There is an abundance of stories of Goldsmith in his last years, his ways in society, and his table-talk. They are all to the same effect—what a sensitive, guileless, tender-hearted, and really high-minded, creature he was, so that everybody that knew him liked him; and yet how absurd, blundering, alternately consequential and bashful, so that everybody took liberties with him, and it was only when people remembered what a writer he was, or now and then when his wits did clear in the course of talk, and he flashed out a brilliancy as keen as any in his books, that he was looked at with adequate respect. "Dr. Goldsmith," said some one, "is this sort of man: when he comes into a room, if you have not seen "him before, you look at him with reverence because of his writings; but, before "be leaves the room, you may be riding on his back." Again, when the poet Rogers asked Conversation Cooke, as he was called, who had known Goldsmith well and been much with him, what he really was in talk, this was the answer he received, "Sir, he was a fool. The right word never came to him. If you gave “him back a bad shilling, he'd say, 'Why, it is as good a shilling as ever was born.' "You know he ought to have said coined. Coined, Sir, never entered his head. "He was a fool, Sir." Or take Boswell's report of one of his conversations with Johnson. "Of our friend Goldsmith he said, 'Sir, he is so much afraid of being "unnoticed that he often talks merely lest you should forget that he is in the "company.' BOSWELL-Yes, he stands forward.' JOHNSON-'True, Sir; but, "if a man is to stand forward, he should wish to do it not in an awkward **posture, not in rags, not so that he shall only be exposed to ridicule.' BOSWELL "For my part, I like very well to hear honest Goldsmith talk away carelessly.' "JOHNSON—Why, yes, Sir ; but he should not like to hear himself."" To the same purpose is another conversation of Goldsmith's friends about him, recorded by Boswell. "Goldsmith being mentioned, JOHNSON-'It is amazing how little "Goldsmith knows. He seldom comes where he is not more ignorant than any "one else." SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS-'Yet there is no man whose company is more liked.' JOHNSON-To be sure, Sir. When people find a man of the “most distinguished abilities as a writer their inferior while he is with them, it "must be highly gratifying to them. What Goldsmith comically says of himself is very true-he always gets the better when he argues alone; meaning that he "is master of a subject in his study, but, when he comes into company, grows "confused, and unable to talk.'"

Among the best stories of Goldsmith are certainly those preserved by Boswell. The young Scotchman, it is to be understood, whom Johnson had seen off at Harwich on his way to Utrecht, had returned from abroad in February 1766, with his head full of a new enthusiasm for Corsica and Paoli. He at once renewed his intimacy with Dr. Johnson, whom he found now residing in Johnson's Court, Fleet Street; and, as during his absence Goldsmith had published his Traveller and other things, he no longer wondered at finding Johnson and Goldsmith 50 much together. The three again supped at the Mitre, and met once or twice at Johnson's, before Boswell's return to Edinburgh to begin the practice of law. But d

in 1768 Boswell was again in London for a considerable time; again in 1769; again in 1772, having in the meantime married; and again in 1773, when he had the honour of being elected a member of the Gerrard Street Club, already reinforced since its commencement by some other new members, among whom were Percy, Chambers, Colman, and Garrick. In Boswell's pages, accordingly, and chiefly in the form of his own recollections of those visits to London, we have a pretty continuous history, from 1768 to 1774, of that Johnsonian world which so fascinated him. It was the time, in general politics, of the continued fame of Wilkes and Liberty—the time of Chatham's obscuration, of the Grafton and other unpopular ministries, of the Letters of Junius, and of those discontents in the American colonies which led to the War of American Independence. Nor, amid these public events, were matters stationary in private with the members of the Johnsonian group. Burke's political career as a Rockingham Whig had begun in 1766, and his voice was now powerful in the House of Commons. Johnson had added his edition of Shakespeare to his many previous publications, had had his famous interview with young George III. in the royal library, had begun his intimacy with the Thrales, and had entered on his sixties. The Royal Academy having been founded in 1768, Reynolds had become its first President, and received his knighthood. What Goldsmith had been doing has been already told-save that we have yet to advert to an honour that came to him, in association with Johnson, in consequence of this last-mentioned fact of the foundation of the Royal Academy. "Dr. Johnson," says the Public Advertiser of December 22, 1769, "is appointed Professor of Ancient Literature, and Dr. Goldsmith Professor of History, to the Royal Academy. These titles are merely honorary, no salary being annexed to them." It was Reynolds who had arranged these distinctions for his friends in connexion with the new institution. About the same time he painted his well-known portrait of Goldsmith, engravings from which were to be seen in 1770 in the windows of all the print-shops. Its only fault is that it represents Goldsmith without a wig, whereas he invariably wore one. Reynolds, doubtless, foresaw that posterity would like to know the real shape of the head.

And now, with these preliminaries, let Boswell tell some of his stories of Goldsmith's ridiculous ways.---Goldy's Envy of Johnson on account of his Interview with the King:-" During all the time in which Dr. Johnson was "employed in relating to the circle at Sir Joshua Reynolds's the particulars of "what passed between the King and him, Dr. Goldsmith remained unmoved upon a sofa at some distance, affecting not to join in the least in the eager curiosity of the company. He assigned as a reason for his gloom and seeming "inattention that he apprehended Johnson had relinquished his purpose of furnishing him with a Prologue to his play, with the hopes of which he had, "been flattered; but it was strongly suspected that he was fretting with chagrin “and envy at the singular honour Dr. Johnson had lately enjoyed. At length, "the frankness and simplicity of his natural character prevailed. He sprung from "the sofa, advanced to Johnson, and, in a kind of flutter, from imagining himself

in the situation which he had just been hearing described, exclaimed, '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.'"- -Goldy's Bloom Coloured Coat :-" He (Dr. Johnson) honoured me with his company at dinner on the 16th of October (1769) at my lodgings in Old Bond Street, with Sir Joshua Reynolds, Mr. Garrick, Dr. Goldsmith, Mr. Murphy, Mr. Bickerstaff, "and Mr. Thomas Davies. . . . One of the company not being come at the "appointed hour, I proposed, as usual on such occasions, to order dinner to be served; adding, Ought six people to be kept waiting for one?' 'Why, "yes,' answered Johnson, with a delicate humanity, if the one will suffer more "by your sitting down than the six will do by waiting.' Goldsmith, to divert "the tedious minutes, strutted about, bragging of his dress, and I believe was “seriously vain of it, for his mind was wonderfully prone to such impressions. *Come, come,' said Garrick, talk no more of that. You are perhaps the "worst-ch, eh!' Goldsmith was eagerly attempting to

...

interrupt him, when always look like a 'Well, let me tell

Garrick went on, laughing ironically, Nay, you will gentleman; but I am talking of being well or ill drest.' you,' said Goldsmith, when my tailor brought home my bloom-coloured coat, "he said, "Sir, I have a favour to beg of you. When anybody asks you who made your clothes, be pleased to mention John Filby, at the Harrow, in Water "Lane." JOHNSON Why, Sir, that was because he knew the strange colour "would attract crowds to gaze at it, and thus they might hear of him, and see "how well he could make a coat even of so absurd a colour.'"- -Goldy's Fats in Natural History:-" On Thursday, April 29 (1773), I dined with him (Johnson) at General Oglethorpe's, where were Sir Joshua Reynolds, Mr. Langton, Dr. Goldsmith, and Mr. Thrale. . . . GOLDSMITH-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 like to go mad.' JOHNSON-I doubt that.' GOLDSMITH**Nay, 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 then fall upon himself.' "- -Goldy trying to shine, and resenting familiarity:—“ Goldsmith's incessant desire of being conspicuous in company was the occasion of his sometimes appearing to such disadvantage as one should hardly have supposed possible in a man of his genius . . . (Once) when (he was) talking in a company with fluent vivacity, and, as he flattered "himself, to the admiration of all who were present, a German who sat next "him, and perceived Johnson rolling himself, as if about to speak, suddenly stopped "him, saying, 'Stay, stay-Toctor Shonson is going to say something.' This was, no doubt, very provoking, especially to one so irritable as Goldsmith, who

frequently mentioned it with strong expressions of indignation. It may also be "observed that Goldsmith was sometimes content to be treated with an easy “familiarity, but upon occasions would be consequential and important. An "instance of this occurred in a small particular. Johnson had a way of contracting "the names of his friends: as Beauclerk, Beau; Boswell, Bozzy; Langton, Lanky; Murphy, Mur; Sheridan, Sherry. I remember, one day when Tom Davies was "telling that Dr. Johnson said, 'We are all in labour for a name to Goldy's play,'' "Goldsmith seemed much displeased that such a liberty should be taken with "his name. 'I have often desired him not to call me Goldy.'

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The foregoing are from Boswell's "Life of Johnson," where there is more of the same sort; but other stories, as good, have come down by other channels of tradition. One or two of these may be added to the string.- ·Gibbon making game of Goldy :While Goldsmith was busy with his 'Grecian History,' Gibbon is said to have called upon him at his chambers in Brick Court. "You are the very person I wanted to see," said Goldsmith, "for I can't remember the name of that Indian king who gave Alexander the Great so much trouble." "Montezuma," said Gibbon mischievously; till, perceiving that Goldsmith took the information in good faith, and was making a note of it, he thought the jest might go too far, and added, "No, I mistake: it was not Montezuma; it was Porus."- -Burke making game of Goldy:-Burke, and his friend Mr. (afterwards Colonel) O'Moore, were walking together to Sir Joshua Reynolds's to dine, when they saw Goldsmith, who was also going there, standing near a crowd that had gathered to stare and shout at some foreign women who were looking out from the windows of a house in Leicester Square. "Observe Goldsmith," said Burke to his companion, “and mark what passes between him and me at Sir Joshua's." They arrived at Sir Joshua's before Goldsmith; and, when he appeared, Burke received him with a grave face, as if seriously offended. When Goldsmith had pressed some time for an explanation, Burke, with seeming reluctance, said it was really too much to expect that one could continue to be intimate with him after the indiscreet way in which he had been behaving in the square. With great earnestness Goldsmith professed his ignorance of having done anything wrong, and asked what it was. "Why," said Burke, “did you not exclaim, as you were looking up at those women, what stupid beasts the people must be for staring with such admiration at those painted Jezebels while a man of your talents passed by unnoticed!" Surely I did not say that," said the astonished Goldsmith. "Nay, if you had not said so," replied Burke, "how should I have known it?" Goldsmith humbly; "I am very sorry-it was very foolish; I do recollect that something of the kind passed through my mind, but I did not think I had uttered it."Goldy and the Pig-Butcher:-At the humble Wednesday's Club at the Globe in Fleet Street, according to Mr. Forster, no less than at the Gerrard Street Club and the parties at Sir Joshua's, Goldsmith was the subject of practical jokes. Mr. Forster tells some of these and adds this story: A frequent attendant at the Club was "a certain Mr. B., described as a good sort of man and an eminent pig"butcher, who piqued himself very much on his good fellowship with the author of the

"That's true," said

Traveller, and whose constant manner of drinking to him was, ‘Come, Noll, here's "my service to you, old boy!' Repeating this one night after the comedy (the Good“Natured Man) was played, and when there was a very full club, Glover went over "to Goldsmith, and said in a whisper that he ought not to allow such liberties. "Let him alone,' answered Goldsmith, ‘and you'll see how civilly I'll let him "down.' He waited a little; and, on the next pause in the conversation, called out ‘aloud, with a marked expression of politeness and courtesy, 'Mr. B., I have the “honour of drinking your good health.' 'Thankee, thankee, Noll,' returned "Mr. B., pulling the pipe out of his mouth, and answering with great briskness." Enough in this vein! Quite as numerous are the anecdotes of Goldsmith's extreme tenderness of nerve, his generosity, his quick sympathy with all kinds of distress. Once, at a whist-table, we are told, hearing a woman sing in the streets, and struck by something peculiarly mournful in the tones of her voice, he could not rest till he had run out, given her some silver, and sent her away. In his own poverty he was ready with help and kind words not only for the Purdons, Hiffernans, and other poor Grub Street hacks, personally known to him, but also for any unknown young fellow he might casually encounter walking about the Temple Gardens and looking aimless and woe-begone. Remembering this, one cannot help wondering sometimes what might have happened or been prevented, if the boy Chatterton, during his fatal three months in London (May-August 1770) had chanced pon Goldsmith in his weary ramblings. One cannot but imagine, at all events, a certain sad significance in the fact that the hour of the last agony of that marvellous young life, the hunger-and-arsenic agony in the dreadful garret in Brooke Street, Holborn, coincided with the time of Goldsmith's absence from London on his Paris journey. As it was, he was one of the first, on his return, to hear of Chatterton's fate, and to talk of him and the Rowley Poems. But what more is needed to attest the essential goodness of Goldsmith's heart, his singular unselfishness and placability than the story which Boswell tells of his momentary quarrel with Johnson? "I dined with him (Johnson) this day (May 7, 1773)," says Boswell, "at the house of my friends, Messrs. Edward and Charles Dilly, book"sellers, in the Poultry: there were present-their elder brother, Mr. Dilly of "Bedfordshire; Dr. Goldsmith; Mr. Langton; the Rev. Dr. Mayo, a Dissenting {"minister; the Rev. Mr. Toplady; and my friend, the Rev. Mr. Temple." There was much talk; they came at last on the subject of toleration; and Johnson, whom the presence of a Dissenting minister made unusually loud and pugnacious, was hammering away on this subject, without much success against Dr. Mayo's calm stolidity in the common opinion. "During this argument," continues Boswell, "Goldsmith sat in restless agitation, from a wish to get in and shine. Finding himself excluded, he had taken his hat to go away, but remained for some time with it in his hand, like a gamester, who, at the close of a long night, lingers for a little while, to see if he can have a favourable opening to finish with success. 'Once when he was beginning to speak, he found himself overpowered by the loud "voice of Johnson, who was at the opposite end of the table and did not perceive

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