London. It is only recently that the true cause has been traced, by the indefatigable research of one of his biographers, to this rejection at Surgeons' Hall.

use a technical term; he also resumed for a short | posed him unwilling to tear himself from the time the superintendence of Dr. Milner's school. growing fascinations of the literary society of This he was induced to do by a promise of that gentleman to use his interest, which was considerable, in procuring him a medical appointment in India. Dr. Milner kept his promise, and, through his means, Goldsmith 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 he was to receive was small, not above one hundred pounds per annum. But then the practice of the place, he was informed, would amount to no less than one thousand pounds per annum; then there were advantages to be derived from trade, and from the high interest of money -twenty per cent.; in short, he saw the way to fortune lying broad and straight before him. The only difficulty was how to raise funds for his outfit, which would be expensive; but fortunately, he was at that moment preparing for the press a treatise upon "the Present State of Polite Literature in Europe," the profits of which, he felt assured, would be sufficient to carry him to India. He accordingly drew up proposals to publish the work by subscription, and claimed the assistance of his friends to give them a wide circulation.

While this was in agitation, he presented himself, without the knowledge of his friends, at the College of Surgeons for examination as an hospital mate. So low were his finances and so scanty his wardrobe, that he had not the means of appearing in a befitting garb before the examining surgeons. In this emergency, he prevailed on Griffiths to become his security to a tailor for a new suit; informing him that he wanted it for a single occasion, on which depended his appointment to a situation in the army; and that, as soon as this temporary purpose was served, the clothes should be immediately returned or paid for. In the meantime, in consideration of Griffith's kindness in standing his security, Goldsmith furnished him with four articles for his review.

While Goldsmith was suffering under the mortification of defeat and the disappointment of his Oriental hopes, other circumstances occurred to lacerate his feelings. His poverty and imprudence had driven him to various straits. He had failed to return, according to promise, the new suit of clothes in which he had stood his unfortunate examination, or to send the amount to the tailor. What was worse, Griffiths discovered the identical suit at a pawnbroker's, where Goldsmith had raised money on it in a moment of pressure. The bookseller now dreaded that some books lent to the poet would share the same fate. He forthwith wrote a letter to Goldsmith, couched in abusive language. The latter replied in a tone of general apology, but without satisfying Griffiths; who, conceiving the whole a mere shift to raise money, wrote another letter still more harsh than the first, and containing threats of prosecution and a prison.

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.

"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 favouras a favour that may prevent somewhat 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 farFrom the records of the College of Surgeons, it thing, but I will be punctual to any appointment appears that Goldsmith underwent his examina- you or the tailor shall make; thus far, at least, I tion at Surgeons' Hall in December 1758. Either do not act the sharper, since, unable to pay my from a real want of surgical science, or from a own debts one way, I would generally give some confusion of mind incident to sensitive and security another. No, sir; had I been a sharper imaginative persons on such occasions, he failed-had I been possessed of less good-nature and in his examination, and was rejected as unquali-native generosity-I might surely now have been fied. The effect of such a rejection was to dis- in better circumstances. qualify 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. They learned with surprise that he had suddenly relinquished his appointment to India, about which he had indulged such sanguine expectations: some accused him of fickleness and caprice; others sup

"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.

guilty of this thoughtless act of benevolence. They were in a very shabby house, No. 12, Green Arbour 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 Arbour Court. She was drawn there, in a great measure, by the good-humoured 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 sweet

"You seem to think Dr. Milner knew me not. Perhaps so; but he was a man I shall ever hon-meats, and set them dancing to the sound of his our; but I have friendships only with the dead! I ask pardon for taking up so much time; nor shall I add to it by any other professions than that I am, sir, your humble servant,

"OLIVER GOLDSMITH.

"P. S.-I shall expect impatiently the result of your resolutions."

The dispute between the poet and the publisher was afterward imperfectly adjusted, and it would appear that the clothes were paid for by a short compilation advertised by Griffiths in the course of the following month; but the parties were never really friends afterward, and the writings of Goldsmith were harshly and unjustly treated in the Monthly Review.

Yet, after all this self-abasement on the part of poor Goldsmith, this self-accusation of the "meannesses which poverty unavoidably brings with it," the reader will be surprised to learn that the | act which excited the indignation of the wealthy man of trade, the pawning of the clothes, almost admitted by Goldsmith as a crime, resulted from a tenderness of heart and a generosity of hand in which another man would have gloried. He was living at the time in miserable lodgings, and hard pressed for the means of subsistence. In the midst of his own troubles, he was surprised by the entrance into his room of the poor woman from whom he hired his lodgings, and to whom he owed some small arrears of rent. She had a piteous tale of distress; her husband had been arrested for debt and thrown into prison. This was too much for the quick feelings of Goldsmith. He had no money in his pocket, it is true, but there was 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. Such was one of the many instances of inconsiderate generosity which involved poor Goldsmith in scrapes, and drew on him the censures of the prudent and the selfish.

And now let us be indulged in a few particulars about these lodgings in which Goldsmith was

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 humour. 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.

Late in the evening the door was unlocked; a supper ordered by the visitor from a neighbouring tavern, and Goldsmith and his intrusive guest finished the evening in great good-humour. It was supposed to be some impatient publisher, whose press was waiting, 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.

But we have a more particular account of these lodgings in Green Arbour 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 demeanour, entered the room, and, dropping a courtesy, said, My mamma sends her compliments, and begs the favour of you to lend her a chamber-pot full of coals." "

We are reminded in this anecdote of Goldsmith's picture of the lodgings of Beau Tibbs.

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.

was exposing myself to the approaches of insidi- | ous 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.

"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 too 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 of poor Jenny.* Yet her husband loves her: if so, she cannot be unhappy.

"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 "I know not whether I should tell you-yet trade for him but your own. It is impossible to why should I conceal these trifles, or, indeed, conceive how much may be done by proper edu- anything from you? There is a book of mine cation at home. A boy, for instance, who under-will be published in a few days: the Life of a stands perfectly well Latin, French, arithmetic, and the principles of the civil law, and can write a fine hand, has an education that may qualify him for any undertaking; and these parts of learning should be carefully inculcated, let him be designed for whatever calling he will.

"Above all things, let him never touch a romance or novel: these paint beauty in colours 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

very extraordinary man; no less than the great Voltaire. You know already by the title that it is no more than a catchpenny. However, I spent but four weeks on the whole performance, for which I received twenty pounds. When published, I shall take some method of conveying it to you, unless you may think it dear of the postage, which may amount to four or five shillings. However, I fear you will not find an equivalent of amusement.

"Your last letter, I repeat it, was too short; you should have given me your opinion of the design of the heroi-comical poem which I sent you. You remember I intended to 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:

"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 lamp-black face.
The morn was cold: he views with keen desire
A rusty grate unconscious of a fire;
An unpaid reckoning on the frieze was scored,
And five crack'd teacups dress'd the chimney board.'

His sister, Mrs. Johnston; her marriage, like that of Mrs. Hodson, was private, but in pecuniarv matters much less fortunate.

"And now imagine, after his soliloquy, the landlord to make his appearance in order to dun him for the reckoning;

Not with that face, so servile and so gay,
That welcomes every stranger that can pay:
With sulky eye he smoked the patient man,
Then pull'd his breeches tight, and thus began,' &c.

"All this is taken, you see, from nature. It is a good remark of Montaigne's, that the wisest men often have friends with whom they do not care how much they play the fool. Take my present follies as instances of my regard. Poetry is a much easier and more agreeable species of composition than prose; and, could a man live by it, it were not unpleasant employment to be a poet. I am resolved to leave no space, though I should fill it up only by telling you, what you very well know already, I mean that I am your most affectionate friend and brother,

"OLIVER GOLDSMITH."

Towards the end of March, 1759, the treatise on which Goldsmith had laid so much stress, on which he at one time had calculated to defray the expense 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." 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 being the most important production that had yet come from his pen, and possessing his peculiar charm of style, it had a profitable sale, and added to his reputation.

In fact, he 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 "labouring under the infamy of having, by the vilest and meanest actions, forfeited all pretensions to honour and honesty," and of practising "those acts which bring the sharper to the cart's tail or the pillory."

It will be remembered that the Review was owned by Griffiths the bookseller, with whom Goldsmith had recently had a misunderstanding. The criticism, therefore, was no doubt dictated by the lingerings of resentment, and the imputations upon Goldsmith's character for honour and

• The projected poem, of which the above were specimens, appears never to have been completed.

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, he 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 firstrate excellence, or gained him a popular name, though he received from some university the | degree of Doctor of Laws. Dr. Johnson characterized his literary career in one short sentence: "Sir, he is one of the many who have made themselves public without making themselves known."

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:

"Dreaming of genius which he never had,
Half wit, half fool, half critic, and half mad;
Seizing, like Shirley, on the poet's lyre,
With all his rage, but not one spark of fire:
Eager for slaughter, and resolved to tear
From others' brows that wreath he must not wear-
Next Kenrick came: all furious, and replete
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."

Goldsmith now wrote for various periodical publications, 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 humour, did not produce equal effect at first with more garish writings of infinitely less value; they

LANE LIBRARY. STANFORD UNIVERSITY