s lodgings; he found + Johnson arrayed with unusual care in a new suit of clothes, a new hat, and + a well-powdered wig; and could not but notice his uncommon spruceness. + “Why, sir,” replied Johnson, “I hear that Goldsmith, who + is a very great sloven, justifies his disregard of cleanliness and decency + by quoting my practice, and I am desirous this night to show him a better + example.” + </p> + <p> + The acquaintance thus commenced ripened into intimacy in the course of + frequent meetings at the shop of Davies, the bookseller, in Russell + Street, Covent Garden. As this was one of the great literary gossiping + places of the day, especially to the circle over which Johnson presided, + it is worthy of some specification. Mr. Thomas Davies, noted in after + times as the biographer of Garrick, had originally been on the stage, and + though a small man had enacted tyrannical tragedy, with a pomp and + magniloquence beyond his size, if we may trust the description given of + him by Churchill in the Rosciad: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Statesman all over—in plots famous grown, + <i>He mouths a sentence as ours mouth a bone</i>.” + </pre> + <p> + This unlucky sentence is said to have crippled him in the midst of his + tragic career, and ultimately to have driven him from the stage. He + carried into the bookselling craft somewhat of the grandiose manner of the + stage, and was prone to be mouthy and magniloquent. + </p> + <p> + Churchill had intimated, that while on the stage he was more noted for his + pretty wife than his good acting: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “With him came mighty Davies; on my life, + That fellow has a very pretty wife.” + </pre> + <p> + “Pretty Mrs. Davies,” continued to be the loadstar of his + fortunes. Her tea-table became almost as much a literary lounge as her + husband’s shop. She found favor in the eyes of the Ursa Major of + literature by her winning ways, as she poured out for him cups without + stint of his favorite beverage. Indeed it is suggested that she was one + leading cause of his habitual resort to this literary haunt. Others were + drawn thither for the sake of Johnson’s conversation, and thus it + became a resort of many of the notorieties of the day. Here might + occasionally be seen Bennet Langton, George Stevens, Dr. Percy, celebrated + for his ancient ballads, and sometimes Warburton in prelatic state. + Garrick resorted to it for a time, but soon grew shy and suspicious, + declaring that most of the authors who frequented Mr. Davies’ shop + went merely to abuse him. + </p> + <p> + Foote, the Aristophanes of the day, was a frequent visitor; his broad face + beaming with fun and waggery, and his satirical eye ever on the lookout + for characters and incidents for his farces. He was struck with the odd + habits and appearance of Johnson and Goldsmith, now so often brought + together in Davies’ shop. He was about to put on the stage a farce + called The Orators, intended as a hit at the Robin Hood debating club, and + resolved to show up the two doctors in it for the entertainment of the + town. + </p> + <p> + “What is the common price of an oak stick, sir?” said Johnson + to Davies. “Sixpence,” was the reply. “Why, then, sir, + give me leave to send your servant to purchase a shilling one. I’ll + have a double quantity; for I am told Foote means to take me off, as he + calls it, and I am determined the fellow shall not do it with impunity.” + </p> + <p> + Foote had no disposition to undergo the criticism of the cudgel wielded by + such potent hands, so the farce of The Orators appeared without the + caricatures of the lexicographer and the essayist. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0013" id="link2HCH0013"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER THIRTEEN + </h2> + <p> + ORIENTAL PROJECTS—LITERARY JOBS—THE CHEROKEE CHIEFS—MERRY + ISLINGTON AND THE WHITE CONDUIT HOUSE—LETTERS ON THE HISTORY OF + ENGLAND—JAMES BOSWELL—DINNER OF DAVIES—ANECDOTES OF + JOHNSON AND GOLDSMITH + </p> + <p> + Notwithstanding his growing success, Goldsmith continued to consider + literature a mere makeshift, and his Vagrant imagination teemed with + schemes and plans of a grand but indefinite nature. One was for visiting + the East and exploring the interior of Asia. He had, as has been before + observed, a vague notion that valuable discoveries were to be made there, + and many useful inventions in the arts brought back to the stock of + European knowledge. “Thus, in Siberian Tartary,” observes he + in one of his writings, “the natives extract a strong spirit from + milk, which is a secret probably unknown to the chemists of Europe. In the + most savage parts of India they are possessed of the secret of dying + vegetable substances scarlet, and that of refining lead into a metal + which, for hardness and color, is little inferior to silver.” + </p> + <p> + Goldsmith adds a description of the kind of person suited to such an + enterprise, in which he evidently had himself in view. + </p> + <p> + “He should be a man of philosophical turn, one apt to deduce + consequences of general utility from particular occurrences; neither + swollen with pride, nor hardened by prejudice; neither wedded to one + particular system, nor instructed only in one particular science; neither + wholly a botanist, nor quite an antiquarian; his mind should be tinctured + with miscellaneous knowledge, and his manners humanized by an intercourse + with men. He should be in some measure an enthusiast to the design; fond + of traveling, from a rapid imagination and an innate love of change; + furnished with a body capable of sustaining every fatigue, and a heart not + easily terrified at danger.” + </p> + <p> + In 1761, when Lord Bute became prime minister on the accession of George + the Third, Goldsmith drew up a memorial on the subject, suggesting the + advantages to be derived from a mission to those countries solely for + useful and scientific purposes; and, the better to insure success, he + preceded his application to the government by an ingenious essay to the + same effect in the “Public Ledger.” + </p> + <p> + His memorial and his essay were fruitless, his project most probably being + deemed the dream of a visionary. Still it continued to haunt his mind, and + he would often talk of making an expedition to Aleppo some time or other, + when his means were greater, to inquire into the arts peculiar to the + East, and to bring home such as might be valuable. Johnson, who knew how + little poor Goldsmith was fitted by scientific lore for this favorite + scheme of his fancy, scoffed at the project when it was mentioned to him. + “Of all men,” said he, “Goldsmith is the most unfit to + go out upon such an inquiry, for he is utterly ignorant of such arts as we + already possess, and, consequently, could not know what would be + accessions to our present stock of mechanical knowledge. Sir, he would + bring home a grinding barrow, which you see in every street in London, and + think that he had furnished a wonderful improvement.” + </p> + <p> + His connection with Newbery the bookseller now led him into a variety of + temporary jobs, such as a pamphlet on the Cock-lane Ghost, a Life of Beau + Nash, the famous Master of Ceremonies at Bath, etc.; one of the best + things for his fame, however, was the remodeling and republication of his + Chinese Letters under the title of The Citizen of the World, a work which + has long since taken its merited stand among the classics of the English + language. “Few works,” it has been observed by one of his + biographers, “exhibit a nicer perception, or more delicate + delineation of life and manners. Wit, humor, and sentiment pervade every + page; the vices and follies of the day are touched with the most playful + and diverting satire; and English characteristics, in endless variety, are + hit off with the pencil of a master.” + </p> + <p> + In seeking materials for his varied views of life, he often mingled in + strange scenes and got involved in whimsical situations. In the summer of + 1762 he was one of the thousands who went to see the Cherokee chiefs, whom + he mentions in one of his writings. The Indians made their appearance in + grand costume, hideously painted and besmeared. In the course of the visit + Goldsmith made one of the chiefs a present, who, in the ecstasy of his + gratitude, gave him an embrace that left his face well bedaubed with oil + and red ocher. + </p> + <p> + Toward the close of 1762 he removed to “merry Islington,” then + a country village, though now swallowed up in omnivorous London. He went + there for the benefit of country air, his health being injured by literary + application and confinement, and to be near his chief employer, Mr. + Newbery, who resided in the Canonbury House. In this neighborhood he used + to take his solitary rambles, sometimes extending his walks to the gardens + of the White Conduit House, so famous among the essayists of the last + century. While strolling one day in these gardens, he met three females of + the family of a respectable tradesman to whom he was under some + obligation. With his prompt disposition to oblige, he conducted them about + the garden, treated them to tea, and ran up a bill in the most open-handed + manner imaginable; it was only when he came to pay that he found himself + in one of his old dilemmas—he had not the wherewithal in his pocket. + A scene of perplexity now took place between him and the waiter, in the + midst of which came up some of his acquaintances, in whose eyes he wished + to stand particularly well. This completed his mortification. There was no + concealing the awkwardness of his position. The sneers of the waiter + revealed it. His acquaintances amused themselves for some tune at his + expense, professing their inability to relieve him. When, however, they + had enjoyed their banter, the waiter was paid, and poor Goldsmith enabled + to convoy off the ladies with flying colors. + </p> + <p> + Among the various productions thrown off by him for the booksellers during + this growing period of his reputation was a small work in two volumes, + entitled The History of England, in a Series of Letters from a Nobleman to + his Son. It was digested from Hume, Rapin, Carte, and Kennet. These + authors he would read in the morning; make a few notes; ramble with a + friend into the country about the skirts of “merry Islington”; + return to a temperate dinner and cheerful evening; and, before going to + bed, write off what had arranged itself in his head from the studies of + the morning. In this way he took a more general view of the subject, and + wrote in a more free and fluent style than if he had been mousing at the + time among authorities. The work, like many others written by him in the + earlier part of his literary career, was anonymous. Some attributed it to + Lord Chesterfield, others to Lord Orrery, and others to Lord Lyttelton. + The latter seemed pleased to be the putative father, and never disowned + the bantling thus laid at his door; and well might he have been proud to + be considered capable of producing what has been well pronounced “the + most finished and elegant summary of English history in the same compass + that has been or is likely to be written.” + </p> + <p> + The reputation of Goldsmith, it will be perceived, grew slowly; he was + known and estimated by a few; but he had not those brilliant though + fallacious qualities which flash upon the public and excite loud but + transient applause. His works were more read than cited; and the charm of + style, for which he was especially noted, was more apt to be felt than + talked about. He used often to repine, in a half-humorous, half-querulous + manner, at his tardiness in gaining the laurels which he felt to be his + due. “The public,” he would exclaim, “will never do me + justice; whenever I write anything they make a point to know nothing about + it.” + </p> + <p> + About the beginning of 1763 he became acquainted with Boswell, whose + literary gossipings were destined to have a deleterious effect upon his + reputation. Boswell was at that time a young man, light, buoyant, pushing, + and presumptuous. He had a morbid passion for mingling in the society of + men noted for wit and learning, and had just arrived from Scotland, bent + upon making his way into the literary circles of the metropolis. An + intimacy with Dr. Johnson, the great literary luminary of the day, was the + crowning object of his aspiring and somewhat ludicrous ambition. He + expected to meet him, at a dinner to which he was invited at Davies the + bookseller’s, but was disappointed. Goldsmith was present, but he + was not as yet sufficiently renowned to excite the reverence of Boswell. + “At this time,” says he in his notes, “I think he had + published nothing with his name, though it was pretty generally understood + that one Dr. Goldsmith was the author of An Inquiry into the Present State + of Polite Learning in Europe, and of The Citizen of the World, a series of + letters supposed to be written from London by a Chinese.” + </p> + <p> + A conversation took place at table between Goldsmith and Mr. Robert + Dodsley, compiler of the well-known collection of modern poetry, as to the + merits of the current poetry of the day. Goldsmith declared there was none + of superior merit. Dodsley cited his own collection in proof of the + contrary. “It is true,” said he, “we can boast of no + palaces nowadays, like Dryden’s Ode to St. Cecilia’s Day, but + we have villages composed of very pretty houses.” Goldsmith, + however, maintained that there was nothing above mediocrity, an opinion in + which Johnson, to whom it was repeated, concurred, and with reason, for + the era was one of the dead levels of British poetry. + </p> + <p> + Boswell has made no note of this conversation; he was a Unitarian in his + literary devotion, and disposed to worship none but Johnson. Little Davies + endeavored to console him for his disappointment, and to stay the stomach + of his curiosity, by giving him imitations of the great lexicographer; + mouthing his words, rolling his head, and assuming as ponderous a manner + as his petty person would permit. Boswell was shortly afterward made happy + by an introduction to Johnson, of whom he became the obsequious satellite. + From him he likewise imbibed a more favorable opinion of Goldsmith’s + merits, though he was fain to consider them derived in a great measure + from his Magnus Apollo. “He had sagacity enough,” says he, + “to cultivate assiduously the acquaintance of Johnson, and his + faculties were gradually enlarged by the contemplation of such a model. To + me and many others it appeared that he studiously copied the manner of + Johnson, though, indeed, upon a smaller scale.” So on another + occasion he calls him “one of the brightest ornaments of the + Johnsonian school.” “His respectful attachment to Johnson,” + adds he, “was then at its height; for big own literary reputation + had not yet distinguished him so much as to excite a vain desire of + competition with his great master.” + </p> + <p> + What beautiful instances does the garrulous Boswell give of the goodness + of heart of Johnson, and the passing homage to it by Goldsmith. They were + speaking of a Mr. Levett, long an inmate of Johnson’s house and a + dependent on his bounty; but who, Boswell thought, must be an irksome + charge upon him. “He is poor and honest,” said Goldsmith, + “which is recommendation enough to Johnson.” + </p> + <p> + Boswell mentioned another person of a very bad character, and wondered at + Johnson’s kindness to him. “He is now become miserable,” + said Goldsmith, “and that insures the protection of Johnson.” + Encomiums like these speak almost as much for the heart of him who praises + as of him who is praised. + </p> + <p> + Subsequently, when Boswell had become more intense in his literary + idolatry, he affected to undervalue Goldsmith, and a lurking hostility to + him is discernible throughout his writings, which some have attributed to + a silly spirit of jealousy of the superior esteem evinced for the poet by + Dr. Johnson. We have a gleam of this in his account of the first evening + he spent in company with those two eminent authors at their famous resort, + the Mitre Tavern, in Fleet Street. This took place on the 1st of July, + 1763. The trio supped together, and passed some time in literary + conversation. On quitting the tavern, Johnson, who had now been sociably + acquainted with Goldsmith for two years, and knew his merits, took him + with him to drink tea with his blind pensioner, Miss Williams, a high + privilege among his intimates and admirers. To Boswell, a recent + acquaintance whose intrusive sycophancy had not yet made its way into his + confidential intimacy, he gave no invitation. Boswell felt it with all the + jealousy of a little mind. “Dr. Goldsmith,” says he, in his + memoirs, “being a privileged man, went with him, strutting away, and + calling to me with an air of superiority, like that of an esoteric over an + esoteric disciple of a sage of antiquity, ‘I go to Miss Williams.’ + I confess I then envied him this mighty privilege, of which he seemed to + be so proud; but it was not long before I obtained the same mark of + distinction.” + </p> + <p> + Obtained! but how? not like Goldsmith, by the force of unpretending but + congenial merit, but by a course of the most pushing, contriving, and + spaniel-like subserviency. Really, the ambition of the man to illustrate + his mental insignificance, by continually placing himself in juxtaposition + with the great lexicographer, has something in it perfectly ludicrous. + Never, since the days of Don Quixote and Sancho Panza, has there been + presented to the world a more whimsically contrasted pair of associates + than Johnson and Boswell. + </p> + <p> + “Who is this Scotch cur at Johnson’s heels?” asked some + one when Boswell had worked his way into incessant companionship. “He + is not a cur,” replied Goldsmith, “you are too severe; he is + only a bur. Tom Davies flung him at Johnson in sport, and he has the + faculty of sticking.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0014" id="link2HCH0014"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER FOURTEEN + </h2> + <p> + HOGARTH A VISITOR AT ISLINGTON—HIS CHARACTER—STREET STUDIES—SYMPATHIES + BETWEEN AUTHORS AND PAINTERS—SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS—HIS CHARACTER—HIS + DINNERS—THE LITERARY CLUB-ITS MEMBERS—JOHNSON’S REVELS + WITH LANKEY AND BEAU—GOLDSMITH AT THE CLUB + </p> + <p> + Among the intimates who used to visit the poet occasionally, in his + retreat at Islington, was Hogarth the painter. Goldsmith had spoken well + of him in his essays in the “Public Ledger,” and this formed + the first link in their friendship. He was at this time upward of sixty + years of age, and is described as a stout, active, bustling little man, in + a sky-blue coat, satirical and dogmatic, yet full of real benevolence and + the love of human nature. He was the moralist and philosopher of the + pencil; like Goldsmith he had sounded the depths of vice and misery, + without being polluted by them; and though his picturings had not the + pervading amenity of those of the essayist, and dwelt more on the crimes + and vices than the follies and humors of mankind, yet they were all + calculated, in like manner, to fill the mind with instruction and precept, + and to make the heart better. + </p> + <p> + Hogarth does not appear to have had much of the rural feeling with which + Goldsmith was so amply endowed, and may not have accompanied him in his + strolls about hedges and green lanes; but he was a fit companion with whom + to explore the mazes of London, in which he was continually on the lookout + for character and incident. One of Hogarth’s admirers speaks of + having come upon him in Castle Street, engaged in one of his street + studies, watching two boys who were quarreling; patting one on the back + who flinched, and endeavoring to spirit him up to a fresh encounter. + “At him again! D—- him, if I would take it of him! at him + again!” + </p> + <p> + A frail memorial of this intimacy between the painter and the poet exists + in a portrait in oil, called “Goldsmith’s Hostess.” It + is supposed to have been painted by Hogarth in the course of his visits to + Islington, and given by him to the poet as a means of paying his landlady. + There are no friendships among men of talents more likely to be sincere + than those between painters and poets. Possessed of the same qualities of + mind, governed by the same principles of taste and natural laws of grace + and beauty, but applying them to different yet mutually illustrative arts, + they are constantly in sympathy and never in collision with each other. + </p> + <p> + A still more congenial intimacy of the kind was that contracted by + Goldsmith with Mr. afterward Sir Joshua Reynolds. The latter was now about + forty years of age, a few years older than the poet, whom he charmed by + the blandness and benignity of his manners, and the nobleness and + generosity of his disposition, as much as he did by the graces of his + pencil and the magic of his coloring. They were men of kindred genius, + excelling in corresponding qualities of their several arts, for style in + writing is what color is in painting; both are innate endowments, and + equally magical hi their effects. Certain graces and harmonies of both may + be acquired by diligent study and imitation, but only in a limited degree; + whereas by their natural possessors they are exercised spontaneously, + almost unconsciously, and with ever-varying fascination. Reynolds soon + understood and appreciated the merits of Goldsmith, and a sincere and + lasting friendship ensued between them. + </p> + <p> + At Reynolds’ house Goldsmith mingled in a higher range of company + than he had been accustomed to. The fame of this celebrated artist, and + his amenity of manners, were gathering round him men of talents of all + kinds, and the increasing affluence of his circumstances enabled him to + give full indulgence to his hospitable disposition. Poor Goldsmith had not + yet, like Dr. Johnson, acquired reputation enough to atone for his + external defects and his want of the air of good society. Miss Reynolds + used to inveigh against his personal appearance, which gave her the idea, + she said, of a low mechanic, a journeyman tailor. One evening at a large + supper party, being called upon to give as a toast the ugliest man she + knew, she gave Dr. Goldsmith, upon which a lady who sat opposite, and whom + she had never met before, shook hands with her across the table, and + “hoped to become better acquainted.” + </p> + <p> + We have a graphic and amusing picture of Reynolds’ hospitable but + motley establishment, in an account given by a Mr. Courtenay to Sir James + Mackintosh; though it speaks of a time after Reynolds had received the + honor of knighthood. “There was something singular,” said he, + “in the style and economy of Sir Joshua’s table that + contributed to pleasantry and good humor, a coarse, inelegant plenty, + without any regard to order and arrangement. At five o’clock + precisely, dinner was served, whether all the invited guests were arrived + or not. Sir Joshua was never so fashionably ill-bred as to wait an hour + perhaps for two or three persons of rank or title, and put the rest of the + company out of humor by this invidious distinction. His invitations, + however, did not regulate the number of his guests. Many dropped in + uninvited. A table prepared for seven or eight was of ten compelled to + contain fifteen or sixteen. There was a consequent deficiency of knives, + forks, plates, and glasses. The attendance was in the same style, and + those who were knowing in the ways of the house took care on sitting down + to call instantly for beer, bread, or wine, that they might secure a + supply before the first course was over. He was once prevailed on to + furnish the table with decanters and glasses at dinner, to save time and + prevent confusion. These gradually were demolished in the course of + service, and were never replaced. These trifling embarrassments, however, + only served to enhance the hilarity and singular pleasure of the + entertainment. The wine, cookery and dishes were but little attended to; + nor was the fish or venison ever talked of or recommended. Amid this + convivial animated bustle among his guests, our host sat perfectly + composed; always attentive to what was said, never minding what was ate or + drank, but left every one at perfect liberty to scramble for himself.” + </p> + <p> + Out of the casual but frequent meeting of men of talent at this hospitable + board rose that association of wits, authors, scholars, and statesmen, + renowned as the Literary Club. Reynolds was the first to propose a regular + association of the kind, and was eagerly seconded by Johnson, who proposed + as a model a club which he had formed many years previously in Ivy Lane, + but which was now extinct. Like that club the number of members was + limited to nine. They were to meet and sup together once a week, on Monday + night, at the Turk’s Head on Gerard Street, Soho, and two members + were to constitute a meeting. It took a regular form hi the year 1764, but + did not receive its literary appellation until several years afterward. + </p> + <p> + The original members were Reynolds, Johnson, Burke, Dr. Nugent, Bennet + Langton, Topham Beauclerc, Chamier, Hawkins, and Goldsmith; and here a few + words concerning some of the members may be acceptable. Burke was at that + time about thirty-three years of age; he had mingled a little in politics, + and been Under Secretary to Hamilton at Dublin, but was again a writer for + the booksellers, and as yet but in the dawning of his fame. Dr. Nugent was + his father-in-law, a Roman Catholic, and a physician of talent and + instruction. Mr. afterward Sir John Hawkins was admitted into this + association from having been a member of Johnson’s Ivy Lane club. + Originally an attorney, he had retired from the practice of the law, in + consequence of a large fortune which fell to him in right of his wife, and + was now a Middlesex magistrate. He was, moreover, a dabbler in literature + and music, and was actually engaged on a history of music, which he + subsequently published in five ponderous volumes. To him we are also + indebted for a biography of Johnson, which appeared after the death of + that eminent man. Hawkins was as mean and parsimonious as he was pompous + and conceited. He forbore to partake of the suppers at the club, and + begged therefore to be excused from paying his share of the reckoning. + “And was he excused?” asked Dr. Burney of Johnson. “Oh, + yes, for no man is angry at another for being inferior to himself. We all + scorned him and admitted his plea. Yet I really believe him to be an + honest man at bottom, though to be sure he is penurious, and he is mean, + and it must be owned he has a tendency to savageness.” He did not + remain above two or three years in the club; being in a manner elbowed out + in consequence of his rudeness to Burke. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Anthony Chamier was secretary in the War Office, and a friend of + Beauclerc, by whom he was proposed. We have left our mention of Bennet + Langton and Topham Beauclerc until the last, because we have most to say + about them. They were doubtless induced to join the club through their + devotion to Johnson, and the intimacy of these two very young and + aristocratic young men with the stern and somewhat melancholy moralist is + among the curiosities of literature. + </p> + <p> + Bennet Langton was of an ancient family, who held their ancestral estate + of Langton in Lincolnshire, a great title to respect with Johnson. “Langton, + sir,” he would say, “has a grant of free warrant from Henry + the Second; and Cardinal Stephen Langton, in King John’s reign, was + of this family.” + </p> + <p> + Langton was of a mild, contemplative, enthusiastic nature. When but + eighteen years of age he was so delighted with reading Johnson’s + Rambler that he came to London chiefly with a view to obtain an + introduction to the author. Boswell gives us an account of his first + interview, which took place in the morning. It is not often that the + personal appearance of an author agrees with the preconceived ideas of his + admirer. Langton, from perusing the writings of Johnson, expected to find + him a decent, well dressed, in short a remarkably decorous philosopher. + Instead of which, down from his bed chamber about noon, came, as newly + risen, a large uncouth figure, with a little dark wig which scarcely + covered his head, and his clothes hanging loose about him. But his + conversation was so rich, so animated, and so forcible, and his religious + and political notions so congenial with those in which Langton had been + educated, that he conceived for him that veneration and attachment which + he ever preserved. + </p> + <p> + Langton went to pursue his studies at Trinity College, Oxford, where + Johnson saw much of him during a visit which he paid to the university. He + found him in close intimacy with Topham Beauclerc, a youth two years older + than himself, very gay and dissipated, and wondered what sympathies could + draw two young men together of such opposite characters. On becoming + acquainted with Beauclerc he found that, rake though he was, he possessed + an ardent love of literature, an acute understanding, polished wit, innate + gentility and high aristocratic breeding. He was, moreover, the only son + of Lord Sidney Beauclerc and grandson of the Duke of St. Albans, and was + thought in some particulars to have a resemblance to Charles the Second. + These were high recommendations with Johnson, and when the youth testified + a profound respect for him and an ardent admiration of his talents the + conquest was complete, so that in a “short time,” says + Boswell, “the moral pious Johnson and the gay dissipated Beauclerc + were companions.” + </p> + <p> + The intimacy begun in college chambers was continued when the youth came + to town during the vacations. The uncouth, unwieldy moralist was flattered + at finding himself an object of idolatry to two high-born, high-bred, + aristocratic young men, and throwing gravity aside, was ready to join in + their vagaries and play the part of a “young man upon town.” + Such at least is the picture given of him by Boswell on one occasion when + Beauclerc and Langton having supped together at a tavern determined to + give Johnson a rouse at three o’clock in the morning. They + accordingly rapped violently at the door of his chambers in the Temple. + The indignant sage sallied forth in his shirt, poker in hand, and a little + black wig on the top of his head, instead of helmet; prepared to wreak + vengeance on the assailants of his castle; but when his two young friends, + Lankey and Beau, as he used to call them, presented themselves, summoning + him forth to a morning ramble, his whole manner changed. “What, is + it you, ye dogs?” cried he. “Faith, I’ll have a frisk + with you!” + </p> + <p> + So said so done. They sallied forth together into Covent Garden; figured + among the green grocers and fruit women, just come in from the country + with their hampers; repaired to a neighboring tavern, where Johnson brewed + a bowl of <i>bishop</i>, a favorite beverage with him, grew merry over his + cups, and anathematized sleep in two lines from Lord Lansdowne’s + drinking song: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Short, very short, be then thy reign, + For I’m in haste to laugh and drink again.” + </pre> + <p> + They then took boat again, rowed to Billingsgate, and Johnson and + Beauclerc determined, like “mad wags,” to “keep it up” + for the rest of the day. Langton, however, the most sober-minded of the + three, pleaded an engagement to breakfast with some young ladies; + whereupon the great moralist reproached him with “leaving his social + friends to go and sit with a set of wretched <i>unideal</i> girls.” + </p> + <p> + This madcap freak of the great lexicographer made a sensation, as may well + be supposed, among his intimates. “I heard of your frolic t’other + night,” said Garrick to him; “you’ll be in the ‘Chronicle.’” + He uttered worse forebodings to others. “I shall have my old friend + to bail out of the round-house,” said he. Johnson, however, valued + himself upon having thus enacted a chapter in the Rake’s Progress, + and crowed over Garrick on the occasion. “<i>He</i> durst not do + such a thing!” chuckled he, “his <i>wife</i> would not <i>let</i> + him!” + </p> + <p> + When these two young men entered the club, Langton was about twenty-two, + and Beauclerc about twenty-four years of age, and both were launched on + London life. Langton, however, was still the mild, enthusiastic scholar, + steeped to the lips in Greek, with fine conversational powers and an + invaluable talent for listening. He was upward of six feet high, and very + spare. “Oh! that we could sketch him,” exclaims Miss Hawkins, + in her Memoirs, “with his mild countenance, his elegant features, + and his sweet smile, sitting with one leg twisted round the other, as if + fearing to occupy more space than was equitable; his person inclining + forward, as if wanting strength to support his weight, and his arms + crossed over his bosom, or his hands locked together on his knee.” + Beauclerc, on such occasions, sportively compared him to a stork in + Raphael’s Cartoons, standing on one leg. Beauclerc was more “a + man upon town,” a lounger in St. James’s Street, an associate + with George Selwyn, with Walpole, and other aristocratic wits; a man of + fashion at court; a casual frequenter of the gaming-table; yet, with all + this, he alternated in the easiest and happiest manner the scholar and the + man of letters; lounged into the club with the most perfect + self-possession, bringing with him the careless grace and polished wit of + high-bred society, but making himself cordially at home among his learned + fellow members. + </p> + <p> + The gay yet lettered rake maintained his sway over Johnson, who was + fascinated by that air of the world, that ineffable tone of good society + in which he felt himself deficient, especially as the possessor of it + always paid homage to his superior talent. “Beauclerc,” he + would say, using a quotation from Pope, “has a love of folly, but a + scorn of fools; everything he does shows the one, and everything he says + the other.” Beauclerc delighted in rallying the stern moralist of + whom others stood in awe, and no one, according to Boswell, could take + equal liberty with him with impunity. Johnson, it is well known, was often + shabby and negligent in his dress, and not overcleanly in his person. On + receiving a pension from the crown, his friends vied with each other in + respectful congratulations. Beauclerc simply scanned his person with a + whimsical glance, and hoped that, like Falstaff, “he’d in + future purge and live cleanly like a gentleman.” Johnson took the + hint with unexpected good humor, and profited by it. + </p> + <p> + Still Beauclerc’s satirical vein, which darted shafts on every side, + was not always tolerated by Johnson. ‘“Sir,” said he on + one occasion, “you never open your mouth but with intention to give + pain; and you have often given me pain, not from the power of what you + have said, but from seeing your intention.” + </p> + <p> + When it was at first proposed to enroll Goldsmith among the members of + this association, there seems to have been some demur; at least so says + the pompous Hawkins. “As he wrote for the booksellers, we of the + club looked on him as a mere literary drudge, equal to the task of + compiling and translating, but little capable of original and still less + of poetical composition.” + </p> + <p> + Even for some time after his admission, he continued to be regarded in a + dubious light by some of the members. Johnson and Reynolds, of course, + were well aware of his merits, nor was Burke a stranger to them; but to + the others he was as yet a sealed book, and the outside was not + prepossessing. His ungainly person and awkward manners were against him + with men accustomed to the graces of society, and he was not sufficiently + at home to give play to his humor and to that bonhomie which won the + hearts of all who knew him. He felt strange and out of place in this new + sphere; he felt at times the cool satirical eye of the courtly Beauclerc + scanning him, and the more he attempted to appear at his ease the more + awkward he became. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0015" id="link2HCH0015"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER FIFTEEN + </h2> + <p> + JOHNSON A MONITOR TO GOLDSMITH—FINDS HIM IN DISTRESS WITH HIS + LANDLADY—RELIEVED BY THE VICAR OF WAKEFIELD—THE ORATORIO—POEM + OF THE TRAVELER—THE POET AND HIS DOG—SUCCESS OF THE POEM—ASTONISHMENT + OF THE CLUB—OBSERVATIONS ON THE POEM + </p> + <p> + Johnson had now become one of Goldsmith’s best friends and advisers. + He knew all the weak points of his character, but he knew also his merits; + and while he would rebuke him like a child, and rail at his errors and + follies, he would suffer no one else to undervalue him. Goldsmith knew the + soundness of his judgment and his practical benevolence, and often sought + his counsel and aid amid the difficulties into which his heedlessness was + continually plunging him. + </p> + <p> + “I received one morning,” says Johnson, “a message from + poor Goldsmith that he was in great distress, and, as it was not in his + power to come to me, begging that I would come to him as soon as possible. + I sent him a guinea, and promised to come to him directly. I accordingly + went as soon as I was dressed, and found that his landlady had arrested + him for his rent, at which he was in a violent passion: I perceived that + he had already changed my guinea, and had a bottle of Madeira and a glass + before him. I put the cork into the bottle, desired he would be calm, and + began to talk to him of the means by which he might be extricated. He then + told me he had a novel ready for the press, which he produced to me. I + looked into it and saw its merit; told the landlady I should soon return; + and, having gone to a bookseller, sold it for sixty pounds. I brought + Goldsmith the money, and he discharged his rent, not without rating his + landlady in a high tone for having used him go ill.” + </p> + <p> + The novel in question was the Vicar of Wakefield; the bookseller to whom + Johnson sold it was Francis Newbery, nephew to John. Strange as it may + seem, this captivating work, which has obtained and preserved an almost + unrivaled popularity in various languages, was so little appreciated by + the bookseller that he kept it by him for nearly two years unpublished! + </p> + <p> + Goldsmith had, as yet, produced nothing of moment in poetry. Among his + literary jobs, it is true, was an oratorio entitled The Captivity, founded + on the bondage of the Israelites in Babylon. It was one of those unhappy + offsprings of the muse ushered into existence amid the distortions of + music. Most of the oratorio has passed into oblivion; but the following + song from it will never die: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “The wretch condemned from life to part, + Still, still on hope relies, + And every pang that rends the heart + Bids expectation rise. + + “Hope, like the glimmering taper’s light, + Illumes and cheers our way; + And still, as darker grows the night, + Emits a brighter ray.” + </pre> + <p> + Goldsmith distrusted his qualifications to succeed in poetry, and doubted + the disposition of the public mind in regard to it. “I fear,” + said he, “I have come too late into the world; Pope and other poets + have taken up the places in the temple of Fame; and as few at any period + can possess poetical reputation, a man of genius can now hardly acquire + it.” Again, on another occasion, he observes: “Of all kinds of + ambition, as things are now circumstanced, perhaps that which pursues + poetical fame is the wildest. What from the increased refinement of the + tunes, from the diversity of judgment produced by opposing systems of + criticism, and from the more prevalent divisions of opinion influenced by + party, the strongest and happiest efforts can expect to please but in a + very narrow circle.” + </p> + <p> + At this very time he had by him his poem of The Traveler. The plan of it, + as has already been observed, was conceived many years before, during his + travels in Switzerland, and a sketch of it sent from that country to his + brother Henry in Ireland. The original outline is said to have embraced a + wider scope; but it was probably contracted through diffidence, in the + process of finishing the parts. It had laid by him for several years in a + crude state, and it was with extreme hesitation and after much revision + that he at length submitted it to Dr. Johnson. The frank and warm + approbation of the latter encouraged him to finish it for the press; and + Dr. Johnson himself contributed a few lines toward the conclusion. + </p> + <p> + We hear much about “poetic inspiration,” and the “poet’s + eye in a fine frenzy rolling”; but Sir Joshua Reynolds gives an + anecdote of Goldsmith while engaged upon his poem, calculated to cure our + notions about the ardor of composition. Calling upon the poet one day, he + opened the door without ceremony, and found him in the double occupation + of turning a couplet and teaching a pet dog to sit upon his haunches. At + one time he would glance his eye at his desk, and at another shake his + finger at the dog to make him retain his position. The last lines on the + page were still wet; they form a part of the description of Italy: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “By sports like these are all their cares beguiled, + The sports of children satisfy the child.” + </pre> + <p> + Goldsmith, with his usual good-humor, joined in the laugh caused by his + whimsical employment, and acknowledged that his boyish sport with the dog + suggested the stanza The poem was published on the 19th of December, 1764, + in a quarto form, by Newbery, and was the first of his works to which + Goldsmith prefixed his name. As a testimony of cherished and well-merited + affection, he dedicated it to his brother Henry. There is an amusing + affectation of indifference as to its fate expressed in the dedication. + “What reception a poem may find,” says he, “which has + neither abuse, party, nor blank verse to support it, I cannot tell, nor am + I solicitous to know.” The truth is, no one was more emulous and + anxious for poetic fame; and never was he more anxious than in the present + instance, for it was his grand stake. Dr. Johnson aided the launching of + the poem by a favorable notice in the “Critical Review”; other + periodical works came out in its favor. Some of the author’s friends + complained that it did not command instant and wide popularity; that it + was a poem to win, not to strike; it went on rapidly increasing in favor; + in three months a second edition was issued; shortly afterward a third; + then a fourth; and, before the year was out, the author was pronounced the + best poet of his time. + </p> + <p> + The appearance of The Traveler at once altered Goldsmith’s + intellectual standing in the estimation of society; but its effect upon + the club, if we may judge from the account given by Hawkins, was most + ludicrous. They were lost in astonishment that a “newspaper essayist” + and “bookseller’s, drudge” should have written such a + poem. On the evening of its announcement to them Goldsmith had gone away + early, after “rattling away as usual,” and they knew not how + to reconcile his heedless garrulity with the serene beauty, the easy + grace, the sound good sense, and the occasional elevation of his poetry. + They could scarcely believe that such magic numbers had flowed from a man + to whom in general, says Johnson, “it was with difficulty they could + give a hearing.” “Well”, exclaimed Chamier, “I do + believe he wrote this poem himself, and, let me tell you, that is + believing a great deal.” + </p> + <p> + At the next meeting of the club Chamier sounded the author a little about + his poem. “Mr. Goldsmith,” said he, “what do you mean by + the last word in the first line of your Traveler, ‘remote, + unfriended, solitary, slow?’ do you mean tardiness of locomotion?” + “Yes,” replied Goldsmith inconsiderately, being probably + flurried at the moment. “No, sir,” interposed his protecting + friend Johnson, “you did not mean tardiness of locomotion; you meant + that sluggishness of mind which comes upon a man in solitude.” + “Ah,” exclaimed Goldsmith, “that was what I meant.” + Chamier immediately believed that Johnson himself had written the line, + and a rumor became prevalent that he was the author of many of the finest + passages. This was ultimately set at rest by Johnson himself, who marked + with a pencil all the verses he had contributed, nine in number, inserted + toward the conclusion, and by no means the best in the poem. He moreover, + with generous warmth, pronounced it the finest poem that had appeared + since the days of Pope. + </p> + <p> + But one of the highest testimonials to the charm of the poem was given by + Miss Reynolds, who had toasted poor Goldsmith as the ugliest man of her + acquaintance. Shortly after the appearance of The Traveler, Dr. Johnson + read it aloud from beginning to end in her presence. “Well,” + exclaimed she, when he had finished, “I never more shall think Dr. + Goldsmith ugly!” + </p> + <p> + On another occasion, when the merits of The Traveler were discussed at + Reynolds’ board, Langton declared “There was not a bad line in + the poem, not one of Dryden’s careless verses.” “I was + glad,” observed Reynolds, “to hear Charles Fox say it was one + of the finest poems in the English language.” “Why was you + glad?” rejoined Langton; “you surely had no doubt of this + before.” “No,” interposed Johnson, decisively; “the + merit of The Traveler is so well established that Mr. Fox’s praise + cannot augment it, nor his censure diminish it.” + </p> + <p> + Boswell, who was absent from England at the time of the publication of The + Traveler, was astonished, on his return, to find Goldsmith, whom he had so + much undervalued, suddenly elevated almost to a par with his idol. He + accounted for it by concluding that much both of the sentiments and + expression of the poem had been derived from conversations with Johnson. + “He imitates you, sir,” said this incarnation of toadyism. + “Why, no, sir,” replied Johnson, “Jack Hawksworth is one + of my imitators, but not Goldsmith. Goldy, sir, has great merit.” + “But, sir, he is much indebted to you for his getting so high in the + public estimation.” “Why, sir, he has, perhaps, got <i>sooner + to it by his intimacy with me.” </i> + </p> + <p> + The poem went through several editions in the course of the first year, + and received some few additions and corrections from the author’s + pen. It produced a golden harvest to Mr. Newbery, but all the remuneration + on record, doled out by his niggard hand to the author, was twenty + guineas! + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0016" id="link2HCH0016"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER SIXTEEN + </h2> + <p> + NEW LODGINGS—JOHNSON’S COMPLIMENT—A TITLED PATRON—THE + POET AT NORTHUMBERLAND HOUSE—HIS INDEPENDENCE OF THE GREAT—THE + COUNTESS OF NORTHUMBERLAND—EDWIN AND ANGELINA—GOSFORD AND LORD + CLARE—PUBLICATION OF ESSAYS—EVILS OF A RISING REPUTATION—HANGERS-ON—JOB + WRITING—GOODY TWO SHOES—A MEDICAL CAMPAIGN—MRS. + SIDEBOTHAM + </p> + <p> + Goldsmith, now that he was rising in the world, and becoming a notoriety, + felt himself called upon to improve his style of living. He according + emerged from Wine-Office Court, and took chambers in the Temple. It is + true they were but of humble pretensions, situated on what was then the + library staircase, and it would appear that he was a kind of inmate with + Jeffs, the butler of the society. Still he was in the Temple, that classic + region rendered famous by the “Spectator” and other essayists, + as the abode of gay wits and thoughtful men of letters; and which, with + its retired courts and embowered gardens, in the very heart of a noisy + metropolis, is, to the quiet-seeking student and author, an oasis + freshening with verdure in the midst of a desert. Johnson, who had become + a kind of growling supervisor of the poet’s affairs, paid him a + visit soon after he had installed himself in his new quarters, and went + prying about the apartment, in his near-sighted manner, examining + everything minutely. Goldsmith was fidgeted by this curious scrutiny, and + apprehending a disposition to find fault, exclaimed, with the air of a man + who had money in both pockets, “I shall soon be in better chambers + than these.” The harmless bravado drew a reply from Johnson which + touched the chord of proper pride. “Nay, sir,” said he, + “never mind that. Nil te quæsiveris extra,” implying that his + reputation rendered him independent of outward show. Happy would it have + been for poor Goldsmith could he have kept this consolatory compliment + perpetually in mind, and squared his expenses accordingly. + </p> + <p> + Among the persons of rank who were struck with the merits of The Traveler + was the Earl (afterward Duke) of Northumberland. He procured several other + of Goldsmith’s writings, the perusal of which tended to elevate the + author in his good opinion, and to gain for him his good will. The earl + held the office of Lord Lieutenant of Ireland, and understanding Goldsmith + was an Irishman, was disposed to extend to him the patronage which his + high post afforded. He intimated the same to his relative, Dr. Percy, who, + he found, was well acquainted with the poet, and expressed a wish that the + latter should wait upon him. Here, then, was another opportunity for + Goldsmith to better his fortune, had he been knowing and worldly enough to + profit by it. Unluckily the path to fortune lay through the aristocratical + mazes of Northumberland House, and the poet blundered at the outset. The + following is the account he used to give of his visit: “I dressed + myself in the best manner I could, and, after studying some compliments I + thought necessary on such an occasion, proceeded to Northumberland House, + and acquainted the servants that I had particular business with the duke. + They showed me into an antechamber, where, after waiting some time, a + gentleman, very elegantly dressed, made his appearance; taking him for the + duke, I delivered all the fine things I had composed in order to + compliment him on the honor he had done me; when, to my great + astonishment, he told me I had mistaken him for his master, who would see + me immediately. At that instant the duke came into the apartment, and I + was so confounded on the occasion that I wanted words barely sufficient to + express the sense I entertained of the duke’s politeness, and went + away exceedingly chagrined at the blunder I had committed.” + </p> + <p> + Sir John Hawkins, in his life of Dr. Johnson, gives some further + particulars of this visit, of which he was, in part, a witness. “Having + one day,” says he, “a call to make on the late Duke, then + Earl, of Northumberland, I found Goldsmith waiting for an audience in an + outer room; I asked him what had brought him there; he told me an + invitation from his lordship. I made my business as short as I could, and, + as a reason, mentioned that Dr. Goldsmith was waiting without. The earl + asked me if I was acquainted with him. I told him that I was, adding what + I thought was most likely to recommend him. I retired, and stayed in the + outer room to take him home. Upon his coming out, I asked him the result + of his conversation. ‘His lordship,’ said he, ‘told me + he had read my poem, meaning The Traveler, and was much delighted with it; + that he was going to be lord-lieutenant of Ireland, and that, hearing I + was a native of that country, he should be glad to do me any kindness.’ + ‘And what did you answer,’ said I, ‘to this gracious + offer?’ ‘Why,’ said he, ‘I could say nothing but + that I had a brother there, a clergyman, that stood in need of help: as + for myself, I have no great dependence on the promises of great men; I + look to the booksellers for support; they are my best friends, and I am + not inclined to forsake them for others.’” “Thus,” + continues Sir John, “did this idiot in the affairs of the world + trifle with his fortunes, and put back the hand that was held out to + assist him.” + </p> + <p> + We cannot join with Sir John in his worldly sneer at the conduct of + Goldsmith on this occasion. While we admire that honest independence of + spirit which prevented him from asking favors for himself, we love that + warmth of affection which instantly sought to advance the fortunes of a + brother: but the peculiar merits of poor Goldsmith seem to have been + little understood by the Hawkinses, the Boswells, and the other + biographers of the day. + </p> + <p> + After all, the introduction to Northumberland House did not prove so + complete a failure as the humorous account given by Goldsmith, and the + cynical account given by Sir John Hawkins, might lead one to suppose. Dr. + Percy, the heir male of the ancient Percies, brought the poet into the + acquaintance of his kinswoman, the countess, who, before her marriage with + the earl, was in her own right heiress of the House of Northumberland. + “She was a lady,” says Boswell, “not only of high + dignity of spirit, such as became her noble blood, but of excellent + understanding and lively talents.” Under her auspices a poem of + Goldsmith’s had an aristocratical introduction to the world. This + was the beautiful ballad of the Hermit, originally published under the + name of Edwin and Angelina. It was suggested by an old English ballad + beginning “Gentle Herdsman,” shown him by Dr. Percy, who was + at that time making his famous collection, entitled Reliques of Ancient + English Poetry, which he submitted to the inspection of Goldsmith prior to + publication. A few copies only of the Hermit were printed at first, with + the following title page: “Edwin and Angelina: a Ballad. By Mr. + Goldsmith. Printed for the Amusement of the Countess of Northumberland.” + </p> + <p> + All this, though it may not have been attended with any immediate + pecuniary advantage, contributed to give Goldsmith’s name and poetry + the high stamp of fashion, so potent in England; the circle at + Northumberland House, however, was of too stately and aristocratical a + nature to be much to his taste, and we do not find that he became familiar + in it. + </p> + <p> + He was much more at home at Gosford, the noble seat of his countryman, + Robert Nugent, afterward Baron Nugent and Viscount Clare, who appreciated + his merits even more heartily than the Earl of Northumberland, and + occasionally made him his guest both in town and country. Nugent is + described as a jovial voluptuary, who left the Roman Catholic for the + Protestant religion, with a view to bettering his fortunes; he had an + Irishman’s inclination for rich widows, and an Irishman’s luck + with the sex; having been thrice married and gained a fortune with each + wife. He was now nearly sixty, with a remarkably loud voice, broad Irish + brogue, and ready, but somewhat coarse wit. With all his occasional + coarseness he was capable of high thought, and had produced poems which + showed a truly poetic vein. He was long a member of the House of Commons, + where his ready wit, his fearless decision, and good-humored audacity of + expression, always gained him a hearing, though his tall person and + awkward manner gained him the nickname of Squire Gawky, among the + political scribblers of the day. With a patron of this jovial temperament + Goldsmith probably felt more at ease than with those of higher refinement. + </p> + <p> + The celebrity which Goldsmith had acquired by his poem of The Traveler, + occasioned a resuscitation of many of his miscellaneous and anonymous + tales and essays from the various newspapers and other transient + publications in which they lay dormant. These he published in 1765, in a + collected form, under the title of “Essays by Mr. Goldsmith.” + “The following essays,” observes he in his preface, “have + already appeared at different times, and in different publications. The + pamphlets in which they were inserted being generally unsuccessful, these + shared the common fate, without assisting the booksellers’ aims, or + extending the author’s reputation. The public were too strenuously + employed with their own follies to be assiduous in estimating mine; so + that many of my best attempts in this way have fallen victims to the + transient topic of the times—the Ghost in Cock Lane, or the Siege of + Ticonderoga. + </p> + <p> + “But, though they have passed pretty silently into the world, I can + by no means complain of their circulation. The magazines and papers of the + day have indeed been liberal enough in this respect. Most of these essays + have been regularly reprinted twice or thrice a year, and conveyed to the + public through the kennel of some engaging compilation. If there be a + pride in multiplied editions, I have seen some of my labors sixteen times + reprinted, and claimed by different parents as their own. I have seen them + flourished at the beginning with praise, and signed at the end with the + names of Philautos, Philalethes, Phileleutheros, and Philanthropos. It is + time, however, at last to vindicate my claims; and as these entertainers + of the public, as they call themselves, have partly lived upon me for some + years, let me now try if I cannot live a little upon myself.” + </p> + <p> + It was but little, in fact, for all the pecuniary emolument he received + from the volume was twenty guineas. It had a good circulation, however, + was translated into French, and has maintained its stand among the British + classics. + </p> + <p> + Notwithstanding that the reputation of Goldsmith had greatly risen, his + finances were often at a very low ebb, owing to his heedlessness as to + expense, his liability to be imposed upon, and a spontaneous and + irresistible propensity to give to every one who asked. The very rise in + his reputation had increased these embarrassments. It had enlarged his + circle of needy acquaintances, authors poorer in pocket than himself, who + came in search of literary counsel; which generally meant a guinea and a + breakfast. And then his Irish hangers-on! “Our doctor,” said + one of these sponges, “had a constant levee of his distressed + countrymen, whose wants, as far as he was able, he always relieved; and he + has often been known to leave himself without a guinea, in order to supply + the necessities of others.” + </p> + <p> + This constant drainage of the purse therefore obliged him to undertake all + jobs proposed by the booksellers, and to keep up a kind of running account + with Mr. Newbery; who was his banker on all occasions, sometimes for + pounds, sometimes for shillings; but who was a rigid accountant, and took + care to be amply repaid in manuscript. Many effusions, hastily penned in + these moments of exigency, were published anonymously, and never claimed. + Some of them have but recently been traced to his pen; while of many the + true authorship will probably never be discovered. Among others it is + suggested, and with great probability, that he wrote for Mr. Newbery the + famous nursery story of Goody Two Shoes, which appeared in 1765, at a + moment when Goldsmith was scribbling for Newbery, and much pressed for + funds. Several quaint little tales introduced in his Essays show that he + had a turn for this species of mock history; and the advertisement and + title-page bear the stamp of his sly and playful humor. + </p> + <p> + “We are desired to give notice that there is in the press, and + speedily will be published, either by subscription or otherwise, as the + public shall please to determine, the History of Little Goody Two Shoes, + otherwise Mrs. Margery Two Shoes; with the means by which she acquired + learning and wisdom, and, in consequence thereof, her estate; set forth at + large for the benefit of those + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Who, from a state of rags and care, + And having shoes but half a pair, + Their fortune and their fame should fix, + And gallop in a coach and six.” + </pre> + <p> + The world is probably not aware of the ingenuity, humor, good sense, and + sly satire contained in many of the old English nursery-tales. They have + evidently been the sportive productions of able writers, who would not + trust their names to productions that might be considered beneath their + dignity. The ponderous works on which they relied for immortality have + perhaps sunk into oblivion, and carried their names down with them; while + their unacknowledged offspring, Jack the Giant Killer, Giles Gingerbread, + and Tom Thumb, flourish in wide-spreading and never-ceasing popularity. + </p> + <p> + As Goldsmith had now acquired popularity and an extensive acquaintance, he + attempted, with the advice of his friends, to procure a more regular and + ample support by resuming the medical profession. He accordingly launched + himself upon the town in style; hired a man-servant; replenished his + wardrobe at considerable expense, and appeared in a professional wig and + cane, purple silk small-clothes, and a scarlet roquelaure buttoned to the + chin: a fantastic garb, as we should think at the present day, but not + unsuited to the fashion of the times. + </p> + <p> + With his sturdy little person thus arrayed in the unusual magnificence of + purple and fine linen, and his scarlet roquelaure flaunting from his + shoulders, he used to strut into the apartments of his patients swaying + his three-cornered hat in one hand and his medical scepter, the cane, in + the other, and assuming an air of gravity and importance suited to the + solemnity of his wig; at least, such is the picture given of him by the + waiting gentlewoman who let him into the chamber of one of his lady + patients. + </p> + <p> + He soon, however, grew tired and impatient of the duties and restraints of + his profession; his practice was chiefly among his friends, and the fees + were not sufficient for his maintenance; he was disgusted with attendance + on sick-chambers and capricious patients, and looked back with longing to + his tavern haunts and broad convivial meetings, from which the dignity and + duties of his medical calling restrained him. At length, on prescribing to + a lady of his acquaintance who, to use a hackneyed phrase, “rejoiced” + in the aristocratical name of Sidebotham, a warm dispute arose between him + and the apothecary as to the quantity of medicine to be administered. The + doctor stood up for the rights and dignities of his profession, and + resented the interference of the compounder of drugs. His rights and + dignities, however, were disregarded; his wig and cane and scarlet + roquelaure were of no avail; Mrs. Sidebotham sided with the hero of the + pestle and mortar; and Goldsmith flung out of the house in a passion. + “I am determined henceforth,” said he to Topham Beauclerc, + “to leave off prescribing for friends.” “Do so, my dear + doctor,” was the reply; “whenever you undertake to kill, let + it be only your enemies.” + </p> + <p> + This was the end of Goldsmith’s medical career. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0017" id="link2HCH0017"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER SEVENTEEN + </h2> + <p> + PUBLICATION OF THE VICAR OF WAKEFIELD—OPINIONS CONCERNING IT—OF + DR. JOHNSON—OF ROGERS THE POET—OF GOETHE—ITS MERITS—EXQUISITE + EXTRACT—ATTACK BY KENRICK—REPLY—BOOK-BUILDING—PROJECT + OF A COMEDY + </p> + <p> + The success of the poem of The Traveler, and the popularity which it had + conferred on its author, now roused the attention of the bookseller in + whose hands the novel of The Vicar of Wakefield had been slumbering for + nearly two long years. The idea has generally prevailed that it was Mr. + John Newbery to whom the manuscript had been sold, and much surprise has + been expressed that he should be insensible to its merit and suffer it to + remain unpublished, while putting forth various inferior writings by the + same author. This, however, is a mistake; it was his nephew, Francis + Newbery, who had become the fortunate purchaser. Still the delay is + equally unaccountable. Some have imagined that the uncle and nephew had + business arrangements together, in which this work was included, and that + the elder Newbery, dubious of its success, retarded the publication until + the full harvest of The Traveler should be reaped. Booksellers are prone + to make egregious mistakes as to the merit of works in manuscript; and to + undervalue, if not reject, those of classic and enduring excellence, when + destitute of that false brilliancy commonly called “effect.” + In the present instance, an intellect vastly superior to that of either of + the booksellers was equally at fault. Dr. Johnson, speaking of the work to + Boswell, some time subsequent to its publication, observed, “I + myself did not think it would have had much success. It was written and + sold to a bookseller before The Traveler, but published after, so little + expectation had the bookseller from it. Had it been sold after The + Traveler, he might have had twice as much money; though sixty guineas was + no mean price<i>.” </i> + </p> + <p> + Sixty guineas for the Vicar of Wakefield! and this could be pronounced no + mean<i> price by Dr. Johnson, at that time the arbiter of British talent, + and who had had an opportunity of witnessing the effect of the work upon + the public mind; for its success was immediate. It came out on the 27th of + March, 1766; before the end of May a second edition was called for; in + three months more a third; and so it went on, widening in a popularity + that has never flagged. Rogers, the Nestor of British literature, whose + refined purity of taste and exquisite mental organization rendered him + eminently calculated to appreciate a work of the kind, declared that of + all the books which, through the fitful changes of three generations, he + had seen rise and fall, the charm of the Vicar of Wakefield had alone + continued as at first; and could he revisit the world after an interval of + many more generations, he should as surely look to find it undiminished. + Nor has its celebrity been confined to Great Britain. Though so + exclusively a picture of British scenes and manners, it has been + translated into almost every language, and everywhere its charm has been + the same. Goethe, the great genius of Germany, declared in his + eighty-first year that it was his delight at the age of twenty, that it + had in a manner formed a part of his education, influencing his taste and + feelings throughout life, and that he had recently read it again from + beginning to end—with renewed delight, and with a grateful sense of + the early benefit derived from it. </i> + </p> + <p> + It is needless to expatiate upon the qualities of a work which has thus + passed from country to country, and language to language, until it is now + known throughout the whole reading world, and is become a household book + in every hand. The secret of its universal and enduring popularity is + undoubtedly its truth to nature, but to nature of the most amiable kind; + to nature such as Goldsmith saw it. The author, as we have occasionally + shown in the course of this memoir, took his scenes and characters in this + as in his other writings, from originals in his own motley experience; but + he has given them as seen through the medium of his own indulgent eye, and + has set them forth with the colorings of his own good head and heart. Yet + how contradictory it seems that this, one of the most delightful pictures + of home and homefelt happiness, should be drawn by a homeless man; that + the most amiable picture of domestic virtue and all the endearments of the + married state should be drawn by a bachelor, who had been severed from + domestic life almost from boyhood; that one of the most tender, touching, + and affecting appeals on behalf of female loveliness should have been made + by a man whose deficiency in all the graces of person and manner seemed to + mark him out for a cynical disparager of the sex. + </p> + <p> + We cannot refrain from transcribing from the work a short passage + illustrative of what we have said, and which within a wonderfully small + compass comprises a world of beauty of imagery, tenderness of feeling, + delicacy and refinement of thought, and matchless purity of style. The two + stanzas which conclude it, in which are told a whole history of woman’s + wrongs and sufferings, is, for pathos, simplicity, and euphony, a gem in + the language. The scene depicted is where the poor Vicar is gathering + around him the wrecks of his shattered family, and endeavoring to rally + them back to happiness. + </p> + <p> + “The next morning the sun arose with peculiar warmth for the season, + so that we agreed to breakfast together on the honeysuckle bank; where, + while we sat, my youngest daughter at my request joined her voice to the + concert on the trees about us. It was in this place my poor Olivia first + met her seducer, and every object served to recall her sadness. But that + melancholy which is excited by objects of pleasure, or inspired by sounds + of harmony, soothes the heart instead of corroding it. Her mother, too, + upon this occasion, felt a pleasing distress, and wept, and loved her + daughter as before. ‘Do, my pretty Olivia,’ cried she, ‘let + us have that melancholy air your father was so fond of; your sister Sophy + has already obliged us. Do, child; it will please your old father.’ + She complied in a manner so exquisitely pathetic as moved me. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “‘When lovely woman stoops to folly, + And finds too late that men betray, + What charm can soothe her melancholy. + What art can wash her guilt away? + + “‘The only art her guilt to cover, + To hide her shame from every eye, + To give repentance to her lover, + And wring his bosom—is to die.’” + </pre> + <p> + Scarce had the Vicar of Wakefield made its appearance and been received + with acclamation than its author was subjected to one of the usual + penalties that attend success. He was attacked in the newspapers. In one + of the chapters he had introduced his ballad of the Hermit, of which, as + we have mentioned, a few copies had been printed some considerable time + previously for the use of the Countess of Northumberland. This brought + forth the following article in a fashionable journal of the day: + </p> + <p> + “To the Printer of the ‘St. James’s Chronicle<i>.’ + </i> + </p> + <p> + “Sir—In the Reliques of Ancient Poetry, published about two + years ago, is a very beautiful little balled called A Friar of Orders + Gray. The ingenious editor, Mr. Percy, supposes that the stanzas sung by + Ophelia in the play of Hamlet were parts of some ballad well known in + Shakespeare’s time, and from these stanzas with the addition of one + or two of his own to connect them, he has formed the above-mentioned + ballad; the subject of which is, a lady comes to a convent to inquire for + her love who had been driven there by her disdain. She is answered by a + friar that he is dead: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “‘No, no, he is dead, gone to his death’s bed. + He never will come again.’ +</pre> + <p> + “The lady weeps and laments her cruelty; the friar endeavors to + comfort her with morality and religion, but all in vain; she expresses the + deepest grief and the most tender sentiments of love, till at last the + friar discovers himself: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “‘And lo! beneath this gown of gray + Thy own true love appears.’ +</pre> + <p> + “This catastrophe is very fine, and the whole, joined with the + greatest tenderness, has the greatest simplicity; yet, though this ballad + was so recently published in the Ancient Reliques, Dr. Goldsmith has been + hardy enough to publish a poem called The Hermit, where the circumstances + and catastrophe are exactly the same, only with this difference, that the + natural simplicity and tenderness of the original are almost entirely lost + in the languid smoothness and tedious paraphrase of the copy, which is as + short of the merits of Mr. Percy’s ballad as the insipidity of negus + is to the genuine flavor of champagne. + </p> + <p> + “I am, sir, yours, etc., DETECTOR.” + </p> + <p> + This attack, supposed to be by Goldsmith’s constant persecutor, the + malignant Kenrick, drew from him the following note to the editor: + </p> + <p> + “Sir—As there is nothing I dislike so much as newspaper + controversy, particularly upon trifles, permit me to be as concise as + possible in informing a correspondent of yours that I recommended + Blainville’s travels because I thought the book was a good one; and + I think so still. I said I was told by the bookseller that it was then + first published; but in that it seems I was misinformed, and my reading + was not extensive enough to set me right. + </p> + <p> + “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 was taken from mine. I read it to Mr. Percy + some years ago; and he, as we both considered these things as trifles at + best, told me, with his usual good-humor, the next time I saw him, that he + had taken my plan to form the fragments of 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 scarcely worth + printing; and were it not for the busy disposition of some of your + correspondents, the public should never have known that he owes me the + hint of his ballad, or that I am obliged to his friendship and learning + for communications of a much more important nature. + </p> + <p> + “I am, sir, yours, etc., + </p> + <h3> + “OLIVER GOLDSMITH.” + </h3> + <p> + The unexpected circulation of the Vicar of Wakefield enriched the + publisher, but not the author. Goldsmith no doubt thought himself entitled + to participate in the profits of the repeated editions; and a memorandum, + still extant, shows that he drew upon Mr. Francis Newbery, in the month of + June, for fifteen guineas, but that the bill was returned dishonored. He + continued therefore his usual job-work for the booksellers, writing + introductions, prefaces, and head and tail pieces for new works; revising, + touching up, and modifying travels and voyages; making compilations of + prose and poetry, and “building books,” as he sportively + termed it. These tasks required little labor or talent, but that taste and + touch which are the magic of gifted minds. His terms began to be + proportioned to his celebrity. If his price was at anytime objected to, + “Why, sir,” he would say, “it may seem large; but then a + man may be many years working in obscurity before his taste and reputation + are fixed or estimated; and then he is, as in other professions, only paid + for his previous labors.” + </p> + <p> + He was, however, prepared to try his fortune in a different walk of + literature from any he had yet attempted. We have repeatedly adverted to + his fondness for the drama; he was a frequent attendant at the theaters; + though, as we have shown, he considered them under gross mismanagement. He + thought, too, that a vicious taste prevailed among those who wrote for the + stage. “A new species of dramatic composition,” says he, in + one of his essays, “has been introduced under the name of + sentimental comedy<i>, in which the virtues of private life are exhibited, + rather than the vices exposed; and the distresses rather than the faults + of mankind make our interest in the piece. In these plays almost all the + characters are good and exceedingly generous; they are lavish enough of + their tin money on the stage; and though they want humor, have abundance + of sentiment and feeling. If they happen to have faults or foibles, the + spectator is taught not only to pardon, but to applaud them in + consideration of the goodness of their hearts; so that folly, instead of + being ridiculed, is commended, and the comedy aims at touching our + passions, without the power of being truly pathetic. In this manner we are + likely to lose one great source of entertainment on the stage; for while + the comic poet is invading the province of the tragic muse, he leaves her + lively sister quite neglected. Of this, however, he is no ways solicitous, + as he measures his fame by his profits.... </i> + </p> + <p> + “Humor at present seems to be departing from the stage; and it will + soon happen that our comic players will have nothing left for it but a + fine coat and a song. It depends upon the audience whether they will + actually drive those poor merry creatures from the stage, or sit at a play + as gloomy as at the tabernacle. It is not easy to recover an art when once + lost; and it will be a just punishment, that when, by our being too + fastidious, we have banished humor from the stage, we should ourselves be + deprived of the art of laughing.” + </p> + <p> + Symptoms of reform in the drama had recently taken place. The comedy of + the Clandestine Marriage, the joint production of Colman and Garrick, and + suggested by Hogarth’s inimitable pictures of “Marriage a la + mode,” had taken the town by storm, crowded the theaters with + fashionable audiences, and formed one of the leading literary topics of + the year. Goldsmith’s emulation was roused by its success. The + comedy was in what he considered the legitimate line, totally different + from the sentimental school; it presented pictures of real life, + delineations of character and touches of humor, in which he felt himself + calculated to excel. The consequence was that in the course of this year + (1766), he commenced a comedy of the same class, to be entitled the Good + Natured Man, at which he diligently wrought whenever the hurried + occupation of “book building” allowed him leisure. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0018" id="link2HCH0018"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER EIGHTEEN + </h2> + <p> + SOCIAL POSITION OF GOLDSMITH—HIS COLLOQUIAL CONTESTS WITH JOHNSON—ANECDOTES + AND ILLUSTRATIONS + </p> + <p> + THE social position of Goldsmith had undergone a material change since the + publication of The Traveler. Before that event he was but partially known + as the author of some clever anonymous writings, and had been a tolerated + member of the club and the Johnson circle, without much being expected + from him. Now he had suddenly risen to literary fame, and become one of + the lions of the day. The highest regions of intellectual society were now + open to him; but he was not prepared to move in them with confidence and + success. Ballymahon had not been a good school of manners at the outset of + life; nor had his experience as a “poor student” at colleges + and medical schools contributed to give him the polish of society. He had + brought from Ireland, as he said, nothing but his “brogue and his + blunders,” and they had never left him. He had traveled, it is true; + but the Continental tour which in those days gave the finishing grace to + the education of a patrician youth, had, with poor Goldsmith, been little + better than a course of literary vagabondizing. It had enriched his mind, + deepened and widened the benevolence of his heart, and filled his memory + with enchanting pictures, but it had contributed little to disciplining + him for the polite intercourse of the world. His life in London had + hitherto been a struggle with sordid cares and sad humiliations. “You + scarcely can conceive,” wrote he some time previously to his + brother, “how much eight years of disappointment, anguish, and study + have worn me down.” Several more years had since been added to the + term during which he had trod the lowly walks of life. He had been a + tutor, an apothecary’s drudge, a petty physician of the suburbs, a + bookseller’s hack, drudging for daily bread. Each separate walk had + been beset by its peculiar thorns and humiliations. It is wonderful how + his heart retained its gentleness and kindness through all these trials; + how his mind rose above the “meannesses of poverty,” to which, + as he says, he was compelled to submit; but it would be still more + wonderful, had his manners acquired a tone corresponding to the innate + grace and refinement of his intellect. He was near forty years of age when + he published The Traveler, and was lifted by it into celebrity. As is + beautifully said of him by one of his biographers, “he has fought + his way to consideration and esteem; but he bears upon him the scars of + his twelve years’ conflict; of the mean sorrows through which he has + passed; and of the cheap indulgences he has sought relief and help from. + There is nothing plastic in his nature now. His manners and habits are + completely formed; and in them any further success can make little + favorable change, whatever it may effect for his mind or genius.” + [Footnote: Forster’s Goldsmith] + </p> + <p> + We are not to be surprised, therefore, at finding him make an awkward + figure in the elegant drawing-rooms which were now open to him, and + disappointing those who had formed an idea of him from the fascinating + ease and gracefulness of his poetry. + </p> + <p> + Even the literary club, and the circle of which it formed a part, after + their surprise at the intellectual flights of which he showed himself + capable, fell into a conventional mode of judging and talking of him, and + of placing him in absurd and whimsical points of view. His very celebrity + operated here to his disadvantage. It brought him into continual + comparison with Johnson, who was the oracle of that circle and had given + it a tone. Conversation was the great staple there, and of this Johnson + was a master. He had been a reader and thinker from childhood; his + melancholy temperament, which unfitted him for the pleasures of youth, had + made him so. For many years past the vast variety of works he had been + obliged to consult in preparing his Dictionary had stored an uncommonly + retentive memory with facts on all kinds of subjects; making it a perfect + colloquial armory. “He had all his life,” says Boswell, + “habituated himself to consider conversation as a trial of + intellectual vigor and skill. He had disciplined himself as a talker as + well as a writer, making it a rule to impart whatever he knew in the most + forcible language he could put it in, so that by constant practice and + never suffering any careless expression to escape him, he had attained an + extraordinary accuracy and command of language.” + </p> + <p> + His common conversation in all companies, according to Sir Joshua + Reynolds, was such as to secure him universal attention, something above + the usual colloquial style being always expected from him. + </p> + <p> + “I do not care,” said Orme, the historian of Hindostan, + “on what subject Johnson talks; but I love better to hear him talk + than anybody. He either gives you new thoughts or a new coloring.” + </p> + <p> + A stronger and more graphic eulogium is given by Dr. Percy. “The + conversation of Johnson,” says he, “is strong and clear, and + may be compared to an antique statue, where every vein and muscle is + distinct and clear.” + </p> + <p> + Such was the colloquial giant with which Goldsmith’s celebrity and + his habits of intimacy brought him into continual comparison; can we + wonder that he should appear to disadvantage? Conversation grave, + discursive, and disputatious, such as Johnson excelled and delighted in, + was to him a severe task, and he never was good at a task of any kind. He + had not, like Johnson, a vast fund of acquired facts to draw upon; nor a + retentive memory to furnish them forth when wanted. He could not, like the + great lexicographer, mold his ideas and balance his periods while talking. + He had a flow of ideas, but it was apt to be hurried and confused, and as + he said of himself, he had contracted a hesitating and disagreeable manner + of speaking. He used to say that he always argued best when he argued + alone; that is to say, he could master a subject in his study, with his + pen in his hand; but when he came into company he grew confused, and was + unable to talk about it. Johnson made a remark concerning him to somewhat + of the same purport. “No man,” said he, “is more foolish + than Goldsmith when he has not a pen in his hand, or more wise when he + has.” Yet with all this conscious deficiency he was continually + getting involved in colloquial contests with Johnson and other prime + talkers of the literary circle. He felt that he had become a notoriety; + that he had entered the lists and was expected to make fight; so with that + heedlessness which characterized him in everything else, he dashed on at a + venture; trusting to chance in this as in other things, and hoping + occasionally to make a lucky hit. Johnson perceived his hap-hazard + temerity, but gave him no credit for the real diffidence which lay at + bottom. “The misfortune of Goldsmith in conversation,” said + he, “is this, he goes on without knowing how he is to get off. His + genius is great, but his knowledge is small. As they say of a generous man + it is a pity he is not rich, we may say of Goldsmith it is a pity he is + not knowing. He would not keep his knowledge to himself.” And, on + another occasion he observes: “Goldsmith, rather than not talk, will + talk of what he knows himself to be ignorant, which can only end in + exposing him. If in company with two founders, he would fall a talking on + the method of making cannon, though both of them would soon see that he + did not know what metal a cannon is made of.” And again: “Goldsmith + should not be forever attempting to shine in conversation; he has not + temper for it, he is so much mortified when he fails. Sir, a game of jokes + is composed partly of skill, partly of chance; a man may be beat at times + by one who has not the tenth part of his wit. Now Goldsmith, putting + himself against another, is like a man laying a hundred to one, who cannot + spare the hundred. It is not worth a man’s while. A man should not + lay a hundred to one unless he can easily spare it, though he has a + hundred chances for him; he can get but a guinea, and he may lose a + hundred. Goldsmith is in this state. When he contends, if he gets the + better, it is a very little addition to a man of his literary reputation; + if he does not get the better, he is miserably vexed.” + </p> + <p> + Johnson was not aware how much he was himself to blame in producing this + vexation. “Goldsmith,” said Miss Reynolds, “always + appeared to be overawed by Johnson, particularly when in company with + people of any consequence; always as if impressed with fear of disgrace; + and indeed well he might. I have been witness to many mortifications he + has suffered in Dr. Johnson’s company.” + </p> + <p> + It may not have been disgrace that he feared, but rudeness. The great + lexicographer, spoiled by the homage of society, was still more prone than + himself to lose temper when the argument went against him. He could not + brook appearing to be worsted; but would attempt to bear down his + adversary by the rolling thunder of his periods; and when that failed, + would become downright insulting. Boswell called it “having recourse + to some sudden mode of robust sophistry”; but Goldsmith designated + it much more happily. “There is no arguing with Johnson,” said + he, <i>“for when his pistol misses fire, he knocks you down with the + butt end of it.”</i> [Footnote: The following is given by Boswell as + an instance of robust sophistry: “Once, when I was pressing upon him + with visible advantage, he stopped me thus, ‘My dear Boswell, let’s + have no more of this; you’ll make nothing of it. I’d rather + hear you whistle a Scotch tune.’”] + </p> + <p> + In several of the intellectual collisions recorded by Boswell as triumphs + of Dr. Johnson, it really appears to us that Goldsmith had the best both + of the wit and the argument, and especially of the courtesy and + good-nature. + </p> + <p> + On one occasion he certainly gave Johnson a capital reproof as to his own + colloquial peculiarities. Talking of fables, Goldsmith observed that the + animals introduced in them seldom talked in character. “For + instance,” said he, “the fable of the little fishes, who saw + birds fly over their heads, and, envying them, petitioned Jupiter to be + changed into birds. The skill consists in making them talk like little + fishes.” Just then observing that Dr. Johnson was shaking his sides + and laughing, he immediately added, “Why, Dr. Johnson, this is not + so easy as you seem to think; for if you were to make little fishes talk, + they would talk like whales.” + </p> + <p> + But though Goldsmith suffered frequent mortifications in society from the + overbearing, and sometimes harsh, conduct of Johnson, he always did + justice to his benevolence. When royal pensions were granted to Dr. + Johnson and Dr. Shebbeare, a punster remarked that the king had pensioned + a she-bear and a he-bear; to which Goldsmith replied, “Johnson, to + be sure, has a roughness in his manner, but no man alive has a more tender + heart. <i>He has nothing of the bear but the skin.”</i> + </p> + <p> + Goldsmith, in conversation, shone most when he least thought of shining; + when he gave up all effort to appear wise and learned, or to cope with the + oracular sententiousness of Johnson, and gave way to his natural impulses. + Even Boswell could perceive his merits on these occasions. “For my + part,” said he, condescendingly, “I like very well to hear <i>honest + Goldsmith</i> talk away carelessly”; and many a much, wiser man than + Boswell delighted in those outpourings of a fertile fancy and a generous + heart. In his happy moods, Goldsmith had an artless simplicity and buoyant + good-humor that led to a thousand amusing blunders and whimsical + confessions, much to the entertainment of his intimates; yet, in his most + thoughtless garrulity, there was occasionally the gleam of the gold and + the flash of the diamond. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0019" id="link2HCH0019"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER NINETEEN + </h2> + <p> + SOCIAL RESORTS—THE SHILLING WHIST CLUB—A PRACTICAL JOKE—THE + WEDNESDAY CLUB—THE “TUN OP MAN”—THE PIG BUTCHER—TOM + KING—HUGH KELLY—GLOVER AND HIS CHARACTERISTICS + </p> + <p> + Though Goldsmith’s pride and ambition led him to mingle occasionally + with high society, and to engage in the colloquial conflicts of the + learned circle, in both of which he was ill at ease and conscious of being + undervalued, yet he had some social resorts in which he indemnified + himself for their restraints by indulging his humor without control. One + of them was a shilling whist club, which held its meetings at the Devil + Tavern, near Temple Bar, a place rendered classic, we are told, by a club + held there in old times, to which “rare Ben Jonson” had + furnished the rules. The company was of a familiar, unceremonious kind, + delighting in that very questionable wit which consists in playing off + practical jokes upon each other. Of one of these Goldsmith was made the + butt. Coming to the club one night in a hackney coach, he gave the + coachman by mistake a guinea instead of a shilling, which he set down as a + dead loss, for there was no likelihood, he said, that a fellow of this + class would have the honesty to return the money. On the next club evening + he was told a person at the street door wished to speak with him. He went + forth, but soon returned with a radiant countenance. To his surprise and + delight the coachman had actually brought back the guinea. While he + launched forth in praise of this unlooked-for piece of honesty, he + declared it ought not to go unrewarded. Collecting a small sum from the + club, and no doubt increasing it largely from his own purse, he dismissed + the Jehu with many encomiums on his good conduct. He was still chanting + his praises when one of the club requested a sight of the guinea thus + honestly returned. To Goldsmith’s confusion it proved to be a + counterfeit. The universal burst of laughter which succeeded, and the + jokes by which he was assailed on every side, showed him that the whole + was a hoax, and the pretended coachman as much a counterfeit as the + guinea. He was so disconcerted, it is said, that he soon beat a retreat + for the evening. + </p> + <p> + Another of those free and easy clubs met on Wednesday evenings at the + Globe Tavern in Fleet Street. It was somewhat in the style of the Three + Jolly Pigeons; songs, jokes, dramatic imitations, burlesque parodies and + broad sallies of humor, formed a contrast to the sententious morality, + pedantic casuistry, and polished sarcasm of the learned circle. Here is a + huge “tun of man,” by the name of Gordon, use to delight + Goldsmith by singing the jovial song of Nottingham Ale, and looking like a + butt of it. Here, too, a wealthy pig butcher, charmed, no doubt, by the + mild philanthropy of The Traveler, aspired to be on the most sociable + footing with the author, and here was Tom King, the comedian, recently + risen to consequence by his performance of Lord Ogleby in the new comedy + of the Clandestine Marriage. + </p> + <p> + A member of more note was one Hugh Kelly, a second-rate author, who, as he + became a kind of competitor of Goldsmith’s, deserves particular + mention. He was an Irishman, about twenty-eight years of age, originally + apprenticed to a staymaker in Dublin; then writer to a London attorney; + then a Grub Street hack, scribbling for magazines and newspapers. Of late + he had set up for theatrical censor and satirist, and, in a paper called + Thespis, in emulation of Churchill’s Rosciad, had harassed many of + the poor actors without mercy, and often without wit; but had lavished his + incense on Garrick, who, in consequence, took him into favor. He was the + author of several works of superficial merit, but which had sufficient + vogue to inflate his vanity. This, however, must have been mortified on + his first introduction to Johnson; after sitting a short time he got up to + take leave, expressing a fear that a longer visit might be troublesome. + “Not in the least, sir,” said the surly moralist, “I had + forgotten you were in the room.” Johnson used to speak of him as a + man who had written more than he had read. + </p> + <p> + A prime wag of this club was one of Goldsmith’s poor countrymen and + hangers-on, by the name of Glover. He had originally been educated for the + medical profession, but had taken in early life to the stage, though + apparently without much success. While performing at Cork, he undertook, + partly in jest, to restore life to the body of a malefactor, who had just + been executed. To the astonishment of every one, himself among the number, + he succeeded. The miracle took wind. He abandoned the stage, resumed the + wig and cane, and considered his fortune as secure. Unluckily, there were + not many dead people to be restored to life in Ireland; his practice did + not equal his expectation, so he came to London, where he continued to + dabble indifferently, and rather unprofitably, in physic and literature. + </p> + <p> + He was a great frequenter of the Globe and Devil taverns, where he used to + amuse the company by his talent at story-telling and his powers of + mimicry, giving capital imitations of Garrick, Foote, Coleman, Sterne, and + other public characters of the day. He seldom happened to have money + enough to pay his reckoning, but was always sure to find some ready purse + among those who had been amused by his humors. Goldsmith, of course, was + one of the readiest. It was through him that Glover was admitted to the + Wednesday Club, of which his theatrical imitations became the delight. + Glover, however, was a little anxious for the dignity of his patron, which + appeared to him to suffer from the overfamiliarity of some of the members + of the club. He was especially shocked by the free and easy tone in which + Goldsmith was addressed by the pig butcher: “Come, Noll,” + would he say, as he pledged him, “here’s my service to you, + old boy.” + </p> + <p> + Glover whispered to Goldsmith that he “should not allow such + liberties.” “Let him alone,” was the reply, “you’ll + see how civilly I’ll let him down.” After a time, he called + out, with marked ceremony and politeness, “Mr. B., I have the honor + of drinking your good health.” Alas! dignity was not poor Goldsmith’s + forte: he could keep no one at a distance. “Thank’ee, thank’ee, + Noll,” nodded the pig-butcher, scarce taking the pipe out of his + mouth. “I don’t see the effect of your reproof,” + whispered Glover. “I give it up,” replied Goldsmith, with a + good-humored shrug, “I ought to have known before now there is no + putting a pig in the right way.” + </p> + <p> + Johnson used to be severe upon Goldsmith for mingling in these motley + circles, observing that, having been originally poor, he had contracted a + love for low company. Goldsmith, however, was guided not by a taste for + what was low, but for what was comic and characteristic. It was the + feeling of the artist; the feeling which furnished out some of his best + scenes in familiar life; the feeling with which “rare Ben Jonson” + sought those very haunts and circles in days of yore, to study “Every + Man in His Humor.” + </p> + <p> + It was not always, however, that the humor of these associates was to his + taste: as they became boisterous in their merriment he was apt to become + depressed. “The company of fools,” says he, in one of his + essays, “may at first make us smile; but at last never fails of + making us melancholy.” “Often he would become moody,” + says Glover, “and would leave the party abruptly to go home and + brood over his misfortune.” + </p> + <p> + It is possible, however, that he went home for quite a different purpose; + to commit to paper some scene or passage suggested for his comedy of The + Good-Natured Man. The elaboration of humor is often a most serious task; + and we have never witnessed a more perfect picture of mental misery than + was once presented to us by a popular dramatic writer—still, we + hope, living—whom we found in the agonies of producing a farce which + subsequently set the theaters in a roar. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0020" id="link2HCH0020"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER TWENTY + </h2> + <p> + THE GREAT CHAM OF LITERATURE AND THE KING—SCENE AT SIR JOSHUA + REYNOLDS’—GOLDSMITH ACCUSED OF JEALOUSY—NEGOTIATIONS + WITH GARRICK—THE AUTHOR AND THE ACTOR—THEIR CORRESPONDENCE + </p> + <p> + The comedy of The Good-Natured Man was completed by Goldsmith early in + 1767, and submitted to the perusal of Johnson, Burke, Reynolds, and others + of the literary club, by whom it was heartily approved. Johnson, who was + seldom half way either in censure or applause, pronounced it the best + comedy that had been written since The Provoked Husband, and promised to + furnish the prologue. This immediately became an object of great + solicitude with Goldsmith, knowing the weight an introduction from the + Great Cham of literature would have with the public; but circumstances + occurred which he feared might drive the comedy and the prologue from + Johnson’s thoughts. The latter was in the habit of visiting the + royal library at the Queen’s (Buckingham) House, a noble collection + of books, in the formation of which he had assisted the librarian, Mr. + Bernard, with his advice. One evening, as he was seated there by the fire + reading, he was surprised by the entrance of the king (George III.), then + a young man; who sought this occasion to have a conversation with him. The + conversation was varied and discursive; the king shifting from subject to + subject according to his wont; “during the whole interview,” + says Boswell, “Johnson talked to his majesty with profound respect, + but still in his open, manly manner, with a sonorous voice, and never in + that subdued tone which is commonly used at the levee and in the + drawing-room. ‘I found his majesty wished I should talk,’ said + he, ‘and I made it my business to talk. I find it does a man good to + be talked to by his sovereign. In the first place, a man cannot be in a + passion—‘” It would have been well for Johnson’s + colloquial disputants could he have often been under such decorous + restraint. He retired from the interview highly gratified with the + conversation of the king and with his gracious behavior. “Sir,” + said he to the librarian, “they may talk of the king as they will, + but he is the finest gentleman I have ever seen.” “Sir,” + said he subsequently to Bennet Langton, “his manners are those of as + fine a gentleman as we may suppose Louis the Fourteenth or Charles the + Second.” + </p> + <p> + While Johnson’s face was still radiant with the reflex of royalty, + he was holding forth one day to a listening group at Sir Joshua Reynolds’, + who were anxious to hear every particular of this memorable conversation. + Among other questions, the king had asked him whether he was writing + anything. His reply was that he thought he had already done his part as a + writer. “I should have thought so too,” said the king, “if + you had not written so well.” “No man,” said Johnson, + commenting on this speech, “could have made a handsomer compliment; + and it was fit for a king to pay. It was decisive.” “But did + you make no reply to this high compliment?” asked one of the + company. “No, sir,” replied the profoundly deferential + Johnson, “when the king had said it, it was to be so. It was not for + me to bandy civilities with my sovereign.” + </p> + <p> + During all the tune that Johnson was thus holding forth, Goldsmith, who + was present, appeared to take no interest in the royal theme, but remained + seated on a sofa at a distance, in a moody fit of abstraction; at length + recollecting himself, he sprang up, and advancing, exclaimed, with what + Boswell calls his usual “frankness and simplicity,” “Well, + you acquitted yourself in this conversation better than I should have + done, for I should have bowed and stammered through the whole of it.” + He afterward explained his seeming inattention, by saying that his mind + was completely occupied about his play, and by fears lest Johnson, in his + present state of royal excitement, would fail to furnish the much-desired + prologue. + </p> + <p> + How natural and truthful is this explanation. Yet Boswell presumes to + pronounce Goldsmith’s inattention affected and attributes it to + jealousy. “It was strongly suspected,” says he, “that he + was fretting with chagrin and envy at the singular honor Dr. Johnson had + lately enjoyed.” It needed the littleness of mind of Boswell to + ascribe such pitiful motives to Goldsmith, and to entertain such + exaggerated notions of the honor paid to Dr. Johnson. + </p> + <p> + The Good-Natured Man was now ready for performance, but the question was + how to get it upon the stage. The affairs of Covent Garden, for which it + had been intended, were thrown into confusion by the recent death of Rich, + the manager. Drury Lane was under the management of Garrick, but a feud, + it will be recollected, existed between him and the poet, from the + animadversions of the latter on the mismanagement of theatrical affairs, + and the refusal of the former to give the poet his vote for the + secretaryship of the Society of Arts. Times, however, were changed. + Goldsmith when that feud took place was an anonymous writer, almost + unknown to fame, and of no circulation in society. Now he had become a + literary lion; he was a member of the Literary Club; he was the associate + of Johnson, Burke, Topham Beauclerc, and other magnates; in a word, he had + risen to consequence in the public eye, and of course was of consequence + in the eyes of David Garrick. Sir Joshua Reynolds saw the lurking scruples + of pride existing between the author and actor, and thinking it a pity + that two men of such congenial talents, and who might be so serviceable to + each other, should be kept asunder by a worn-out pique, exerted his + friendly offices to bring them together. The meeting took place in + Reynolds’ house in Leicester Square. Garrick, however, could not + entirely put off the mock majesty of the stage; he meant to be civil, but + he was rather too gracious and condescending. Tom Davies, in his Life of + Garrick, gives an amusing picture of the coming together of these + punctilious parties. “The manager,” says he, “was fully + conscious of his (Goldsmith’s) merit, and perhaps more ostentatious + of his abilities to serve a dramatic author than became a man of his + prudence; Goldsmith was, on his side, as fully persuaded of his own + importance and independent greatness. Mr. Garrick, who had so long been + treated with the complimentary language paid to a successful patentee and + admired actor, expected that the writer would esteem the patronage of his + play a favor; Goldsmith rejected all ideas of kindness in a bargain that + was intended to be of mutual advantage to both parties, and in this he was + certainly justifiable; Mr. Garrick could reasonably expect no thanks for + the acting a new play, which he would have rejected if he had not been + convinced it would have amply rewarded his pains and expense. I believe + the manager was willing to accept the play, but he wished to be courted to + it; and the doctor was not disposed to purchase his friendship by the + resignation of his sincerity.” They separated, however, with an + understanding on the part of Goldsmith that his play would be acted. The + conduct of Garrick subsequently proved evasive, not through any lingerings + of past hostility, but from habitual indecision in matters of the kind, + and from real scruples of delicacy. He did not think the piece likely to + succeed on the stage, and avowed that opinion to Reynolds and Johnson; but + hesitated to say as much to Goldsmith, through fear of wounding his + feelings. A further misunderstanding was the result of this want of + decision and frankness; repeated interviews and some correspondence took + place without bringing matters to a point, and in the meantime the + theatrical season passed away. + </p> + <p> + Goldsmith’s pocket, never well supplied, suffered grievously by this + delay, and he considered himself entitled to call upon the manager, who + still talked of acting the play, to advance him forty pounds upon a note + of the younger Newbery. Garrick readily complied, but subsequently + suggested certain important alterations in the comedy as indispensable to + its success; these were indignantly rejected by the author, but + pertinaciously insisted on by the manager. Garrick proposed to leave the + matter to the arbitration of Whitehead, the laureate, who officiated as + his “reader” and elbow critic. Goldsmith was more indignant + than ever, and a violent dispute ensued, which was only calmed by the + interference of Burke and Reynolds. + </p> + <p> + Just at this time, order came out of confusion in the affairs of Covent + Garden. A pique having risen between Colman and Garrick, in the course of + their joint authorship of The Clandestine Marriage, the former had become + manager and part proprietor of Covent Garden, and was preparing to open a + powerful competition with his former colleague. On hearing of this, + Goldsmith made overtures to Colman; who, without waiting to consult his + fellow proprietors, who were absent, gave instantly a favorable reply. + Goldsmith felt the contrast of this warm, encouraging conduct, to the + chilling delays and objections of Garrick. He at once abandoned his piece + to the discretion of Colman. “Dear sir,” says he in a letter + dated Temple Garden Court, July 9th, “I am very much obliged to you + for your kind partiality in my favor, and your tenderness in shortening + the interval of my expectation. That the play is liable to many objections + I well know, but I am happy that it is in hands the most capable in the + world of removing them. If then, dear sir, you will complete your favor by + putting the piece into such a state as it may be acted, or of directing me + how to do it, I shall ever retain a sense of your goodness to me. And + indeed, though most probably this be the last I shall ever write, yet I + can’t help feeling a secret satisfaction that poets for the future + are likely to have a protector who declines taking advantage of their + dreadful situation; and scorns that importance which may be acquired by + trifling with their anxieties.” + </p> + <p> + The next day Goldsmith wrote to Garrick, who was at Lichfield, informing + him of his having transferred his piece to Covent Garden, for which it had + been originally written, and by the patentee of which it was claimed, + observing, “As I found you had very great difficulties about that + piece, I complied with his desire.... I am extremely sorry that you should + think me warm at our last meeting; your judgment certainly ought to be + free, especially in a matter which must in some measure concern your own + credit and interest. I assure you, sir, I have no disposition to differ + with you on this or any other account, but am, with a high opinion of your + abilities, and a very real esteem, Sir, your most obedient humble servant. + Oliver Goldsmith.” + </p> + <p> + In his reply, Garrick observed, “I was, indeed, much hurt that your + warmth at our last meeting mistook my sincere and friendly attention to + your play for the remains of a former misunderstanding, which I had as + much forgot as if it had never existed. What I said to you at my own house + I now repeat, that I felt more pain in giving my sentiments than you + possibly would in receiving them. It has been the business, and ever will + be, of my life to live on the best terms with men of genius; and I know + that Dr. Goldsmith will have no reason to change his previous friendly + disposition toward me, as I shall be glad of every future opportunity to + convince him how much I am his obedient servant and well-wisher. D. + Garrick.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0021" id="link2HCH0021"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE + </h2> + <p> + MORE HACK AUTHORSHIP—TOM DAVIES AND THE ROMAN HISTORY—CANONBURY + CASTLE—POLITICAL AUTHORSHIP—PECUNIARY TEMPTATION—DEATH + OF NEWBERY THE ELDER + </p> + <p> + Though Goldsmith’s comedy was now in train to be performed, it could + not be brought out before Christmas; in the meantime, he must live. Again, + therefore, he had to resort to literary jobs for his daily support. These + obtained for him petty occasional sums, the largest of which was ten + pounds, from the elder Newbery, for a historical compilation; but this + scanty rill of quasi patronage, so sterile in its products, was likely + soon to cease; Newbery being too ill to attend to business, and having to + transfer the whole management of it to his nephew. + </p> + <p> + At this time Tom Davies, the sometime Roscius, sometime bibliopole, + stepped forward to Goldsmith’s relief, and proposed that he should + undertake an easy popular history of Rome in two volumes. An arrangement + was soon made. Goldsmith undertook to complete it in two years, if + possible, for two hundred and fifty guineas, and forthwith set about his + task with cheerful alacrity. As usual, he sought a rural retreat during + the summer months, where he might alternate his literary labors with + strolls about the green fields. “Merry Islington” was again + his resort, but he now aspired to better quarters than formerly, and + engaged the chambers occupied occasionally by Mr. Newbery in Canonbury + House, or Castle, as it is popularly called. This had been a hunting lodge + of Queen Elizabeth, in whose time it was surrounded by parks and forests. + In Goldsmith’s day nothing remained of it but an old brick tower; it + was still in the country, amid rural scenery, and was a favorite + nestling-place of authors, publishers, and others of the literary order. + [Footnote: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + See on the distant slope, majestic shows + Old Canonbury’s tower, an ancient pile + To various fates assigned; and where by turns + Meanness and grandeur have alternate reign’d; + Thither, in latter days, have genius fled + From yonder city, to respire and die. + There the sweet bard of Auburn sat, and tuned + The plaintive moanings of his village dirge. + There learned Chambers treasured lore for <i>men</i>, + And Newbery there his A B C’s for <i>babes</i>.] +</pre> + <p> + A number of these he had for fellow occupants of the castle; and they + formed a temporary club, which held its meetings at the Crown Tavern, on + the Islington lower road; and here he presided in his own genial style, + and was the life and delight of the company. + </p> + <p> + The writer of these pages visited old Canonbury Castle some years since, + out of regard to the memory of Goldsmith. The apartment was still shown + which the poet had inhabited, consisting of a sitting-room and small + bedroom, with paneled wainscots and Gothic windows. The quaintness and + quietude of the place were still attractive. It was one of the resorts of + citizens on their Sunday walks, who would ascend to the top of the tower + and amuse themselves with reconnoitering the city through a telescope. Not + far from this tower were the gardens of the White Conduit House, a Cockney + Elysium, where Goldsmith used to figure in the humbler days of his + fortune. In the first edition of his Essays he speaks of a stroll in these + gardens, where he at that time, no doubt, thought himself in perfectly + genteel society. After his rise in the world, however, he became too + knowing to speak of such plebeian haunts. In a new edition of his Essays, + therefore, the White Conduit House and its garden disappears, and he + speaks of “a stroll in the Park.” + </p> + <p> + While Goldsmith was literally living from hand to mouth by the forced + drudgery of the pen, his independence of spirit was subjected to a sore + pecuniary trial. It was the opening of Lord North’s administration, + a time of great political excitement. The public mind was agitated by the + question of American taxation, and other questions of like irritating + tendency. Junius and Wilkes and other powerful writers were attacking the + administration with all their force; Grub Street was stirred up to its + lowest depths; inflammatory talent of all kinds was in full activity, and + the kingdom was deluged with pamphlets, lampoons and libels of the + grossest kinds. The ministry were looking anxiously round for literary + support. It was thought that the pen of Goldsmith might be readily + enlisted. His hospitable friend and countryman, Robert Nugent, politically + known as Squire Gawky, had come out strenuously for colonial taxation; had + been selected for a lordship of the board of trade, and raised to the rank + of Baron Nugent and Viscount Clare. His example, it was thought, would be + enough of itself to bring Goldsmith into the ministerial ranks; and then + what writer of the day was proof against a full purse or a pension? + Accordingly one Parson Scott, chaplain to Lord Sandwich, and author of + Anti Se anus Panurge, and other political libels in support of the + administration, was sent to negotiate with the poet, who at this time was + returned to town. Dr. Scott, in after years, when his political + subserviency had been rewarded by two fat crown livings, used to make what + he considered a good story out of this embassy to the poet. “I found + him,” said he, “in a miserable suit of chambers in the Temple. + I told him my authority: I told how I was empowered to pay most liberally + for his exertions; and, would you believe it! he was so absurd as to say, + ‘I can earn as much as will supply my wants without writing for any + party; the assistance you offer is therefore unnecessary to me’; and + so I left him in his garret!” Who does not admire the sturdy + independence of poor Goldsmith toiling in his garret for nine guineas the + job, and smile with contempt at the indignant wonder of the political + divine, albeit his subserviency <i>was</i> repaid by two fat crown + livings? + </p> + <p> + Not long after this occurrence, Goldsmith’s old friend, though + frugal-handed employer, Newbery, of picture-book renown, closed his mortal + career. The poet has celebrated him as the friend of all mankind; he + certainly lost nothing by his friendship. He coined the brains of his + authors in the times of their exigency, and made them pay dear for the + plank put out to keep them from drowning. It is not likely his death + caused much lamentation among the scribbling tribe; we may express decent + respect for the memory of the just, but we shed tears only at the grave of + the generous. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0022" id="link2HCH0022"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO + </h2> + <p> + THEATRICAL MANEUVERING—THE COMEDY OF FALSE DELICACY—FIRST + PERFORMANCE OF THE GOOD-NATURED MAN—CONDUCT OF JOHNSON—CONDUCT + OF THE AUTHOR—INTERMEDDLING OF THE PRESS + </p> + <p> + The comedy of The Good-Natured Man was doomed to experience delays and + difficulties to the very last. Garrick, notwithstanding his professions, + had still a lurking grudge against the author, and tasked his managerial + arts to thwart him in his theatrical enterprise. For this purpose he + undertook to build up Hugh Kelly, Goldsmith’s boon companion of the + Wednesday Club, as a kind of rival. Kelly had written a comedy called + False Delicacy, in which were embodied all the meretricious qualities of + the sentimental school. Garrick, though he had decried that school, and + had brought out his comedy of The Clandestine Marriage in opposition to + it, now lauded False Delicacy to the skies, and prepared to bring it out + at Drury Lane with all possible stage effect. He even went so far as to + write a prologue and epilogue for it, and to touch up some parts of the + dialogue. He had become reconciled to his former colleague, Colman, and it + is intimated that one condition in the treaty of peace between these + potentates of the realms of pasteboard (equally prone to play into each + other’s hands with the confederate potentates on the great theater + of life) was that Goldsmith’s play should be kept back until Kelly’s + had been brought forward. + </p> + <p> + In the meantime the poor author, little dreaming of the deleterious + influence at work behind the scenes, saw the appointed time arrive and + pass by without the performance of his play; while False Delicacy was + brought out at Drury Lane (January 23, 1768) with all the trickery of + managerial management. Houses were packed to applaud it to the echo; the + newspapers vied with each other in their venal praises, and night after + night seemed to give it a fresh triumph. + </p> + <p> + While False Delicacy was thus borne on the full tide of fictitious + prosperity, The Good-Natured Man was creeping through the last rehearsals + at Covent Garden. The success of the rival piece threw a damp upon author, + manager, and actors. Goldsmith went about with a face full of anxiety; + Colman’s hopes in the piece declined at each rehearsal; as to his + fellow proprietors, they declared they had never entertained any. All the + actors were discontented with their parts, excepting Ned Shuter, an + excellent low comedian, and a pretty actress named Miss Walford; both of + whom the poor author every afterward held in grateful recollection. + </p> + <p> + Johnson, Goldsmith’s growling monitor and unsparing castigator in + times of heedless levity, stood by him at present with that protecting + kindness with which he ever befriended him in time of need. He attended + the rehearsals; he furnished the prologue according to promise; he pish’d + and pshaw’d at any doubts and fears on the part of the author, but + gave him sound counsel, and held him up with a steadfast and manly hand. + Inspirited by his sympathy, Goldsmith plucked up new heart, and arrayed + himself for the grand trial with unusual care. Ever since his elevation + into the polite world, he had improved in his wardrobe and toilet. Johnson + could no longer accuse him of being shabby in his appearance; he rather + went to the other extreme. On the present occasion there is an entry in + the books of his tailor, Mr. William Filby, of a suit of “Tyrian + bloom, satin grain, and garter blue silk breeches, £8 2s. 7d.” Thus + magnificently attired, he attended the theater and watched the reception + of the play and the effect of each individual scene, with that vicissitude + of feeling incident to his mercurial nature. + </p> + <p> + Johnson’s prologue was solemn in itself, and being delivered by + Brinsley in lugubrious tones suited to the ghost in Hamlet, seemed to + throw a portentous gloom on the audience. Some of the scenes met with + great applause, and at such times Goldsmith was highly elated; others went + off coldly, or there were slight tokens of disapprobation, and then his + spirits would sink. The fourth act saved the piece; for Shuter, who had + the main comic character of Croaker, was so varied and ludicrous in his + execution of the scene in which he reads an incendiary letter that he drew + down thunders of applause. On his coming behind the scenes, Goldsmith + greeted him with an overflowing heart; declaring that he exceeded his own + idea of the character, and made it almost as new to him as to any of the + audience. + </p> + <p> + On the whole, however, both the author and his friends were disappointed + at the reception of the piece, and considered it a failure. Poor Goldsmith + left the theater with his towering hopes completely cut down. He + endeavored to hide his mortification, and even to assume an air of + unconcern while among his associates; but, the moment he was alone with + Dr. Johnson, in whose rough but magnanimous nature he reposed unlimited + confidence, he threw off all restraint and gave way to an almost childlike + burst of grief. Johnson, who had shown no want of sympathy at the proper + time, saw nothing in the partial disappointment of overrated expectations + to warrant such ungoverned emotions, and rebuked him sternly for what he + termed a silly affectation, saying that “No man should be expected + to sympathize with the sorrows of vanity.” + </p> + <p> + When Goldsmith had recovered from the blow, he, with his usual unreserve, + made his past distress a subject of amusement to his friends. Dining one + day, in company with Dr. Johnson, at the chaplain’s table at St. + James’s Palace, he entertained the company with a particular and + comic account of all his feelings on the night of representation, and his + despair when the piece was hissed. How he went, he said, to the Literary + Club; chatted gayly, as if nothing had gone amiss; and, to give a greater + idea of his unconcern, sang his favorite song about an old woman tossed in + a blanket seventeen times as high as the moon.... “All this while,” + added he, “I was suffering horrid tortures, and, had I put a bit in + my mouth, I verily believe it would have strangled me on the spot, I was + so excessively ill: but I made more noise than usual to cover all that; so + they never perceived my not eating, nor suspected the anguish of my heart; + but, when all were gone except Johnson here, I burst out a-crying, and + even swore that I would never write again.” + </p> + <p> + Dr. Johnson sat in amaze at the odd frankness and childlike + self-accusation of poor Goldsmith. When the latter had come to a pause, + “All this, doctor,” said he dryly, “I thought had been a + secret between you and me, and I am sure I would not have said anything + about it for the world.” But Goldsmith had no secrets: his follies, + his weaknesses, his errors were all thrown to the surface; his heart was + really too guileless and innocent to seek mystery and concealment. It is + too often the false, designing man that is guarded in his conduct and + never offends proprieties. + </p> + <p> + It is singular, however, that Goldsmith, who thus in conversation could + keep nothing to himself, should be the author of a maxim which would + inculcate the most thorough dissimulation. “Men of the world,” + says he, in one of the papers of the “Bee,” “maintain + that the true end of speech is not so much to express our wants as to + conceal them.” How often is this quoted as one of the subtle remarks + of the fine witted Talleyrand! + </p> + <p> + The Good-Natured Man was performed for ten nights in succession; the + third, sixth, and ninth nights were for the author’s benefit; the + fifth night it was commanded by their majesties; after this it was played + occasionally, but rarely, having always pleased more in the closet than on + the stage. + </p> + <p> + As to Kelly’s comedy, Johnson pronounced it entirely devoid of + character, and it has long since passed into oblivion. Yet it is an + instance how an inferior production, by dint of puffing and trumpeting, + may be kept up for a time on the surface of popular opinion, or rather of + popular talk. What had been done for False Delicacy on the stage was + continued by the press. The booksellers vied with the manager in launching + it upon the town. They announced that the first impression of three + thousand copies was exhausted before two o’clock on the day of + publication; four editions, amounting to ten thousand copies, were sold in + the course of the season; a public breakfast was given to Kelly at the + Chapter Coffee House, and a piece of plate presented to him by the + publishers. The comparative merits of the two plays were continually + subjects of discussion in green-rooms, coffeehouses, and other places + where theatrical questions were discussed. + </p> + <p> + Goldsmith’s old enemy, Kenrick, that “viper of the press,” + endeavored on this as on many other occasions to detract from his + well-earned fame; the poet was excessively sensitive to these attacks, and + had not the art and self-command to conceal his feelings. + </p> + <p> + Some scribblers on the other side insinuated that Kelly had seen the + manuscript of Goldsmith’s play, while in the hands of Garrick or + elsewhere, and had borrowed some of the situations and sentiments. Some of + the wags of the day took a mischievous pleasure in stirring up a feud + between the two authors. Goldsmith became nettled, though he could + scarcely be deemed jealous of one so far his inferior. He spoke + disparagingly, though no doubt sincerely, of Kelly’s play: the + latter retorted. Still, when they met one day behind the scenes of Covent + Garden, Goldsmith, with his customary urbanity, congratulated Kelly on his + success. “If I thought you sincere, Mr. Goldsmith,” replied + the other, abruptly, “I should thank you.” Goldsmith was not a + man to harbor spleen or ill-will, and soon laughed at this unworthy + rivalship: but the jealousy and envy awakened in Kelly’s mind long + continued. He is even accused of having given vent to his hostility by + anonymous attacks in the newspapers, the basest resource of dastardly and + malignant spirits; but of this there is no positive proof. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0023" id="link2HCH0023"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE + </h2> + <p> + BURNING THE CANDLE AT BOTH ENDS—FINE APARTMENTS—FINE FURNITURE—FINE + CLOTHES—FINE ACQUAINTANCES—SHOEMAKER’S HOLIDAY AND JOLLY + PIGEON ASSOCIATES—PETER BARLOW, GLOVER, AND THE HAMPSTEAD HOAX—POOR + FRIENDS AMONG GREAT ACQUAINTANCES + </p> + <p> + The profits resulting from The Good-Natured Man were beyond any that + Goldsmith had yet derived from his works. He netted about four hundred + pounds from the theater, and one hundred pounds from his publisher. + </p> + <p> + Five hundred pounds! and all at one miraculous draught! It appeared to him + wealth inexhaustible. It at once opened his heart and hand, and led him + into all kinds of extravagance. The first symptom was ten guineas sent to + Shuter for a box ticket for his benefit, when The Good-Natured Man was to + be performed. The next was an entire change in his domicile. The shabby + lodgings with Jeffs the butler, in which he had been worried by Johnson’s + scrutiny, were now exchanged for chambers more becoming a man of his ample + fortune. The apartments consisted of three rooms on the second floor of + No. 2 Brick Court, Middle Temple, on the right hand ascending the + staircase, and overlooked the umbrageous walks of the Temple garden. The + lease he purchased for four hundred pounds, and then went on to furnish + his rooms with mahogany sofas, card-tables, and book-cases; with curtains, + mirrors, and Wilton carpets. His awkward little person was also furnished + out in a style befitting his apartment; for, in addition to his suit of + “Tyrian bloom, satin grain,” we find another charged about + this time, in the books of Mr. Filby, in no less gorgeous terms, being + “lined with silk and furnished with gold buttons.” Thus lodged + and thus arrayed, he invited the visits of his most aristocratic + acquaintances, and no longer quailed beneath the courtly eye of Beauclerc. + He gave dinners to Johnson, Reynolds, Percy, Bickerstaff, and other + friends of note; and supper parties to young folks of both sexes. These + last were preceded by round games of cards, at which there was more + laughter than skill, and in which the sport was to cheat each other; or by + romping games of forfeits and blind-man’s buff, at which he enacted + the lord of misrule. Blackstone, whose chambers were immediately below, + and who was studiously occupied on his Commentaries, used to complain of + the racket made overhead by his reveling neighbor. + </p> + <p> + Sometimes Goldsmith would make up a rural party, composed of four or five + of his “jolly pigeon” friends, to enjoy what he humorously + called a “shoemaker’s holiday.” These would assemble at + his chambers in the morning, to partake of a plentiful and rather + expensive breakfast; the remains of which, with his customary benevolence, + he generally gave to some poor woman in attendance. The repast ended, the + party would set out on foot, in high spirits, making extensive rambles by + footpaths and green lanes to Blackheath, Wandsworth, Chelsea, Hampton + Court, Highgate, or some other pleasant resort, within a few miles of + London. A simple but gay and heartily relished dinner, at a country inn, + crowned the excursion. In the evening they strolled back to town, all the + better in health and spirits for a day spent in rural and social + enjoyment. Occasionally, when extravagantly inclined, they adjourned from + dinner to drink tea at the White Conduit House; and, now and then, + concluded their festive day by supping at the Grecian or Temple Exchange + Coffee Houses, or at the Globe Tavern, in Fleet Street. The whole expenses + of the day never exceeded a crown, and were oftener from three and + sixpence to four shillings; for the best part of their entertainment, + sweet air and rural scenes, excellent exercise and joyous conversation, + cost nothing. + </p> + <p> + One of Goldsmith’s humble companions, on these excursions, was his + occasional amanuensis, Peter Barlow, whose quaint peculiarities afforded + much amusement to the company. Peter was poor but punctilious, squaring + his expenses according to his means. He always wore the same garb; fixed + his regular expenditure for dinner at a trifling sum, which, if left to + himself, he never exceeded, but which he always insisted on paying. His + oddities always made him a welcome companion on the “shoemaker’s + holidays.” The dinner on these occasions generally exceeded + considerably his tariff; he put down, however, no more than his regular + sum, and Goldsmith made up the difference. + </p> + <p> + Another of these hangers-on, for whom, on such occasions, he was content + to “pay the shot,” was his countryman, Glover, of whom mention + has already been made, as one of the wags and sponges of the Globe and + Devil taverns, and a prime mimic at the Wednesday Club. + </p> + <p> + This vagabond genius has bequeathed us a whimsical story of one of his + practical jokes upon Goldsmith, in the course of a rural excursion in the + vicinity of London. They had dined at an inn on Hampstead Heights and were + descending the hill, when, in passing a cottage, they saw through the open + window a party at tea. Goldsmith, who was fatigued, cast a wistful glance + at the cheerful tea-table. “How I should like to be of that party,” + exclaimed he. “Nothing more easy,” replied Glover, “allow + me to introduce you.” So saying, he entered the house with an air of + the most perfect familiarity, though an utter stranger, and was followed + by the unsuspecting Goldsmith, who supposed, of course, that he was a + friend of the family. The owner of the house rose on the entrance of the + strangers. The undaunted Glover shook hands with him in the most cordial + manner possible, fixed his eye on one of the company who had a peculiarly + good-natured physiognomy, muttered something like a recognition, and + forthwith launched into an amusing story, invented at the moment, of + something which he pretended had occurred upon the road. The host supposed + the new-comers were friends at his guests; the guests that they were + friends of the host. Glover did not give them time to find out the truth. + He followed one droll story with another; brought his powers of mimicry + into play, and kept the company in a roar. Tea was offered and accepted; + an hour went off in the most sociable manner imaginable, at the end of + which Glover bowed himself and his companion out of the house with many + facetious last words, leaving the host and his company to compare notes, + and to find out what an impudent intrusion they had experienced. + </p> + <p> + Nothing could exceed the dismay and vexation of Goldsmith when + triumphantly told by Glover that it was all a hoax, and that he did not + know a single soul in the house. His first impulse was to return instantly + and vindicate himself from all participation in the jest; but a few words + from his free and easy companion dissuaded him. “Doctor,” said + he, coolly, “we are unknown; you quite as much as I; if you return + and tell the story, it will be in the newspapers to-morrow; nay, upon + recollection I remember in one of their offices the face of that squinting + fellow who sat in the corner as if he was treasuring up my stories for + future use, and we shall be sure of being exposed; let us therefore keep + our own counsel.” + </p> + <p> + This story was frequently afterward told by Glover, with rich dramatic + effect, repeating and exaggerating the conversation, and mimicking in + ludicrous style, the embarrassment, surprise, and subsequent indignation + of Goldsmith. + </p> + <p> + It is a trite saying that a wheel cannot run in two ruts; nor a man keep + two opposite sets of intimates. Goldsmith sometimes found his old friends + of the “jolly pigeon” order turning up rather awkwardly when + he was in company with his new aristocratic acquaintances. He gave a + whimiscal account of the sudden apparition of one of them at his gay + apartments in the Temple, who may have been a welcome visitor at his + squalid quarters in Green Arbor Court. “How do you think he served + me?” said he to a friend. “Why, sir, after staying away two + years, he came one evening into my chambers, half drunk, as I was taking a + glass of wine with Topham Beauclerc and General Oglethorpe; and sitting + himself down, with most intolerable assurance inquired after my health and + literary pursuits, as if he were upon the most friendly footing. I was at + first so much ashamed of ever having known such a fellow that I stifled my + resentment and drew him into a conversation on such topics as I knew he + could talk upon; in which, to do him justice, he acquitted himself very + reputably; when all of a sudden, as if recollecting something, he pulled + two papers out of his pocket, which he presented to me with great + ceremony, saying, ‘Here, my dear friend, is a quarter of a pound of + tea, and a half pound of sugar, I have brought you; for though it is not + in my power at present to pay you the two guineas you so generously lent + me, you, nor any man else, shall ever have it to say that I want + gratitude.’ This,” added Goldsmith, “was too much. I + could no longer keep in my feelings, but desired him to turn out of my + chambers directly; which he very coolly did, taking up his tea and sugar; + and I never saw him afterward.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0024" id="link2HCH0024"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR + </h2> + <p> + REDUCED AGAIN TO BOOK-BUILDING—RURAL RETREAT AT SHOEMAKER’S + PARADISE—DEATH OF HENRY GOLDSMITH—TRIBUTES TO HIS MEMORY IN + THE DESERTED VILLAGE + </p> + <p> + The heedless expenses of Goldsmith, as may easily be supposed, soon + brought him to the end of his “prize money,” but when his + purse gave out he drew upon futurity, obtaining advances from his + booksellers and loans from his friends in the confident hope of soon + turning up another trump. The debts which he thus thoughtlessly incurred + in consequence of a transient gleam of prosperity embarrassed him for the + rest of his life; so that the success of The Good-Natured Man may be said + to have been ruinous to him. He was soon obliged to resume his old craft + of book-building, and set about his History of Rome, undertaken for + Davies. + </p> + <p> + It was his custom, as we have shown, during the summer time, when pressed + by a multiplicity of literary jobs, or urged to the accomplishment of some + particular task, to take country lodgings a few miles from town, generally + on the Harrow or Edgeware roads, and bury himself there for weeks and + months together. Sometimes he would remain closely occupied in his room, + at other times he would stroll out along the lanes and hedge-rows, and + taking out paper and pencil, note down thoughts to be expanded and + connected at home. His summer retreat for the present year, 1768, was a + little cottage with a garden, pleasantly situated about eight miles from + town on the Edgeware road. He took it in conjunction with a Mr. Edmund + Botts, a barrister and man of letters, his neighbor in the Temple, having + rooms Immediately opposite him on the same floor. They had become cordial + intimates, and Botts was one of those with whom Goldsmith now and then + took the friendly but pernicious liberty of borrowing. + </p> + <p> + The cottage which they had hired belonged to a rich shoemaker of + Piccadilly, who had embellished his little domain of half an acre with + statues and jets, and all the decorations of landscape gardening; in + consequence of which Goldsmith gave it the name of The Shoemaker’s + Paradise. As his fellow-occupant, Mr. Botts, drove a gig, he sometimes, in + an interval of literary labor, accompanied him to town, partook of a + social dinner there, and returned with him in the evening. On one + occasion, when they had probably lingered too long at the table, they came + near breaking their necks on their way homeward by driving against a post + on the sidewalk, while Botts was proving by the force of legal eloquence + that they were in the very middle of the broad Edgeware road. + </p> + <p> + In the course of this summer Goldsmith’s career of gayety was + suddenly brought to a pause by intelligence of the death of his brother + Henry, then but forty-five years of age. He had led a quiet and blameless + life amid the scenes of his youth, fulfilling the duties of village pastor + with unaffected piety; conducting the school at Lissoy with a degree of + industry and ability that gave it celebrity, and acquitting himself in all + the duties of life with undeviating rectitude and the mildest benevolence. + How truly Goldsmith loved and venerated him is evident in all his letters + and throughout his works; in which his brother continually forms his model + for an exemplification of all the most endearing of the Christian virtues; + yet his affection at his death was imbittered by the fear that he died + with some doubt upon his mind of the warmth of his affection. Goldsmith + had been urged by his friends in Ireland, since his elevation in the + world, to use his influence with the great, which they supposed to be all + powerful, in favor of Henry, to obtain for him church preferment. He did + exert himself as far as his diffident nature would permit, but without + success; we have seen that, in the case of the Earl of Northumberland, + when, as Lord Lieutenant of Ireland, that nobleman proffered him his + patronage, he asked nothing for himself, but only spoke on behalf of his + brother. Still some of his friends, ignorant of what he had done and of + how little he was able to do, accused him of negligence. It is not likely, + however, that his amiable and estimable brother joined in the accusation. + </p> + <p> + To the tender and melancholy recollections of his early days awakened by + the death of this loved companion of his childhood, we may attribute some + of the most heartfelt passages in his Deserted Village. Much of that poem, + we are told, was composed this summer, in the course of solitary strolls + about the green lanes and beautifully rural scenes of the neighborhood; + and thus much of the softness and sweetness of English landscape became + blended with the ruder features of Lissoy. It was in these lonely and + subdued moments, when tender regret was half mingled with self-upbraiding, + that he poured forth that homage of the heart, rendered, as it were, at + the grave of his brother. The picture of the village pastor in this poem, + which, we have already hinted, was taken in part from the character of his + father, embodied likewise the recollections of his brother Henry; for the + natures of the father and son seem to have been identical. In the + following lines, however, Goldsmith evidently contrasted the quiet, + settled life of his brother, passed at home in the benevolent exercise of + the Christian duties, with his own restless, vagrant career: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Remote from towns he ran his goodly race, + Nor e’er had changed, nor wished to change his place.” + </pre> + <p> + To us the whole character seems traced, as it were, in an expiatory + spirit; as if, conscious of his own wandering restlessness, he sought to + humble himself at the shrine of excellence which he had not been able to + practice: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “At church, with meek and unaffected grace, + His looks adorn’d the venerable place; + Truth from his lips prevail’d with double sway, + And fools, who came to scoff, remain’d to pray. + The service past, around the pious man, + With steady zeal, each honest rustic ran; + Even children follow’d, with endearing wile, + And pluck’d his gown, to share the good man’s smile; + His ready smile a parent’s warmth express’d, + Their welfare pleas’d him, and their cares distress’d; + To them his heart, his love, his griefs were given, + But all his serious thoughts had rest in heaven. + +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “And as a bird each fond endearment tries + To tempt its new-fledged offspring to the skies, + He tried each art, reprov’d each dull delay, + Allur’d to brighter worlds, <i>and led the way</i>.” + </pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0025" id="link2HCH0025"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE + </h2> + <p> + DINNER AT BICKERSTAFF’S—HIFFERNAN AND HIS IMPECUNIOSITY—KENRICK’S + EPIGRAM—JOHNSON’S CONSOLATION—GOLDSMITH’S TOILET—THE + BLOOM-COLORED COAT—NEW ACQUAINTANCES—THE HORNECKS—A + TOUCH OF POETRY AND PASSION—THE JESSAMY BRIDE + </p> + <p> + In October Goldsmith returned to town and resumed his usual haunts. We + hear of him at a dinner given by his countryman, Isaac Bickerstaff, author + of Love in a Village, Lionel and Clarissa, and other successful dramatic + pieces. The dinner was to be followed by the reading by Bickerstaff of a + new play. Among the guests was one Paul Hiffernan, likewise an Irishman; + somewhat idle and intemperate; who lived nobody knew how nor where, + sponging wherever he had a chance, and often of course upon Goldsmith, who + was ever the vagabond’s friend, or rather victim. Hiffernan was + something of a physician, and elevated the emptiness of his purse into the + dignity of a disease, which he termed <i>impecuniosity</i>, and against + which he claimed a right to call for relief from the healthier purses of + his friends. He was a scribbler for the newspapers, and latterly a + dramatic critic, which had probably gained him an invitation to the dinner + and reading. The wine and wassail, however, befogged his senses. Scarce + had the author got into the second act of his play, when Hiffernan began + to nod, and at length snored outright. Bickerstaff was embarrassed, but + continued to read in a more elevated tone. The louder he read, the louder + Hiffernan snored; until the author came to a pause. “Never mind the + brute, Bick, but go on,” cried Goldsmith. “He would have + served Homer just so if he were here and reading his own works.” + </p> + <p> + Kenrick, Goldsmith’s old enemy, travestied this anecdote in the + following lines, pretending that the poet had compared his countryman + Bickerstaff to Homer. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “What are your Bretons, Romans, Grecians, + Compared with thoroughbred Milesians! + Step into Griffin’s shop, he’ll tell ye + Of Goldsmith, Bickerstaff, and Kelly ... + And, take one Irish evidence for t’other, + Ev’n Homer’s self is but their foster brother.” + </pre> + <p> + Johnson was a rough consoler to a man when wincing under an attack of this + kind. “Never mind, sir,” said he to Goldsmith, when he saw + that he felt the sting. “A man whose business it is to be talked of + is much helped by being attacked. Fame, sir, is a shuttlecock; if it be + struck only at one end of the room, it will soon fall to the ground; to + keep it up, it must be struck at both ends.” + </p> + <p> + Bickerstaff, at the time of which we are speaking, was in high vogue, the + associate of the first wits of the day; a few years afterward he was + obliged to fly the country to escape the punishment of an infamous crime. + Johnson expressed great astonishment at hearing the offense for which he + had fled. “Why, sir,” said Thrale; “he had long been a + suspected man.” Perhaps there was a knowing look on the part of the + eminent brewer, which provoked a somewhat contemptuous reply. “By + those who look close to the ground,” said Johnson, “dirt will + sometimes be seen; I hope I see things from a greater distance.” + </p> + <p> + We have already noticed the improvement, or rather the increased expense, + of Goldsmith’s wardrobe since his elevation into polite society. + “He was fond,” says one of his contemporaries, “of + exhibiting his muscular little person in the gayest apparel of the day, to + which was added a bag-wig and sword.” Thus arrayed, he used to + figure about in the sunshine in the Temple Gardens, much to his own + satisfaction, but to the amusement of his acquaintances. + </p> + <p> + Boswell, in his memoirs, has rendered one of his suits forever famous. + That worthy, on the 16th of October in this same year, gave a dinner to + Johnson, Goldsmith, Reynolds, Garrick, Murphy, Bickerstaff, and Davies. + Goldsmith was generally apt to bustle in at the last moment, when the + guests were taking their seats at table, but on this occasion he was + unusually early. While waiting for some lingerers to arrive, “he + strutted about,” says Boswell, “bragging of his dress, and I + believe was seriously vain of it, for his mind was undoubtedly prone to + such impressions. ‘Come, come,’ said Garrick, ‘talk no + more of that. You are perhaps the worst—eh, eh?’ Goldsmith was + eagerly attempting to interrupt him, when Garrick went on, laughing + ironically, ‘Nay, you will always <i>look</i> like a gentleman; but + I am talking of your being well or <i>ill dressed</i>.’ ‘Well, + let me tell you,’ said Goldsmith, ‘when the tailor brought + home my bloom-colored coat, he said, ‘Sir, I have a favor to beg of + you; when anybody asks you who made your clothes, be pleased to mention + John Filby, at the Harrow, in Water Lane.’ ‘Why, sir,’ + cried Johnson, ‘that was because he knew the strange color would + attract crowds to gaze at it, and thus they might hear of him, and see how + well he could make a coat of so absurd a color.’” + </p> + <p> + But though Goldsmith might permit this raillery on the part of his + friends, he was quick to resent any personalities of the kind from + strangers. As he was one day walking the Strand in grand array with + bag-wig and sword, he excited the merriment of two coxcombs, one of whom + called to the other to “look at that fly with a long pin stuck + through it.” Stung to the quick, Goldsmith’s first retort was + to caution the passers-by to be on their guard against “that brace + of disguised pickpockets”—his next was to step into the middle + of the street, where there was room for action, half draw his sword, and + beckon the joker, who was armed in like manner, to follow him. This was + literally a war of wit which the other had not anticipated. He had no + inclination to push the joke to such an extreme, but abandoning the + ground, sneaked off with his brother wag amid the hootings of the + spectators. + </p> + <p> + This proneness to finery in dress, however, which Boswell and others of + Goldsmith’s contemporaries, who did not understand the secret plies + of his character, attributed to vanity, arose, we are convinced, from a + widely different motive. It was from a painful idea of his own personal + defects, which had been cruelly stamped upon his mind in his boyhood by + the sneers and jeers of his playmates, and had been ground deeper into it + by rude speeches made to him in every step of his struggling career, until + it had become a constant cause of awkwardness and embarrassment. This he + had experienced the more sensibly since his reputation had elevated him + into polite society; and he was constantly endeavoring by the aid of dress + to acquire that personal <i>acceptability</i>, if we may use the phrase, + which nature had denied him. If ever he betrayed a little self-complacency + on first turning out in a new suit, it may perhaps have been because he + felt as if he had achieved a triumph over his ugliness. + </p> + <p> + There were circumstances too about the time of which we are treating which + may have rendered Goldsmith more than usually attentive to his personal + appearance. He had recently made the acquaintance of a most agreeable + family from Devonshire, which he met at the house of his friend, Sir + Joshua Reynolds. It consisted of Mrs. Horneck, widow of Captain Kane + Horneck; two daughters, seventeen and nineteen years of age, and an only + son, Charles, “the Captain in Lace,” as his sisters playfully + and somewhat proudly called him, he having lately entered the Guards. The + daughters are described as uncommonly beautiful, intelligent, sprightly, + and agreeable. Catharine, the eldest, went among her friends by the name + of “Little Comedy,” indicative, very probably, of her + disposition. She was engaged to William Henry Bunbury, second son of a + Suffolk baronet. The hand and heart of her sister Mary were yet unengaged, + although she bore the by-name among her friends of the “Jessamy + Bride.” This family was prepared, by their intimacy with Reynolds + and his sister, to appreciate the merits of Goldsmith. The poet had always + been a chosen friend of the eminent painter, and Miss Reynolds, as we have + shown, ever since she had heard his poem of The Traveler read aloud, had + ceased to consider him ugly. The Hornecks were equally capable of + forgetting his person in admiring his works. On becoming acquainted with + him, too, they were delighted with his guileless simplicity; his buoyant + good-nature and his innate benevolence, and an enduring intimacy soon + sprang up between them. For once poor Goldsmith had met with polite + society with which he was perfectly at home, and by which he was fully + appreciated; for once he had met with lovely women, to whom his ugly + features were not repulsive. A proof of the easy and playful terms in + which he was with them remains in a whimsical epistle in verse, of which + the following was the occasion. A dinner was to be given to their family + by a Dr. Baker, a friend of their mother’s, at which Reynolds and + Angelica Kauffman were to be present. The young ladies were eager to have + Goldsmith of the party, and their intimacy with Dr. Baker allowing them to + take the liberty, they wrote a joint invitation to the poet at the last + moment. It came too late, and drew from him the following reply; on the + top of which was scrawled, “This is a poem! This <i>is</i> a copy of + verses!” + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Your mandate I got, + You may all go to pot; + Had your senses been right, + You’d have sent before night— + So tell Horneck and Nesbitt, + And Baker and his bit, + And Kauffman beside, + And the <i>Jessamy Bride</i>, + With the rest of the crew. + The Reynoldses too, + <i>Little Comedy’s</i> face, + And the <i>Captain in Lace</i>— + Tell each other to rue + Your Devonshire crew, + For sending so late + To one of my state. + But ’tis Reynolds’s way + From wisdom to stray, + And Angelica’s whim + To befrolic like him; + But alas! your good worships, how could they be wiser, + When both have been spoil’d in to-day’s ‘Advertiser’?” + </pre> + <p> + [Footnote: The following lines had appeared in that day’s “Advertiser,” + on the portrait of Sir Joshua by Angelica Kauffman: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “While fair Angelica, with matchless grace, + Paints Conway’s burly form and Stanhope’s face; + Our hearts to beauty willing homage pay, + We praise, admire, and gaze our souls away. + + But when the likeness she hath done for thee, + O Reynolds! with astonishment we see, + Forced to submit, with all our pride we own, + Such strength, such harmony excelled by none. + And thou art rivaled by thyself alone.”] +</pre> + <p> + It has been intimated that the intimacy of poor Goldsmith with the Misses + Horneck, which began in so sprightly a vein, gradually assumed something + of a more tender nature, and that he was not insensible to the + fascinations of the younger sister. This may account for some of the + phenomena which about this time appeared in his wardrobe and toilet. + During the first year of his acquaintance with these lovely girls, the + tell-tale book of his tailor, Mr. William Filby, displays entries of four + or five full suits, besides separate articles of dress. Among the items we + find a green half-trimmed frock and breeches, lined with silk; a queen’s + blue dress suit; a half dress suit of ratteen, lined with satin; a pair of + silk stocking breeches, and another pair of bloom color. Alas! poor + Goldsmith! how much of this silken finery was dictated, not by vanity, but + humble consciousness of thy defects; how much of it was to atone for the + uncouthness of thy person, and to win favor in the eyes of the Jessamy + Bride! + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0026" id="link2HCH0026"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX + </h2> + <p> + GOLDSMITH IN THE TEMPLE—JUDGE DAY AND GRATTAN—LABOR AND + DISSIPATION—PUBLICATION OF THE ROMAN HISTORY—OPINIONS OF IT—HISTORY + OF ANIMATED NATURE—TEMPLE ROOKERY—ANECDOTES OF A SPIDER + </p> + <p> + In the winter of 1768-69 Goldsmith occupied himself at his quarters in the + Temple, slowly “building up” his Roman History. We have + pleasant views of him in this learned and half-cloistered retreat of wit + and lawyers and legal students, in the reminiscences of Judge Day of the + Irish Bench, who in his advanced age delighted to recall the days of his + youth, when he was a templar, and to speak of the kindness with which he + and his fellow-student, Grattan, were treated by the poet. “I was + just arrived from college,” said he, “full freighted with + academic gleanings, and our author did not disdain to receive from me some + opinions and hints toward his Greek and Roman histories. Being then a + young man, I felt much flattered by the notice of so celebrated a person. + He took great delight in the conversation of Grattan, whose brilliancy in + the morning of life furnished full earnest of the unrivaled splendor which + awaited his meridian; and finding us dwelling together in Essex Court, + near himself, where he frequently visited my immortal friend, his warm + heart became naturally prepossessed toward the associate of one whom he so + much admired.” + </p> + <p> + The judge goes on, in his reminiscences, to give a picture of Goldsmith’s + social habits, similar in style to those already furnished. He frequented + much the Grecian Coffee-House, then the favorite resort of the Irish and + Lancashire Templars. He delighted in collecting his friends around him at + evening parties at his chambers, where he entertained them with a cordial + and unostentatious hospitality. “Occasionally,” adds the + judge, “he amused them with his flute, or with whist, neither of + which he played well, particularly the latter, but, on losing his money, + he never lost his temper. In a run of bad luck and worse play, he would + fling his cards upon the floor and exclaim, ‘<i>Byefore</i> George, + I ought forever to renounce thee, fickle, faithless Fortune.’” + </p> + <p> + The judge was aware at the time that all the learned labor of poor + Goldsmith upon his Roman History was mere hack work to recruit his + exhausted finances. “His purse replenished,” adds he, “by + labors of this kind, the season of relaxation and pleasure took its turn, + in attending the theaters, Ranelagh, Vauxhall, and other scenes of gayety + and amusement. Whenever his funds were dissipated—and they fled more + rapidly from being the dupe of many artful persons, male and female, who + practiced upon his benevolence—he returned to his literary labors, + and shut himself up from society to provide fresh matter for his + bookseller, and fresh supplies for himself.” + </p> + <p> + How completely had the young student discerned the characteristics of + poor, genial, generous, drudging, holiday-loving Goldsmith; toiling that + he might play; earning his bread by the sweat of his brains, and then + throwing it out of the window. + </p> + <p> + The Roman History was published in the middle of May, in two volumes of + five hundred pages each. It was brought out without parade or pretension, + and was announced as for the use of schools and colleges; but, though a + work written for bread, not fame, such is its ease, perspicuity, good + sense, and the delightful simplicity of its style, that it was well + received by the critics, commanded a prompt and extensive sale, and has + ever since remained in the hands of young and old. + </p> + <p> + Johnson, who, as we have before remarked, rarely praised or dispraised + things by halves, broke forth in a warm eulogy of the author and the work, + in a conversation with Boswell, to the great astonishment of the latter. + “Whether we take Goldsmith,” said he, “as a poet, as a + comic writer, or as a historian, he stands in the first class.” + Boswell.—“A historian! My dear sir, you surely will not rank + his compilation of the Roman History with the works of other historians of + this age.” Johnson.—“Why, who are before him?” + Boswell.—“Hume—Robertson—Lord Lyttelton.” + Johnson (his antipathy against the Scotch beginning to rise).—“I + have not read Hume; but doubtless Goldsmith’s History is better than + the verbiage of Robertson, or the foppery of Dalrymple.” Boswell.—“Will + you not admit the superiority of Robertson, in whose history we find such + penetration, such painting?” Johnson.—“Sir, you must + consider how that penetration and that painting are employed. It is not + history, it is imagination. He who describes what he never saw, draws from + fancy. Robertson paints minds as Sir Joshua paints faces, in a + history-piece; he imagines a heroic countenance. You must look upon + Robertson’s work as romance, and try it by that standard. History it + is not. Besides, sir, it is the great excellence of a writer to put into + his book as much as his book will hold. Goldsmith has done this in his + history. Now Robertson might have put twice as much in his book. Robertson + is like a man who has packed gold in wool; the wool takes up more room + than the gold. No, sir, I always thought Robertson would be crushed with + his own weight—would be buried under his own ornaments. Goldsmith + tells you shortly all you want to know; Robertson detains you a great deal + too long. No man will read Robertson’s cumbrous detail a second + time; but Goldsmith’s plain narrative will please again and again. I + would say to Robertson what an old tutor of a college said to one of his + pupils, ‘Read over your compositions, and whenever you meet with a + passage which you think is particularly fine, strike it out!’—Goldsmith’s + abridgment is better than that of Lucius Floras or Eutropius; and I will + venture to say, that if you compare him with Vertot in the same places of + the Roman History, you will find that he excels Vertot. Sir, he has the + art of compiling, and of saying everything he has to say in a pleasing + manner. He is now writing a Natural History, and will make it as + entertaining as a Persian tale.” + </p> + <p> + The Natural History to which Johnson alluded was the History of Animated + Nature, which Goldsmith commenced in 1769, under an engagement with + Griffin, the bookseller, to complete it as soon as possible in eight + volumes, each containing upward of four hundred pages, in pica; a hundred + guineas to be paid to the author on the delivery of each volume in + manuscript. + </p> + <p> + He was induced to engage in this work by the urgent solicitations of the + booksellers, who had been struck by the sterling merits and captivating + style of an introduction which he wrote to Brookes’ Natural History. + It was Goldsmith’s intention originally to make a translation of + Pliny, with a popular commentary; but the appearance of Buffon’s + work induced him to change his plan and make use of that author for a + guide and model. + </p> + <p> + Cumberland, speaking of this work, observes: “Distress drove + Goldsmith upon undertakings neither congenial with his studies nor worthy + of his talents. I remember him when, in his chambers in the Temple, he + showed me the beginning of his Animated Nature; it was with a sigh, such + as genius draws when hard necessity diverts it from its bent to drudge for + bread, and talk of birds, and beasts, and creeping things, which Pidock’s + showman would have done as well. Poor fellow, he hardly knows an ass from + a mule, nor a turkey from a goose, but when he sees it on the table.” + </p> + <p> + Others of Goldsmith’s friends entertained similar ideas with respect + to his fitness for the task, and they were apt now and then to banter him + on the subject, and to amuse themselves with his easy credulity. The + custom among the natives of Otaheite of eating dogs being once mentioned + in company, Goldsmith observed that a similar custom prevailed in China; + that a dog-butcher is as common there as any other butcher; and that when + he walks abroad all the dogs fall on him. Johnson.—“That is + not owing to his killing dogs; sir, I remember a butcher at Litchfield, + whom a dog that was in the house where I lived always attacked. It is the + smell of carnage which provokes this, let the animals he has killed be + what they may.” Goldsmith.—“Yes, there is a general + abhorrence in animals at the signs of massacre. If you put a tub full of + blood into a stable, the horses are likely to go mad.” Johnson.—“I + doubt that.” Goldsmith.—“Nay, sir, it is a fact well + authenticated.” Thrale.—“You had better prove it before + you put it into your book on Natural History. You may do it in my stable + if you will.” Johnson.—“Nay, sir, I would not have him + prove it. If he is content to take his information from others, he may get + through his book with little trouble, and without much endangering his + reputation. But if he makes experiments for so comprehensive a book as + his, there would be no end to them; his erroneous assertions would fall + then upon himself; and he might be blamed for not having made experiments + as to every particular.” + </p> + <p> + Johnson’s original prediction, however, with respect to this work, + that Goldsmith would make it as entertaining as a Persian tale, was + verified; and though much of it was borrowed from Buffon, and but little + of it written from his own observation; though it was by no means + profound, and was chargeable with many errors, yet the charms of his style + and the play of his happy disposition throughout have continued to render + it far more popular and readable than many works on the subject of much + greater scope and science. Cumberland was mistaken, however, in his notion + of Goldsmith’s ignorance and lack of observation as to the + characteristics of animals. On the contrary, he was a minute and shrewd + observer of them; but he observed them with the eye of a poet and moralist + as well as a naturalist. We quote two passages from his works illustrative + of this fact, and we do so the more readily because they are in a manner a + part of his history, and give us another peep into his private life in the + Temple; of his mode of occupying himself in his lonely and apparently idle + moments, and of another class of acquaintances which he made there. + </p> + <p> + Speaking in his Animated Nature of the habitudes of Rooks, “I have + often amused myself,” says he, “with observing their plans of + policy from my window in the Temple, that looks upon a grove, where they + have made a colony in the midst of a city. At the commencement of spring + the rookery, which, during the continuance of winter, seemed to have been + deserted, or only guarded by about five or six, like old soldiers in a + garrison, now begins to be once more frequented; and in a short time, all + the bustle and hurry of business will be fairly commenced.” + </p> + <p> + The other passage, which we take the liberty to quote at some length, is + from an admirable paper in the “Bee,” and relates to the House + Spider. + </p> + <p> + “Of all the solitary insects I have ever remarked, the spider is the + most sagacious, and its motions to me, who have attentively considered + them, seem almost to exceed belief.... I perceived, about four years ago, + a large spider in one corner of my room making its web; and, though the + maid frequently leveled her broom against the labors of the little animal, + I had the good fortune then to prevent its destruction, and I may say it + more than paid me by the entertainment it afforded. + </p> + <p> + “In three days the web was, with incredible diligence, completed; + nor could I avoid thinking that the insect seemed to exult in its new + abode. It frequently traversed it round, examined the strength of every + part of it, retired into its hole, and came out very frequently. The first + enemy, however, it had to encounter was another and a much larger spider, + which, having no web of its own, and having probably exhausted all its + stock in former labors of this kind, came to invade the property of its + neighbor. Soon, then, a terrible encounter ensued, in which the invader + seemed to have the victory, and the laborious spider was obliged to take + refuge in its hole. Upon this I perceived the victor using every art to + draw the enemy from its stronghold. He seemed to go off, but quickly + returned; and when he found all arts in vain, began to demolish the new + web without mercy. This brought on another battle, and, contrary to my + expectations, the laborious spider became conqueror, and fairly killed his + antagonist. + </p> + <p> + “Now, then, in peaceable possession of what was justly its own, it + waited three days with the utmost patience, repairing the breaches of its + web, and taking no sustenance that I could perceive. At last, however, a + large blue fly fell into the snare, and struggled hard to get loose. The + spider gave it leave to entangle itself as much as possible, but it seemed + to be too strong for the cobweb. I must own I was greatly surprised when I + saw the spider immediately sally out, and in less than a minute weave a + new net round its captive, by which the motion of its wings was stopped; + and when it was fairly hampered in this manner it was seized and dragged + into the hole. + </p> + <p> + “In this manner it lived, in a precarious state; and nature seemed + to have fitted it for such a life, for upon a single fly it subsisted for + more than a week. I once put a wasp into the net; but when the spider came + out in order to seize it, as usual, upon perceiving what kind of an enemy + it had to deal with, it instantly broke all the bands that held it fast, + and contributed all that lay in its power to disengage so formidable an + antagonist. When the wasp was set at liberty, I expected the spider would + have set about repairing the breaches that were made in its net; but + those, it seems, were irreparable; wherefore the cobweb was now entirely + forsaken, and a new one begun, which was completed in the usual time. + </p> + <p> + “I had now a mind to try how many cobwebs a single spider could + furnish; wherefore I destroyed this, and the insect set about another. + When I destroyed the other also, its whole stock seemed entirely + exhausted, and it could spin no more. The arts it made use of to support + itself, now deprived of its great means of subsistence, were indeed + surprising. I have seen it roll up its legs like a ball, and lie + motionless for hours together, but cautiously watching all the time; when + a fly happened to approach sufficiently near, it would dart out all at + once, and often seize its prey. + </p> + <p> + “Of this life, however, it soon began to grow weary, and resolved to + invade the possession of some other spider, since it could not make a web + of its own. It formed an attack upon a neighboring fortification with + great vigor, and at first was as vigorously repulsed. Not daunted, + however, with one defeat, in this manner it continued to lay siege to + another’s web for three days, and at length, having killed the + defendant, actually took possession. When smaller flies happen to fall + into the snare, the spider does not sally out at once, but very patiently + waits till it is sure of them; for, upon his immediately approaching the + terror of his appearance might give the captive strength sufficient to get + loose; the manner, then, is to wait patiently, till, by ineffectual and + impotent struggles, the captive has wasted all its strength, and then he + becomes a certain and easy conquest. + </p> + <p> + “The insect I am now describing lived three years; every year it + changed its skin and got a new set of legs. I have sometimes plucked off a + leg, which grew again in two or three days. At first it dreaded my + approach to its web, but at last it became so familiar as to take a fly + out of my hand; and, upon my touching any part of the web, would + immediately leave its hole, prepared either for a defense or an attack.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0027" id="link2HCH0027"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN + </h2> + <p> + HONORS AT THE ROYAL ACADEMY—LETTER TO HIS BROTHER MAURICE—FAMILY + FORTUNES—JANE CONTARINE AND THE MINIATURE—PORTRAITS AND + ENGRAVINGS—SCHOOL ASSOCIATIONS—JOHNSON AND GOLDSMITH IN + WESTMINSTER ABBEY + </p> + <p> + The latter part of the year 1768 had been made memorable in the world of + taste by the institution of the Royal Academy of Arts, under the patronage + of the king, and the direction of forty of the most distinguished artist. + Reynolds, who had been mainly instrumental in founding it, had been + unanimously elected president, and had thereupon received the honor of + knighthood. [Footnote: We must apologize for the anachronism we have + permitted ourselves, in the course of this memoir, in speaking of Reynolds + as <i>Sir Joshua</i>, when treating of circumstances which occurred prior + to his being dubbed; but it is so customary to speak of him by that title + that we found it difficult to dispense with it.] Johnson was so delighted + with his friend’s elevation that he broke through a rule of total + abstinence with respect to wine, which he had maintained for several + years, and drank bumpers on the occasion. Sir Joshua eagerly sought to + associate his old and valued friends with him in his new honors, and it is + supposed to be through his suggestions that, on the first establishment of + professorships, which took place in December, 1769, Johnson was nominated + to that of Ancient Literature, and Goldsmith to that of History. They were + mere honorary titles, without emolument, but gave distinction, from the + noble institution to which they appertained. They also gave the possessors + honorable places at the annual banquet, at which were assembled many of + the most distinguished persons of rank and talent, all proud to be classed + among the patrons of the arts. + </p> + <p> + The following letter of Goldsmith to his brother alludes to the foregoing + appointment, and to a small legacy bequeathed to him by his uncle + Contarine. + </p> + <p> + “<i>To Mr. Maurice Goldsmith, at James Lawders, Esq., at Kilmore, + near Carrick-on-Shannon.</i> + </p> + <p> + “January, 1770. + </p> + <p> + “DEAR BROTHER—I should have answered your letter sooner, but, + in truth, I am not fond of thinking of the necessities of those I love, + when it is so very little in my power to help them. I am sorry to find you + are every way unprovided for; and what adds to my uneasiness is, that I + have received a letter from my sister Johnson, by which I learn that she + is pretty much in the same circumstances. As to myself, I believe I think + I could get both you and my poor brother-in-law something like that which + you desire, but I am determined never to ask for little things, nor + exhaust any little interest I may have, until I can serve you, him, and + myself more effectually. As yet, no opportunity has offered; but I believe + you are pretty well convinced that I will not be remiss when it arrives. + </p> + <p> + “The king has lately been pleased to make me Professor of Ancient + History in the Royal Academy of Painting which he has just established, + but there is no salary annexed; and I took it rather as a compliment to + the institution than any benefit to myself. Honors to one in my situation + are something like ruffles to one that wants a shirt. + </p> + <p> + “You tell me that there are fourteen or fifteen pounds left me in + the hands of my cousin Lawder, and you ask me what I would have done with + them. My dear brother, I would by no means give any directions to my dear + worthy relations at Kilmore how to dispose of money which is, properly + speaking, more theirs than mine. All that I can say is, that I entirely, + and this letter will serve to witness, give up any right and title to it; + and I am sure they will dispose of it to the best advantage. To them I + entirely leave it; whether they or you may think the whole necessary to + fit you out, or whether our poor sister Johnson may not want the half, I + leave entirely to their and your discretion. The kindness of that good + couple to our shattered family demands our sincerest gratitude; and though + they have almost forgotten me, yet, if good things at last arrive, I hope + one day to return and increase their good-humor, by adding to my own. + </p> + <p> + “I have sent my cousin Jenny a miniature picture of myself, as I + believe it is the most acceptable present I can offer. I have ordered it + to be left for her at George Faulkner’s, folded in a letter. The + face, you well know, is ugly enough, but it is finely painted. I will + shortly also send my friends over the Shannon some mezzotinto prints of + myself, and some more of my friends here, such as Burke, Johnson, + Reynolds, and Colman. I believe I have written a hundred letters to + different friends in your country, and never received an answer to any of + them. I do not know how to account for this, or why they are unwilling to + keep up for me those regards which I must ever retain for them. + </p> + <p> + “If, then, you have a mind to oblige me, you will write often, + whether I answer you or not. Let me particularly have the news of our + family and old acquaintances. For instance, you may begin by telling me + about the family where you reside, how they spend their time, and whether + they ever make mention of me. Tell me about my mother, my brother Hodson, + and his son, my brother Harry’s son and daughter, my sister Johnson, + the family of Ballyoughter, what is become of them, where they live, and + how they do. You talked of being my only brother: I don’t understand + you. Where is Charles? A sheet of paper occasionally filled with the news + of this kind would make me very happy, and would keep you nearer my mind. + As it is, my dear brother, believe me to be + </p> + <p> + “Yours, most affectionately, + </p> + <h3> + “OLIVER GOLDSMITH.” + </h3> + <p> + By this letter we find the Goldsmiths the same shifting, shiftless race as + formerly; a “shattered family,” scrambling on each other’s + back as soon as any rise above the surface. Maurice is “every way + unprovided for”; living upon Cousin Jane and her husband, and, + perhaps, amusing himself by hunting otter in the river Inny. Sister + Johnson and her husband are as poorly off as Maurice, with, perhaps, no + one at hand to quarter themselves upon; as to the rest, “what is + become of them; where do they live; how do they do; what is become of + Charles?” What forlorn, haphazard life is implied by these + questions! Can we wonder that, with all the love for his native place, + which is shown throughout Goldsmith’s writings, he had not the heart + to return there? Yet his affections are still there. He wishes to know + whether the Lawders (which means his cousin Jane, his early Valentine) + ever make mention of him; he sends Jane his miniature; he believes “it + is the most acceptable present he can offer”; he evidently, + therefore, does not believe she has almost forgotten him, although he + intimates that he does: in his memory she is still Jane Contarine, as he + last saw her, when he accompanied her harpsichord with his flute. Absence, + like death, sets a seal on the image of those we have loved; we cannot + realize the intervening changes which time may have effected. + </p> + <p> + As to the rest of Goldsmith’s relatives, he abandons his legacy of + fifteen pounds, to be shared among them. It is all he has to give. His + heedless improvidence is eating up the pay of the booksellers in advance. + With all his literary success, he has neither money nor influence; but he + has empty fame, and he is ready to participate with them; he is honorary + professor, without pay; his portrait is to be engraved in mezzotint, in + company with those of his friends, Burke, Reynolds, Johnson, Colman, and + others, and he will send prints of them to his friends over the Shannon, + though they may not have a house to hang them up in. What a motley letter! + How indicative of the motley character of the writer! By the bye, the + publication of a splendid mezzotinto engraving of his likeness by + Reynolds, was a great matter of glorification to Goldsmith, especially as + it appeared in such illustrious company. As he was one day walking the + streets in a state of high elation, from having just seen it figuring in + the print-shop windows, he met a young gentleman with a newly married wife + hanging on his arm, whom he immediately recognized for Master Bishop, one + of the boys he had petted and treated with sweetmeats when a humble usher + at Milner’s school. The kindly feelings of old times revived, and he + accosted him with cordial familiarity, though the youth may have found + some difficulty in recognizing in the personage, arrayed, perhaps, in + garments of Tyrian dye, the dingy pedagogue of the Milners. “Come, + my boy,” cried Goldsmith, as if still speaking to a schoolboy, + “Come, Sam, I am delighted to see you. I must treat you to something—what + shall it be? Will you have some apples?” glancing at an old woman’s + stall; then, recollecting the print-shop window: “Sam,” said + he, “have you seen my picture by Sir Joshua Reynolds? Have you seen + it, Sam? Have you got an engraving?” Bishop was caught; he + equivocated; he had not yet bought it; but he was furnishing his house, + and had fixed upon the place where it was to be hung. “Ah, Sam!” + rejoined Goldsmith reproachfully, “if your picture had been + published, I should not have waited an hour without having it.” + </p> + <p> + After all, it was honest pride, not vanity, in Goldsmith, that was + gratified at seeing his portrait deemed worthy of being perpetuated by the + classic pencil of Reynolds, and “hung up in history,” beside + that of his revered friend, Johnson. Even the great moralist himself was + not insensible to a feeling of this kind. Walking one day with Goldsmith, + in Westminster Abbey, among the tombs of monarchs, warriors, and + statesmen, they came to the sculptured mementos of literary worthies in + Poets’ Corner. Casting his eye round upon these memorials of genius, + Johnson muttered in a low tone to his companion, + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Forsitan et nostrum nomen miscebitur istis.” + </pre> + <p> + Goldsmith treasured up the intimated hope, and shortly afterward, as they + were passing by Temple bar, where the heads of Jacobite rebels, executed + for treason, were mouldering aloft on spikes, pointed up to the grizzly + mementos, and echoed the intimation, + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Forsitan et nostrum nomen miscebitur <i>istis</i>.” + </pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0028" id="link2HCH0028"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT + </h2> + <h3> + PUBLICATION OF THE DESERTED VILLAGE—NOTICES AND ILLUSTRATIONS OF IT + </h3> + <p> + Several years had now elapsed since the publication of The Traveler, and + much wonder was expressed that the great success of that poem had not + excited the author to further poetic attempts. On being questioned at the + annual dinner of the Royal Academy by the Earl of Lisburn, why he + neglected the muses to compile histories and write novels, “My Lord,” + replied he, “by courting the muses I shall starve, but by my other + labors I eat, drink, have good clothes, and can enjoy the luxuries of + life.” So, also, on being asked by a poor writer what was the most + profitable mode of exercising the pen, “My dear fellow,” + replied he, good-humoredly, “pay no regard to the draggle-tailed + muses; for my part I have found productions in prose much more sought + after and better paid for.” + </p> + <p> + Still, however, as we have heretofore shown, he found sweet moments of + dalliance to steal away from his prosaic toils, and court the muse among + the green lanes and hedgerows in the rural environs of London, and on the + 26th of May, 1770, he was enabled to bring his Deserted Village before the + public. + </p> + <p> + The popularity of The Traveler had prepared the way for this poem, and its + sale was instantaneous and immense. The first edition was immediately + exhausted; in a few days a second was issued; in a few days more a third, + and by the 16th of August the fifth edition was hurried through the press. + As is the case with popular writers, he had become his own rival, and + critics were inclined to give the preference to his first poem; but with + the public at large we believe the Deserted Village has ever been the + greatest favorite. Previous to its publication the bookseller gave him in + advance a note for the price agreed upon, one hundred guineas. As the + latter was returning home he met a friend to whom he mentioned the + circumstance, and who, apparently judging of poetry by quantity rather + than quality, observed that it was a great sum for so small a poem. + “In truth,” said Goldsmith, “I think so too; it is much + more than the honest man can afford or the piece is worth. I have not been + easy since I received it.” In fact, he actually returned the note to + the bookseller, and left it to him to graduate the payment according to + the success of the work. The bookseller, as may well be supposed, soon + repaid him in full with many acknowledgments of his disinterestedness. + This anecdote has been called in question, we know not on what grounds; we + see nothing in it incompatible with the character of Goldsmith, who was + very impulsive, and prone to acts of inconsiderate generosity. + </p> + <p> + As we do not pretend in this summary memoir to go into a criticism or + analysis of any of Goldsmith’s writings, we shall not dwell upon the + peculiar merits of this poem; we cannot help noticing, however, how truly + it is a mirror of the author’s heart, and of all the fond pictures + of early friends and early life forever present there. It seems to us as + if the very last accounts received from home, of his “shattered + family,” and the desolation that seemed to have settled upon the + haunts of his childhood, had cut to the roots one feebly cherished hope, + and produced the following exquisitely tender and mournful lines: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “In all my wand’rings round this world of care, + In all my griefs—and God has giv’n my share— + I still had hopes my latest hours to crown, + Amid these humble bowers to lay me down; + To husband out life’s taper at the close, + And keep the flame from wasting by repose; + I still had hopes, for pride attends us still, + Amid the swains to show my book-learn’d skill, + Around my fire an ev’ning group to draw, + And tell of all I felt and all I saw; + And as a hare, whom hounds and horns pursue, + Pants to the place from whence at first she flew; + I still had hopes, my long vexations past, + Here to return—<i>and die at home at last</i>.” + </pre> + <p> + How touchingly expressive are the succeeding lines, wrung from a heart + which all the trials and temptations and buffetings of the world could not + render worldly; which, amid a thousand follies and errors of the head, + still retained its childlike innocence; and which, doomed to struggle on + to the last amid the din and turmoil of the metropolis, had ever been + cheating itself with a dream of rural quiet and seclusion: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Oh, bless’d retirement! friend to life’s decline, + Retreats from care, <i>that never must be mine</i>, + How blest is he who crowns, in shades like these, + A youth of labor with an age of ease; + Who quits a world where strong temptations try, + And, since ’tis hard to combat, learns to fly! + For him no wretches, born to work and weep, + Explore the mine, or tempt the dangerous deep; + Nor surly porter stands, in guilty state, + To spurn imploring famine from the gate; + But on he moves to meet his latter end, + Angels around befriending virtue’s friend; + Sinks to the grave with unperceived decay, + While resignation gently slopes the way; + And all his prospects brightening to the last, + His heaven commences ere the world be past.” + +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h3> + NOTE + </h3> + <p> + The following article, which appeared in a London periodical, shows the + effect of Goldsmith’s poem in renovating the fortunes of Lissoy. + </p> + <p> + “About three miles from Ballymahon, a very central town in the + sister kingdom, is the mansion and village of Auburn, so called by their + present possessor, Captain Hogan. Through the taste and improvement of + this gentleman, it is now a beautiful spot, although fifteen years since + it presented a very bare and unpoetical aspect. This, however, was owing + to a cause which serves strongly to corroborate the assertion that + Goldsmith had this scene in view when he wrote his poem of The Deserted + Village. The then possessor, General Napier, turned all his tenants out of + their farms that he might inclose them in his own private domain. + Littleton, the mansion of the general, stands not far off, a complete + emblem of the desolating spirit lamented by the poet, dilapidated and + converted into a barrack. + </p> + <p> + “The chief object of attraction is Lissoy, once the parsonage house + of Henry Goldsmith, that brother to whom the poet dedicated his Traveler, + and who is represented as the village pastor, + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “‘Passing rich with forty pounds a year.’ +</pre> + <p> + “When I was in the country, the lower chambers were inhabited by + pigs and sheep, and the drawing-rooms by oats. Captain Hogan, however, + has, I believe, got it since into his possession, and has, of course, + improved its condition. + </p> + <p> + “Though at first strongly inclined to dispute the identity of + Auburn, Lissoy House overcame my scruples. As I clambered over the rotten + gate, and crossed the grass-grown lawn or court, the tide of association + became too strong for casuistry; here the poet dwelt and wrote, and here + his thoughts fondly recurred when composing his Traveler in a foreign + land. Yonder was the decent church, that literally ‘topped the + neighboring hill.’ Before me lay the little hill of Knockrue, on + which he declares, in one of his letters, he had rather sit with a book in + hand than mingle in the proudest assemblies. And, above all, startlingly + true, beneath my feet was + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “‘Yonder copse, where once the garden smiled, + And still where many a garden-flower grows wild.’ +</pre> + <p> + “A painting from the life could not be more exact. ‘The + stubborn currant-bush’ lifts its head above the rank grass, and the + proud hollyhock flaunts where its sisters of the flower-knot are no more. + </p> + <p> + “In the middle of the village stands the old ‘hawthorn-tree,’ + built up with masonry to distinguish and preserve it; it is old and + stunted, and suffers much from the depredations of post-chaise travelers, + who generally stop to procure a twig. Opposite to it is the village + alehouse, over the door of which swings ‘The Three Jolly Pigeons.’ + Within everything is arranged according to the letter: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ‘The whitewash’d wall, the nicely-sanded floor, + The varnish’d clock that click’d behind the door: + The chest, contrived a double debt to pay, + A bed by night, a chest of drawers by day; + The pictures placed for ornament and use, + The twelve good rules, the royal game of goose.’ +</pre> + <p> + “Captain Hogan, I have heard, found great difficulty in obtaining + ‘the twelve good rules,’ but at length purchased them at some + London bookstall to adorn the whitewashed parlor of ‘The Three Jolly + Pigeons.’ However laudable this may be, nothing shook my faith in + the reality of Auburn so much as this exactness, which had the + disagreeable air of being got up for the occasion. The last object of + pilgrimage is the quondam habitation of the schoolmaster, + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “‘There, in his noisy mansion, skill’d to rule.’ +</pre> + <p> + “It is surrounded with fragrant proofs of identity in + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “‘The blossom’d furze, unprofitably gay.’ +</pre> + <p> + “There is to be seen the chair of the poet, which fell into the + hands of its present possessors at the wreck of the parsonage-house; they + have frequently refused large offers of purchase; but more, I daresay, for + the sake of drawing contributions from the curious than from any reverence + for the bard. The chair is of oak, with back and seat of cane, which + precluded all hopes of a secret drawer, like that lately discovered in Gay’s. + There is no fear of its being worn out by the devout earnestness of + sitters—as the cocks and hens have usurped undisputed possession of + it, and protest most clamorously against all attempts to get it cleansed + or to seat one’s self. + </p> + <p> + “The controversy concerning the identity of this Auburn was formerly + a standing theme of discussion among the learned of the neighborhood; but, + since the pros and cons have been all ascertained, the argument has died + away. Its abettors plead the singular agreement between the local history + of the place and the Auburn of the poem, and the exactness with which the + scenery of the one answers to the description of the other. To this is + opposed the mention of the nightingale, + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “‘And fill’d each pause the nightingale had made’; +</pre> + <p> + there being no such bird in the island. The objection is slighted, on the + other hand, by considering the passage as a mere poetical license. ‘Besides,’ + say they, ‘the robin is the Irish nightingale.’ And if it be + hinted how unlikely it was that Goldsmith should have laid the scene in a + place from which he was and had been so long absent, the rejoinder is + always, ‘Pray, sir, was Milton in hell when he built Pandemonium?’ + </p> + <p> + “The line is naturally drawn between; there can be no doubt that the + poet intended England by + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “‘The land to hast’ning ills a prey, + Where wealth accumulates and men decay.’ +</pre> + <p> + “But it is very natural to suppose that, at the same time, his + imagination had in view the scenes of his youth, which give such strong + features of resemblance to the picture.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + Best, an Irish clergyman, told Davis, the traveler in America, that the + hawthorn-bush mentioned in the poem was still remarkably large. “I + was riding once,” said he, “with Brady, titular Bishop of + Ardagh, when he observed to me, ‘Ma foy, Best, this huge overgrown + bush is mightily in the way. I will order it to be cut down.’ + ‘What, sir!’ replied I, ‘cut down the bush that supplies + so beautiful an image in The Deserted Village?’—‘Ma foy!’ + exclaimed the bishop, ‘is that the hawthorn-bush? Then let it be + sacred from the edge of the ax, and evil be to him that should cut off a + branch.’ “—The hawthorn-bush, however, has long since + been cut up, root and branch, in furnishing relics to literary pilgrims. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0029" id="link2HCH0029"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE + </h2> + <p> + THE POET AMONG THE LADIES—DESCRIPTION OF HIS PERSON AND MANNERS—EXPEDITION + TO PARIS WITH THE HORNECK FAMILY—THE TRAVELER OF TWENTY AND THE + TRAVELER OF FORTY—HICKEY, THE SPECIAL ATTORNEY—AN UNLUCKY + EXPLOIT + </p> + <p> + The Deserted Village had shed an additional poetic grace round the homely + person of the author; he was becoming more and more acceptable in ladies’ + eyes, and finding himself more and more at ease in their society; at least + in the society of those whom he met in the Reynolds circle, among whom he + particularly affected the beautiful family of the Hornecks. + </p> + <p> + But let us see what were really the looks and manners of Goldsmith about + this time, and what right he had to aspire to ladies’ smiles; and in + so doing let us not take the sketches of Boswell and his compeers, who had + a propensity to represent him in caricature; but let us take the + apparently truthful and discriminating picture of him as he appeared to + Judge Day, when the latter was a student in the Temple. + </p> + <p> + “In person,” says the judge, “he was short; about five + feet five or six inches; strong, but not heavy in make; rather fair in + complexion, with brown hair; such, at least, as could be distinguished + from his wig. His features were plain, but not repulsive—certainly + not so when lighted up by conversation. His manners were simple, natural, + and perhaps on the whole, we may say, not polished; at least without the + refinement and good-breeding which the exquisite polish of his + compositions would lead us to expect. He was always cheerful and animated, + often, indeed, boisterous in his mirth; entered with spirit into convivial + society; contributed largely to its enjoyments by solidity of information, + and the naïvete and originality of his character; talked often without + premeditation, and laughed loudly without restraint.” + </p> + <p> + This, it will be recollected, represents him as he appeared to a young + Templar, who probably saw him only in Temple coffee-houses, at students’ + quarters, or at the jovial supper parties given at the poet’s own + chambers; here, of course, his mind was in its rough dress; his laugh may + have been loud and his mirth boisterous; but we trust all these matters + became softened and modified when he found himself in polite drawing-rooms + and in female society. + </p> + <p> + But what say the ladies themselves of him; and here, fortunately, we have + another sketch of him, as he appeared at the time to one of the Horneck + circle; in fact, we believe, to the Jessamy Bride herself. After + admitting, apparently with some reluctance, that “he was a very + plain man,” she goes on to say, “but had he been much more so, + it was impossible not to love and respect his goodness of heart, which + broke out on every occasion. His benevolence was unquestionable, and <i>his + countenance bore every trace of it</i>: no one that knew him intimately + could avoid admiring and loving his good qualities.” When to all + this we add the idea of intellectual delicacy and refinement associated + with him by his poetry and the newly plucked bays that were flourishing + round his brow, we cannot be surprised that fine and fashionable ladies + should be proud of his attentions, and that even a young beauty should not + be altogether displeased with the thoughts of having a man of his genius + in her chains. + </p> + <p> + We are led to indulge some notions of the kind from finding him in the + month of July, but a few weeks after the publication of the Deserted + Village, setting off on a six weeks’ excursion to Paris, in company + with Mrs. Horneck and her two beautiful daughters. A day or two before his + departure we find another new gala suit charged to him on the books of Mr. + William Filby. Were the bright eyes of the Jessamy Bride responsible for + this additional extravagance of wardrobe? Goldsmith had recently been + editing the works of Parnell; had he taken courage from the example of + Edwin in the fairy tale?— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Yet spite of all that nature did + To make his uncouth form forbid, + This creature dared to love. + He felt the force of Edith’s eyes, + Nor wanted hope to gain the prize + <i>Could ladies look within—</i>” + </pre> + <p> + All this we throw out as mere hints and surmises, leaving it to our + readers to draw their own conclusions. It will be found, however, that the + poet was subjected to shrewd bantering among his contemporaries about the + beautiful Mary Horneck, and that he was extremely sensitive on the + subject. + </p> + <p> + It was in the month of June that he set out for Paris with his fair + companions, and the following letter was written by him to Sir Joshua + Reynolds, soon after the party landed at Calais: + </p> + <p> + “MY DEAR FRIEND—We had a very quick passage from Dover to + Calais, which we performed in three hours and twenty minutes, all of us + extremely seasick, which must necessarily have happened, as my machine to + prevent seasickness was not completed. We were glad to leave Dover, + because we hated to be imposed upon; so were in high spirits at coming to + Calais, where we were told that a little money would go a great way. + </p> + <p> + “Upon landing, with two little trunks, which was all we carried with + us, we were surprised to see fourteen or fifteen fellows all running down + to the ship to lay their hands upon them; four got under each trunk, the + rest surrounded and held the hasps; and in this manner our little baggage + was conducted, with a kind of funeral solemnity, till it was safely lodged + at the custom-house. We were well enough pleased with the people’s + civility till they came to be paid; every creature that had the happiness + of but touching our trunks with their finger expected sixpence; and they + had so pretty and civil a manner of demanding it that there was no + refusing them. + </p> + <p> + “When we had done with the porters, we had next to speak with the + custom-house officers, who had their pretty civil ways too. We were + directed to the Hotel d’Angleterre, where a valet-de-place came to + offer his service, and spoke to me ten minutes before I once found out + that he was speaking English. We had no occasion for his services, so we + gave him a little money because he spoke English, and because he wanted + it. I cannot help mentioning another circumstance: I bought a new ribbon + for my wig at Canterbury, and the barber at Calais broke it in order to + gain sixpence by buying me a new one.” + </p> + <p> + An incident which occurred in the course of this tour has been tortured by + that literary magpie, Boswell, into a proof of Goldsmith’s absurd + jealousy of any admiration shown to others in his presence. While stopping + at a hotel in Lisle, they were drawn to the windows by a military parade + in front. The extreme beauty of the Misses Horneck immediately attracted + the attention of the officers, who broke forth with enthusiastic speeches + and compliments intended for their ears. Goldsmith was amused for a while, + but at length affected impatience at this exclusive admiration of his + beautiful companions, and exclaimed, with mock severity of aspect, “Elsewhere + I also would have my admirers.” + </p> + <p> + It is difficult to conceive the obtuseness of intellect necessary to + misconstrue so obvious a piece of mock petulance and dry humor into an + instance of mortified vanity and jealous self-conceit. + </p> + <p> + Goldsmith jealous of the admiration of a group of gay officers for the + charms of two beautiful young women! This even out-Boswells Boswell; yet + this is but one of several similar absurdities, evidently misconceptions + of Goldsmith’s peculiar vein of humor, by which the charge of + envious jealousy has been attempted to be fixed upon him. In the present + instance it was contradicted by one of the ladies herself, who was annoyed + that it had been advanced against him. “I am sure,” said she, + “from the peculiar manner of his humor, and assumed frown of + countenance, what was often uttered in jest was mistaken, by those who did + not know him, for earnest.” No one was more prone to err on this + point than Boswell. He had a tolerable perception of wit, but none of + humor. + </p> + <p> + The following letter to Sir Joshua Reynolds was subsequently written: + </p> + <p> + “To <i>Sir Joshua Reynolds</i>. + </p> + <p> + “PARIS, <i>July 29 (1770)</i>. + </p> + <p> + “MY DEAR FRIEND—I began a long letter to you from Lisle, + giving a description of all that we had done and seen, but, finding it + very dull, and knowing that you would show it again, I threw it aside and + it was lost. You see by the top of this letter that we are at Paris, and + (as I have often heard you say) we have brought our own amusement with us, + for the ladies do not seem to be very fond of what we have yet seen. + </p> + <p> + “With regard to myself, I find that traveling at twenty and forty + are very different things. I set out with all my confirmed habits about + me, and can find nothing on the Continent so good as when I formerly left + it. One of our chief amusements here is scolding at everything we meet + with, and praising everything and every person we left at home. You may + judge, therefore, whether your name is not frequently bandied at table + among us. To tell you the truth, I never thought I could regret your + absence so much as our various mortifications on the road have often + taught me to do. I could tell you of disasters and adventures without + number; of our lying in barns, and of my being half poisoned with a dish + of green peas; of our quarreling with postilions, and being cheated by our + landladies; but I reserve all this for a happy hour which I expect to + share with you upon my return. + </p> + <p> + “I have little to tell you more but that we are at present all well, + and expect returning when we have stayed out one month, which I did not + care if it were over this very day. I long to hear from you all, how you + yourself do, how Johnson, Burke, Dyer, Chamier, Colman, and every one of + the club do. I wish I could send you some amusement in this letter, but I + protest I am so stupefied by the air of this country (for I am sure it + cannot be natural) that I have not a word to say. I have been thinking of + the plot of a comedy, which shall be entitled A Journey to Paris, in which + a family shall be introduced with a full intention of going to France to + save money. You know there is not a place in the world more promising for + that purpose. As for the meat of this country, I can scarce eat it; and, + though we pay two good shillings a head for our dinner, I find it all so + tough that I have spent less time with my knife than my picktooth. I said + this as a good thing at the table, but it was not understood. I believe it + to be a good thing. + </p> + <p> + “As for our intended journey to Devonshire, I find it out of my + power to perform it; for, as soon as I arrive at Dover, I intend to let + the ladies go on, and I will take a country lodging somewhere near that + place in order to do some business. I have so outrun the constable that I + must mortify a little to bring it up again. For God’s sake, the + night you receive this, take your pen in your hand and tell me something + about yourself and myself, if you know anything that has happened. About + Miss Reynolds, about Mr. Bickerstaff, my nephew, or anybody that you + regard. I beg you will send to Griffin the bookseller to know if there be + any letters left for me, and be so good as to send them to me at Paris. + They may perhaps be left for me at the Porter’s Lodge, opposite the + pump in Temple Lane. The same messenger will do. I expect one from Lord + Clare, from Ireland. As for the others, I am not much uneasy about. + </p> + <p> + “Is there anything I can do for you at Paris? I wish you would tell + me. The whole of my own purchases here is one silk coat, which I have put + on, and which makes me look like a fool. But no more of that. I find that + Colman has gained his lawsuit. I am glad of it. I suppose you often meet. + I will soon be among you, better pleased with my situation at home than I + ever was before. And yet I must say that, if anything could make France + pleasant, the very good women with whom I am at present would certainly do + it. I could say more about that, but I intend showing them the letter + before I send it away. What signifies teasing you longer with moral + observations, when the business of my writing is over? I have one thing + only more to say, and of that I think every hour in the day; namely, that + I am your most sincere and most affectionate friend, + </p> + <h3> + “OLIVER GOLDSMITH. + </h3> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Direct to me at the Hotel de Danemarc, + Rue Jacob, Fauxbourg St. Germains.” + </pre> + <p> + A word of comment on this letter: + </p> + <p> + Traveling is, indeed, a very different thing with Goldsmith the poor + student at twenty, and Goldsmith the poet and professor at forty. At + twenty, though obliged to trudge on foot from town to town, and country to + country, paying for a supper and a bed by a tune on the flute, everything + pleased, everything was good; a truckle bed in a garret was a conch of + down, and the homely fare of the peasant a feast fit for an epicure. Now, + at forty, when he posts through the country in a carriage, with fair + ladies by his side, everything goes wrong: he has to quarrel with + postilions, he is cheated by landladies, the hotels are barns, the meat is + too tough to be eaten, and he is half poisoned by green peas! A line hi + his letter explains the secret: “The ladies do not seem to be very + fond of what we have yet seen.” “One of our chief amusements + is scolding at everything we meet with, and praising everything and every + person we have left at home!” the true English traveling amusement. + Poor Goldsmith! he has “all his <i>confirmed</i> habits about him”; + that is to say, he has recently risen into high life, and acquired + highbred notions; he must be fastidious like his fellow-travelers; he dare + not be pleased with what pleased the vulgar tastes of his youth. He is + unconsciously illustrating the trait so humorously satirized by him in + Bill Tibbs, the shabby beau, who can find “no such dressing as he + had at Lord Crump’s or Lady Crimp’s”; whose very senses + have grown genteel, and who no longer “smacks at wretched wine or + praises detestable custard.” A lurking thorn, too, is worrying him + throughout this tour; he has “outrun the constable”; that is + to say, his expenses have outrun his means, and he will have to make up + for this butterfly flight by toiling like a grub on his return. + </p> + <p> + Another circumstance contributes to mar the pleasure he had promised + himself in this excursion. At Paris the party is unexpectedly joined by a + Mr. Hickey, a bustling attorney, who is well acquainted with that + metropolis and its environs, and insists on playing the cicerone on all + occasions. He and Goldsmith do not relish each other, and they have + several petty altercations. The lawyer is too much a man of business and + method for the careless poet, and is disposed to manage everything. He has + perceived Goldsmith’s whimsical peculiarities without properly + appreciating his merits, and is prone to indulge in broad bantering and + raillery at his expense, particularly irksome if indulged in presence of + the ladies. He makes himself merry on his return to England, by giving the + following anecdote as illustrative of Goldsmith’s vanity: + </p> + <p> + “Being with a party at Versailles, viewing the waterworks, a + question arose among the gentlemen present, whether the distance from + whence they stood to one of the little islands was within the compass of a + leap. Goldsmith maintained the affirmative; but, being bantered on the + subject, and remembering his former prowess as a youth, attempted the + leap, but, falling short, descended into the water, to the great amusement + of the company.” + </p> + <p> + Was the Jessamy Bride a witness of this unlucky exploit? + </p> + <p> + This same Hickey is the one of whom Goldsmith, some time subsequently, + gave a good-humored sketch in his poem of The Retaliation. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Here Hickey reclines, a most blunt, pleasant creature, + And slander itself must allow him good nature; + He cherish’d his friend, and he relish’d a bumper, + Yet one fault he had, and that one was a thumper. + Perhaps you may ask if the man was a miser; + I answer No, no, for he always was wiser; + Too courteous, perhaps, or obligingly 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, not + Then what was his failing? Come, tell it, and burn ye— + He was, could he help it? a special attorney.” + </pre> + <p> + One of the few remarks extant made by Goldsmith during his tour is the + following, of whimsical import, in his Animated Nature. + </p> + <p> + “In going through the towns of France, some time since, I could not + help observing how much plainer their parrots spoke than ours, and how + very distinctly I understood their parrots speak French, when I could not + understand our own, though they spoke my native language. I at first + ascribed it to the different qualities of the two languages, and was for + entering into an elaborate discussion on the vowels and consonants; but a + friend that was with me solved the difficulty at once, by assuring me that + the French women scarce did anything else the whole day than sit and + instruct their feathered pupils; and that the birds were thus distinct in + their lessons in consequence of continual schooling.” + </p> + <p> + His tour does not seem to have left in his memory the most fragrant + recollections; for, being asked, after his return, whether traveling on + the Continent repaid “an Englishman for the privations and + annoyances attendant on it,” he replied, “I recommend it by + all means to the sick, if they are without the sense of <i>smelling</i>, + and to the poor, if they are without the sense of <i>feeling</i>; and to + both, if they can discharge from their minds all idea of what in England + we term comfort.” + </p> + <p> + It is needless to say that the universal improvement in the art of living + on the Continent has at the present day taken away the force of Goldsmith’s + reply, though even at the time it was more humorous than correct. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0030" id="link2HCH0030"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER THIRTY + </h2> + <p> + DEATH OF GOLDSMITH’S MOTHER—BIOGRAPHY OF PARNELL—AGREEMENT + WITH DAVIES FOR THE HISTORY OF ROME—LIFE OP BOLINGBROKE—THE + HAUNCH OF VENISON + </p> + <p> + On his return to England, Goldsmith received the melancholy tidings of the + death of his mother. Notwithstanding the fame as an author to which he had + attained, she seems to have been disappointed in her early expectations + from him. Like others of his family, she had been more vexed by his early + follies than pleased by his proofs of genius; and in subsequent years, + when he had risen to fame and to intercourse with the great, had been + annoyed at the ignorance of the world and want of management, which + prevented him from pushing his fortune. He had always, however, been an + affectionate son, and in the latter years of her life, when she had become + blind, contributed from his precarious resources to prevent her from + feeling want. + </p> + <p> + He now resumed the labors of the pen, which his recent excursion to Paris + rendered doubly necessary. We should have mentioned a Life of Parnell, + published by him shortly after the Deserted Village. It was, as usual, a + piece of job work, hastily got up for pocket-money. Johnson spoke + slightingly of it, and the author, himself, thought proper to apologize + for its meagerness; yet, in so doing, used a simile which for beauty of + imagery and felicity of language is enough of itself to stamp a value upon + the essay. + </p> + <p> + “Such,” says he, “is the very unpoetical detail of the + life of a poet. Some dates and some few facts, scarcely more interesting + than those that make the ornaments of a country tombstone, are all that + remain of one whose labors now begin to excite universal curiosity. A + poet, while living, is seldom an object sufficiently great to attract much + attention; his real merits are known but to a few, and these are generally + sparing in their praises. When his fame is increased by time, it is then + too late to investigate the peculiarities of his disposition; <i>the dews + of morning are past, and we vainly try to continue the chase by the + meridian splendor</i>.” + </p> + <p> + He now entered into an agreement with Davies to prepare an abridgment, in + one volume duodecimo, of his History of Rome; but first to write a work + for which there was a more immediate demand. Davies was about to republish + Lord Bolingbroke’s Dissertation on Parties, which he conceived would + be exceedingly applicable to the affairs of the day, and make a probable + <i>hit</i> during the existing state of violent political excitement; to + give it still greater effect and currency he engaged Goldsmith to + introduce it with a prefatory life of Lord Bolingbroke. + </p> + <p> + About this time Goldsmith’s friend and countryman, Lord Clare, was + in great affliction, caused by the death of his only son, Colonel Nugent, + and stood in need of the sympathies of a kind-hearted friend. At his + request, therefore, Goldsmith paid him a visit at his noble seat of + Gosford, taking his tasks with him. Davies was in a worry lest Gosford + Park should prove a Capua to the poet, and the time be lost. “Dr. + Goldsmith,” writes he to a friend, “has gone with Lord Clare + into the country, and I am plagued to get the proofs from him of the Life + of Lord Bolingbroke.” The proofs, however, were furnished in time + for the publication of the work in December. The Biography, though written + during a time of political turmoil, and introducing a work intended to be + thrown into the arena of politics, maintained that freedom from party + prejudice observable in all the writings of Goldsmith. It was a selection + of facts drawn from many unreadable sources, and arranged into a clear, + flowing narrative, illustrative of the career and character of one who, as + he intimates, “seemed formed by nature to take delight in struggling + with opposition; whose most agreeable hours were passed in storms of his + own creating; whose life was spent in a continual conflict of politics, + and as if that was too short for the combat, has left his memory as a + subject of lasting contention.” The sum received by the author for + this memoir is supposed, from circumstances, to have been forty pounds. + </p> + <p> + Goldsmith did not find the residence among the great unattended with + mortifications. He had now become accustomed to be regarded in London as a + literary lion, and was annoyed at what he considered a slight on the part + of Lord Camden. He complained of it on his return to town at a party of + his friends. “I met him,” said he, “at Lord Clare’s + house in the country; and he took no more notice of me than if I had been + an ordinary man.” “The company,” says Boswell, “laughed + heartily at this piece of ‘diverting simplicity.’” And + foremost among the laughters was doubtless the rattle-pated Boswell. + Johnson, however, stepped forward, as usual, to defend the poet, whom he + would allow no one to assail but himself; perhaps in the present instance + he thought the dignity of literature itself involved in the question. + “Nay, gentlemen,” roared he, “Dr. Goldsmith is in the + right. A nobleman ought to have made up to such a man as Goldsmith, and I + think it is much against Lord Camden that he neglected him.” + </p> + <p> + After Goldsmith’s return to town he received from Lord Clare a + present of game, which he has celebrated and perpetuated in his amusing + verses entitled the Haunch of Venison. Some of the lines pleasantly set + forth the embarrassment caused by the appearance of such an aristocratic + delicacy in the humble kitchen of a poet, accustomed to look up to mutton + as a treat: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Thanks, my lord, for your venison; for finer or fatter + Never rang’d in a forest, or smok’d in a platter: + The haunch was a picture for painters to study, + The fat was so white, and the lean was so ruddy; + Though my stomach was sharp, I could scarce help regretting, + To spoil such a delicate picture by eating: + I had thought in my chambers to place it in view, + To be shown to my friends as a piece of virtu; + As in some Irish houses where things are so-so, + One gammon of bacon hangs up for a show; + But, for eating a rasher, of what they take pride in, + They’d as soon think of eating the pan it was fry’d in. + + * * * * * * * + + “But hang it—to poets, who seldom can eat, + Your very good mutton’s a very good treat; + Such dainties to them, their health it might hurt; + <i>It’s like sending them ruffles, when wanting a shirt.</i>” + </pre> + <p> + We have an amusing anecdote of one of Goldsmith’s blunders which + took place on a subsequent visit to Lord Clare’s, when that nobleman + was residing in Bath. + </p> + <p> + Lord Clare and the Duke of Northumberland had houses next to each other, + of similar architecture. Returning home one morning from an early walk, + Goldsmith, in one of his frequent fits of absence, mistook the house, and + walked up into the duke’s dining-room, where he and the duchess were + about to sit down to breakfast. Goldsmith, still supposing himself in the + house of Lord Clare, and that they were visitors, made them an easy + salutation, being acquainted with, them, and threw himself on a sofa in + the lounging manner of a man perfectly at home. The duke and duchess soon + perceived his mistake, and, while they smiled internally, endeavored, with + the considerateness of well-bred people, to prevent any awkward + embarrassment. They accordingly chatted sociably with him about matters in + Bath, until, breakfast being served, they invited him to partake. The + truth at once flashed upon poor heedless Goldsmith; he started up from the + free-and-easy position, made a confused apology for his blunder, and would + have retired perfectly disconcerted, had not the duke and duchess treated + the whole as a lucky occurrence to throw him in their way, and exacted a + promise from him to dine with them. + </p> + <p> + This may be hung up as a companion-piece to his blunder on his first visit + to Northumberland House. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0031" id="link2HCH0031"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE + </h2> + <p> + DINNER AT THE ROYAL ACADEMY—THE ROWLEY CONTROVERSY—HORACE + WALPOLE’S CONDUCT TO CHATTERTON—JOHNSON AT REDCLIFFE CHURCH—GOLDSMITH’S + HISTORY OF ENGLAND—DAVIES’ CRITICISM—LETTER TO BENNET + LANGTON + </p> + <p> + On St. George’s day of this year (1771), the first annual banquet of + the Royal Academy was held in the exhibition room; the walls of which were + covered with works of art, about to be submitted to public inspection. Sir + Joshua Reynolds, who first suggested this elegant festival, presided in + his official character; Drs. Johnson and Goldsmith, of course, were + present, as professors of the academy; and, besides the academicians, + there was a large number of the most distinguished men of the day as + guests. Goldsmith on this occasion drew on himself the attention of the + company by launching out with enthusiasm on the poems recently given to + the world by Chatterton as the works of an ancient author by the name of + Rowley, discovered in the tower of Redcliffe Church, at Bristol. Goldsmith + spoke of them with rapture, as a treasure of old English poetry. This + immediately raised the question of their authenticity; they having been + pronounced a forgery of Chatterton’s. Goldsmith was warm for their + being genuine. When he considered, he said, the merit of the poetry; the + acquaintance with life and the human heart displayed in them, the antique + quaintness of the language and the familiar knowledge of historical events + of their supposed day, he could not believe it possible they could be the + work of a boy of sixteen, of narrow education, and confined to the duties + of an attorney’s office. They must be the productions of Rowley. + </p> + <p> + Johnson, who was a stout unbeliever in Rowley, as he had been in Ossian, + rolled in his chair and laughed at the enthusiasm of Goldsmith. Horace + Walpole, who sat near by, joined in the laugh and jeer as soon as he found + that the “<i>trouvaille</i>,” as he called it, “of <i>his + friend</i> Chatterton” was in question. This matter, which had + excited the simple admiration of Goldsmith, was no novelty to him, he + said. “He might, had he pleased, have had the honor of ushering the + great discovery to the learned world.” And so he might, had he + followed his first impulse in the matter, for he himself had been an + original believer; had pronounced some specimen verses sent to him by + Chatterton wonderful for their harmony and spirit; and had been ready to + print them and publish them to the world with his sanction. When he found, + however, that his unknown correspondent was a mere boy, humble in sphere + and indigent in circumstances, and when Gray and Mason pronounced the + poems forgeries, he had changed his whole conduct toward the unfortunate + author, and by his neglect and coldness had dashed all his sanguine hopes + to the ground. + </p> + <p> + Exulting in his superior discernment, this cold-hearted man of society now + went on to divert himself, as he says, with the credulity of Goldsmith, + whom he was accustomed to pronounce “an inspired idiot”; but + his mirth was soon dashed, for on asking the poet what had become of this + Chatterton, he was answered, doubtless in the feeling tone of one who had + experienced the pangs of despondent genius, that “he had been to + London and had destroyed himself.” + </p> + <p> + The reply struck a pang of self-reproach even to the cold heart of + Walpole; a faint blush may have visited his cheek at his recent levity. + “The persons of honor and veracity who were present,” said he + in after years, when he found it necessary to exculpate himself from the + charge of heartless neglect of genius, “will attest with what + surprise and concern. I thus first heard of his death.” Well might + he feel concern. His cold neglect had doubtless contributed to madden the + spirit of that youthful genius, and hurry him toward his untimely end; nor + have all the excuses and palliations of Walpole’s friends and + admirers been ever able entirely to clear this stigma from his fame. + </p> + <p> + But what was there in the enthusiasm and credulity of honest Goldsmith in + this matter to subject him to the laugh of Johnson or the raillery of + Walpole? Granting the poems were not ancient, were they not good? Granting + they were not the productions of Rowley, were they the less admirable for + being the productions of Chatterton? Johnson himself testified to their + merits and the genius of their composer when, some years afterward, he + visited the tower of Redcliffe Church, and was shown the coffer in which + poor Chatterton had pretended to find them. “This,” said he, + “is the most extraordinary young man that has encountered my + knowledge. <i>It is wonderful how the whelp has written such things</i>.” + </p> + <p> + As to Goldsmith, he persisted in his credulity, and had subsequently a + dispute with Dr. Percy on the subject, which interrupted and almost + destroyed their friendship. After all, his enthusiasm was of a generous, + poetic kind; the poems remain beautiful monuments of genius, and it is + even now difficult to persuade one’s self that they could be + entirely the productions of a youth of sixteen. + </p> + <p> + In the month of August was published anonymously the History of England, + on which Goldsmith had been for some time employed. It was in four + volumes, compiled chiefly, as he acknowledged in the preface, from Rapin, + Carle, Smollett and Hume, “each of whom,” says he, “have + their admirers, in proportion as the reader is studious of political + antiquities, fond of minute anecdote, a warm partisan, or a deliberate + reasoner.” It possessed the same kind of merit as his other + historical compilations; a clear, succinct narrative, a simple, easy, and + graceful style, and an agreeable arrangement of facts; but was not + remarkable for either depth of observation or minute accuracy of research. + Many passages were transferred, with little if any alteration, from his + Letters from a Nobleman to his Son on the same subject. The work, though + written without party feeling, met with sharp animadversions from + political scribblers. The writer was charged with being unfriendly to + liberty, disposed to elevate monarchy above its proper sphere; a tool of + ministers; one who would betray his country for a pension. Tom Davies, the + publisher, the pompous little bibliopole of Russell Street, alarmed lest + the book should prove unsalable, undertook to protect it by his pen, and + wrote a long article in its defense in “The Public Advertiser.” + He was vain of his critical effusion, and sought by nods and winks and + innuendoes to intimate his authorship. “Have you seen,” said + he in a letter to a friend, “‘An Impartial Account of + Goldsmith’s History of England’? If you want to know who was + the writer of it, you will find him in Russell Street—<i>but mum</i>!” + </p> + <p> + The history, on the whole, however, was well received; some of the critics + declared that English history had never before been so usefully, so + elegantly, and agreeably epitomized, “and, like his other historical + writings, it has kept its ground” in English literature. + </p> + <p> + Goldsmith had intended this summer, in company with Sir Joshua Reynolds, + to pay a visit to Bennet Langton, at his seat in Lincolnshire, where he + was settled in domestic life, having the year previously married the + Countess Dowager of Rothes. The following letter, however, dated from his + chambers in the Temple, on the 7th of September, apologizes for putting + off the visit, while it gives an amusing account of his summer occupations + and of the attacks of the critics on his History of England: + </p> + <p> + “MY DEAR SIR—Since I had the pleasure of seeing you last, I + have been almost wholly in the country, at a farmer’s house, quite + alone, trying to write a comedy. It is now finished; but when or how it + will be acted, or whether it will be acted at all, are questions I cannot + resolve. I am therefore so much employed upon that, that I am under the + necessity of putting off my intended visit to Lincolnshire for this + season. Reynolds is just returned from Paris, and finds himself now in the + case of a truant that must make up for his idle time by diligence. We have + therefore agreed to postpone our journey till next summer, when we hope to + have the honor of waiting upon Lady Rothes and you, and staying double the + time of our late intended visit. We often meet, and never without + remembering you. I see Mr. Beauclerc very often both in town and country. + He is now going directly forward to become a second Boyle; deep in + chemistry and physics. Johnson has been down on a visit to a country + parson, Dr. Taylor; and is returned to his old haunts at Mrs. Thrale’s. + Burke is a farmer, <i>en attendant</i> a better place; but visiting about + too. Every soul is visiting about and merry but myself. And that is hard + too, as I have been trying these three months to do something to make + people laugh. There have I been strolling about the hedges, studying jests + with a most tragical countenance. The Natural History is about half + finished, and I will shortly finish the rest. God knows I am tired of this + kind of finishing, which is but bungling work; and that not so much my + fault as the fault of my scurvy circumstances. They begin to talk in town + of the Opposition’s gaining ground; the cry of liberty is still as + loud as ever. I have published, or Davies has published for me, an ‘Abridgment + of the History of England,’ for which I have been a good deal abused + in the newspapers, for betraying the liberties of the people. God knows I + had no thought for or against liberty in my head; my whole aim being to + make up a book of a decent size, that, as ‘Squire Richard says, <i>would + do no harm to nobody</i>. However, they set me down as an arrant Tory, and + consequently an honest man. When you come to look at any part of it, you’ll + say that I am a sore Whig. God bless you, and with my most respectful + compliments to her ladyship, I remain, dear sir, your most affectionate + humble servant, + </p> + <h3> + “OLIVER GOLDSMITH.” + </h3> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0032" id="link2HCH0032"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO + </h2> + <p> + MARRIAGE OF LITTLE COMEDY—GOLDSMITH AT BARTON—PRACTICAL JOKES + AT THE EXPENSE OF HIS TOILET—AMUSEMENTS AT BARTON—AQUATIC + MISADVENTURE + </p> + <p> + Though Goldsmith found it impossible to break from his literary + occupations to visit Bennet Langton, in Lincolnshire, he soon yielded to + attractions from another quarter, in which somewhat of sentiment may have + mingled. Miss Catharine Horneck, one of his beautiful fellow-travelers, + otherwise called “Little Comedy,” had been married in August + to Henry William Bunbury, Esq., a gentleman of fortune, who has become + celebrated for the humorous productions of his pencil. Goldsmith was + shortly afterward invited to pay the newly married couple a visit at their + seat, at Barton, in Suffolk. How could he resist such an invitation—especially + as the Jessamy Bride would, of course, be among the guests? It is true, he + was hampered with work; he was still more hampered with debt; his accounts + with Newbery were perplexed; but all must give way. New advances are + procured from Newbery, on the promise of a new tale in the style of the + Vicar of Wakefield, of which he showed him a few roughly-sketched + chapters; so, his purse replenished in the old way, “by hook or by + crook,” he posted off to visit the bride at Barton. He found there a + joyous household, and one where he was welcomed with affection. Garrick + was there, and played the part of master of the revels, for he was an + intimate friend of the master of the house. Notwithstanding early + misunderstandings, a social intercourse between the actor and the poet had + grown up of late, from meeting together continually in the same circle. A + few particulars have reached us concerning Goldsmith while on this happy + visit. We believe the legend has come down from Miss Mary Horneck herself. + “While at Barton,” she says, “his manners were always + playful and amusing, taking the lead in promoting any scheme of innocent + mirth, and usually prefacing the invitation with ‘Come, now, let us + play the fool a little.’ At cards, which was commonly a round game, + and the stake small, he was always the most noisy, affected great + eagerness to win, and teased his opponents of the gentler sex with + continual jest and banter on their want of spirit in not risking the + hazards of the game. But one of his most favorite enjoyments was to romp + with the children, when he threw off all reserve, and seemed one of the + most joyous of the group. + </p> + <p> + “One of the means by which he amused us was his songs, chiefly of + the comic kind, which were sung with some taste and humor; several, I + believe, were of his own composition, and I regret that I neither have + copies, which might have been readily procured from him at the time, nor + do I remember their names.” + </p> + <p> + His perfect good humor made him the object of tricks of all kinds; often + in retaliation of some prank which he himself had played off. Unluckily + these tricks were sometimes made at the expense of his toilet, which, with + a view peradventure to please the eye of a certain fair lady, he had again + enriched to the impoverishment of his purse. “Being at all times gay + in his dress,” says this ladylike legend, “he made his + appearance at the breakfast-table in a smart black silk coat with an + expensive pair of ruffles; the coat some one contrived to soil, and it was + sent to be cleansed; but, either by accident, or probably by design, the + day after it came home, the sleeves became daubed with paint, which was + not discovered until the ruffles also, to his great mortification, were + irretrievably disfigured. + </p> + <p> + “He always wore a wig, a peculiarity which those who judge of his + appearance only from the fine poetical head of Reynolds would not suspect; + and on one occasion some person contrived seriously to injure this + important adjunct to dress. It was the only one he had in the country, and + the misfortune seemed 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.” + </p> + <p> + This was wicked waggery, especially when it was directed to mar all the + attempts of the unfortunate poet to improve his personal appearance, about + which he was at all times dubiously sensitive, and particularly when among + the ladies. + </p> + <p> + We have in a former chapter recorded his unlucky tumble into a fountain at + Versailles, when attempting a feat of agility in presence of the fair + Hornecks. Water was destined to be equally baneful to him on the present + occasion. “Some difference of opinion,” says the fair + narrator, “having arisen with Lord Harrington respecting the depth + of a pond, the poet remarked that it was not so deep, but that, if + anything valuable was to be found at the bottom, he would not hesitate to + pick it up. His lordship, after some banter, threw in a guinea; Goldsmith, + not to be outdone in this kind of bravado, in attempting to fulfill his + promise without getting wet, accidentally fell in, to the amusement of all + present, but persevered, brought out the money, and kept it, remarking + that he had abundant objects on whom to bestow any further proofs of his + lordship’s whim or bounty.” + </p> + <p> + All this is recorded by the beautiful Mary Horneck, the Jessamy Bride + herself; but while she gives these amusing pictures of poor Goldsmith’s + eccentricities, and of the mischievous pranks played off upon him, she + bears unqualified testimony, which we have quoted elsewhere, to the + qualities of his head and heart, which shone forth, in his countenance, + and gained him the love of all who knew him. + </p> + <p> + Among the circumstances of this visit vaguely called to mind by this fair + lady in after years, was that Goldsmith read to her and her sister the + first part of a novel which he had in hand. It was doubtless the + manuscript mentioned at the beginning of this chapter, on which he had + obtained an advance of money from Newbery to stave off some pressing + debts, and to provide funds for this very visit. It never was finished. + The bookseller, when he came afterward to examine the manuscript, objected + to it as a mere narrative version of the Good-Natured Man. Goldsmith, too + easily put out of conceit of his writings, threw it aside, forgetting that + this was the very Newbery who kept his Vicar of Wakefield by him nearly + two years through doubts of its success. The loss of the manuscript is + deeply to be regretted; it doubtless would have been properly wrought up + before given to the press, and might have given us new scenes in life and + traits of character, while it could not fail to bear traces of his + delightful style. What a pity he had not been guided by the opinions of + his fair listeners at Barton, instead of that of the astute Mr. Newbery! + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0033" id="link2HCH0033"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE + </h2> + <p> + DINNER AT GENERAL OGLETHORPE’S—ANECDOTES OF THE GENERAL—DISPUTE + ABOUT DUELING—GHOST STORIES + </p> + <p> + We have mentioned old General Oglethorpe as one of Goldsmith’s + aristocratical acquaintances. This veteran, born in 1698, had commenced + life early, by serving, when a mere stripling, under Prince Eugene, + against the Turks. He had continued in military life, and been promoted to + the rank of major-general in 1745, and received a command during the + Scottish rebellion. Being of strong Jacobite tendencies, he was suspected + and accused of favoring the rebels; and though acquitted by a court of + inquiry, was never afterward employed; or, in technical language, was + shelved. He had since been repeatedly a member of parliament, and had + always distinguished himself by learning, taste, active benevolence, and + high Tory principles. His name, however, has become historical, chiefly + from his transactions in America, and the share he took in the settlement + of the colony of Georgia. It lies embalmed in honorable immortality in a + single line of Pope’s: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “One, driven <i>by strong benevolence of soul</i>, + Shall fly, like Oglethorpe, from pole to pole.” + </pre> + <p> + The veteran was now seventy-four years of age, but healthy and vigorous, + and as much the preux chevalier as in his younger days, when he served + with Prince Eugene. His table was often the gathering-place of men of + talent. Johnson was frequently there, and delighted in drawing from the + general details of his various “experiences.” He was anxious + that he should give the world his life. “I know no man,” said + he, “whose life would be more interesting.” Still the vivacity + of the general’s mind and the variety of his knowledge made him skip + from subject to subject too fast for the lexicographer. “Oglethorpe,” + growled he, “never completes what he has to say.” + </p> + <p> + Boswell gives us an interesting and characteristic account of a dinner + party at the general’s (April 10, 1772), at which Goldsmith and + Johnson were present. After dinner, when the cloth was removed, + Oglethorpe, at Johnson’s request, gave an account of the siege of + Belgrade, in the true veteran style. Pouring a little wine upon the table, + he drew his lines and parallels with a wet finger, describing the + positions of the opposing forces. “Here were we—here were the + Turks,” to all which Johnson listened with the most earnest + attention, poring over the plans and diagrams with his usual purblind + closeness. + </p> + <p> + In the course of conversation the general gave an anecdote of himself in + early life, when serving under Prince Eugene. Sitting at table once in + company with a prince of Wurtemberg, the latter gave a fillip to a glass + of wine, so as to make some of it fly in Oglethorpe’s face. The + manner in which it was done was somewhat equivocal. How was it to be taken + by the stripling officer? If seriously, he must challenge the prince; but + in so doing he might fix on himself the character of a drawcansir. If + passed over without notice, he might be charged with cowardice. His mind + was made up in an instant. “Prince,” said he, smiling, “that + is an excellent joke; but we do it much better in England.” So + saying, he threw a whole glass of wine in the prince’s face. “Il + a bien fait, mon prince,” cried an old general present, “vouz + l’avez commencé.” (He has done right, my prince; you commenced + it.) The prince had the good sense to acquiesce in the decision of the + veteran, and Oglethorpe’s retort in kind was taken in good part. + </p> + <p> + It was probably at the close of this story that the officious Boswell, + ever anxious to promote conversation for the benefit of his note-book, + started the question whether dueling were consistent with moral duty. The + old general fired up in an instant. “Undoubtedly,” said he, + with a lofty air; “undoubtedly a man has a right to defend his + honor.” Goldsmith immediately carried the war into Boswell’s + own quarters, and pinned him with the question, “what he would do if + affronted?” The pliant Boswell, who for the moment had the fear of + the general rather than of Johnson before his eyes, replied, “he + should think it necessary to fight.” “Why, then, that solves + the question,” replied Goldsmith. “No, sir,” thundered + out Johnson; “it does not follow that what a man would do, is + therefore right.” He, however, subsequently went into a discussion + to show that there were necessities in the case arising out of the + artificial refinement of society, and its proscription of any one who + should put up with an affront without fighting a duel. “He then,” + concluded he, “who fights a duel does not fight from passion against + his antagonist, but out of self-defense, to avert the stigma of the world, + and to prevent himself from being driven out of society. I could wish + there were not that superfluity of refinement; but while such notions + prevail, no doubt a man may lawfully fight a duel.” + </p> + <p> + Another question started was, whether people who disagreed on a capital + point could live together in friendship. Johnson said they might. + Goldsmith said they could not, as they had not the idem velle atque idem + voile—the same liking and aversions. Johnson rejoined that they must + shun the subject on which they disagreed. “But, sir,” said + Goldsmith, “when people live together who have something as to which + they disagree, and which they want to shun, they will be in the situation + mentioned in the story of Blue Beard: ‘you may look into all the + chambers but one’; but we should have the greatest inclination to + look into that chamber, to talk of that subject.” “Sir,” + thundered Johnson, in a loud voice, “I am not saying that <i>you</i> + could live in friendship with a man from whom you differ as to some point; + I am only saying that <i>I</i> could do it.” + </p> + <p> + Who will not say that Goldsmith had not the best of this petty contest? + How just was his remark! how felicitous the illustration of the blue + chamber! how rude and overbearing was the argumentum ad hominem of + Johnson, when he felt that he had the worst of the argument! + </p> + <p> + The conversation turned upon ghosts! General Oglethorpe told the story of + a Colonel Prendergast, an officer in the Duke of Marlborough’s army, + who predicted among his comrades that he should die on a certain day. The + battle of Malplaquet took place on that day. The colonel was in the midst + of it but came out unhurt. The firing had ceased, and his brother officers + jested with him about the fallacy of his prediction. “The day is not + over,” replied he, gravely, “I shall die notwithstanding what + you see.” His words proved true. The order for a cessation of firing + had not reached one of the French batteries, and a random shot from it + killed the colonel on the spot. Among his effects was found a pocketbook + in which he had made a solemn entry, that Sir John Friend, who had been + executed for high treason, had appeared to him, either in a dream or + vision, and predicted that he would meet him on a certain day (the very + day of the battle). Colonel Cecil, who took possession of the effects of + Colonel Prendergast, and read the entry in the pocketbook, told this story + to Pope, the poet, in the presence of General Oglethorpe. + </p> + <p> + This story, as related by the general, appears to have been well received, + if not credited, by both Johnson and Goldsmith, each of whom had something + to relate in kind. Goldsmith’s brother, the clergyman in whom he had + such implicit confidence, had assured him of his having seen an + apparition. Johnson also had a friend, old Mr. Cave, the printer, at St. + John’s Gate, “an honest man, and a sensible man,” who + told him he had seen a ghost: he did not, however, like to talk of it, and + seemed to be in great horror, whenever it was mentioned. “And pray, + sir,” asked Boswell, “what did he say was the appearance?” + “Why, sir, something of a shadowy being.” + </p> + <p> + The reader will not be surprised at this superstitious turn in the + conversation of such intelligent men, when he recollects that, but a few + years before this time, all London had been agitated by the absurd story + of the Cock Lane ghost; a matter which Dr. Johnson had deemed worthy of + his serious investigation, and about which Goldsmith had written a + pamphlet. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0034" id="link2HCH0034"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR + </h2> + <p> + MR. JOSEPH CRADOCK—AN AUTHOR’S CONFIDINGS—AN AMANUENSIS—LIFE + AT EDGEWARE—GOLDSMITH CONJURING—GEORGE COLMAN—THE + FANTOCCINI + </p> + <p> + Among the agreeable acquaintances made by Goldsmith about this time was a + Mr. Joseph Cradock, a young gentleman of Leicestershire, living at his + ease, but disposed to “make himself uneasy,” by meddling with + literature and the theater; in fact, he had a passion for plays and + players, and had come up to town with a modified translation of Voltaire’s + tragedy of Zobeide, in a view to get it acted. There was no great + difficulty in the case, as he was a man of fortune, had letters of + introduction to persons of note, and was altogether in a different + position from the indigent man of genius whom managers might harass with + impunity. Goldsmith met him at the house of Yates, the actor, and finding + that he was a friend of Lord Clare, soon became sociable with him. Mutual + tastes quickened the intimacy, especially as they found means of serving + each other. Goldsmith wrote an epilogue for the tragedy of Zobeide; and + Cradock, who was an amateur musician, arranged the music for the Threnodia + Augustalis, a lament on the death of the Princess Dowager of Wales, the + political mistress and patron of Lord Clare, which Goldsmith had thrown + off hastily to please that nobleman. The tragedy was played with some + success at Covent Garden; the Lament was recited and sung at Mrs. Cornelys’ + rooms—a very fashionable resort in Soho Square, got up by a woman of + enterprise of that name. It was in whimsical parody of those gay and + somewhat promiscuous assemblages that Goldsmith used to call the motley + evening parties at his lodgings “little Cornelys.” + </p> + <p> + The Threnodia Augustalis was not publicly known to be by Goldsmith until + several years after his death. + </p> + <p> + Cradock was one of the few polite intimates who felt more disposed to + sympathize with the generous qualities of the poet than to sport with his + eccentricities. He sought his society whenever he came to town, and + occasionally had him to his seat in the country. Goldsmith appreciated his + sympathy, and unburdened himself to him without reserve. Seeing the + lettered ease in which this amateur author was enabled to live, and the + time he could bestow on the elaboration of a manuscript, “Ah! Mr. + Cradock,” cried he, “think of me that must write a volume + every month!” He complained to him of the attempts made by inferior + writers, and by others who could scarcely come under that denomination, + not only to abuse and depreciate his writings, but to render him + ridiculous as a man; perverting every harmless sentiment and action into + charges of absurdity, malice, or folly. “Sir,” said he, in the + fullness of his heart, “I am as a lion bated by curs!” + </p> + <p> + Another acquaintance which he made about this time, was a young countryman + of the name of M’Donnell, whom he met in a state of destitution, + and, of course, befriended. The following grateful recollections of his + kindness and his merits were furnished by that person in after years: + </p> + <p> + “It was in the year 1772,” writes he, “that the death of + my elder brother—when in London, on my way to Ireland—left me + in a most forlorn situation; I was then about eighteen; I possessed + neither friends nor money, nor the means of getting to Ireland, of which + or of England I knew scarcely anything, from having so long resided in + France. In this situation I had strolled about for two or three days, + considering what to do, but unable to come to any determination, when + Providence directed me to the Temple Gardens. I threw myself on a seat, + and, willing to forget my miseries for a moment, drew out a book; that + book was a volume of Boileau. I had not been there long when a gentleman, + strolling about, passed near me, and observing, perhaps, something Irish + or foreign in my garb or countenance, addressed me: ‘Sir, you seem + studious; I hope you find this a favorable place to pursue it.’ + ‘Not very studious, sir; I fear it is the want of society that + brings me hither; I am solitary and unknown in this metropolis’; and + a passage from Cicero—Oratio pro Archia—occurring to me, I + quoted it; ‘Haec studia pronoctant nobiscum, perigrinantur, + rusticantur.’ ‘You are a scholar, too, sir, I perceive.’ + ‘A piece of one, sir; but I ought still to have been in the college + where I had the good fortune to pick up the little I know.’ A good + deal of conversation ensued; I told him part of my history, and he, in + return, gave his address in the Temple, desiring me to call soon, from + which, to my infinite surprise and gratification, I found that the person + who thus seemed to take an interest in my fate was my countryman, and a + distinguished ornament of letters. + </p> + <p> + “I did not fail to keep the appointment, and was received in the + kindest manner. He told me, smilingly, that he was not rich; that he could + do little for me in direct pecuniary aid, but would endeavor to put me in + the way of doing something for myself; observing, that he could at least + furnish me with advice not wholly useless to a young man placed in the + heart of a great metropolis. ‘In London,’ he continued, + ‘nothing is to be got for nothing; you must work; and no man who + chooses to be industrious need be under obligations to another, for here + labor of every kind commands its reward. If you think proper to assist me + occasionally as amanuensis, I shall be obliged, and you will be placed + under no obligation, until something more permanent can be secured for + you.’ This employment, which I pursued for some time, was to + translate passages from Buffon, which was abridged or altered, according + to circumstances, for his Natural History.” + </p> + <p> + Goldsmith’s literary tasks were fast getting ahead of him, and he + began now to “toil after them in vain.” + </p> + <p> + Five volumes of the Natural History here spoken of had long since been + paid for by Mr. Griffin, yet most of them were still to be written. His + young amanuensis bears testimony to his embarrassments and perplexities, + but to the degree of equanimity with which he bore them: + </p> + <p> + “It has been said,” observes he, “that he was irritable. + Such may have been the case at times; nay, I believe it was so; for what + with the continual pursuit of authors, printers, and booksellers, and + occasional pecuniary embarrassments, few could have avoided exhibiting + similar marks of impatience. But it was never so toward me. I saw him only + in his bland and kind moods, with a flow, perhaps an overflow, of the milk + of human kindness for all who were in any manner dependent upon him. I + looked upon him with awe and veneration, and he upon me as a kind parent + upon a child. + </p> + <p> + “His manner and address exhibited much frankness and cordiality, + particularly to those with whom he possessed any degree of intimacy. His + good-nature was equally apparent. Ton could not dislike the man, although + several of his follies and foibles you might be tempted to condemn. He was + generous and inconsiderate; money with him had little value.” + </p> + <p> + To escape from many of the tormentors just alluded to, and to devote + himself without interruption to his task, Goldsmith took lodgings for the + summer at a farmhouse near the six-mile stone on the Edgeware road, and + carried down his books in two return post-chaises. He used to say he + believed the farmer’s family thought him an odd character, similar + to that in which the “Spectator” appeared to his landlady and + her children: he was “The Gentleman.” Boswell tells us that he + went to visit him at the place in company with Mickle, translator of the + Lusiad. Goldsmith was not at home. Having a curiosity to see his + apartment, however, they went in, and found curious scraps of descriptions + of animals scrawled upon the wall with a black lead pencil. + </p> + <p> + The farmhouse in question is still in existence, though much altered. It + stands upon a gentle eminence in Hyde Lane, commanding a pleasant prospect + toward Hendon. The room is still pointed out in which She Stoops to + Conquer was written; a convenient and airy apartment, up one Sight of + stairs. + </p> + <p> + Some matter-of-fact traditions concerning the author were furnished, a few + years since, by a son of the farmer, who was sixteen years of age at the + time Goldsmith resided with his father. Though he had engaged to board + with the family, his meals were generally sent to him in his room, in + which he passed the most of his time, negligently dressed, with his shirt + collar open, busily engaged in writing. Sometimes, probably when in moods + of composition, he would wander into the kitchen, without noticing any + one, stand musing with his back to the fire, and then hurry off again to + his room, no doubt to commit to paper some thought which had struck him. + </p> + <p> + Sometimes he strolled about the fields, or was to be seen loitering and + reading and musing under the hedges. He was subject to fits of wakefulness + and read much in bed; if not disposed to read, he still kept the candle + burning; if he wished to extinguish it, and it was out of his reach, he + flung his slipper at it, which would be found in the morning near the + overturned candlestick, and daubed with grease. He was noted here, as + everywhere else, for his charitable feelings. No beggar applied to him in + vain, and he evinced on all occasions great commiseration for the poor. + </p> + <p> + He had the use of the parlor to receive and entertain company, and was + visited by Sir Joshua Reynolds, Hugh Boyd, the reputed author of Junius, + Sir William Chambers, and other distinguished characters. He gave + occasionally, though rarely, a dinner party; and on one occasion, when his + guests were detained by a thunder shower, he got up a dance, and carried + the merriment late into the night. + </p> + <p> + As usual, he was the promoter of hilarity among the young, and at one time + took the children of the house to see a company of strolling players at + Hendon. The greatest amusement to the party, however, was derived from his + own jokes on the road and his comments on the performance, which produced + infinite laughter among his youthful companions. + </p> + <p> + Near to his rural retreat at Edgeware, a Mr. Seguin, an Irish merchant, of + literary tastes, had country quarters for his family, where Goldsmith was + always welcome. + </p> + <p> + In this family he would indulge in playful and even grotesque humor, and + was ready for anything—conversation, music, or a game of romps. He + prided himself upon his dancing, and would walk a minuet with Mrs. Seguin, + to the infinite amusement of herself and the children, whose shouts of + laughter he bore with perfect good-humor. He would sing Irish songs, and + the Scotch ballad of Johnny Armstrong. He took the lead in the children’s + sports of blind man’s buff, hunt the slipper, etc., or in their + games at cards, and was the most noisy of the party, affecting to cheat + and to be excessively eager to win; while with children of smaller size he + would turn the hind part of his wig before, and play all kinds of tricks + to amuse them. + </p> + <p> + One word as to his musical skill and his performance on the flute, which + comes up so invariably in all his fireside revels. He really knew nothing + of music scientifically; he had a good ear, and may have played sweetly; + but we are told he could not read a note of music. Roubillac, the + statuary, once played a trick upon him in this respect. He pretended to + score down an air as the poet played it, but put down crotchets and + semi-breves at random. When he had finished, Goldsmith cast his eyes over + it and pronounced it correct! It is possible that his execution in music + was like his style in writing; in sweetness and melody he may have + snatched a grace beyond the reach of art! + </p> + <p> + He was at all times a capital companion for children, and knew how to fall + in with their humors. “I little thought,” said Miss Hawkins, + the woman grown, “what I should have to boast, when Goldsmith taught + me to play Jack and Jill by two bits of paper on his fingers.” He + entertained Mrs. Garrick, we are told, with a whole budget of stories and + songs; delivered the Chimney Sweep with exquisite taste as a solo; and + performed a duet with Garrick of Old Rose and Burn the Bellows. + </p> + <p> + “I was only five years old,” says the late George Colman, + “when Goldsmith one evening, when drinking coffee with my father, + took me on his knee and began to play with me, which amiable act I + returned with a very smart slap in the face; it must have been a tingler, + for I left the marks of my little spiteful paw upon his cheek. This + infantile outrage was followed by summary justice, and I was locked up by + my father in an adjoining room, to undergo solitary imprisonment in the + dark. Here I began to howl and scream most abominably. At length a friend + appeared to extricate me from jeopardy; it was the good-natured doctor + himself, with a lighted candle in his hand, and a smile upon his + countenance, which was still partially red from the effects of my + petulance. I sulked and sobbed, and he fondled and soothed until I began + to brighten. He seized the propitious moment, placed three hats upon the + carpet, and a shilling under each; the shillings, he told me, were + England, France, and Spain. ‘Hey, presto, cockolorum!’ cried + the doctor, and, lo! on uncovering the shillings, they were all found + congregated under one. I was no politician at the time, and therefore + might not have wondered at the sudden revolution which brought England, + France, and Spain all under one crown; but, as I was also no conjurer, it + amazed me beyond measure. From that time, whenever the doctor came to + visit my father, + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “‘I pluck’d his gown to share the good man’s smile’; +</pre> + <p> + a game of romps constantly ensued, and we were always cordial friends and + merry playfellows.” + </p> + <p> + Although Goldsmith made the Edgeware farmhouse his headquarters for the + summer, he would absent himself for weeks at a time on visits to Mr. + Cradock, Lord Clare, and Mr. Langton, at their country-seats. He would + often visit town, also, to dine and partake of the public amusements. On + one occasion he accompanied Edmund Burke to witness a performance of the + Italian Fantoccini or Puppets, in Panton Street; an exhibition which had + hit the caprice of the town, and was in great vogue. The puppets were set + in motion by wires, so well concealed as to be with difficulty detected. + Boswell, with his usual obtuseness with respect to Goldsmith, accuses him + of being jealous of the puppets! “When Burke,” said he, + “praised the dexterity with which one of them tossed a pike, ‘Pshaw,’ + said Goldsmith <i>with some warmth</i>, ‘I can do it better myself.’” + “The same evening,” adds Boswell, “when supping at Burke’s + lodgings, he broke his shin by attempting to exhibit to the company how + much better he could jump over a stick than the puppets.” + </p> + <p> + Goldsmith jealous of puppets! This even passes in absurdity Boswell’s + charge upon him of being jealous of the beauty of the two Misses Horneck. + </p> + <p> + The Panton Street puppets were destined to be a source of further + amusement to the town, and of annoyance to the little autocrat of the + stage. Foote, the Aristophanes of the English drama, who was always on the + alert to turn every subject of popular excitement to account, seeing the + success of the Fantoccini, gave out that he should produce a Primitive + Puppet-show at the Haymarket, to be entitled the Handsome Chambermaid, or + Piety in Pattens: intended to burlesque the <i>sentimental comedy</i> + which Garrick still maintained at Drury Lane. The idea of a play to be + performed in a regular theater by puppets excited the curiosity and talk + of the town. “Will your puppets be as large as life, Mr. Foote?” + demanded a lady of rank. “Oh, no, my lady,” replied Foote, + “<i>not much larger than Garrick</i>.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0035" id="link2HCH0035"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE + </h2> + <p> + BROKEN HEALTH—DISSIPATION AND DEBTS—THE IRISH WIDOW—PRACTICAL + JOKES—SCRUB—A MISQUOTED PUN—MALAGRIDA—GOLDSMITH + PROVED TO BE A FOOL—DISTRESSED BALLAD SINGERS—THE POET AT + RANELAGH + </p> + <p> + Goldsmith returned to town in the autumn (1772), with his health much + disordered. His close fits of sedentary application, during which he in a + manner tied himself to the mast, had laid the seeds of a lurking malady in + his system, and produced a severe illness in the course of the summer. + Town life was not favorable to the health either of body or mind. He could + not resist the siren voice of temptation, which, now that he had become a + notoriety, assailed him on every side. Accordingly we find him launching + away in a career of social dissipation; dining and supping out; at clubs, + at routs, at theaters; he is a guest with Johnson at the Thrales, and an + object of Mrs. Thrale’s lively sallies; he is a lion at Mrs. Vesey’s + and Mrs. Montagu’s, where some of the high-bred blue-stockings + pronounce him a “wild genius,” and others, peradventure, a + “wild Irishman.” In the meantime his pecuniary difficulties + are increasing upon him, conflicting with his proneness to pleasure and + expense, and contributing by the harassment of his mind to the wear and + tear of his constitution. His Animated Nature, though not finished, had + been entirely paid for, and the money spent. The money advanced by Garrick + on Newbery’s note still hangs over him as a debt. The tale on which + Newbery had loaned from two to three hundred pounds previous to the + excursion to Barton has proved a failure. The bookseller is urgent for the + settlement of his complicated account; the perplexed author has nothing to + offer him in liquidation but the copyright of the comedy which he has in + his portfolio; “Though to tell you the truth, Frank,” said he, + “there are great doubts of its success.” The offer was + accepted, and, like bargains wrung from Goldsmith in times of emergency, + turned out a golden speculation to the bookseller. + </p> + <p> + In this way Goldsmith went on “outrunning the constable,” as + he termed it; spending everything in advance; working with an overtasked + head and weary heart to pay for past pleasures and past extravagance, and + at the same time incurring new debts, to perpetuate his struggles and + darken his future prospects. While the excitement of society and the + excitement of composition conspire to keep up a feverishness of the + system, he has incurred an unfortunate habit of quacking himself with + James’ powders, a fashionable panacea of the day. + </p> + <p> + A farce, produced this year by Garrick, and entitled The Irish Widow, + perpetuates the memory of practical jokes played off a year or two + previously upon the alleged vanity of poor, simple-hearted Goldsmith. He + was one evening at the house of his friend Burke, when he was beset by a + tenth muse, an Irish widow and authoress, just arrived from Ireland, full + of brogue and blunders, and poetic fire and rantipole gentility. She was + soliciting subscriptions for her poems; and assailed Goldsmith for his + patronage; the great Goldsmith—her countryman, and of course her + friend. She overpowered him with eulogiums on his own poems, and then read + some of her own, with vehemence of tone and gesture, appealing continually + to the great Goldsmith to know how he relished them. + </p> + <p> + Poor Goldsmith did all that a kind-hearted and gallant gentleman could do + hi such a case; he praised her poems as far as the stomach of his sense + would permit: perhaps a little further; he offered her his subscription, + and it was not until she had retired with many parting compliments to the + great Goldsmith that he pronounced the poetry which had been inflicted on + him execrable. The whole scene had been a hoax got up by Burke for the + amusement of his company, and the Irish widow, so admirably performed, had + been personated by a Mrs. Balfour, a lady of his connection, of great + sprightliness and talent. + </p> + <p> + We see nothing in the story to establish the alleged vanity of Goldsmith, + but we think it tells rather to the disadvantage of Burke; being + unwarrantable under their relations of friendship, and a species of + waggery quite beneath his genius. Croker, in his notes to Boswell, gives + another of these practical jokes perpetrated by Burke at the expense of + Goldsmith’s credulity. It was related to Croker by Colonel O’Moore, + of Cloghan Castle, in Ireland, who was a party concerned. The colonel and + Burke, walking one day through Leicester Square on their way to Sir Joshua + Reynolds’, with whom they were to dine, observed Goldsmith, who was + likewise to be a guest, standing and regarding a crowd which was staring + and shouting at some foreign ladies in the window of a hotel. “Observe + Goldsmith,” said Burke to O’Moore, “and mark what passes + between us at Sir Joshua’s.” They passed on and reached there + before him. Burke received Goldsmith with affected reserve and coldness; + being pressed to explain the reason. “Really,” said he, + “I am ashamed to keep company with a person who could act as you + have just done in the Square.” Goldsmith protested he was ignorant + of what was meant. “Why,” said Burke, “did you not + exclaim as you were looking up at those women, what stupid beasts the + crowd must be for staring with such admiration at those <i>painted + Jezebels</i>, while a man of your talents passed by unnoticed?” + “Surely, surely, my dear friend,” cried Goldsmith, with alarm, + “surely I did not say so?” “Nay,” replied Burke, + “if you had not said so, how should I have known it?” “That’s + true,” answered Goldsmith, “I am very sorry—it was very + foolish: <i>I do recollect that something thing of the kind passed through + my mind, but I did not think I had uttered it</i>.” + </p> + <p> + It is proper to observe that these jokes were played off by Burke before + he had attained the full eminence of his social position, and that he may + have felt privileged to take liberties with Goldsmith as his countryman + and college associate. It is evident, however, that the peculiarities of + the latter, and his guileless simplicity, made him a butt for the broad + waggery of some of his associates; while others more polished, though + equally perfidious, are on the watch to give currency to his bulls and + blunders. + </p> + <p> + The Stratford jubilee, in honor of Shakespeare, where Boswell had made a + fool of himself, was still in every one’s mind. It was sportively + suggested that a fete should be held at Lichfield in honor of Johnson and + Garrick, and that the Beaux’ Stratagem should be played by the + members of the Literary Club. “Then,” exclaimed Goldsmith, + “I shall certainly play Scrub. I should like of all things to try my + hand at that character.” The unwary speech, which any one else might + have made without comment, has been thought worthy of record as + whimsically characteristic. Beauclerc was extremely apt to circulate + anecdotes at his expense, founded perhaps on some trivial incident, but + dressed up with the embellishments of his sarcastic brain. One relates to + a venerable dish of peas, served up at Sir Joshua’s table, which + should have been green, but were any other color. A wag suggested to + Goldsmith, in a whisper, that they should be sent to Hammersmith, as that + was the way to <i>turn-em-green</i> (Turnham-Green). Goldsmith, delighted + with the pun, endeavored to repeat it at Burke’s table, but missed + the point. “That is the way to <i>make</i> ‘em green,” + said he. Nobody laughed. He perceived he was at fault. “I mean that + is the <i>road</i> to turn ‘em green.” A dead pause and a + stare; “whereupon,” adds Beauclerc, “he started up + disconcerted and abruptly left the table.” This is evidently one of + Beauclerc’s caricatures. + </p> + <p> + On another occasion the poet and Beauclerc were seated at the theater next + to Lord Shelburne, the minister, whom political writers thought proper to + nickname Malagrida. “Do you know,” said Goldsmith to his + lordship, in the course of conversation, “that I never could + conceive why they called you Malagrida, <i>for</i> Malagrida was a very + good sort of man.” This was too good a trip of the tongue for + Beauclerc to let pass: he serves it up in his next letter to Lord + Charlemont, as a specimen of a mode of turning a thought the wrong way, + peculiar to the poet; he makes merry over it with his witty and sarcastic + compeer, Horace Walpole, who pronounces it “a picture of Goldsmith’s + whole life.” Dr. Johnson alone, when he hears it bandied about as + Goldsmith’s last blunder, growls forth a friendly defense: “Sir,” + said he, “it was a mere blunder in emphasis. He meant to say, I + wonder they should use Malagrida as a term of reproach.” Poor + Goldsmith! On such points he was ever doomed to be misinterpreted. Rogers, + the poet, meeting in times long subsequent with a survivor of those days, + asked him what Goldsmith really was in conversation. The old + conversational character was too deeply stamped in the memory of the + veteran to be effaced. “Sir,” replied the old wiseacre, + “<i>he was a fool</i>. The right word never came to him. If you gave + him back a bad shilling, he’d say, Why, it’s as good a + shilling as ever was <i>born</i>. You know he ought to have said <i>coined</i>. + <i>Coined</i>, sir, never entered his head. <i>He was a fool, sir</i>.” + </p> + <p> + We have so many anecdotes in which Goldsmith’s simplicity is played + upon that it is quite a treat to meet with one in which he is represented + playing upon the simplicity of others, especially when the victim of his + joke is the “Great Cham” himself, whom all others are disposed + to hold so much in awe. Goldsmith and Johnson were supping cozily together + at a tavern in Dean Street, Soho, kept by Jack Roberts, a singer at Drury + Lane, and a protege of Garrick’s. Johnson delighted in these + gastronomical tete-a-tetes, and was expatiating in high good-humor on + rumps and kidneys, the veins of his forehead swelling with the ardor of + mastication. “These,” said he, “are pretty little + things; but a man must eat a great many of them before he is filled.” + “Ay; but how many of them,” asked Goldsmith, with affected + simplicity, “would reach to the moon?” “To the moon! Ah, + sir, that, I fear, exceeds your calculation.” “Not at all, + sir; I think I could tell.” “Pray, then, sir, let us hear.” + “Why, sir, one, <i>if it were long enough</i>!” Johnson + growled for a time at finding himself caught in such a trite schoolboy + trap. “Well, sir,” cried he at length, “I have deserved + it. I should not have provoked so foolish an answer by so foolish a + question.” + </p> + <p> + Among the many incidents related as illustrative of Goldsmith’s + vanity and envy is one which occurred one evening when he was in a + drawing-room with a party of ladies, and a ballad-singer under the window + struck up his favorite song of Sally Salisbury. “How miserably this + woman sings!” exclaimed he. “Pray, doctor,” said the + lady of the house, “could you do it better?” “Yes, + madam, and the company shall be judges.” The company, of course, + prepared to be entertained by an absurdity; but their smiles were wellnigh + turned to tears, for he acquitted himself with a skill and pathos that + drew universal applause. He had, in fact, a delicate ear for music, which + had been jarred by the false notes of the ballad-singer; and there were + certain pathetic ballads, associated with recollections of his childhood, + which were sure to touch the springs of his heart. We have another story + of him, connected with ballad-singing, which is still more characteristic. + He was one evening at the house of Sir William Chambers, in Berners + Street, seated at a whist table with Sir William, Lady Chambers, and + Baretti, when all at once he threw down his cards, hurried out of the room + and into the street. He returned in an instant, resumed his seat, and the + game went on. Sir William, after a little hesitation, ventured to ask the + cause of his retreat, fearing he had been overcome by the heat of the + room. “Not at all,” replied Goldsmith; “but in truth I + could not bear to hear that unfortunate woman in the street, half singing, + half sobbing, for such tones could only arise from the extremity of + distress; her voice grated painfully on my ear and jarred my frame, so + that I could not rest until I had sent her away.” It was in fact a + poor ballad-singer, whose cracked voice had been heard by others of the + party, but without having the same effect on their sensibilities. It was + the reality of his fictitious scene in the story of the “Man in + Black”; wherein he describes a woman in rags with one child in her + arms and another on her back, attempting to sing ballads, but with such a + mournful voice that it was difficult to determine whether she was singing + or crying. “A wretch,” he adds, “who, in the deepest + distress, still aimed at good-humor, was an object my friend was by no + means capable of withstanding.” The Man in Black gave the poor woman + all that he had—a bundle of matches. Goldsmith, it is probable, sent + his ballad-singer away rejoicing with all the money in his pocket. + </p> + <p> + Ranelagh was at that time greatly in vogue as a place of public + entertainment. It was situated near Chelsea; the principal room was a + rotunda of great dimensions, with an orchestra in the center and tiers of + boxes all round. It was a place to which Johnson resorted occasionally. + “I am a great friend to public amusements,” said he, “for + they keep people from vice.” [Footnote: “Alas, sir!” + said Johnson, speaking, when in another mood, of grand houses, fine + gardens, and splendid places of public amusement; “alas, sir! these + are only struggles for happiness. When I first entered Ranelagh it gave an + expansion and gay sensation to my mind, such as I never experienced + anywhere else. But, as Xerxes wept when he viewed his immense army, and + considered that not one of that great multitude would be alive a hundred + years afterward, so it went to my heart to consider that there was not one + in all that brilliant circle that was not afraid to go home and think.”] + Goldsmith was equally a friend to them, though perhaps not altogether on + such moral grounds. He was particularly fond of masquerades, which were + then exceedingly popular, and got up at Ranelagh with great expense and + magnificence. Sir Joshua Reynolds, who had likewise a taste for such + amusements, was sometimes his companion, at other times he went alone; his + peculiarities of person and manner would soon betray him, whatever might + be his disguise, and he would be singled out by wags, acquainted with his + foibles, and more successful than himself in maintaining their incognito, + as a capital subject to be played upon. Some, pretending not to know him, + would decry his writings, and praise those of his contemporaries; others + would laud his verses to the skies, but purposely misquote and burlesque + them; others would annoy him with parodies; while one young lady, whom he + was teasing, as he supposed, with great success and infinite humor, + silenced his rather boisterous laughter by quoting his own line about + “the loud laugh that speaks the vacant mind.” On one occasion + he was absolutely driven out of the house by the persevering jokes of a + wag, whose complete disguise gave him no means of retaliation. + </p> + <p> + His name appearing in the newspapers among the distinguished persons + present at one of these amusements, his old enemy, Kenrick, immediately + addressed to him a copy of anonymous verses, to the following purport. + </p> + <h3> + TO DR. GOLDSMITH + </h3> + <h3> + ON SEEING HIS NAME IN THE LIST OF MUMMERS AT THE LATE MASQUERADE + </h3> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “How widely different, Goldsmith, are the ways + Of doctors now, and those of ancient days! + Theirs taught the truth in academic shades, + Ours in lewd hops and midnight masquerades. + So changed the times! say, philosophic sage, + Whose genius suits so well this tasteful age, + Is the Pantheon, late a sink obscene, + Become the fountain of chaste Hippocrene? + Or do thy moral numbers quaintly flow, + Inspired by th’ <i>Aganippe</i> of Soho? + Do wisdom’s sons gorge cates and vermicelli, + Like beastly Bickerstaffe or bothering Kelly? + Or art thou tired of th’ undeserved applause + Bestowed on bards affecting Virtue’s cause? + Is this the good that makes the humble vain, + The good philosophy should not disdain? + If so, let pride dissemble all it can, + A modern sage is still much less than man.” + </pre> + <p> + Goldsmith was keenly sensitive to attacks of the kind, and meeting Kenrick + at the Chapter Coffee-house, called him to sharp account for taking such a + liberty with his name, and calling his morals in question, merely on + account of his being seen at a place of general resort and amusement. + Kenrick shuffled and sneaked, protesting that he meant nothing derogatory + to his private character. Goldsmith let him know, however, that he was + aware of his having more than once indulged in attacks of this dastard + kind, and intimated that another such outrage would be followed by + personal chastisement. + </p> + <p> + Kenrick having played the craven in his presence, avenged himself as soon + as he was gone by complaining of his having made a wanton attack upon him, + and by making coarse comments upon his writings, conversation and person. + </p> + <p> + The scurrilous satire of Kenrick, however unmerited, may have checked + Goldsmith’s taste for masquerades. Sir Joshua Reynolds, calling on + the poet one morning, found him walking about his room in somewhat of a + reverie, kicking a bundle of clothes before him like a football. It proved + to be an expensive masquerade dress, which he said he had been fool enough + to purchase, and as there was no other way of getting the worth of his + money, he was trying to take it out in exercise. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0036" id="link2HCH0036"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX + </h2> + <p> + INVITATION TO CHRISTMAS—THE SPRING VELVET COAT—THE HAYMAKING + WIG—THE MISCHANCES OF LOO—THE FAIR CULPRIT—A DANCE WITH + THE JESSAMY BRIDE + </p> + <p> + From the feverish dissipations of town, Goldsmith is summoned away to + partake of the genial dissipations of the country. In the month of + December, a letter from Mrs. Bunbury invites him down to Barton, to pass + the Christmas holidays. The letter is written in the usual playful vein + which marks his intercourse with this charming family. He is to come in + his “smart spring-velvet coat,” to bring a new wig to dance + with the haymakers in, and, above all, to follow the advice of herself and + her sister (the Jessamy Bride), in playing loo. This letter, which plays + so archly, yet kindly, with some of poor Goldsmith’s peculiarities, + and bespeaks such real ladylike regard for him, requires a word or two of + annotation. The spring-velvet suit alluded to appears to have been a + gallant adornment (somewhat in the style of the famous bloom-colored coat) + in which Goldsmith had figured in the preceding month of May—the + season of blossoms—for, on the 21st of that month we find the + following entry in the chronicle of Mr. William Filby, tailor: <i>To your + blue velvet suit</i>, £21 10s. 9d. Also, about the same time, a suit of + livery and a crimson collar for the serving man. Again we hold the Jessamy + Bride responsible for this gorgeous splendor of wardrobe. + </p> + <p> + The new wig no doubt is a bag-wig and solitaire, still highly the mode, + and in which Goldsmith is represented as figuring when in full dress, + equipped with his sword. + </p> + <p> + As to the dancing with the haymakers, we presume it alludes to some gambol + of the poet, in the course of his former visit to Barton; when he ranged + the fields and lawns a chartered libertine, and tumbled into the + fish-ponds. + </p> + <p> + As to the suggestions about loo, they are in sportive allusion to the + doctor’s mode of playing that game in their merry evening parties; + affecting the desperate gambler and easy dupe; running counter to all + rule; making extravagant ventures; reproaching all others with cowardice; + dashing at all hazards at the pool, and getting himself completely loo’d, + to the great amusement of the company. The drift of the fair sisters’ + advice was most probably to tempt him on, and then leave him in the lurch. + </p> + <p> + With these comments we subjoin Goldsmith’s reply to Mrs. Bunbury, a + fine piece of off-hand, humorous writing, which has but in late years been + given to the public, and which throws a familiar light on the social + circle at Barton. + </p> + <p> + “Madam—I read your letter with all that allowance which + critical candor could require, but after all find so much to object to, + and so much to raise my indignation, that I cannot help 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 many sarcasms in it, and solecisms also. But not to + seem an ill-natured critic, I’ll take leave to quote your own words, + and give you my remarks upon them as they occur. You begin as follows: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “‘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.’ +</pre> + <p> + “Pray, madam, where did you ever find the epithet ‘good,’ + applied to the title of doctor? Had you called me ‘learned doctor,’ + or ‘grave doctor,’ or ‘noble doctor,’ it might be + allowable, because they belong to the profession. But, not to cavil at + trifles, you talk of ‘my spring-velvet coat,’ and advise me to + wear it the first day in the year, that is, in the middle of winter!—a + spring-velvet coat 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: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “‘And bring with you a wig, that is modish and gay, + To dance with the girls that are makers of hay.’ +</pre> + <p> + “The absurdity of making hay at Christmas you yourself seem sensible + of: you say your sister will laugh; and so indeed she well may! The Latins + have an expression for a contemptuous kind of laughter, ‘naso + contemnere adunco’; that is, to laugh with a crooked nose. She may + laugh at you in the manner of the ancients if she thinks fit. But now I + come to the most extraordinary of all extraordinary propositions, which + is, to take your and your sister’s advice in playing at loo. The + presumption of the offer raises my indignation beyond the bounds of prose; + it inspires me at once with verse and resentment. I take advice! and from + whom? You shall hear. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “First let me suppose, what may shortly be true, + The company set, and the word to be Loo: + All smirking, and pleasant, and big with adventure, + And ogling the stake which is fix’d in the center. + Round and round go the cards, while I inwardly damn + 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: + Yet still they sit snug, not a creature will aim + By losing their money to venture at fame. + ‘Tis in vain that at niggardly caution I scold, + ‘Tis in vain that I flatter the brave and the bold: + All play their own way, and they think me an ass,... + ‘What does Mrs. Bunbury?’ ... ‘I, Sir? I pass.’ + ‘Pray what does Miss Horneck? take courage, come do,’... + ‘Who, I? let me see, sir, why I must pass too.’ + Mr. Bunbury frets, and I fret like the devil, + To see them so cowardly, lucky, and civil. + Yet still I sit snug, and continue to sigh on, + Till, made by my losses as bold as a lion, + I venture at all, while my avarice regards + The whole pool as my own... ‘Come, give me five cards.’ + ‘Well done!’ cry the ladies; ‘Ah, doctor, that’s good! + The pool’s very rich,... ah! the doctor is loo’d!’ + Thus foil’d in my courage, on all sides perplext, + I ask for advice from the lady that’s next: + ‘Pray, ma’am, be so good as to give your advice; + Don’t you think the best way is to venture for’t twice!’ + ‘I advise,’ cries the lady, ‘to try it, I own.... + Ah! the doctor is loo’d! Come, doctor, put down.’ + Thus, playing, and playing, I still grow more eager, + And so bold, and so bold, I’m at last a bold beggar. + Now, ladies, I ask, if law-matters you’re skill’d in, + 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. + What justice, when both to the Old Bailey brought! + By the gods, I’ll enjoy it, tho’ ’tis but in thought! + Both are plac’d at the bar, with all proper decorum, + With bunches of fennel, and nosegays before ‘em; + Both cover their faces with mobs and all that, + But the judge bids them, angrily, take off their hat. + When uncover’d, a buzz of inquiry runs round, + ‘Pray what are their crimes?’... ‘They’ve been pilfering found.’ + ‘But, pray, who have they pilfer’d?’... ‘A doctor, I hear.’ + <i>‘What, yon solemn-faced, odd-looking man that stands near?’’</i> + ‘The same.’... ‘What a pity! how does it surprise one, + <i>Two handsomer culprits I never set eyes on!’’</i> + 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 wellstrung, + ‘Consider, dear doctor, the girls are but young.’ + ‘The younger the worse,’ I return him again, + ‘It shows that their habits are all dyed in grain.’ + ‘But then they’re so handsome, one’s bosom it grieves. + ‘What signifies <i>handsome</i>, when people are thieves?’ + ‘But where is your justice? their cases are hard.’ + ‘What signifies <i>justice</i>? I want the <i>reward</i>. +</pre> + <p> + “‘There’s the parish of Edmonton offers forty pounds; + there’s the parish of St. Leonard Shoreditch offers forty pounds; + there’s the parish of Tyburn, from the Hog-in-the-pound to St. Giles’ + watch-house, offers forty pounds—I shall have all that if I convict + them!’— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “‘But consider their case,... it may yet be your own! + And see how they kneel! Is your heart made of stone!’ + This moves!... so at last I agree to relent, + For ten pounds in hand, and ten pounds to be spent.’ +</pre> + <p> + “I challenge you all to answer this: I tell you, you cannot. It cuts + deep. But now for the rest of the letter: and next—but I want room—so + I believe I shall battle the rest out at Barton some day next week. I don’t + value you all! + </p> + <h3> + “O. G.” + </h3> + <p> + We regret that we have no record of this Christmas visit to Barton; that + the poet had no Boswell to follow at his heels, and take note of all his + sayings and doings. We can only picture him in our minds, casting off all + care; enacting the lord of misrule; presiding at the Christmas revels; + providing all kinds of merriment; keeping the card-table in an uproar, and + finally opening the ball on the first day of the year in his spring-velvet + suit, with the Jessamy Bride for a partner. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0037" id="link2HCH0037"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN + </h2> + <p> + THEATRICAL DELAYS—NEGOTIATIONS WITH COLMAN—LETTER TO GARRICK—CROAKING + OF THE MANAGER—NAMING OF THE PLAY—SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER—FOOTE’S + PRIMITIVE PUPPET-SHOW, PIETY ON PATTENS—FIRST PERFORMANCE OF THE + COMEDY—AGITATION OF THE AUTHOR—SUCCESS—COLMAN SQUIBBED + OUT OF TOWN + </p> + <p> + The gay life depicted in the two last chapters, while it kept Goldsmith in + a state of continual excitement, aggravated the malady which was impairing + his constitution; yet his increasing perplexities in money matters drove + him to the dissipation of society as a relief from solitary care. The + delays of the theater added to those perplexities. He had long since + finished his new comedy, yet the year 1772 passed away without his being + able to get it on the stage. No one, uninitiated in the interior of a + theater, that little world of traps and trickery, can have any idea of the + obstacles and perplexities multiplied in the way of the most eminent and + successful author by the mismanagement of managers, the jealousies and + intrigues of rival authors, and the fantastic and impertinent caprices of + actors. A long and baffling negotiation was carried on between Goldsmith + and Colman, the manager of Covent Garden; who retained the play in his + hands until the middle of January (1773), without coming to a decision. + The theatrical season was rapidly passing away, and Goldsmith’s + pecuniary difficulties were augmenting and pressing on him. We may judge + of his anxiety by the following letter: + </p> + <p> + “<i>To George Colman, Esq.</i> + </p> + <p> + “DEAR SIR—I entreat you’ll relieve me from that state of + suspense in which I have been kept for a long time. Whatever objections + you have made or shall make to my play, I will endeavor to remove and not + argue about them. To bring in any new judges, either of its merits or + faults, I can never submit to. Upon a former occasion, when my other play + was before Mr. Garrick, he offered to bring me before Mr. Whitehead’s + tribunal, but I refused the proposal with indignation: I hope I shall not + experience as harsh treatment from you as from him. I have, as you know, a + large sum of money to make up shortly; by accepting my play, I can readily + satisfy my creditor that way; at any rate, I must look about to some + certainty to be prepared. For God’s sake take the play, and let us + make the best of it, and let me have the same measure, at least, which you + have given as bad plays as mine. I am your friend and servant, + </p> + <h3> + “OLIVER GOLDSMITH.” + </h3> + <p> + Colman returned the manuscript with the blank sides of the leaves scored + with disparaging comments and suggested alterations, but with the + intimation that the faith of the theater should be kept, and the play + acted notwithstanding. Goldsmith submitted the criticisms to some of his + friends, who pronounced them trivial, unfair, and contemptible, and + intimated that Colman, being a dramatic writer himself, might be actuated + by jealousy. The play was then sent, with Colman’s comments written + on it, to Garrick; but he had scarce sent it when Johnson interfered, + represented the evil that might result from an apparent rejection of it by + Covent Garden, and undertook to go forthwith to Colman, and have a talk + with him on the subject. Goldsmith, therefore, penned the following note + to Garrick: + </p> + <p> + “DEAR SIR—I ask many pardons for the trouble I gave you + yesterday. Upon more mature deliberation, and the advice of a sensible + friend, I began to think it indelicate in me to throw upon you the odium + of confirming Mr. Colman’s sentence. I therefore request you will + send my play back by my servant; for, having been assured of having it + acted at the other house, though I confess yours in every respect more to + my wish, yet it would be folly in me to forego an advantage which lies in + my power of appealing from Mr. Colman’s opinion to the judgment of + the town. I entreat, if not too late, you will keep this affair a secret + for some time. + </p> + <p> + “I am, dear sir, your very humble servant, + </p> + <h3> + “OLIVER GOLDSMITH.” + </h3> + <p> + The negotiation of Johnson with the manager of Covent Garden was + effective. “Colman,” he says, “was prevailed on at last, + by much solicitation, nay, a kind of force,” to bring forward the + comedy. Still the manager was ungenerous; or, at least, indiscreet enough + to express his opinion, that it would not reach a second representation. + The plot, he said, was bad, and the interest not sustained; “it + dwindled, and dwindled, and at last went out like the snuff of a candle.” + The effect of his croaking was soon apparent within the walls of the + theater. Two of the most popular actors, Woodward and Gentleman Smith, to + whom the parts of Tony Lumpkin and Young Marlow were assigned, refused to + act them; one of them alleging, in excuse, the evil predictions of the + manager. Goldsmith was advised to postpone the performance of his play + until he could get these important parts well supplied. “No,” + said he, “I would sooner that my play were damned by bad players + than merely saved by good acting.” + </p> + <p> + Quick was substituted for Woodward in Tony Lumpkin, and Lee Lewis, the + harlequin of the theater, for Gentleman Smith in Young Marlow; and both + did justice to their parts. + </p> + <p> + Great interest was taken by Goldsmith’s friends in the success of + his piece. The rehearsals were attended by Johnson, Cradock, Murphy, + Reynolds and his sister, and the whole Horneck connection, including, of + course, the “Jessamy Bride,” whose presence may have + contributed to flutter the anxious heart of the author. The rehearsals + went off with great applause, but that Colman attributed to the partiality + of friends. He continued to croak, and refused to risk any expense in new + scenery or dresses on a play which he was sure would prove a failure. + </p> + <p> + The time was at hand for the first representation, and as yet the comedy + was without a title. “We are all in labor for a name for Goldy’s + play,” said Johnson, who, as usual, took a kind of fatherly + protecting interest in poor Goldsmith’s affairs. The Old House a New + Inn was thought of for a time, but still did not please. Sir Joshua + Reynolds proposed The Belle’s Stratagem, an elegant title, but not + considered applicable, the perplexities of the comedy being produced by + the mistake of the hero, not the stratagem of the heroine. The name was + afterward adopted by Mrs. Cowley for one of her comedies. The Mistakes of + a Night was the title at length fixed upon, to which Goldsmith prefixed + the words She Stoops to Conquer. + </p> + <p> + The evil bodings of Colman still continued; they were even communicated in + the box office to the servant of the Duke of Gloucester, who was sent to + engage a box. Never did the play of a popular writer struggle into + existence through more difficulties. + </p> + <p> + In the meantime Foote’s Primitive Puppet-show, entitled the Handsome + Housemaid, or Piety on Pattens, had been brought out at the Haymarket on + the 15th of February. All the world, fashionable and unfashionable, had + crowded to the theater. The street was thronged with equipages—the + doors were stormed by the mob. The burlesque was completely successful, + and sentimental comedy received its quietus. Even Garrick, who had + recently befriended it, now gave it a kick, as he saw it going down hill, + and sent Goldsmith a humorous prologue to help his comedy of the opposite + school. Garrick and Goldsmith, however, were now on very cordial terms, to + which the social meetings in the circle of the Hornecks and Bunburys may + have contributed. + </p> + <p> + On the 15th of March the new comedy was to be performed. Those who had + stood up for its merits, and been irritated and disgusted by the treatment + it had received from the manager, determined to muster their forces, and + aid in giving it a good launch upon the town. The particulars of this + confederation, and of its triumphant success, are amusingly told by + Cumberland in his memoirs. + </p> + <p> + “We were not over-sanguine of success, but perfectly determined to + struggle hard for our author. We accordingly assembled our strength at the + Shakespeare Tavern, in a considerable body, for an early dinner, where + Samuel Johnson took the chair at the head of a long table, and was the + life and soul of the corps: the poet took post silently by his side, with + the Burkes, Sir Joshua Reynolds, Fitzherbert, Caleb Whitefoord, and a + phalanx of North British, predetermined applauders, under the banner of + Major Mills, all good men and true. Our illustrious president was in + inimitable glee; and poor Goldsmith that day took all his raillery as + patiently and complacently as my friend Boswell would have done any day or + every day of his life. In the meantime, we did not forget our duty; and + though we had a better comedy going, in which Johnson was chief actor, we + betook ourselves in good time to our separate and allotted posts, and + waited the awful drawing up of the curtain. As our stations were + preconcerted, so were our signals for plaudits arranged and determined + upon in a manner that gave every one his cue where to look for them, and + how to follow them up. + </p> + <p> + “We had among us a very worthy and efficient member, long since lost + to his friends and the world at large, Adam Drummond, of amiable memory, + who was gifted by nature with the most sonorous, and, at the same time, + the most contagious laugh that ever echoed from the human lungs. The + neighing of the horse of the son of Hystaspes was a whisper to it; the + whole thunder of the theater could not drown it. This kind and ingenious + friend fairly forewarned us that he knew no more when to give his fire + than the cannon did that was planted on a battery. He desired, therefore, + to have a flapper at his elbow, and I had the honor to be deputed to that + office. I planted him in an upper box, pretty nearly over the stage, in + full view of the pit and galleries, and perfectly well situated to give + the echo all its play through the hollows and recesses of the theater. The + success of our maneuver was complete. All eyes were upon Johnson, who sat + in a front row of a side box; and when he laughed, everybody thought + themselves warranted to roar. In the meantime, my friend followed signals + with a rattle so irresistibly comic that, when he had repeated it several + times, the attention of the spectators was so engrossed by his person and + performances that the progress of the play seemed likely to become a + secondary object, and I found it prudent to insinuate to him that he might + halt his music without any prejudice to the author; but alas! it was now + too late to rein him in; he had laughed upon my signal where he found no + joke, and now, unluckily, he fancied that he found a joke in almost + everything that was said; so that nothing in nature could be more + malapropos than some of his bursts every now and then were. These were + dangerous moments, for the pit began to take umbrage; but we carried our + point through, and triumphed not only over Colman’s judgment, but + our own.” + </p> + <p> + Much of this statement has been condemned as exaggerated or discolored. + Cumberland’s memoirs have generally been characterized as partaking + of romance, and in the present instance he had particular motives for + tampering with the truth. He was a dramatic writer himself, jealous of the + success of a rival, and anxious to have it attributed to the private + management of friends. According to various accounts, public and private, + such management was unnecessary, for the piece was “received + throughout with the greatest acclamations.” + </p> + <p> + Goldsmith, in the present instance, had not dared, as on a former + occasion, to be present at the first performance. He had been so overcome + by his apprehensions that, at the preparatory dinner he could hardly utter + a word, and was so choked that he could not swallow a mouthful. When his + friends trooped to the theater, he stole away to St. James’ Park: + there he was found by a friend between seven and eight o’clock, + wandering up and down the Mall like a troubled spirit. With difficulty he + was persuaded to go to the theater, where his presence might be important + should any alteration be necessary. He arrived at the opening of the fifth + act, and made his way behind the scenes. Just as he entered there was a + slight hiss at the improbability of Tony Lumpkin’s trick on his + mother, in persuading her she was forty miles off, on Crackskull Common, + though she had been trundled about on her own grounds. “What’s + that? what’s that!” cried Goldsmith to the manager, in great + agitation. “Pshaw! doctor,” replied Colman, sarcastically, + “don’t be frightened at a squib, when we’ve been sitting + these two hours on a barrel of gunpowder!” Though of a most + forgiving nature Goldsmith did not easily forget this ungracious and + ill-timed sally. + </p> + <p> + If Colman was indeed actuated by the paltry motives ascribed to him in his + treatment of this play, he was most amply punished by its success, and by + the taunts, epigrams, and censures leveled at him through the press, in + which his false prophecies were jeered at; his critical judgment called in + question; and he was openly taxed with literary jealousy. So galling and + unremitting was the fire, that he at length wrote to Goldsmith, entreating + him “to take him off the rack of the newspapers”; in the + meantime, to escape the laugh that was raised about him in the theatrical + world of London, he took refuge in Bath during the triumphant career of + the comedy. + </p> + <p> + The following is one of the many squibs which assailed the ears of the + manager: + </p> + <h3> + TO GEORGE COLMAN, ESQ. + </h3> + <h3> + ON THE SUCCESS OF DR. GOLDSMITH’S NEW COMEDY + </h3> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Come, Coley, doff those mourning weeds, + Nor thus with jokes be flamm’d; + Tho’ Goldsmith’s present play succeeds, + His next may still be damn’d. + + “As this has ‘scaped without a fall, + To sink his next prepare; + New actors hire from Wapping Wall, + And dresses from Rag Fair. + + “For scenes let tatter’d blankets fly, + The prologue Kelly write; + Then swear again the piece must die + Before the author’s night. + + “Should these tricks fail, the lucky elf, + To bring to lasting shame, + E’en write <i>the best you can yourself</i>, + And print it in <i>his name</i>.” + </pre> + <p> + The solitary hiss, which had startled Goldsmith, was ascribed by some of + the newspaper scribblers to Cumberland himself, who was “manifestly + miserable” at the delight of the audience, or to Ossian Macpherson, + who was hostile to the whole Johnson clique, or to Goldsmith’s + dramatic rival, Kelly. The following is one of the epigrams which + appeared: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “At Dr. Goldsmith’s merry play, + All the spectators laugh, they say; + The assertion, sir, I must deny, + For Cumberland and Kelly cry. + + “<i>Ride, si sapis</i>.” + </pre> + <p> + Another, addressed to Goldsmith, alludes to Kelly’s early + apprenticeship to stay-making: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “If Kelly finds fault with the <i>shape</i> of your muse, + And thinks that too loosely it plays, + He surely, dear doctor, will never refuse + To make it a new <i>Pair of Stays</i>!” + </pre> + <p> + Cradock had returned to the country before the production of the play; the + following letter, written just after the performance, gives an additional + picture of the thorns which beset an author in the path of theatrical + literature: + </p> + <p> + “MY DEAR SIR—The play 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 Miss Catley, and which she + approved; Mrs. Bulkley hearing this, insisted on throwing up her part” + (Miss Hardcastle) “unless, according to the custom of the theater, + she were permitted to speak the epilogue. In this embarrassment I thought + of making a quarreling epilogue between Catley and her, debating <i>who</i> + 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, on the whole, + be a loser, even in a pecuniary light; my ease and comfort I certainly + lost while it was in agitation. + </p> + <p> + “I am, my dear Cradock, your obliged and obedient servant, OLIVER + GOLDSMITH. + </p> + <p> + “P.S.—Present my most humble respects to Mrs. Cradock.” + </p> + <p> + Johnson, who had taken such a conspicuous part in promoting the interests + of poor “Goldy,” was triumphant at the success of the piece. + “I know of no comedy for many years,” said he, “that has + so much exhilarated an audience; that has answered so much the great end + of comedy—making an audience merry.” + </p> + <p> + Goldsmith was happy, also, in gleaning applause from less authoritative + sources. Northcote, the painter, then a youthful pupil of Sir Joshua + Reynolds; and Ralph, Sir Joshua’s confidential man, had taken their + stations in the gallery to lead the applause in that quarter. Goldsmith + asked Northcote’s opinion of the play. The youth modestly declared + he could not presume to judge in such matters. “Did it make you + laugh?” “Oh. exceedingly!” “That is all I require,” + replied Goldsmith; and rewarded him for his criticism by box-tickets for + his first benefit night. + </p> + <p> + The comedy was immediately put to press, and dedicated to Johnson in the + following grateful and affectionate terms: + </p> + <p> + “In inscribing this slight performance to you, I do not mean so much + to compliment you as myself. It may do me some honor to inform the public + that I have lived many years in intimacy with you. It may serve the + interests of mankind also to inform them that the greatest wit may be + found in a character, without impairing the most unaffected piety.” + </p> + <p> + The copyright was transferred to Mr. Newbery, according to agreement, + whose profits on the sale of the work far exceeded the debts for which the + author in his perplexities had pre-engaged it. The sum which accrued to + Goldsmith from his benefit nights afforded but a slight palliation of his + pecuniary difficulties. His friends, while they exulted in his success, + little knew of his continually increasing embarrassments, and of the + anxiety of mind which kept tasking his pen while it impaired the ease and + freedom of spirit necessary to felicitous composition. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0038" id="link2HCH0038"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT + </h2> + <h3> + A NEWSPAPER ATTACK—THE EVANS AFFRAY—JOHNSON’S COMMENT + </h3> + <p> + The triumphant success of She Stoops to Conquer brought forth, of course, + those carpings and cavilings of underling scribblers which are the thorns + and briers in the path of successful authors. + </p> + <p> + Goldsmith, though easily nettled by attacks of the kind, was at present + too well satisfied with the reception of his comedy to heed them; but the + following anonymous letter, which appeared in a public paper, was not to + be taken with equal equanimity: + </p> + <h3> + [FOR THE LONDON PACKET.] + </h3> + <h3> + “TO DR. GOLDSMITH. + </h3> + <p> + “<i>Vous vous noyez par vanité</i>. + </p> + <p> + “SIR—The happy knack which you have learned of puffing your + own compositions, provokes me to come forth. You have not been the editor + of newspapers and magazines not to discover the trick of literary <i>humbug</i>; + but the gauze is so thin that the very foolish part of the world see + through it, and discover the doctor’s monkey face and cloven foot. + Your poetic vanity is as unpardonable as your personal. Would man believe + it, and will woman bear it, to be told that for hours the great Goldsmith + will stand surveying his grotesque orang-outang’s figure in a + pier-glass? Was but the lovely H—k as much enamored, you would not + sigh, my gentle swain, in vain. But your vanity is preposterous. How will + this same bard of Bedlam ring the changes in the praise of Goldy! But what + has he to be either proud or vain of? The Traveler is a flimsy poem, built + upon false principles—principles diametrically opposite to liberty. + What is The Good-Natured Man but a poor, water-gruel dramatic dose? What + is The Deserted Village but a pretty poem of easy numbers, without fancy, + dignity, genius, or fire? And, pray, what may be the last <i>speaking + pantomime</i>, so praised by the doctor himself, but an incoherent piece + of stuff, the figure of a woman with a fish’s tail, without plot, + incident, or intrigue? We are made to laugh at stale, dull jokes, wherein + we mistake pleasantry for wit, and grimace for humor; wherein every scene + is unnatural and inconsistent with the rules, the laws of nature and of + the drama; viz., two gentlemen come to a man of fortune’s house, + eat, drink, etc., and take it for an inn. The one is intended as a lover + for the daughter; he talks with her for some hours; and, when he sees her + again in a different dress, he treats her as a bar-girl, and swears she + squinted. He abuses the master of the house, and threatens to kick him out + of his own doors. The squire, whom we are told is to be a fool, proves to + be the most sensible being of the piece; and he makes out a whole act by + bidding his mother lie close behind a bush, persuading her that his + father, her own husband, is a highwayman, and that he has come to cut + their throats; and, to give his cousin an opportunity to go off, he drives + his mother over hedges, ditches, and through ponds. There is not, sweet, + sucking Johnson, a natural stroke in the whole play but the young fellow’s + giving the stolen jewels to the mother, supposing her to be the landlady. + That Mr. Colman did no justice to this piece, I honestly allow; that he + told all his friends it would be damned, I positively aver; and, from such + ungenerous insinuations, without a dramatic merit, it rose to public + notice, and it is now the ton to go and see it, though I never saw a + person that either liked it or approved it, any more than the absurd plot + of Home’s tragedy of Alonzo. Mr. Goldsmith, correct your arrogance, + reduce your vanity, and endeavor to believe, as a man, you are of the + plainest sort; and as an author, but a mortal piece of mediocrity. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Brise le miroir infidèle + Qui vous cache la vérité. + + “TOM TICKLE.” + </pre> + <p> + It would be difficult to devise a letter more calculated to wound the + peculiar sensibilities of Goldsmith. The attacks upon him as an author, + though annoying enough, he could have tolerated; but then the allusion to + his “grotesque” person, to his studious attempts to adorn it; + and, above all, to his being an unsuccessful admirer of the lovely H—k + (the Jessamy Bride), struck rudely upon the most sensitive part of his + highly sensitive nature. The paragraph, it was said, was first pointed out + to him by an officious friend, an Irishman, who told him he was bound in + honor to resent it; but he needed no such prompting. He was in a high + state of excitement and indignation, and accompanied by his friend, who is + said to have been a Captain Higgins, of the marines, he repaired to + Paternoster Row, to the shop of Evans, the publisher, whom he supposed to + be the editor of the paper. Evans was summoned by his shopman from an + adjoining room. Goldsmith announced his name. “I have called,” + added he, “in consequence of a scurrilous attack made upon me, and + an unwarrantable liberty taken with the name of a young lady. As for + myself, I care little; but her name must not be sported with.” + </p> + <p> + Evans professed utter ignorance of the matter, and said he would speak to + the editor. He stooped to examine a file of the paper, in search of the + offensive article; whereupon Goldsmith’s friend gave him a signal, + that now was a favorable moment for the exercise of his cane. The hint was + taken as quick as given, and the cane was vigorously applied to the back + of the stooping publisher. The latter rallied in an instant, and, being a + stout, high-blooded Welshman, returned the blows with interest. A lamp + hanging overhead was broken, and sent down a shower of oil upon the + combatants; but the battle raged with unceasing fury. The shopman ran off + for a constable; but Dr. Kenrick, who happened to be in the adjacent room, + sallied forth, interfered between the combatants, and put an end to the + affray. He conducted Goldsmith to a coach, in exceedingly battered and + tattered plight, and accompanied him home, soothing him with much mock + commiseration, though he was generally suspected, and on good grounds, to + be the author of the libel. + </p> + <p> + Evans immediately instituted a suit against Goldsmith for an assault, but + was ultimately prevailed upon to compromise the matter, the poet + contributing fifty pounds to the Welsh charity. + </p> + <p> + Newspapers made themselves, as may well be supposed, exceedingly merry + with the combat. Some censured him severely for invading the sanctity of a + man’s own house; others accused him of having, in his former + capacity of editor of a magazine, been guilty of the very offenses that he + now resented in others. This drew from him the following vindication: + </p> + <p> + “<i>To the Public</i>. + </p> + <p> + “Lest it should be supposed that I have been willing to correct in + others an abuse of which I have been guilty myself, I beg leave to + declare, that, in all my life, I never wrote or dictated a single + paragraph, letter, or essay in a newspaper, except a few moral essays + under the character of a Chinese, about ten years ago, in the ‘Ledger,’ + and a letter, to which I signed my name in the ‘St. James’ + Chronicle.’ If the liberty of the press, therefore, has been abused, + I have had no hand in it. + </p> + <p> + “I have always considered the press as the protector of our freedom, + as a watchful guardian, capable of uniting the weak against the + encroachments of power. What concerns the public most properly admits of a + public discussion. But, of late, the press has turned from defending + public interest to making inroads upon private life; from combating the + strong to overwhelming the feeble. No condition is now too obscure for its + abuse, and the protector has become the tyrant of the people. In this + manner the freedom of the press is beginning to sow the seeds of its own + dissolution; the great must oppose it from principle, and the weak from + fear; till at last every rank of mankind shall be found to give up its + benefits, content with security from insults. + </p> + <p> + “How to put a stop to this licentiousness, by which all are + indiscriminately abused, and by which vice consequently escapes in the + general censure, I am unable to tell; all I could wish is that, as the law + gives us no protection against the injury, so it should give calumniators + no shelter after having provoked correction. The insults which we receive + before the public, by being more open, are the more distressing; by + treating them with silent contempt we do not pay a sufficient deference to + the opinion of the world. By recurring to legal redress we too often + expose the weakness of the law, which only serves to increase our + mortification by failing to relieve us. In short, every man should singly + consider himself as the guardian of the liberty of the press, and, as far + as his influence can extend, should endeavor to prevent its licentiousness + becoming at last the grave of its freedom. + </p> + <h3> + “OLIVER GOLDSMITH.” + </h3> + <p> + Boswell, who had just arrived in town, met with this article in a + newspaper which he found at Dr. Johnson’s. The doctor was from home + at the time, and Bozzy and Mrs. Williams, in a critical conference over + the letter, determined from the style that it must have been written by + the lexicographer himself. The latter on his return soon undeceived them. + “Sir,” said he to Boswell, “Goldsmith would no more have + asked me to have wrote such a thing as that for him than he would have + asked me to feed him with a spoon, or do anything else that denoted his + imbecility. Sir, had he shown it to any one friend, he would not have been + allowed to publish it. He has, indeed, done it very well; but it is a + foolish thing well done. I suppose he has been so much elated with the + success of his new comedy that he has thought everything that concerned + him must be of importance to the public.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0039" id="link2HCH0039"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE + </h2> + <p> + BOSWELL IN HOLY WEEK—DINNER AT OGLETHORPE’S—DINNER AT + PAOLI’S—THE POLICY OF TRUTH—GOLDSMITH AFFECTS + INDEPENDENCE OF ROYALTY—PAOLI’S COMPLIMENT—JOHNSON’S + EULOGIUM ON THE FIDDLE—QUESTION ABOUT SUICIDE—BOSWELL’S + SUBSERVIENCY + </p> + <p> + The return of Boswell to town to his task of noting down the conversations + of Johnson enables us to glean from his journal some scanty notices of + Goldsmith. It was now Holy Week, a time during which Johnson was + particularly solemn in his manner and strict in his devotions. Boswell, + who was the imitator of the great moralist in everything, assumed, of + course, an extra devoutness on the present occasion. “He had an odd + mock solemnity of tone and manner,” said Miss Burney (afterward + Madame D’Arblay), “which he had acquired from constantly + thinking, and imitating Dr. Johnson.” It would seem, that he + undertook to deal out some secondhand homilies, <i>à la Johnson</i>, for + the edification of Goldsmith during Holy Week. The poet, whatever might be + his religious feeling, had no disposition to be schooled by so shallow an + apostle. “Sir,” said he in reply, “as I take my shoes + from the shoemaker, and my coat from the tailor, so I take my religion + from the priest.” + </p> + <p> + Boswell treasured up the reply in his memory or his memorandum book. A few + days afterward, the 9th of April, he kept Good Friday with Dr. Johnson, in + orthodox style; breakfasted with him on tea and crossbuns; went to church + with him morning and evening; fasted in the interval, and read with him in + the Greek Testament; then, in the piety of his heart, complained of the + sore rebuff he had met with in the course of his religious exhortations to + the poet, and lamented that the latter should indulge in “this loose + way of talking.” “Sir,” replied Johnson, “Goldsmith + knows nothing—he has made up his mind about nothing.” + </p> + <p> + This reply seems to have gratified the lurking jealousy of Boswell, and he + has recorded it in his journal. Johnson, however, with respect to + Goldsmith, and indeed with respect to everybody else, blew hot as well as + cold, according to the humor he was in. Boswell, who was astonished and + piqued at the continually increasing celebrity of the poet, observed some + time after to Johnson, in a tone of surprise, that Goldsmith had acquired + more fame than all the officers of the last war who were not generals. + “Why, sir,” answered Johnson, his old feeling of good-will + working uppermost, “you will find ten thousand fit to do what they + did, before you find one to do what Goldsmith has done. You must consider + that a thing is valued according to its rarity. A pebble that paves the + street is in itself more useful than the diamond upon a lady’s + finger.” + </p> + <p> + On the 13th of April we find Goldsmith and Johnson at the table of old + General Oglethorpe, discussing the question of the degeneracy of the human + race. Goldsmith asserts the fact, and attributes it to the influence of + luxury. Johnson denies the fact; and observes that, even admitting it, + luxury could not be the cause. It reached but a small proportion of the + human race. Soldiers, on sixpence a day, could not indulge in luxuries; + the poor and laboring classes, forming the great mass of mankind, were out + of its sphere. Wherever it could reach them, it strengthened them and + rendered them prolific. The conversation was not of particular force or + point as reported by Boswell; the dinner party was a very small one, in + which there was no provocation to intellectual display. + </p> + <p> + After dinner they took tea with the ladies, where we find poor Goldsmith + happy and at home, singing Tony Lumpkin’s song of the Three Jolly + Pigeons, and another called the Humors of Ballamaguery, to a very pretty + Irish tune. It was to have been introduced in She Stoops to Conquer, but + was left out, as the actress who played the heroine could not sing. + </p> + <p> + It was in these genial moments that the sunshine of Goldsmith’s + nature would break out, and he would say and do a thousand whimsical and + agreeable things that made him the life of the strictly social circle. + Johnson, with whom conversation was everything, used to judge Goldsmith + too much by his own colloquial standard, and undervalue him for being less + provided than himself with acquired facts, the ammunition of the tongue + and often the mere lumber of the memory; others, however, valued him for + the native felicity of his thoughts, however carelessly expressed, and for + certain good-fellow qualities, less calculated to dazzle than to endear. + “It is amazing,” said Johnson one day, after he himself had + been talking like an oracle; “it is amazing how little Goldsmith + knows; he seldom comes where he is not more ignorant than any one else.” + “Yet,” replied Sir Joshua Reynolds, with affectionate + promptness, “there is no man whose company is more <i>liked</i>.” + </p> + <p> + Two or three days after the dinner at General Oglethorpe’s, + Goldsmith met Johnson again at the table of General Paoli, the hero of + Corsica. Martinelli, of Florence, author of an Italian History of England, + was among the guests; as was Boswell, to whom we are indebted for minutes + of the conversation which took place. The question was debated whether + Martinelli should continue his history down to that day. “To be sure + he should,” said Goldsmith. “No, sir;” cried Johnson, + “it would give great offense. He would have to tell of almost all + the living great what they did not wish told.” Goldsmith.—“It + may, perhaps, be necessary for a native to be more cautious; but a + foreigner, who comes among us without prejudice, may be considered as + holding the place of a judge, and may speak his mind freely.” + Johnson.—“Sir, a foreigner, when he sends a work from the + press, ought to be on his guard against catching the error and mistaken + enthusiasm of the people among whom he happens to be.” Goldsmith.—“Sir, + he wants only to sell his history, and to tell truth; one an honest, the + other a laudable motive.” Johnson.—“Sir, they are both + laudable motives. It is laudable in a man to wish to live by his labors; + but he should write so as he may live by them, not so as he may be knocked + on the head. I would advise him to be at Calais before he publishes his + history of the present age. A foreigner who attaches himself to a + political party in this country is in the worst state that can be + imagined; he is looked upon as a mere intermeddler. A native may do it + from interest.” Boswell.—“Or principle.” + Goldsmith.—“There are people who tell a hundred political lies + every day, and are not hurt by it. Surely, then, one may tell truth with + perfect safety.” Johnson.—“Why, sir, in the first place, + he who tells a hundred lies has disarmed the force of his lies. But, + besides, a man had rather have a hundred lies told of him than one truth + which he does not wish to be told.” Goldsmith.—“For my + part, I’d tell the truth, and shame the devil.” Johnson.—“Yes, + sir, but the devil will be angry. I wish to shame the devil as much as you + do, but I should choose to be out of the reach of his claws.” + Goldsmith.—“His claws can do you no hurt where you have the + shield of truth.” + </p> + <p> + This last reply was one of Goldsmith’s lucky hits, and closed the + argument in his favor. + </p> + <p> + “We talked,” writes Boswell, “of the king’s coming + to see Goldsmith’s new play.” “I wish he would,” + said Goldsmith, adding, however, with an affected indifference, “Not + that it would do me the least good.” “Well, then,” cried + Johnson, laughing, “let us say it would do <i>him</i> good. No, sir, + this affectation will not pass; it is mighty idle. In such a state as + ours, who would not wish to please the chief magistrate?” + </p> + <p> + “I <i>do</i> wish to please him,” rejoined Goldsmith. “I + remember a line in Dryden: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “‘And every poet is the monarch’s friend,’ +</pre> + <p> + “it ought to be reversed.” “Nay,” said Johnson, + “there are finer lines in Dryden on this subject: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “‘For colleges on bounteous kings depend, + And never rebel was to arts a friend.’” + </pre> + <p> + General Paoli observed that “successful rebels might be.” + “Happy rebellions,” interjected Martinelli. “We have no + such phrase,” cried Goldsmith. “But have you not the thing?” + asked Paoli. “Yes,” replied Goldsmith, “all our <i>happy</i> + revolutions. They have hurt our constitution, and <i>will</i> hurt it, + till we mend it by another HAPPY REVOLUTION.” This was a sturdy + sally of Jacobitism that quite surprised Boswell, but must have been + relished by Johnson. + </p> + <p> + General Paoli mentioned a passage in the play, which had been construed + into a compliment to a lady of distinction, whose marriage with the Duke + of Cumberland had excited the strong disapprobation of the king as a + mesalliance. Boswell, to draw Goldsmith out, pretended to think the + compliment unintentional. The poet smiled and hesitated. The general came + to his relief. “Monsieur Goldsmith,” said he, “est comme + la mer, qui jette des perles et beaucoup d’autres belles choses, + sans s’en appercevoir” (Mr. Goldsmith is like the sea, which + casts forth pearls and many other beautiful things without perceiving it). + </p> + <p> + “Très-bien dit, et très-elegamment” (very well said, and very + elegantly), exclaimed Goldsmith; delighted with so beautiful a compliment + from such a quarter. + </p> + <p> + Johnson spoke disparagingly of the learning of a Mr. Harris, of Salisbury, + and doubted his being a good Grecian. “He is what is much better,” + cried Goldsmith, with a prompt good-nature, “he is a worthy, humane + man.” “Nay, sir,” rejoined the logical Johnson, “that + is not to the purpose of our argument; that will prove that he can play + upon the fiddle as well as Giardini, as that he is an eminent Grecian.” + Goldsmith found he had got into a scrape, and seized upon Giardini to help + him out of it. “The greatest musical performers,” said he, + dexterously turning the conversation, “have but small emoluments; + Giardini, I am told, does not get above seven hundred a year.” + “That is indeed but little for a man to get,” observed + Johnson, “who does best that which so many endeavor to do. There is + nothing, I think, in which the power of art is shown so much as in playing + on the fiddle. In all other things we can do something at first. Any man + will forge a bar of iron, if you give him a hammer; not so well as a + smith, but tolerably. A man will saw a piece of wood, and make a box, + though a clumsy one; but give him a fiddle and fiddlestick, and he can do + nothing.” + </p> + <p> + This, upon the whole, though reported by the one-sided Boswell, is a + tolerable specimen of the conversations of Goldsmith and Johnson; the + farmer heedless, often illogical, always on the kind-hearted side of the + question, and prone to redeem himself by lucky hits; the latter closely + argumentative, studiously sententious, often profound, and sometimes + laboriously prosaic. + </p> + <p> + They had an argument a few days later at Mr. Thrale’s table, on the + subject of suicide. “Do you think, sir,” said Boswell, “that + all who commit suicide are mad?” “Sir,” replied Johnson, + “they are not often universally disordered in their intellects, but + one passion presses so upon them that they yield to it, and commit + suicide, as a passionate man will stab another. I have often thought,” + added he, “that after a man has taken the resolution to kill + himself, it is not courage in him to do anything, however desperate, + because he has nothing to fear.” “I don’t see that,” + observed Goldsmith. “Nay, but, my dear sir,” rejoined Johnson, + “why should you not see what every one else does?” “It + is,” replied Goldsmith, “for fear of something that he has + resolved to kill himself; and will not that timid disposition restrain + him?” “It does not signify,” pursued Johnson, “that + the fear of something made him resolve; it is upon the state of his mind, + after the resolution is taken, that I argue. Suppose a man, either from + fear, or pride, or conscience, or whatever motive, has resolved to kill + himself; when once the resolution is taken he has nothing to fear. He may + then go and take the King of Prussia by the nose at the head of his army. + He cannot fear the rack who is determined to kill himself.” Boswell + reports no more of the discussion, though Goldsmith might have continued + it with advantage; for the very timid disposition, which, through fear of + something, was impelling the man to commit suicide, might restrain him + from an act involving the punishment of the rack, more terrible to him + than death itself. + </p> + <p> + It is to be regretted in all these reports by Boswell we have scarcely + anything but the remarks of Johnson; it is only by accident that he now + and then gives us the observations of others, when they are necessary to + explain or set off those of his hero. “When in <i>that presence</i>,” + says Miss Burney, “he was unobservant, if not contemptuous of every + one else. In truth, when he met with Dr. Johnson, he commonly forbore even + answering anything that was said, or attending to anything that went + forward, lest he should miss the smallest sound from that voice, to which + he paid such exclusive, though merited, homage. But the moment that voice + burst forth, the attention which it excited on Mr. Boswell amounted almost + to pain. His eyes goggled with eagerness; he leaned his ear almost on the + shoulder of the doctor; and his mouth dropped open to catch every syllable + that might be uttered; nay, he seemed not only to dread losing a word, but + to be anxious not to miss a breathing; as if hoping from it latently, or + mystically, some information.” + </p> + <p> + On one occasion the doctor detected Boswell, or Bozzy, as he called him, + eavesdropping behind his chair, as he was conversing with Miss Burney at + Mr. Thrale’s table. “What are you doing there, sir?” + cried he, turning round angrily, and clapping his hand upon his knee. + “Go to the table, sir.” + </p> + <p> + Boswell obeyed with an air of affright and submission, which raised a + smile on every face. Scarce had he taken his seat, however, at a distance, + than, impatient to get again at the side of Johnson, he rose and was + running off in quest of something to show him, when the doctor roared + after him authoritatively, “What are you thinking of, sir? Why do + you get up before the cloth is removed? Come back to your place, sir”—and + the obsequious spaniel did as he was commanded. “Running about in + the middle of meals!” muttered the doctor, pursing his mouth at the + same time to restrain his rising risibility. + </p> + <p> + Boswell got another rebuff from Johnson, which would have demolished any + other man. He had been teasing him with many direct questions, such as + What did you do, sir? What did you say, sir? until the great philologist + became perfectly enraged. “I will not be put to the <i>question!</i>” + roared he. “Don’t you consider, sir, that these are not the + manners of a gentleman? I will not be baited with <i>what</i> and <i>why;</i> + What is this? What is that? Why is a cow’s tail long? Why is a fox’s + tail bushy?” “Why, sir,” replied pil-garlick, “you + are so good that I venture to trouble you,” “Sir,” + replied Johnson, “my being so <i>good</i> is no reason why you + should be so <i>ill</i>.” “You have but two topics, sir,” + exclaimed he on another occasion, “yourself and me, and I am sick of + both.” + </p> + <p> + Boswell’s inveterate disposition to <i>toad</i> was a sore cause of + mortification to his father, the old laird of Auchinleck (or Affleck). He + had been annoyed by his extravagant devotion to Paoli, but then he was + something of a military hero; but this tagging at the heels of Dr. + Johnson, whom he considered a kind of pedagogue, set his Scotch blood in a + ferment. “There’s nae hope for Jamie, mon,” said he to a + friend; “Jamie is gaen clean gyte. What do you think, mon? He’s + done wi’ Paoli; he’s off wi’ the land-louping scoundrel + of a Corsican; and whose tail do you think he has pinn’d himself to + now, mon? A <i>dominie</i> mon; an auld dominie: he keeped a schule, and + cau’d it an acaadamy.” + </p> + <p> + We shall show in the next chapter that Jamie’s devotion to the + dominie did not go unrewarded. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0040" id="link2HCH0040"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER FORTY + </h2> + <p> + CHANGES IN THE LITERARY CLUB—JOHNSON’S OBJECTION TO GARRICK—ELECTION + OP BOSWELL + </p> + <p> + The Literary Club (as we have termed the club in Gerard Street, though it + took that name some time later) had now been in existence several years. + Johnson was exceedingly chary at first of its exclusiveness, and opposed + to its being augmented in number. Not long after its institution, Sir + Joshua Reynolds was speaking of it to Garrick. “I like it much,” + said little David, briskly; “I think I shall be of you.” + “When Sir Joshua mentioned this to Dr. Johnson,” says Boswell, + “he was much displeased with the actor’s conceit. ‘<i>He’ll + be of us?</i>’ growled he. ‘How does he know we will <i>permit</i> + him? The first duke in England has no right to hold such language.’” + </p> + <p> + When Sir John Hawkins spoke favorably of Garrick’s pretensions, + “Sir,” replied Johnson, “he will disturb us by his + buffoonery.” In the same spirit he declared to Mr. Thrale that if + Garrick should apply for admission he would blackball him. “Who, + sir?” exclaimed Thrale, with surprise; “Mr. Garrick—your + friend, your companion—blackball him!” “Why, sir,” + replied Johnson, “I love my little David dearly—better than + all or any of his flatterers do; but surely one ought to sit in a society + like ours, + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “‘Unelbowed by a gamester, pimp, or player.’” + </pre> + <p> + The exclusion from the club was a sore mortification to Garrick, though he + bore it without complaining. He could not help continually to ask + questions about it—what was going on there—whether he was ever + the subject of conversation. By degrees the rigor of the club relaxed: + some of the members grew negligent. Beauclerc lost his right of membership + by neglecting to attend. On his marriage, however, with Lady Diana + Spencer, daughter of the Duke of Marlborough, and recently divorced from + Viscount Bolingbroke, he had claimed and regained his seat in the club. + The number of members had likewise been augmented. The proposition to + increase it originated with Goldsmith. “It would give,” he + thought, “an agreeable variety to their meetings; for there can be + nothing new among us,” said he; “we have traveled over each + other’s minds.” Johnson was piqued at the suggestion. “Sir,” + said he, “you have not traveled over my mind, I promise you.” + Sir Joshua, less confident in the exhaustless fecundity of his mind, felt + and acknowledged the force of Goldsmith’s suggestion. Several new + members, therefore, had been added; the first, to his great joy, was David + Garrick. Goldsmith, who was now on cordial terms with him, had zealously + promoted his election, and Johnson had given it his warm approbation. + Another new member was Beauclerc’s friend, Lord Charlemont; and a + still more important one was Mr., afterward Sir William Jones, the famous + Orientalist, at that time a young lawyer of the Temple and a distinguished + scholar. + </p> + <p> + To the great astonishment of the club, Johnson now proposed his devoted + follower, Boswell, as a member. He did it in a note addressed to + Goldsmith, who presided on the evening of the 23d of April. The nomination + was seconded by Beauclerc. According to the rules of the club, the ballot + would take place at the next meeting (on the 30th); there was an + intervening week, therefore, in which to discuss the pretensions of the + candidate. We may easily imagine the discussions that took place. Boswell + had made himself absurd in such a variety of ways, that the very idea of + his admission was exceedingly irksome to some of the members. “The + honor of being elected into the Turk’s Head Club,” said the + Bishop of St. Asaph, “is not inferior to that of being + representative of Westminster and Surrey.” What had Boswell done to + merit such an honor? What chance had he of gaining it? The answer was + simple: he had been the persevering worshiper, if not sycophant of + Johnson. The great lexicographer had a heart to be won by apparent + affection; he stood forth authoritatively in support of his vassal. If + asked to state the merits of the candidate, he summed them up in an + indefinite but comprehensive word of his own coining; he was <i>clubable</i>. + He moreover gave significant hints that if Boswell were kept out he should + oppose the admission of any other candidate. No further opposition was + made; in fact none of the members had been so fastidious and exclusive in + regard to the club as Johnson himself; and if he were pleased, they were + easily satisfied; besides, they knew that, with all his faults, Boswell + was a cheerful companion, and possessed lively social qualities. + </p> + <p> + On Friday, when the ballot was to take place, Beauclerc gave a dinner, at + his house in the Adelphi, where Boswell met several of the members who + were favorable to his election. After dinner the latter adjourned to the + club, leaving Boswell in company with Lady Di Beauclerc until the fate of + his election should be known. He sat, he says, in a state of anxiety which + even the charming conversation of Lady Di could not entirely dissipate. It + was not long before tidings were brought of his election, and he was + conducted to the place of meeting, where, besides the company he had met + at dinner, Burke, Dr. Nugent, Garrick, Goldsmith, and Mr. William Jones + were waiting to receive him. The club, notwithstanding all its learned + dignity in the eyes of the world, could at times “unbend and play + the fool” as well as less important bodies. Some of its jocose + conversations have at times leaked out, and a society in which Goldsmith + could venture to sing his song of “an old woman tossed in a blanket,” + could not be so very staid in its gravity. We may suppose, therefore, the + jokes that had been passing among the members while awaiting the arrival + of Boswell. Beauclerc himself could not have repressed his disposition for + a sarcastic pleasantry. At least we have a right to presume all this from + the conduct of Dr. Johnson himself. + </p> + <p> + With all his gravity he possessed a deep fund of quiet humor, and felt a + kind of whimsical responsibility to protect the club from the absurd + propensities of the very questionable associate he had thus inflicted on + them. Rising, therefore, as Boswell entered, he advanced with a very + doctorial air, placed himself behind a chair, on which he leaned as on a + desk or pulpit, and then delivered, <i>ex cathedra</i>, a mock solemn + charge, pointing out the conduct expected from him as a good member of the + club; what he was to do, and especially what he was to avoid; including in + the latter, no doubt, all those petty, prying, questioning, gossiping, + babbling habits which had so often grieved the spirit of the + lexicographer. It is to be regretted that Boswell has never thought proper + to note down the particulars of this charge, which, from the well known + characters and positions of the parties, might have furnished a parallel + to the noted charge of Launcelot Gobbo to his dog. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0041" id="link2HCH0041"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER FORTY-ONE + </h2> + <p> + DINNER AT THE DILLYS’—CONVERSATIONS ON NATURAL HISTORY—INTERMEDDLING + OF BOSWELL—DISPUTE ABOUT TOLERATION—JOHNSON’S REBUFF TO + GOLDSMITH—HIS APOLOGY—MAN-WORSHIP—DOCTORS MAJOR AND + MINOR—A FAREWELL VISIT + </p> + <p> + A few days after the serio-comic scene of the elevation of Boswell into + the Literary Club, we find that indefatigable Biographer giving + particulars of a dinner at the Dillys’, booksellers, in the Poultry, + at which he met Goldsmith and Johnson, with several other literary + characters. His anecdotes of the conversation, of course, go to glorify + Dr. Johnson; for, as he observes in his biography, “His conversation + alone, or what led to it, or was interwoven with it, is the business of + this work.” Still on the present, as on other occasions, he gives + unintentional and perhaps unavoidable gleams of Goldsmith’s good + sense, which show that the latter only wanted a less prejudiced and more + impartial reporter to put down the charge of colloquial incapacity so + unjustly fixed upon him. The conversation turned upon the natural history + of birds, a beautiful subject, on which the poet, from his recent studies, + his habits of observation, and his natural tastes, must have talked with + instruction and feeling; yet, though we have much of what Johnson said, we + have only a casual remark or two of Goldsmith. One was on the migration of + swallows, which he pronounced partial; “the stronger ones,” + said he, “migrate, the others do not.” + </p> + <p> + Johnson denied to the brute creation the faculty of reason. “Birds,” + said he, “build by instinct; they never improve; they build their + first nest as well as any one they ever build.” “Yet we see,” + observed Goldsmith, “if you take away a bird’s nest with the + eggs in it, she will make a slighter nest and lay again.” “Sir,” + replied Johnson, “that is because at first she has full time, and + makes her nest deliberately. In the case you mention, she is pressed to + lay, and must, therefore, make her nest quickly, and consequently it will + be slight.” “The nidification of birds,” rejoined + Goldsmith, “is what is least known in natural history, though one of + the most curious things in it.” While conversation was going on in + this placid, agreeable and instructive manner, the eternal meddler and + busybody Boswell, must intrude, to put it in a brawl. The Dillys were + dissenters; two of their guests were dissenting clergymen; another, Mr. + Toplady, was a clergyman of the established church. Johnson, himself, was + a zealous, uncompromising churchman. None but a marplot like Boswell would + have thought, on such an occasion, and in such company, to broach the + subject of religious toleration; but, as has been well observed, “it + was his perverse inclination to introduce subjects that he hoped would + produce difference and debate.” In the present instance he gamed his + point. An animated dispute immediately arose in which, according to + Boswell’s report, Johnson monopolized the greater part of the + conversation; not always treating the dissenting clergymen with the + greatest courtesy, and even once wounding the feelings of the mild and + amiable Bennet Langton by his harshness. + </p> + <p> + Goldsmith mingled a little in the dispute and with some advantage, but was + cut short by flat contradictions when most in the right. He sat for a time + silent but impatient under such overbearing dogmatism, though Boswell, + with his usual misinterpretation, attributes his “restless agitation” + to a wish to <i>get in and shine</i>. “Finding himself excluded,” + continued Boswell, “he had taken his hat to go away, but remained + for a time with it in his hand, like a gamester, who, at the end of a long + night, lingers for a little while to see if he can have a favorable + opportunity to finish with success.” Once he was beginning to speak + when he was overpowered by the loud voice of Johnson, who was at the + opposite end of the table, and did not perceive his attempt; whereupon he + threw down, as it were, his hat and his argument, and, darting an angry + glance at Johnson, exclaimed in a bitter tone, “<i>Take it.</i>” + </p> + <p> + Just then one of the disputants was beginning to speak, when Johnson + uttering some sound, as if about to interrupt him, Goldsmith, according to + Boswell, seized the opportunity to vent his own <i>envy and spleen</i> + under pretext of supporting another person. “Sir,” said he to + Johnson, “the gentleman has heard you patiently for an hour; pray + allow us now to hear him.” It was a reproof in the lexicographer’s + own style, and he may have felt that he merited it; but he was not + accustomed to be reproved. “Sir,” said he sternly, “I + was not interrupting the gentleman; I was only giving him a signal of my + attention. Sir, <i>you are impertinent</i>.” Goldsmith made no + reply, but after some time went away, having another engagement. + </p> + <p> + That evening, as Boswell was on the way with Johnson and Langton to the + club, he seized the occasion to make some disparaging remarks on + Goldsmith, which he thought would just then be acceptable to the great + lexicographer. “It was a pity,” he said, “that Goldsmith + would, on every occasion, endeavor to shine, by which he so often exposed + himself.” Langton contrasted him with Addison, who, content with the + fame of his writings, acknowledged himself unfit for conversation; and on + being taxed by a lady with silence in company, replied, “Madam, I + have but ninepence in ready money, but I can draw for a thousand pounds.” + To this Boswell rejoined that Goldsmith had a great deal of gold in his + cabinet, but was always taking out his purse. “Yes, sir,” + chuckled Johnson, “and that so often an empty purse.” + </p> + <p> + By the time Johnson arrived at the club, however, his angry feelings had + subsided, and his native generosity and sense of justice had got the + uppermost. He found Goldsmith in company with Burke, Garrick, and other + members, but sitting silent and apart, “brooding,” as Boswell + says, “over the reprimand he had received.” Johnson’s + good heart yearned toward him; and knowing his placable nature, “I’ll + make Goldsmith forgive me,” whispered he; then, with a loud voice, + “Dr. Goldsmith,” said he, “something passed to-day where + you and I dined—<i>I ask your pardon</i>.” The ire of the poet + was extinguished in an instant, and his grateful affection for the + magnanimous though sometimes overbearing moralist rushed to his heart. + “It must be much from you, sir,” said he, “that I take + ill!” “And so,” adds Boswell, “the difference was + over, and they were on as easy terms as ever, and Goldsmith rattled away + as usual.” We do not think these stories tell to the poet’s + disadvantage, even though related by Boswell. + </p> + <p> + Goldsmith, with all his modesty, could not be ignorant of his proper + merit; and must have felt annoyed at times at being undervalued and + elbowed aside by light-minded or dull men, in their blind and exclusive + homage to the literary autocrat. It was a fine reproof he gave to Boswell + on one occasion, for talking of Johnson as entitled to the honor of + exclusive superiority. “Sir, you are for making a monarchy what + should be a republic.” On another occasion, when he was conversing + in company with great vivacity, and apparently to the satisfaction of + those around him, an honest Swiss, who sat near, one George Michael Moser, + keeper of the Royal Academy, perceiving Dr. Johnson rolling himself as if + about to speak, exclaimed, “Stay, stay! Toctor Shonson is going to + say something.” “And are you sure, sir,” replied + Goldsmith, sharply, “that <i>you</i> can comprehend what he says?” + </p> + <p> + This clever rebuke, which gives the main zest to the anecdote, is omitted + by Boswell, who probably did not perceive the point of it. + </p> + <p> + He relates another anecdote of the kind, on the authority of Johnson + himself. The latter and Goldsmith were one evening in company with the + Rev. George Graham, a master of Eton, who, notwithstanding the sobriety of + his cloth, had got intoxicated “to about the pitch of looking at one + man and talking to another.” “Doctor,” cried he in an + ecstasy of devotion and good-will, but goggling by mistake upon Goldsmith, + “I should be glad to see you at Eton.” “I shall be glad + to wait upon you,” replied Goldsmith. “No, no!” cried + the other eagerly, “’tis not you I mean, Doctor <i>Minor</i>, + ’tis Doctor <i>Major</i> there.” “You may easily + conceive,” said Johnson in relating the anecdote, “what effect + this had upon Goldsmith, who was irascible as a hornet.” The only + comment, however, which he is said to have made, partakes more of quaint + and dry humor than bitterness: “That Graham,” said he, “is + enough to make one commit suicide.” What more could be said to + express the intolerable nuisance of a consummate bore? + </p> + <p> + We have now given the last scenes between Goldsmith and Johnson which + stand recorded by Boswell. The latter called on the poet a few days after + the dinner at Dillys’, to take leave of him prior to departing for + Scotland; yet, even in this last interview, he contrives to get up a + charge of “jealousy and envy.” Goldsmith, he would fain + persuade us, is very angry that Johnson is going to travel with him in + Scotland; and endeavors to persuade him that he will be a dead weight + “to lug along through the Highlands and Hebrides.” Any one + else, knowing the character and habits of Johnson, would have thought the + same; and no one but Boswell would have supposed his office of bear-leader + to the ursa major a thing to be envied. [Footnote: One of Peter Pindar’s + (Dr. Wolcot) most amusing <i>jeux d’esprit</i> is his congratulatory + epistle to Boswell on his tour, of which we subjoin a few lines. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “O Boswell, Bozzy, Bruce, whate’er thy name, + Thou mighty shark for anecdote and fame; + Thou jackal, leading lion Johnson forth, + To eat M’Pherson ‘midst his native north; + To frighten grave professors with his roar, + And shake the Hebrides from shore to shore. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Bless’d be thy labors, most adventurous Bozzy, + Bold rival of Sir John and Dame Piozzi; + Heavens! with what laurels shall thy head be crown’d! + A grove, a forest, shall thy ears surround! + Yes! whilst the Rambler shall a comet blaze, + And gild a world of darkness with his rays, + Thee, too, that world with wonderment shall hail, + A lively, bouncing cracker at his tail!”] +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0042" id="link2HCH0042"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER FORTY-TWO + </h2> + <p> + PROJECT OF A DICTIONARY OF ARTS AND SCIENCES—DISAPPOINTMENT—NEGLIGENT + AUTHORSHIP—APPLICATION FOR A PENSION—BEATTIE’S ESSAY ON + TRUTH—PUBLIC ADULATION—A HIGH-MINDED REBUKE + </p> + <p> + The works which Goldsmith had still in hand being already paid for, and + the money gone, some new scheme must be devised to provide for the past + and the future—for impending debts which threatened to crush him, + and expenses which were continually increasing. He now projected a work of + greater compass than any he had yet undertaken; a Dictionary of Arts and + Sciences on a comprehensive scale, which was to occupy a number of + volumes. For this he received promises of assistance from several powerful + hands. Johnson was to contribute an article on ethics; Burke, an abstract + of his Essay on the Sublime and Beautiful, an essay on the Berkleyan + system of philosophy, and others on political science; Sir Joshua + Reynolds, an essay on painting; and Garrick, while he undertook on his own + part to furnish an essay on acting, engaged Dr. Burney to contribute an + article on music. Here was a great array of talent positively engaged, + while other writers of eminence were to be sought for the various + departments of science. Goldsmith was to edit the whole. An undertaking of + this kind, while it did not incessantly task and exhaust his inventive + powers by original composition, would give agreeable and profitable + exercise to his taste and judgment in selecting, compiling, and arranging, + and he calculated to diffuse over the whole the acknowledged graces of his + style. + </p> + <p> + He drew up a prospectus of the plan, which is said by Bishop Percy, who + saw it, to have been written with uncommon ability, and to have had that + perspicuity and elegance for which his writings are remarkable. This + paper, unfortunately, is no longer in existence. + </p> + <p> + Goldsmith’s expectations, always sanguine respecting any new plan, + were raised to an extraordinary height by the present project; and well + they might be, when we consider the powerful coadjutors already pledged. + They were doomed, however, to complete disappointment. Davies, the + bibliopole of Russell Street, lets us into the secret of this failure. + “The booksellers,” said he, “notwithstanding they had a + very good opinion of his abilities, yet were startled at the bulk, + importance, and expense of so great an undertaking, the fate of which was + to depend upon the industry of a man with whose indolence of temper and + method of procrastination they had long been acquainted.” + </p> + <p> + Goldsmith certainly gave reason for some such distrust by the heedlessness + with which he conducted his literary undertakings. Those unfinished, but + paid for, would be suspended to make way for some job that was to provide + for present necessities. Those thus hastily taken up would be as hastily + executed, and the whole, however pressing, would be shoved aside and left + “at loose ends,” on some sudden call to social enjoyment or + recreation. + </p> + <p> + Cradock tells us that on one occasion, when Goldsmith was hard at work on + his Natural History, he sent to Dr. Percy and himself, entreating them to + finish some pages of his work which lay upon his table, and for which the + press was urgent, he being detained by other engagements at Windsor. They + met by appointment at his chambers in the Temple, where they found + everything in disorder, and costly books lying scattered about on the + tables and on the floor; many of the books on natural history which he had + recently consulted lay open among uncorrected proof-sheets. The subject in + hand, and from which he had suddenly broken off, related to birds. “Do + you know anything about birds?” asked Dr. Percy, smiling. “Not + an atom,” replied Cradock; “do you?” “Not I! I + scarcely know a goose from a swan: however, let us try what we can do.” + They set to work and completed their friendly task. Goldsmith, however, + when he came to revise it, made such alterations that they could neither + of them recognize their own share. The engagement at Windsor, which had + thus caused Goldsmith to break off suddenly from his multifarious + engagements, was a party of pleasure with some literary ladies. Another + anecdote was current, illustrative of the carelessness with which he + executed works requiring accuracy and research. On the 22d of June he had + received payment in advance for a Grecian History in two volumes, though + only one was finished. As he was pushing on doggedly at the second volume, + Gibbon, the historian, called in. “You are the man of all others I + wish to see,” cried the poet, glad to be saved the trouble of + reference to his books. “What was the name of that Indian king who + gave Alexander the Great so much trouble?” “Montezuma,” + replied Gibbon, sportively. The heedless author was about committing the + name to paper without reflection, when Gibbon pretended to recollect + himself, and gave the true name, Porus. + </p> + <p> + This story, very probably, was a sportive exaggeration; but it was a + multiplicity of anecdotes like this and the preceding one, some true and + some false, which had impaired the confidence of booksellers in Goldsmith, + as a man to be relied on for a task requiring wide and accurate research, + and close and long-continued application. The project of the Universal + Dictionary, therefore, met with no encouragement, and fell through. + </p> + <p> + The failure of this scheme, on which he had built such spacious hopes, + sank deep into Goldsmith’s heart. He was still further grieved and + mortified by the failure of an effort made by some of his friends to + obtain for him a pension from government. There had been a talk of the + disposition of the ministry to extend the bounty of the crown to + distinguished literary men in pecuniary difficulty, without regard to + their political creed: when the merits and claims of Goldsmith, however, + were laid before them, they met no favor. The sin of sturdy independence + lay at his door. He had refused to become a ministerial hack when offered + a <i>carte blanche</i> by Parson, Scott, the cabinet emissary. The + wondering parson had left him his poverty and “<i>his garrets</i>” + and there the ministry were disposed to suffer him to remain. + </p> + <p> + In the meantime Dr. Beattie comes out with his Essay On Truth, and all the + orthodox world are thrown into a paroxysm of contagious ecstasy. He is + cried up as the great champion of Christianity against the attacks of + modern philosophers and infidels; he is feted and flattered in every way. + He receives at Oxford the honorary degree of doctor of civil law, at the + same time with Sir Joshua Reynolds. The king sends for him, praises his + Essay, and gives him a pension of two hundred pounds. + </p> + <p> + Goldsmith feels more acutely the denial of a pension to himself when one + has thus been given unsolicited to a man he might without vanity consider + so much his inferior. He was not one to conceal his feelings. “Here’s + such a stir,” said he one day at Thrale’s table, “about + a fellow that has written one book, and I have written so many!” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, doctor!” exclaimed Johnson, in one of his caustic moods, + “there go two and forty sixpences, you know, to one guinea.” + This is one of the cuts at poor Goldsmith in which Johnson went contrary + to head and heart in his love for saying what is called a “good + thing.” No one knew better than himself the comparative superiority + of the writings of Goldsmith; but the jingle of the sixpences and the + guinea was not to be resisted. + </p> + <p> + “Everybody,” exclaimed Mrs. Thrale, “loves Dr. Beattie, + but Goldsmith, who says he cannot bear the sight of so much applause as + they all bestow upon him. Did he not tell us so himself no one would + believe he was so exceedingly ill-natured.” + </p> + <p> + He told them so himself because he was too open and unreserved to disguise + his feelings, and because he really considered the praise lavished on + Beattie extravagant, as in fact it was. It was all, of course, set down to + sheer envy and uncharitableness. To add to his annoyance, he found his + friend, Sir Joshua Reynolds, joining in the universal adulation. He had + painted a full-length portrait of Beattie decked in the doctor’s + robes in which he had figured at Oxford, with the Essay on Truth under his + arm and the angel of truth at his side, while Voltaire figured as one of + the demons of infidelity, sophistry, and falsehood, driven into utter + darkness. + </p> + <p> + Goldsmith had known Voltaire in early life; he had been his admirer and + his biographer; he grieved to find him receiving such an insult from the + classic pencil of his friend. “It is unworthy of you,” said he + to Sir Joshua, “to debase so high a genius as Voltaire before so + mean a writer as Beattie. Beattie and his book will be forgotten in ten + years, while Voltaire’s fame will last forever. Take care it does + not perpetuate this picture to the shame of such a man as you.” This + noble and high-minded rebuke is the only instance on record of any + reproachful words between the poet and the painter; and we are happy to + find that it did not destroy the harmony of their intercourse. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0043" id="link2HCH0043"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER FORTY-THREE + </h2> + <p> + TOIL WITHOUT HOPE—THE POET IN THE GREEN-ROOM—IN THE FLOWER + GARDEN—AT VAUXHALL—DISSIPATION WITHOUT GAYETY—CRADOCK IN + TOWN—FRIENDLY SYMPATHY—A PARTING SCENE—AN INVITATION TO + PLEASURE + </p> + <p> + Thwarted in the plans and disappointed in the hopes which had recently + cheered and animated him, Goldsmith found the labor at his half-finished + tasks doubly irksome from the consciousness that the completion of them + could not relieve him from his pecuniary embarrassments. His impaired + health, also, rendered him less capable than formerly of sedentary + application, and continual perplexities disturbed the flow of thought + necessary for original composition. He lost his usual gayety and + good-humor, and became, at times, peevish and irritable. Too proud of + spirit to seek sympathy or relief from his friends, for the pecuniary + difficulties he had brought upon himself by his errors and extravagance; + and unwilling, perhaps, to make known their amount, he buried his cares + and anxieties in his own bosom, and endeavored in company to keep up his + usual air of gayety and unconcern. This gave his conduct an appearance of + fitfulness and caprice, varying suddenly from moodiness to mirth, and from + silent gravity to shallow laughter; causing surprise and ridicule in those + who were not aware of the sickness of heart which lay beneath. + </p> + <p> + His poetical reputation, too, was sometimes a disadvantage to him; it drew + upon him a notoriety which he was not always in the mood or the vein to + act up to. “Good heavens, Mr. Foote,” exclaimed an actress at + the Haymarket Theater, “what a humdrum kind of man Dr. Goldsmith + appears in our green-room compared with the figure he makes in his poetry!” + “The reason of that, madam,” replied Foote, “is because + the muses are better company than the players.” + </p> + <p> + Beauclerc’s letters to his friend, Lord Charlemont, who was absent + in Ireland, give us now and then an indication of the whereabout of the + poet during the present year. “I have been but once to the club + since you left England,” writes he; “we were entertained, as + usual, with Goldsmith’s absurdity.” With Beauclerc everything + was absurd that was not polished and pointed. In another letter he + threatens, unless Lord Charlemont returns to England, to bring over the + whole club, and let them loose upon him to drive him home by their + peculiar habits of annoyance—Johnson shall spoil his books; + Goldsmith shall <i>pull his flowers;</i> and last, and most intolerable of + all, Boswell shall—talk to him. It would appear that the poet, who + had a passion for flowers, was apt to pass much of his time in the garden + when on a visit to a country seat, much to the detriment of the flowerbeds + and the despair of the gardener. + </p> + <p> + The summer wore heavily away with Goldsmith. He had not his usual solace + of a country retreat; his health was impaired and his spirits depressed. + Sir Joshua Reynolds, who perceived the state of his mind, kindly gave him + much of his company. In the course of their interchange of thought, + Goldsmith suggested to him the story of Ugolino, as a subject for his + pencil. The painting founded on it remains a memento of their friendship. + </p> + <p> + On the 4th of August we find them together at Vauxhall; at that time a + place in high vogue, and which had once been to Goldsmith a scene of + Oriental splendor and delight. We have, in fact, in the Citizen of the + World, a picture of it as it had struck him in former years and in his + happier moods. “Upon entering the gardens,” says the Chinese + philosopher, “I found every sense occupied with more than expected + pleasure; the lights everywhere glimmering through the scarcely-moving + trees; the full-bodied concert bursting on the stillness of the night; the + natural concert of the birds in the more retired part of the grove, vying + with that which was formed by art; the company gayly dressed, looking + satisfaction, and the tables spread with various delicacies, all conspired + to fill my imagination with the visionary happiness of the Arabian + lawgiver, and lifted me into an ecstasy of admiration.” [Footnote: + Citizen of the World, Letter xxi] + </p> + <p> + Everything now, however, is seen with different eyes; with him it is + dissipation without pleasure; and he finds it impossible any longer, by + mingling in the gay and giddy throng of apparently prosperous and happy + beings, to escape from the carking care which is clinging to his heart. + </p> + <p> + His kind friend, Cradock, came up to town toward autumn, when all the + fashionable world was in the country, to give his wife the benefit of a + skillful dentist. He took lodgings in Norfolk Street, to be in Goldsmith’s + neighborhood, and passed most of his mornings with him. “I found + him,” he says, “much altered and at times very low. He wished + me to look over and revise some of his works; but, with a select friend or + two, I was more pressing that he should publish by subscription his two + celebrated poems of the Traveler and the Deserted Village, with notes.” + The idea of Cradock was that the subscription would enable wealthy + persons, favorable to Goldsmith, to contribute to his pecuniary relief + without wounding his pride. “Goldsmith,” said he, “readily + gave up to me his private copies, and said, ‘Pray do what you please + with them.’ But while he sat near me, he rather submitted to than + encouraged my zealous proceedings. + </p> + <p> + “I one morning called upon him, however, and found him infinitely + better than I had expected; and, in a kind of exulting style, he + exclaimed, ‘Here are some of the best of my prose writings; <i>I + have been hard at work since midnight,</i> and I desire you to examine + them.’ ‘These,’ said I, ‘are excellent indeed.’ + ‘They are,’ replied he, ‘intended as an introduction to + a body of arts and sciences.’” + </p> + <p> + Poor Goldsmith was, in fact, gathering together the fragments of his + shipwreck; the notes and essays and memoranda collected for his + dictionary, and proposed to found on them a work in two volumes, to be + entitled A Survey of Experimental Philosophy. + </p> + <p> + The plan of the subscription came to nothing, and the projected survey + never was executed. The head might yet devise, but the heart was failing + him; his talent at hoping, which gave him buoyancy to carry out his + enterprises, was almost at an end. + </p> + <p> + Cradock’s farewell scene with him is told in a simple but touching + manner. + </p> + <p> + “The day before I was to set out for Leicestershire I insisted upon + his dining with us. He replied, ‘I will, but on one condition, that + you will not ask me to eat anything.’ ‘Nay,’ said I, + ‘this answer is absolutely unkind, for I had hoped, as we are + supplied from the Crown and Anchor, that you would have named something + you might have relished.’ ‘Well,’ was the reply, ‘if + you will but explain it to Mrs. Cradock, I will certainly wait upon you.’ + </p> + <p> + “The doctor found, as usual, at my apartments, newspapers and + pamphlets, and with a pen and ink he amused himself as well as he could. I + had ordered from the tavern some fish, a roasted joint of lamb, and a + tart; and the doctor either sat down or walked about just as he pleased. + After dinner he took some wine with biscuits; but I was obliged soon to + leave him for a while, as I had matters to settle prior to my next day’s + journey. On my return coffee was ready, and the doctor appeared more + cheerful (for Mrs. Cradock was always rather a favorite with him), and in + the evening he endeavored to talk and remark as usual, but all was forced. + He stayed till midnight, and I insisted on seeing him safe home, and we + most cordially shook hands at the Temple gate.” Cradock little + thought that this was to be their final parting. He looked back to it with + mournful recollections in after years, and lamented that he had not + remained longer in town at every inconvenience, to solace the poor + broken-spirited poet. + </p> + <p> + The latter continued in town all the autumn. At the opening of the Opera + House, on the 20th of November, Mrs. Yates, an actress whom he held in + great esteem, delivered a poetical exordium of his composition. Beauclerc, + in a letter to Lord Charlemont, pronounced it very good, and predicted + that it would soon be in all the papers. It does not appear, however, to + have been ever published. In his fitful state of mind Goldsmith may have + taken no care about it, and thus it has been lost to the world, although + it was received with great applause by a crowded and brilliant audience. + </p> + <p> + A gleam of sunshine breaks through the gloom that was gathering over the + poet. Toward the end of the year he receives another Christmas invitation + to Barton. A country Christmas! with all the cordiality of the fireside + circle, and the joyous revelry of the oaken hall—what a contrast to + the loneliness of a bachelor’s chambers in the Temple! It is not to + be resisted. But how is poor Goldsmith to raise the ways and means? His + purse is empty; his booksellers are already in advance to him. As a last + resource, he applies to Garrick. Their mutual intimacy at Barton may have + suggested him as an alternative. The old loan of forty pounds has never + been paid; and Newbery’s note, pledged as a security, has never been + taken up. An additional loan of sixty pounds is now asked for, thus + increasing the loan to one hundred; to insure the payment, he now offers, + besides Newbery’s note, the transfer of the comedy of the + Good-Natured Man to Drury Lane, with such alterations as Garrick may + suggest. Garrick, in reply, evades the offer of the altered comedy, + alludes significantly to a new one which Goldsmith had talked of writing + for him, and offers to furnish the money required on his own acceptance. + </p> + <p> + The reply of Goldsmith bespeaks a heart brimful of gratitude and + overflowing with fond anticipations of Barton and the smiles of its fair + residents. “My dear friend,” writes he, “I thank you. I + wish I could do something to serve you. I shall have a comedy for you in a + season, or two at furthest, that I believe will be worth your acceptance, + for I fancy I will make it a fine thing. You shall have the refusal.... I + will draw upon you one month after date for sixty pounds, and your + acceptance will be ready money, <i>part of which I want to go down to + Barton with</i>. May God preserve my honest little man, for he has my + heart. Ever, + </p> + <h3> + “OLIVER GOLDSMITH.” + </h3> + <p> + And having thus scrambled together a little pocket-money, by hard + contrivance, poor Goldsmith turns his back upon care and trouble, and + Temple quarters, to forget for a time his desolate bachelorhood in the + family circle and a Christmas fireside at Barton. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0044" id="link2HCH0044"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR + </h2> + <p> + A RETURN TO DRUDGERY—FORCED GAYETY—RETREAT TO THE COUNTRY—THE + POEM OF RETALIATION—PORTRAIT OF GARRICK—OF GOLDSMITH—OF + REYNOLDS—ILLNESS OF THE POET—HIS DEATH—GRIEF OF HIS + FRIENDS—A LAST WORD RESPECTING THE JESSAMY BRIDE + </p> + <p> + The Barton festivities are over; Christmas, with all its home-felt revelry + of the heart, has passed like a dream; the Jessamy Bride has beamed her + last smile upon the poor poet, and the early part of 1774 finds him in his + now dreary bachelor abode in the Temple, toiling fitfully and hopelessly + at a multiplicity of tasks. His Animated Nature, so long delayed, so often + interrupted, is at length announced for publication, though it has yet to + receive a few finishing touches. He is preparing a third History of + England, to be compressed and condensed in one volume, for the use of + schools. He is revising his Inquiry into Polite Learning, for which he + receives the pittance of five guineas, much needed in his present + scantiness of purse; he is arranging his Survey of Experimental + Philosophy, and he is translating the Comic Romance of Scarron. Such is a + part of the various labors of a drudging, depressing kind, by which his + head is made wrong and his heart faint. “If there is a mental + drudgery,” says Sir Walter Scott, “which lowers the spirits + and lacerates the nerves, like the toil of a slave, it is that which is + exacted by literary composition, when the heart is not in unison with the + work upon which the head is employed. Add to the unhappy author’s + task sickness, sorrow, or the pressure of unfavorable circumstances, and + the labor of the bondsman becomes light in comparison.” Goldsmith + again makes an effort to rally his spirits by going into gay society. + “Our club,” writes Beauclerc to Charlemont, on the 12th of + February, “has dwindled away to nothing. Sir Joshua and Goldsmith + have got into such a round of pleasures that they have no time.” + This shows how little Beauclerc was the companion of the poet’s + mind, or could judge of him below the surface. Reynolds, the kind + participator in joyless dissipation, could have told a different story of + his companion’s heart-sick gayety. + </p> + <p> + In this forced mood Goldsmith gave entertainments in his chambers in the + Temple; the last of which was a dinner to Johnson, Reynolds, and others of + his intimates, who partook with sorrow and reluctance of his imprudent + hospitality. The first course vexed them by its needless profusion. When a + second, equally extravagant, was served up, Johnson and Reynolds declined + to partake of it; the rest of the company, understanding their motives, + followed their example, and the dishes went from the table untasted. + Goldsmith felt sensibly this silent and well-intended rebuke. + </p> + <p> + The gayeties of society, however, cannot medicine for any length of time a + mind diseased. Wearied by the distractions and harassed by the expenses of + a town life, which he had not the discretion to regulate, Goldsmith took + the resolution, too tardily adopted, of retiring to the serene quiet and + cheap and healthful pleasures of the country, and of passing only two + months of the year in London. He accordingly made arrangements to sell his + right in the Temple chambers, and in the month of March retired to his + country quarters at Hyde, there to devote himself to toil. At this + dispirited juncture, when inspiration seemed to be at an end, and the + poetic fire extinguished, a spark fell on his combustible imagination and + set it in a blaze. + </p> + <p> + He belonged to a temporary association of men of talent, some of them + members of the Literary Club, who dined together occasionally at the St. + James’ Coffee-house. At these dinners, as usual, he was one of the + last to arrive. On one occasion, when he was more dilatory than usual, a + whim seized the company to write epitaphs on him, as “The late Dr. + Goldsmith,” and several were thrown off in a playful vein, hitting + off his peculiarities. The only one extant was written by Garrick, and has + been preserved, very probably, by its pungency: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Here lies poet Goldsmith, for shortness called Noll, + Who wrote like an angel, but talked like poor poll.” + </pre> + <p> + Goldsmith did not relish the sarcasm, especially as coming from such a + quarter. He was not very ready at repartee; but he took his time, and in + the interval of his various tasks concocted a series of epigrammatic + sketches, under the title of Retaliation, in which the characters of his + distinguished intimates were admirably hit off, with a mixture of generous + praise and good-humored raillery. In fact, the poem for its graphic truth; + its nice discrimination; its terse good sense, and its shrewd knowledge of + the world, must have electrified the club almost as much as the first + appearance of The Traveler, and let them still deeper into the character + and talents of the man they had been accustomed to consider as their butt. + Retaliation, in a word, closed his accounts with the club, and balanced + all his previous deficiencies. + </p> + <p> + The portrait of David Garrick is one of the most elaborate in the poem. + When the poet came to touch it off, he had some lurking piques to gratify, + which the recent attack had revived. He may have forgotten David’s + cavalier treatment of him, in the early days of his comparative obscurity; + he may have forgiven his refusal of his plays; but Garrick had been + capricious in his conduct in the times of their recent intercourse; + sometimes treating him with gross familiarity, at other times affecting + dignity and reserve, and assuming airs of superiority; frequently he had + been facetious and witty in company at his expense, and lastly he had been + guilty of the couplet just quoted. Goldsmith, therefore, touched off the + lights and shadows of his character with a free hand, and, at the same + time, gave a side hit at his old rival, Kelly, and his critical + persecutor, Kenrick, in making them sycophantic satellites of the actor. + Goldsmith, however, was void of gall, even in his revenge, and his very + satire was more humorous than caustic: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Here lies David Garrick, describe him who can, + An abridgment of all that was pleasant in man; + As an actor, confess’d without rival to shine; + As a wit, if not first, in the very first line: + Yet, with talents like these, and an excellent heart. + The man had his failings, a dupe to his art. + Like an ill-judging beauty, his colors he spread, + And beplaster’d with rouge his own natural red. + On the stage he was natural, simple, affecting; + ‘Twas only that when he was off he was acting. + With no reason on earth to go out of his way, + He turn’d and he varied full ten times a day: + Though secure of our hearts, yet confoundedly sick + If they were not his own by finessing and trick: + He cast off his friends as a huntsman his pack, + For he knew, when he pleased, he could whistle them back. + Of praise a mere glutton, he swallow’d what came, + And the puff of a dunce he mistook it for fame; + Till his relish, grown callous almost to disease, + Who pepper’d the highest was surest to please. + But let us be candid, and speak out our mind, + If dunces applauded, he paid them in kind. + Ye Kenricks, ye Kellys, and Woodfalls so grave, + What a commerce was yours, while you got and you gavel + How did Grub Street re-echo the shouts that you raised, + While he was be-Rosciused and you were be-praised! + But peace to his spirit, wherever it flies, + To act as an angel and mix with the skies; + Those poets who owe their best fame to his skill, + Shall still be his flatterers, go where he will; + Old Shakespeare receive him with praise and with love, + And Beaumonts and Bens be his Kellys above.” + </pre> + <p> + This portion of Retaliation soon brought a retort from Garrick, which we + insert, as giving something of a likeness of Goldsmith, though in broad + caricature: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Here, Hermes, says Jove, who with nectar was mellow, + Go fetch me some clay—I will make an odd fellow: + Right and wrong shall be jumbled, much gold and some dross, + Without cause be he pleased, without cause be he cross; + Be sure, as I work, to throw in contradictions, + A great love of truth, yet a mind turn’d to fictions; + Now mix these ingredients, which, warm’d in the baking, + Turn’d to <i>learning</i> and <i>gaming</i>, <i>religion</i>, and + <i>raking</i>, + With the love of a wench, let his writings be chaste; + Tip his tongue with strange matters, his lips with fine taste; + That the rake and the poet o’er all may prevail, + Set fire to the head and set fire to the tail; + For the joy of each sex on the world I’ll bestow it, + This scholar, rake, Christian, dupe, gamester, and poet. + Though a mixture so odd, he shall merit great fame, + And among brother mortals be Goldsmith his name; + When on earth this strange meteor no more shall appear, + You, <i>Hermes</i>, shall fetch him, to make us sport here.” + </pre> + <p> + The charge of raking, so repeatedly advanced in the foregoing lines, must + be considered a sportive one, founded, perhaps, on an incident or two + within Garrick’s knowledge, but not borne out by the course of + Goldsmith’s life. He seems to have had a tender sentiment for the + sex, but perfectly free from libertinism. Neither was he an habitual + gamester. The strictest scrutiny has detected no settled vice of the kind. + He was fond of a game of cards, but an unskillful and careless player. + Cards in those days were universally introduced into society. High play + was, in fact, a fashionable amusement, as at one time was deep drinking; + and a man might occasionally lose large sums, and be beguiled into deep + potations, without incurring the character of a gamester or a drunkard. + Poor Goldsmith, on his advent into high society, assumed fine notions with + fine clothes; he was thrown occasionally among high players, men of + fortune who could sport their cool hundreds as carelessly as his early + comrades at Ballymahon could their half crowns. Being at all times + magnificent in money matters, he may have played with them in their own + way, without considering that what was sport to them to him was ruin. + Indeed part of his financial embarrassments may have arisen from losses of + the kind, incurred inadvertently, not in the indulgence of a habit. + “I do not believe Goldsmith to have deserved the name of gamester,” + said one of his contemporaries; “he liked cards very well, as other + people do, and lost and won occasionally; but as far as I saw or heard, + and I had many opportunities of hearing, never any considerable sum. If he + gamed with any one, it was probably with Beauclerc, but I do not know that + such was the case.” + </p> + <p> + Retaliation, as we have already observed, was thrown off in parts, at + intervals, and was never completed. Some characters, originally intended + to be introduced, remained unattempted; others were but partially sketched—such + was the one of Reynolds, the friend of his heart, and which he commenced + with a felicity which makes us regret that it should remain unfinished. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Here Reynolds is laid, and to tell you my mind, + He has not left a wiser or better behind. + His pencil was striking, resistless, and grand; + His manners were gentle, complying, and bland; + Still born to improve us in every part, + His pencil our faces, his manners our heart. + To coxcombs averse, yet most civilly steering, + When they judged without skill he was still hard of hearing: + When they talked of their Raphaels, Correggios, and stuff, + He shifted his trumpet and only took snuff. + By flattery unspoiled—” + </pre> + <p> + The friendly portrait stood unfinished on the easel; the hand of the + artist had failed! An access of a local complaint, under which he had + suffered for some time past, added to a general prostration of health, + brought Goldsmith back to town before he had well settled himself in the + country. The local complaint subsided, but was followed by a low nervous + fever. He was not aware of his critical situation, and intended to be at + the club on the 25th of March, on which occasion Charles Fox, Sir Charles + Bunbury (one of the Horneck connection), and two other new members were to + be present. In the afternoon, however, he felt so unwell as to take to his + bed, and his symptoms soon acquired sufficient force to keep him there. + His malady fluctuated for several days, and hopes were entertained of his + recovery, but they proved fallacious. He had skillful medical aid and + faithful nursing, but he would not follow the advice of his physicians, + and persisted in the use of James’ powders, which he had once found + beneficial, but which were now injurious to him. His appetite was gone, + his strength failed him, but his mind remained clear, and was perhaps too + active for his frame. Anxieties and disappointments which had previously + sapped his constitution, doubtless aggravated his present complaint and + rendered him sleepless. In reply to an inquiry of his physician, he + acknowledged that his mind was ill at ease. This was his last reply; he + was too weak to talk, and in general took no notice of what was said to + him. He sank at last into a deep sleep, and it was hoped a favorable + crisis had arrived. He awoke, however, in strong convulsions, which + continued without intermission until he expired, on the fourth of April, + at five o’clock in the morning; being in the forty-sixth year of his + age. + </p> + <p> + His death was a shock to the literary world, and a deep affliction to a + wide circle of intimates and friends; for with all his foibles and + peculiarities, he was fully as much beloved as he was admired. Burke, on + hearing the news, burst into tears. Sir Joshua Reynolds threw by his + pencil for the day, and grieved more than he had done in times of great + family distress. “I was abroad at the time of his death,” + writes Dr. M’Donnell, the youth whom when in distress he had + employed as an amanuensis, “and I wept bitterly when the + intelligence first reached me. A blank came over my heart as if I had lost + one of my nearest relatives, and was followed for some days by a feeling + of despondency.” Johnson felt the blow deeply and gloomily. In + writing some time afterward to Boswell, he observed, “Of poor Dr. + Goldsmith there is little to be told more than the papers have made + public. He died of a fever, made, I am afraid, more violent by uneasiness + of mind. His debts began to be heavy, and all his resources were + exhausted. Sir Joshua is of opinion that he owed no less than two thousand + pounds. Was ever poet so trusted before?” + </p> + <p> + Among his debts were seventy-nine pounds due to his tailor, Mr. William + Filby, from whom he had received a new suit but a few days before his + death. “My father,” said the younger Filby, “though a + loser to that amount, attributed no blame to Goldsmith; he had been a good + customer, and had he lived would have paid every farthing.” Others + of his tradespeople evinced the same confidence in his integrity, + notwithstanding his heedlessness. Two sister milliners in Temple Lane, who + had been accustomed to deal with him, were concerned, when told, some time + before his death, of his pecuniary embarrassments. “Oh, sir,” + said they to Mr. Cradock, “sooner persuade him to let us work for + him gratis than apply to any other; we are sure he will pay us when he + can.” + </p> + <p> + On the stairs of his apartment there was the lamentation of the old and + infirm, and the sobbing of women; poor objects of his charity to whom he + had never turned a deaf ear, even when struggling himself with poverty. + </p> + <p> + But there was one mourner, whose enthusiasm for his memory, could it have + been foreseen, might have soothed the bitterness of death. After the + coffin had been screwed down, a lock of his hair was requested for a lady, + a particular friend, who wished to preserve it as a remembrance. It was + the beautiful Mary Horneck—the Jessamy Bride. The coffin was opened + again, and a lock of hair cut off; which she treasured to her dying day. + Poor Goldsmith! could he have foreseen that such a memorial of him was to + be thus cherished! + </p> + <p> + One word more concerning this lady, to whom we have so often ventured to + advert. She survived almost to the present day. Hazlitt met her at + Northcote’s painting-room, about twenty years since, as Mrs. Gwyn, + the widow of a General Gwyn of the army. She was at that time upward of + seventy years of age. Still, he said, she was beautiful, beautiful even in + years. After she was gone, Hazlitt remarked how handsome she still was. + “I do not know,” said Northcote, “why she is so kind as + to come to see me, except that I am the last link in the chain that + connects her with all those she most esteemed when young—Johnson, + Reynolds, Goldsmith—and remind her of the most delightful period of + her life.” “Not only so,” observed Hazlitt, “but + you remember what she was at twenty; and you thus bring back to her the + triumphs of her youth—that pride of beauty, which must be the more + fondly cherished as it has no external vouchers, and lives chiefly in the + bosom of its once lovely possessor. In her, however, the Graces had + triumphed over time; she was one of Ninon de l’Enclos’ people, + of the last of the immortals. I could almost fancy the shade of Goldsmith + in the room, looking round with complacency.” + </p> + <p> + The Jessamy Bride survived her sister upward of forty years, and died in + 1840, within a few days of completing her eighty-eighth year. “She + had gone through all the stages of life,” says Northcote, “and + had lent a grace to each.” However gayly she may have sported with + the half-concealed admiration of the poor awkward poet in the heyday of + her youth and beauty, and however much it may have been made a subject of + teasing by her youthful companions, she evidently prided herself in after + years upon having been an object of his affectionate regard; it certainly + rendered her interesting throughout life in the eyes of his admirers, and + has hung a poetical wreath above her grave. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0045" id="link2HCH0045"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE + </h2> + <h3> + THE FUNERAL—THE MONUMENT—THE EPITAPH—CONCLUDING REMARKS + </h3> + <p> + In the warm feeling of the moment, while the remains of the poet were + scarce cold, it was determined by his friends to honor them by a public + funeral and a tomb in Westminster Abbey. His very pall-bearers were + designated: Lord Shelburne, Lord Lowth, Sir Joshua Reynolds; the Hon. Mr. + Beauclerc, Mr. Burke, and David Garrick. This feeling cooled down, + however, when it was discovered that he died in debt, and had not left + wherewithal to pay for such expensive obsequies. Five days after his + death, therefore, at five o’clock of Saturday evening, the 9th of + April, he was privately interred in the burying-ground of the Temple + Church; a few persons attending as mourners, among whom we do not find + specified any of his peculiar and distinguished friends. The chief mourner + was Sir Joshua Reynolds’ nephew, Palmer, afterward Dean of Cashel. + One person, however, from whom it was but little to be expected, attended + the funeral and evinced real sorrow on the occasion. This was Hugh Kelly, + once the dramatic rival of the deceased, and often, it is said, his + anonymous assailant in the newspapers. If he had really been guilty of + this basest of literary offenses, he was punished by the stings of + remorse, for we are told that he shed bitter tears over the grave of the + man he had injured. His tardy atonement only provoked the lash of some + unknown satirist, as the following lines will show: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Hence Kelly, who years, without honor or shame, + Had been sticking his bodkin in Oliver’s fame, + Who thought, like the Tartar, by this to inherit + His genius, his learning, simplicity, spirit; + Now sets every feature to weep o’er his fate, + And acts as a mourner to blubber in state.” + </pre> + <p> + One base wretch deserves to be mentioned, the reptile Kenrick, who, after + having repeatedly slandered Goldsmith while living, had the audacity to + insult his memory when dead. The following distich is sufficient to show + his malignancy, and to hold him up to execration: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “By his own art, who justly died, + A blund’ring, artless suicide: + Share, earthworms, share, since now he’s dead, + His megrim, maggot-bitten head.” + </pre> + <p> + This scurrilous epitaph produced a burst of public indignation that awed + for a time even the infamous Kenrick into silence. On the other hand, the + press teemed with tributes in verse and prose to the memory of the + deceased; all evincing the mingled feeling of admiration for the author + and affection for the man. + </p> + <p> + Not long after his death the Literary Club set on foot a subscription, and + raised a fund to erect a monument to his memory in Westminster Abbey. It + was executed by Nollekins, and consisted simply of a bust of the poet in + profile, in high relief, in a medallion, and was placed in the area of a + pointed arch, over the south door in Poets’ Corner, between the + monuments of Gay and the Duke of Argyle. Johnson furnished a Latin + epitaph, which was read at the table of Sir Joshua Reynolds, where several + members of the club and other friends of the deceased were present. Though + considered by them a masterly composition, they thought the literary + character of the poet not defined with sufficient exactness, and they + preferred that the epitaph should be in English rather than Latin, as + “the memory of so eminent an English writer ought to be perpetuated + in the language to which his works were likely to be so lasting an + ornament.” These objections were reduced to writing, to be + respectfully submitted to Johnson, but such was the awe entertained of his + frown that every one shrank from putting his name first to the instrument; + whereupon their names were written about it in a circle, making what + mutinous sailors call a Round Robin. Johnson received it half graciously, + half grimly. “He was willing,” he said, “to modify the + sense of the epitaph in any manner the gentlemen pleased; <i>but he never + would consent to disgrace the walls of Westminster Abbey with an English + inscription</i>.” Seeing the names of Dr. Wharton and Edmund Burke + among the signers, “he wondered,” he said, “that Joe + Wharton, a scholar by profession, should be such a fool; and should have + thought that Mund Burke would have had more sense.” The following is + the epitaph as it stands inscribed on a white marble tablet beneath the + bust: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + OLIVARII GOLDSMITH, + + Poetae, Physici, Historici, + Qui nullum ferè scribendi genus + Non tetigit, + Nullum quod tetigit non ornavit + Sive risus essent movendi, + Sive lacrymae, + Affectuum potens ac lenis dominator: + Ingenio sublimis, vividus, versatilis, + Oratione grandis, nitidus, venustus: + Hoc monumento memoriam coluit + Sodalium amor, + Amicorum fides, + Lectorum veneratio. + Natus in Hibernia Forniae Longfordiensis, + In loco cui nomen Pallas, + Nov. xxix. MDCCXXXI.; + Eblanse literis institutus; + Obiit Londini, + April iv. MDCCLXXIV. +</pre> + <p> + The following translation is from Croker’s edition of Boswell’s + Johnson: + </p> + <h3> + OF OLIVER GOLDSMITH— + </h3> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + A Poet, Naturalist, and Historian, + Who left scarcely any style of writing untouched, + And touched nothing that he did not adorn; + Of all the passions, + Whether smiles were to be moved or tears, + A powerful yet gentle master; + In genius, sublime, vivid, versatile, + In style, elevated, clear, elegant— + The love of companions, + The fidelity of friends, + And the veneration of readers, + Have by this monument honored the memory. + He was born in Ireland, + At a place called Pallas, + [In the parish] of Forney, [and county] of Longford, + On the 29th Nov., 1731,[*] + Educated at [the University of] Dublin, + And died in London, + 4th April, 1774. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Note--> [ Incorrect. See page 12.] + </pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + We shall not pretend to follow these anecdotes of the life of Goldsmith + with any critical dissertation on his writings; their merits have long + since been fully discussed, and their station in the scale of literary + merit permanently established. They have outlasted generations of works of + higher power and wider scope, and will continue to outlast succeeding + generations, for they have that magic charm of style by which works are + embalmed to perpetuity. Neither shall we attempt a regular analysis of the + character of the poet, but will indulge in a few desultory remarks in + addition to those scattered throughout the preceding chapters. + </p> + <p> + Never was the trite, because sage apothegm, that “The child is + father to the man,” more fully verified than in the case of + Goldsmith. He is shy, awkward, and blundering in childhood, yet full of + sensibility; he is a butt for the jeers and jokes of his companions, but + apt to surprise and confound them by sudden and witty repartees; he is + dull and stupid at his tasks, yet an eager and intelligent devourer of the + traveling tales and campaigning stories of his half military pedagogue; he + may be a dunce, but he is already a rhymer; and his early scintillations + of poetry awaken the expectations of his friends. He seems from infancy to + have been compounded of two natures, one bright, the other blundering; or + to have had fairy gifts laid in his cradle by the “good people” + who haunted his birthplace, the old goblin mansion on the banks of the + Inny. + </p> + <p> + He carries with him the wayward elfin spirit, if we may so term it, + throughout his career. His fairy gifts are of no avail at school, academy, + or college; they unfit him for close study and practical science, and + render him heedless of everything that does not address itself to his + poetical imagination and genial and festive feelings; they dispose him to + break away from restraint, to stroll about hedges, green lanes, and + haunted streams, to revel with jovial companions, or to rove the country + like a gypsy in quest of odd adventures. + </p> + <p> + As if confiding in these delusive gifts, he takes no heed of the present + nor care for the future, lays no regular and solid foundation of + knowledge, follows out no plan, adopts and discards those recommended by + his friends, at one time prepares for the ministry, next turns to the law, + and then fixes upon medicine. He repairs to Edinburgh, the great emporium + of medical science, but the fairy gifts accompany him; he idles and + frolics away his time there, imbibing only such knowledge as is agreeable + to him; makes an excursion to the poetical regions of the Highlands; and + having walked the hospitals for the customary time, sets off to ramble + over the Continent, in quest of novelty rather than knowledge. His whole + tour is a poetical one. He fancies he is playing the philosopher while he + is really playing the poet; and though professedly he attends lectures and + visits foreign universities, so deficient is he on his return, in the + studies for which he set out, that he fails in an examination as a surgeon’s + mate; and while figuring as a doctor of medicine, is outvied on a point of + practice by his apothecary. Baffled in every regular pursuit, after trying + in vain some of the humbler callings of commonplace life, he is driven + almost by chance to the exercise of his pen, and here the fairy gifts come + to his assistance. For a long time, however, he seems unaware of the magic + properties of that pen; he uses it only as a makeshift until he can find a + <i>legitimate</i> means of support. He is not a learned man, and can write + but meagerly and at second-hand on learned subjects; but he has a quick + convertible talent that seizes lightly on the points of knowledge + necessary to the illustration of a theme; his writings for a time are + desultory, the fruits of what he has seen and felt, or what he has + recently and hastily read; but his gifted pen transmutes everything into + gold, and his own genial nature reflects its sunshine through his pages. + </p> + <p> + Still unaware of his powers he throws off his writings anonymously, to go + with the writings of less favored men; and it is a long time, and after a + bitter struggle with poverty and humiliation, before he acquires + confidence in his literary talent as a means of support, and begins to + dream of reputation. + </p> + <p> + From this time his pen is a wand of power in his hand, and he has only to + use it discreetly, to make it competent to all his wants. But discretion + is not a part of Goldsmith’s nature; and it seems the property of + these fairy gifts to be accompanied by moods and temperaments to render + their effect precarious. The heedlessness of his early days; his + disposition for social enjoyment; his habit of throwing the present on the + neck of the future, still continue. His expenses forerun his means; he + incurs debts on the faith of what his magic pen is to produce, and then, + under the pressure of his debts, sacrifices its productions for prices far + below their value. It is a redeeming circumstance in his prodigality, that + it is lavished oftener upon others than upon himself; he gives without + thought or stint, and is the continual dupe of his benevolence and his + trustfulness in human nature. We may say of him as he says of one of his + heroes, “He could not stifle the natural impulse which he had to do + good, but frequently borrowed money to relieve the distressed; and when he + knew not conveniently where to borrow, he has been observed to shed tears + as he passed through the wretched suppliants who attended his gate.”.... + </p> + <p> + “His simplicity in trusting persons whom he had no previous reasons + to place confidence in, seems to be one of those lights of his character + which, while they impeach his understanding, do honor to his benevolence. + The low and the timid are ever suspicious; but a heart impressed with + honorable sentiments expects from others sympathetic sincerity.” + [Footnote: Goldsmith’s Life of Nashe.] + </p> + <p> + His heedlessness in pecuniary matters, which had rendered his life a + struggle with poverty even in the days of his obscurity, rendered the + struggle still more intense when his fairy gifts had elevated him into the + society of the wealthy and luxurious, and imposed on his simple and + generous spirit fancied obligations to a more ample and bounteous display. + </p> + <p> + “How comes it,” says a recent and ingenious critic, “that + in all the miry paths of life which he had trod, no speck ever sullied the + robe of his modest and graceful muse. How amid all that love of inferior + company, which never to the last forsook him, did he keep his genius so + free from every touch of vulgarity?” + </p> + <p> + We answer that it was owing to the innate purity and goodness of his + nature; there was nothing in it that assimilated to vice and vulgarity. + Though his circumstances often compelled him to associate with the poor, + they never could betray him into companionship with the depraved. His + relish for humor and for the study of character, as we have before + observed, brought him often into convivial company of a vulgar kind; but + he discriminated between their vulgarity and their amusing qualities, or + rather wrought from the whole those familiar features of life which form + the staple of his most popular writings. + </p> + <p> + Much, too, of this intact purity of heart may be ascribed to the lessons + of his infancy under the paternal roof; to the gentle, benevolent, + elevated, unworldly maxims of his father, who “passing rich with + forty pounds a year,” infused a spirit into his child which riches + could not deprave nor poverty degrade. Much of his boyhood, too, had been + passed in the household of his uncle, the amiable and generous Contarine; + where he talked of literature with the good pastor, and practiced music + with his daughter, and delighted them both by his juvenile attempts at + poetry. These early associations breathed a grace and refinement into his + mind and tuned it up, after the rough sports on the green, or the frolics + at the tavern. These led him to turn from the roaring glees of the club, + to listen to the harp of his cousin Jane; and from the rustic triumph of + “throwing sledge,” to a stroll with his flute along the + pastoral banks of the Inny. + </p> + <p> + The gentle spirit of his father walked with him through life, a pure and + virtuous monitor; and in all the vicissitudes of his career we find him + ever more chastened in mind by the sweet and holy recollections of the + home of his infancy. + </p> + <p> + It has been questioned whether he really had any religious feeling. Those + who raise the question have never considered well his writings; his Vicar + of Wakefield, and his pictures of the Village Pastor, present religion + under its most endearing forms, and with a feeling that could only flow + from the deep convictions of the heart. When his fair traveling companions + at Paris urged him to read the Church Service on a Sunday, he replied that + “he was not worthy to do it.” He had seen in early life the + sacred offices performed by his father and his brother, with a solemnity + which had sanctified them in his memory; how could he presume to undertake + such functions? His religion has been called in question by Johnson and by + Boswell; he certainly had not the gloomy hypochondriacal piety of the one, + nor the babbling mouth-piety of the other; but the spirit of Christian + charity breathed forth in his writings and illustrated in his conduct give + us reason to believe he had the indwelling religion of the soul. + </p> + <p> + We have made sufficient comments in the preceding chapters on his conduct + in elevated circles of literature and fashion. The fairy gifts which took + him there were not accompanied by the gifts and graces necessary to + sustain him in that artificial sphere. He can neither play the learned + sage with Johnson, nor the fine gentleman with Beauclerc, though he has a + mind replete with wisdom and natural shrewdness, and a spirit free from + vulgarity. The blunders of a fertile but hurried intellect, and the + awkward display of the student assuming the man of fashion, fix on him a + character for absurdity and vanity which, like the charge of lunacy, it is + hard to disprove, however weak the grounds of the charge and strong the + facts in opposition to it. + </p> + <p> + In truth, he is never truly in his place in these learned and fashionable + circles, which talk and live for display. It is not the kind of society he + craves. His heart yearns for domestic life; it craves familiar, confiding + intercourse, family firesides, the guileless and happy company of + children; these bring out the heartiest and sweetest sympathies of his + nature. + </p> + <p> + “Had it been his fate,” says the critic we have already + quoted, “to meet a woman who could have loved him, despite his + faults, and respected him despite his foibles, we cannot but think that + his life and his genius would have been much more harmonious; his + desultory affections would have been concentered, his craving self-love + appeased, his pursuits more settled, his character more solid. A nature + like Goldsmith’s, so affectionate, so confiding—so susceptible + to simple, innocent enjoyments—so dependent on others for the + sunshine of existence, does not flower if deprived of the atmosphere of + home.” + </p> + <p> + The cravings of his heart in this respect are evident, we think, + throughout his career; and if we have dwelt with more significancy than + others upon his intercourse with the beautiful Horneck family, it is + because we fancied we could detect, amid his playful attentions to one of + its members, a lurking sentiment of tenderness, kept down by conscious + poverty and a humiliating idea of personal defects. A hopeless feeling of + this kind—the last a man would communicate to his friends—might + account for much of that fitfulness of conduct, and that gathering + melancholy, remarked, but not comprehended by his associates, during the + last year or two of his life; and may have been one of the troubles of the + mind which aggravated his last illness, and only terminated with his + death. + </p> + <p> + We shall conclude these desultory remarks with a few which have been used + by us on a former occasion. From the general tone of Goldsmith’s + biography, it is evident that his faults, at the worst, were but negative, + while his merits were great and decided. He was no one’s enemy but + his own; his errors, in the main, inflicted evil on none but himself, and + were so blended with humorous, and even affecting circumstances, as to + disarm anger and conciliate kindness. Where eminent talent is united to + spotless virtue, we are awed and dazzled into admiration, but our + admiration is apt to be cold and reverential; while there is something in + the harmless infirmities of a good and great, but erring individual, that + pleads touchingly to our nature; and we turn more kindly toward the object + of our idolatry, when we find that, like ourselves, he is mortal and is + frail. The epithet so often heard, and in such kindly tones, of “Poor + Goldsmith,” speaks volumes. Few who consider the real compound of + admirable and whimsical qualities which form his character would wish to + prune away its eccentricities, trim its grotesque luxuriance, and clip it + down to the decent formalities of rigid virtue. “Let not his + frailties be remembered,” said Johnson; “he was a very great + man.” But, for our part, we rather say “Let them be + remembered,” since their tendency is to endear; and we question + whether he himself would not feel gratified in hearing his reader, after + dwelling with admiration on the proofs of his greatness, close the volume + with the kind-hearted phrase, so fondly and familiarly ejaculated, of + “POOR GOLDSMITH.” + </p> + <div style="height: 6em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Oliver Goldsmith, by Washington Irving + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK OLIVER GOLDSMITH *** + +***** This file should be named 7993-h.htm or 7993-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/7/9/9/7993/ + + +Etext produced by Charles Aldarondo, Tiffany Vergon, William +Craig, Charles Franks, and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team + +HTML file produced by David Widger + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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