1758. The "impatient expectation" of the result of Griffiths's resolutions, ended in a contract to write him a Life of Et.30. Voltaire for a translation of the Henriade he was about to publish the payment being twenty pounds, and the price of the clothes to be deducted from that sum. His brother Henry wrote to him of the Polite Learning scheme, while engaged on this trade task; and the answer he made at its close, written early in February 1759, is in some sort the indication of his altered mind and purpose. There is still evidence of his personal weakness in the idle distrusts and suspicion it charges on himself, and in its false pretences to conceal his rejection and sustain his poor Irish credit: yet the general tone of it marks not the less, a new, a sincerer, and a more active epoch in his life. Whilst the quarrel with Griffiths was still proceeding, he had again written of the Polite Learning essay, and sent some scheme of a new poem to Henry (first fruit of the better uses of his adversity); but absolute silence as to the Coromandel appointment appears to have suggested a doubt in his brother's answer, to which very cursory and slight allusion is made in this reply. The personal portrait, in which the "big wig" of his Bankside days plays its part, will hardly support his character for personal vanity! "Dear Sir," the letter ran,* 66 "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 behaviour of Mr. Mills 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 66 * Percy Memoir, 53-9. It is addressed to "The Rev. Henry Goldsmith, at "Lowfield, near Ballymore, in Westmeath, Ireland." 1758. Æt. 30, 66 "of next month send over two hundred and fifty books, 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. 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 and active 66 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 honours of seniority. Imagine to yourself a pale melancholy visage, with two great wrinkles between the eye-brows, 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. 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 behaviour.* "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 disagree"able 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, regard"less of yours. 66 "The reasons you have given me for breeding up your son as a * "This," observes the Percy Memoir writer, in a note, "is all gratis dictum, "for there never was a character so unsuspicious and so unguarded as the "writer's." 54. 66 "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 except your own. "It is impossible to conceive how much may be done by a 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 66 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; those 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 which 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 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. 66 I had contracted the habits and notions of a philosopher; while I was "exposing myself to the insidious approaches of 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. 66 66 66 66 66 "My mother, I am informed, is almost blind; éven though I had the I utmost inclination to return home, under such circumstances I could 1758. Æt. 30. 1758. Æt. 30. 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 "intreat him, from me, not to drink. My dear sir, give me some "account about poor Jenny.* Yet her husband loves her; if so, she "cannot be unhappy. 66 "I know not whether I should tell you—yet why should I conveal "those 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 66 title, that it is no more than a catch-penny. However I spent "but four weeks on the whole performance, for which I received twenty pounds. When published, I shall take some method of I 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 equivalence of amusement. Your last letter, I repeat it, was too short: you should have given me your opinion of "the design of the heroicomical poem which I sent you: you re"member 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 this way : 66 The window, patch'd with paper, lent a ray, An unpaid reck'ning on the freeze was scor'd, * His younger sister, who had married unprosperously. 66 "And now imagine after his soliloquy, the landlord to make his Not with that face, so servile and so gay, Then pull'd his breeches tight, and thus began, &c. "All this is taken, you see, from nature. It is a good remark of Montaign'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 regard. Poetry is a much easier, and more agree"able 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 1758. Æt. 30. "Your most affectionate "OLIVER GOLDSMITH." There is a practical condition of mind in this letter, notwithstanding its self-reproachful pictures, and protestations of sorrowful disgust. It is very clear, were it only by the alehouse hero's example, that not all the miseries which surround him will again daunt his perseverance, or tempt him to begin life anew. If the bowl is now to be broken, it will be broken at the fountain. Could a man live by it, it were not unpleasant employment to be a poet: but as he has made up his mind to live, and on the world's beggarly terms, he will take what practicable work he can get, and be content with its fare till pleasant employment comes. When the man in black describes the change of good humour with which he went to his precarious meals; how he forbore rants of spleen at his situation, ceased to call down heaven and the stars to behold him dining on a half-pennyworth of radishes, taught his very companions to believe that he liked salad better than mutton, laughed when he was not in pain, took the world as it went, and read his Tacitus for want of N |