some amusement in this letter, but I protest I am so stupified 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.

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 in 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.

"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 ever I 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 of the day, namely, that I am your most sincere and most affectionate friend, OLIVER GOLDSMITH.

"Direct for me at the Hotel de Danemarc, Rue Jacob, Faubourg St. Germain.” A word of comment on this letter. Travelling 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 couch of down, and the homely fare of the peasant a feast fit for an epicure. Now, at forty, when he posts through the country in a carriage, with fair ladies by his side, everything goes wrong; he has to quarrel with postillions, 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 in his letter explains the secret; the ladies do not seem 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 left at home!" The true English travelling amusement. Poor Goldsmith! he has" all his confirmed habits about him;" that is to say, he has recently risen into high life, and acquired high bred notions; he must be fastidious like his fellowtravellers; he dare not be pleased with what pleased the vulgar tastes of his youth. He is unconsciously illus

66

trating the trait so humorously satirised 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.

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 aud 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 :

66

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."

"

Was the Jessamy Bride a witness to this unlucky exploit?

This same Hickey is the one of whom Goldsmith, some time subsequently, gave a good-humoured sketch, in his poem of "The Retaliation."

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 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, no!
Then what was his failing? Come, tell it, and burn ye-
He was, could he help it? a special attorney.

One of the few remarks extant made by Goldsmith during his tour is the following, of whimsical import, in his Animated Nature."

"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 any thing 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."

His tour does not seem to have left in his memory the most fragrant recollections; for being asked, after his return, whether travelling on the continent repaid "an Englishman for the privations and annoyances attendant on it," he replied, "I recommend it by all means to the sick, if they are without the sense of smelling, and to the poor, if they are without the sense of feeling; and to both if they can discharge from their

minds all idea of what in England we term comfort." 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.

CHAP. XXX

Death of Goldsmith's mother-Biography of Parnell-Agreement History of Rome"-"Life of Boling

with Davies for the

broke"-The Haunch of Venison."

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 preyented 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.

⚫ He now resumed the labours 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 slightly of it, and the author himself thought proper to apologise for its meagreness; 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 :

"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 labours 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; the dews of morning are past, and we vainly try to continue the chase by the meridian splendour.”

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 more immediate demand. Davies was about to republish Lord Bolingbroke's "Dissertation on Parties," which he conceived would be exceedingly applicable to the affairs of the day, and make a probable hit during the existing state of violent political excitement; to give it still greater effect and currency, he engaged Goldsmith to introduce it with a prefaratory life of Lord Boling ɔroke.

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 Caqua 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

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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.

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Goldsmith did not find the residence among the great unattended with mortifications. He had now become accustomed to be regarded in Loudon as a literary lion, and he was annoyed at what he considered a slight on the part of Lord Camden. He complained of it on his returned 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 laughers was doubtless the rattlepated 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 this 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."

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 :— Thanks, my lord, for your venison; for finer or fatter Never ranged in a forest or smoked 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 " vertu"
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 fried 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;
It's like sending them ruffles when wanting a shirt.

We have an amusing anecdote of one of Goldsmith's blunders, which took place on a subsequent visit to Lord Clare's when that nobleman was residing in Bath.

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, endeavoured, with the considerateness of well-bred people, to prevent any awkward embarrassment. They 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 his free-and-easy position, made a con

fused 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.

This may be hung up as a companion-piece to his blunder on his first visit to Northumberland House.

CHAP. 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 criti.

cism-Letter to Bennet Langton.

On St. George's-day of this year (1771), the first annual banquet of the Royal Academy was held in the exhibition-room, the walls of which were covered with works of art, about to be submitted to public inspection. Sir Joshua 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 beside 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.

Johnson, who was a stout unbeliever in Rowley, as he had been in Ossian, rolled in his chair and laughed at the enthusiasm of Goldsmith. Horace Walpole, who sat near by, joined in the laugh and jeer as soon as he found that the trouvaille,” as he called it, “ of his friend 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 honour of ushering the great discovery to the learned world." And so he might had he followed his own 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 towards the unfortunate author, and by his neglect and coldness had dashed all his sanguine hopes to the ground. 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 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 desponding genius, that "he had been to London, and had destroyed himself."

was

46

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 honour 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 towards his untimely end; nor bave all the excuses and palliations of Walpole's friends and admirers been ever able entirely to clear this stigma from his fame.

But what was there in this 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 afterwards, 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. It is wonderful how the whelp has written such things."

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 friend ship. 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 oneself that they could be entirely the productions of a youth of sixteen.

In the month of August was published anonymously the History of England, on which Goldsmith had been for some time employed. It was in four volumes, compiled chiefly, as he acknowledged in the preface, from Rapin, 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 unsaleable, undertook to protect it by his pen, and wrote a long article in its defence in "The Public Advertiser." He was vain of his critical effusion, and sought by nods and winks and inuendoes 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 hir in Russell-street ;-but, mum !”

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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 epitomised; and, like his other historical writings, it has kept its ground in English literature.

Goldsmith had intended this summer, iu 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, apologises 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."

"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 honour of waiting upon Lady Rother and you, and stay ing 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 hauuts at Mrs. Thrale's. Burke is a farmer, en attendant a better place; but visiting about too. Every soul is visiting about and merry but myself. And that is hard, too, as I have been trying these three months to do something to make people laugh. There have I been strolling about the hedges, 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, 'would do no harm to nobody.' However, they set me down as an arraut 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,

"OLIVER GOLDSMITH."

CHAP. XXXII.

Marriage of Little Comedy-Goldsmith at Barton-Practical jokes at the expenses of his toilet-Amusements at BartonAquatic misadventure.

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 Catherine Horneck, one of his beautiful fellow-travellers, otherwise called Little Comedy, had been married in August to Henry William Bunbury, Esq., a gentleman of fortune, who has become celebrated for the humorous productions of his percil. Goldsmith was shortly afterwards invited to pay the newly-married couple a visit at their seat, at Barton, in Suffolk. How could he resist such an invitationespecially 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 their 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 teized 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 favourite enjoyments was to romp with the children, when he threw off all reserve, and seemed one of the most joyous of the group. "One of the means by which he amused us was his songs, chiefly of the comic kind, which were sung with some taste and humour: 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."

His perfect good humour 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 lady-like 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. 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 im-portant 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."

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.

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. Wate 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 remained 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 out-done in this kind of bravado, in attempting to fulfil his promise without getting wet, accidently 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." 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.

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 afterwards to examine the manuscript, objected to it as a mere narrative version of the "Goodnatured 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!

CHAP. XXXIII.

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.

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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 draw-can-sir. 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, "vous l'avez commencé." (He has done right, iny 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.

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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 duelling 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 honour." Goldsmith immediately carried the war into Boswell's own quarters, and pinned him with

We have mentioned old General Oglethorpe as one of Goldsmith's aristocratical acquaintances. This veteran, born in 1698, had commenced early life 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 favouring the rebels; and, though acquitted by a court of inquiry, was never afterwards employed-or, in technical language, was shelved. He had since been repeatedly a member of parliment, 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 honourable inmortality in a single line of Pope's:One, driven by strong benevolence of soul, Shall fly, like Oglethorpe, from pole to pole. 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."

Boswell gives us an interesting and characteristic account of a dinner party at the general's (April 10th, 1772), at which Goldsmith and Johnson were present. After dinner, when the cloth was removed, Oglethorpe,

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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 selfdefence, 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.

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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 volle -the same likings 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 you could live in friendship with a man from whom you differ as to some point; I am only saying that I could do it."

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!