one bottle more, Deborah, my life; and, Moses, give us a good song. What thanks do we not owe to Heaven for thus bestowing tranquillity, health, and competence ! I think myself happier now than the greatest monarch upon earth. He has no such fireside, no such pleasant faces about it."

The Goldsmith who drew this wonderful family group was the solitary writer, struggling to raise himself from the poverty of Green Arbor Court (those lodgings of his which were near Old Bailey and Seacoal Lane, and were approached by the steep stone stairs called "Breakneck Steps"), in the great London "where men," he wrote, "club to raise each other's reputation." He was remote, unfriended, melancholy, and heartsick. Memories of Lissoy had wrought long in his mind, and his imagination was fusing and blending them for one great effort. And so out of this coldness and solitariness and poverty he made this tale, which is immortal.

The quiet vicar, with his love of his own kind, his reverence for good and high-minded endeavor after right, his simple dignity, his little vanities, his ownership of wife and children and home and parish folk, is said to be drawn in broad lines from Goldsmith's own father. Possibly the strong common sense in house management, the shrewd observation and practical energy of his more worldly spouse had also a prototype at the Lissoy chimney corner. We know from the story of the reappearance on Fiddleback that the strong common sense of his poor mother was recognized, as well as at times sorely tried, by her son.

"The Vicar of Wakefield" embodies also a philosophy which must have been the fruit of many years of reflection and observation. It sets forth a rational scheme of government. It illustrates the final triumph of virtue over vice; the rule of a moral law;

that lies and crimes are discovered and punished. It shows the triumph of faith in goodness and sweetness: "Those relations which describe the tricks and vices only of mankind, by increasing our suspicion in life, retard our success." "The knowing one is the silliest fellow under the sun."

By its careful delineation of the horrors of prison life, and the religious exaltation of the vicar's speech, the tale strenuously advocated prison reform, and the gentler penal code which has in part been accomplished since Goldsmith wrote. This very picturing of prison iniquity and moral hideousness serves to make such scenes as those that precede and follow it more beautiful: "In the morning early I called out my whole family to help at saving an aftergrowth of hay; and our guest offering his assistance, he was accepted among the number. Our labors went on lightly; we turned the swath to the wind. I went foremost, and the rest followed in due succession."

The story is ever new, ever fresh, ever true and beautiful; of a simple, honest heart confiding in the goodness of the world, and strong in human love and faithfulness. None but Goldsmith

could have written it. "Think of him reckless, thriftless, vain, if you like," says Thackeray, "but merciful, gentle, generous, full of love and pity. He passes out of our life and goes to render his account beyond it. Think of the poor pensioners weeping at his grave; think of the noble spirits that admired and deplored him; think of the righteous pen that wrote his epitaph; and of the wonderful and unanimous response of affection with which the world has paid back the love he gave it. His humor delighting us still; his song fresh and beautiful as when he first charmed us with it; his words in all our mouths; his very weaknesses beloved and familiar,—his benevolent spirit seems to smile upon us; to

do gentle kindnesses; to succor with sweet charity; to soothe, caress, and forgive; to plead with the fortunate for the unhappy and the poor."

"We read 'The Vicar of Wakefield' in youth and age," wrote

Sir Walter Scott, "return to it again and again, and bless the memory of an author who contrives so well to reconcile us to human nature. Whether we choose the pathetic and distressing incidents of the fire, the scenes of the jail, or the lighter and humorous parts of the story, we find the best and truest sentiments enforced in the most beautiful language; and perhaps few characters of purer dignity have been described than that of the excellent pastor, rising above sorrow and oppression, and laboring for the conversion of those felons into whose company he had been thrust by his villainous creditor."

"Within these few days," wrote the great Goethe towards the end of his life, 'The Vicar of Wakefield' fell accidentally into my hands; I could not help reading the little book again from beginning to end, not a little affected by the lively recollection of how much I had been indebted to the author seventy years ago. It is not to be described,—the effect which Goldsmith had upon me just at the decisive moment of mental development. The lofty and benevolent irony, that fair and indulgent view of all oversights, that meekness under all calamities, that equanimity under all changes and chances, and all that train of kindred virtues, whatever name they bear, formed my best education; and in the end these are the thoughts and feelings which have reclaimed us from all the errors of life."

The tale has been translated into many languages. It is often the first English story of length put in the hands of boys at the French lycées.

ADVERTISEMENT TO THE FIRST EDITION.

THERE are an hundred faults in this Thing, and an hundred things might be said to prove them beauties. But it is needless. A book may be amusing with numerous errors, or it may be very dull without a single absurdity. The hero of this piece unites in himself the three greatest characters upon earth; he is a priest, an husbandman, and the father of a family. He is drawn as ready to teach, and ready to obey; as simple in affluence, and majestic in adversity. In this age of opulence and refinement whom can such a character please? Such as are fond of high life, will turn with disdain from the simplicity of his country fireside. Such as mistake ribaldry for humor, will find no wit in his harmless conversation; and such as have been taught to deride religion, will laugh at one whose chief stores of comfort are drawn from futurity.

OLIVER GOLDSMITH.

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THE VICAR OF WAKEFIELD.”

CHAPTER I.

THE DESCRIPTION OF THE FAMILY OF WAKEFIELD, IN WHICH A KINDRED LIKENESS PREVAILS, AS WELL OF MINDS AS OF PERSONS.

I

WAS ever of opinion that the honest man who married and brought up a large family did more service than he who continued single and only talked of population. From this motive, I had scarce taken orders a year before I began to think seriously of matrimony, and chose my wife, as she did her wedding gown, not for a fine, glossy surface, but for such qualities as would wear well. To do her justice, she was a good-natured, notable woman; and as for breeding, there were few country ladies who could show more. She could read any English book without much spelling; but for pickling, preserving, and cookery, none could excel her. She prided herself also upon being an excellent contriver in housekeeping, though I could never find that we grew richer with all her contrivances.

However, we loved each other tenderly, and our fondness increased as we grew old. There was, in fact, nothing that could make us angry with the world or each other. We had an elegant house, situated in a fine country and a good neighborhood. The year was spent in moral or rural amusements," in visiting our rich

1 See notes at end of volume (pp. 214–224).

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