school; but they may strengthen the painter's claims to consideration and esteem, and give, to that sense of dignity which should invest every liberal art, and which too often passes for an airy nothing amid the hustle and crowd of more vulgar pretences, a local habitation and a name.' This was the main wise drift of Reynolds and his fellow labourers; it was the charter that held them together in spite of all their later dissensions; and to this day it outweighs the gravest fault or disadvantage that has yet been charged against the Royal Academy.

A fragment of the conversation at this first Academy dinner has survived; and takes us from it to the darkest contrast, the most deplorable picture of human misery and disadvantage, which even these pages have described. Goldsmith spoke of an extraordinary boy who had come up to London from Bristol, died very miserably, and left a wonderful treasure of ancient poetry behind him. Horace Walpole listened carelessly at first, it would seem; but soon perceived in the subject of conversation a special interest for himself. Some years afterwards he described what passed, with an affectation of equanimity which even then he did not feel. Dining at the Royal Academy,' he said, 'Doctor 'Goldsmith drew the attention of the company with the account of a marvellous treasure of ancient poems lately 'discovered at Bristol, and expressed enthusiastic belief in them; for which he was laughed at by Doctor Johnson, 'who was present. I soon found that this was the trouvaille ' of my friend Chatterton; and I told Doctor Goldsmith

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'that this novelty was known to me, who might, if I had 'pleased, have had the honour of ushering the great discovery to the learned world. You may imagine, sir, we did 'not at all agree in the measure of our faith. But though ' his credulity diverted me, my mirth was soon dashed; for on asking about Chatterton, he told me he had been ' in London, and had destroyed himself. The persons ' of honour and veracity who were present will attest with 'what surprise and concern I thus first heard of his 'death.' Yes; for the concern was natural. Even a Goldsmith credulity, for once, would have been Walpole's better friend. His mirth was dashed at the time, and his peace was for many years invaded, by that image of Chatterton. From the time he resisted the imposition,' says Miss Hawkins in her considerate way, 'he began to go down in 'public favour.' An imposition it undoubtedly was, even such an imposition as he had himself attempted with his Castle of Otranto; and he had a perfect right to resist it. It was no guilt he had committed, but it was a great occasion lost. The poor boy who invented Rowley (the most wonderful invention of literature, all things considered), had not only communicated his discovery to the 'learned Mr. Walpole,' but the learned Mr. Walpole had with profuse respect and deference believed in it, till Gray and Mason laughed at him; when, turning coldly away from Chatterton's eager proposals, he planted in that young ambitious heart its bitterest thorn. As for Goldsmith's upholding of the authenticity of Rowley, it may pass with

a smile, if it really meant anything more than a belief in poor Chatterton himself; and it is a pity that Doctor Percy should have got up a quarrel with him about it, as he is said to have done. There is nothing so incredible that the wisest may not be found to believe. Hume believed in Ossian once, though a few years later he doubted, and at his death scornfully disbelieved.

Goldsmith's stay in London, at this time, was to see his English History through the press; and it did not long detain him. But his re-appearance in the Temple seldom failed to bring him new acquaintances now. His reputation kept no one at a distance; for his hospitable habits, his genial unaffected ways, were notorious to all. In particular to his countrymen. The Temple student from Ireland, with or without introduction, seems to have walked into his chambers as a home. To this period belong two such new acquaintances, sufficiently famous to have survived for recollection. The one was a youth named Day, afterwards one of the Irish judges, and more famous for his amiability than his law; the other was a friend and fellow-student of his, now ripening for a great career, and the achievement of an illustrious name. Henry Grattan's accomplishments made their first strong impression on Goldsmith; and it need not be reckoned their least distinction. Judge Day lived to talk and write to Mr. Prior about these early times; and described the 'great delight' which the conversation and society of Grattan,' then a youth of about nineteen, seemed to give to their more

distinguished countryman. Again and again he would come to Grattan's room in Essex Court; till his warm heart,'

Mr. Day modestly adds, became naturally prepossessed 'towards the associate of one whom he so much admired.'

Goldsmith's personal appearance and manners had made a lively impression on the young Templar. He recalled them vividly after a lapse of near seventy years, and his description is one of the best we have. He was short, he says; about five feet five or six inches; strong but not heavy in make, and rather fair in complexion; his hair, such at least as could be distinguished from his wig, was brown. 'His features were plain, but not repulsive; certainly not 'so when lighted up by conversation.' Though his complexion was pale, his face round and pitted with the smallpox, and a somewhat remarkable projection of his forehead and his upper lip were excellent sport for the caricaturists, the expression of intelligence, benevolence, and good humour, predominated over every disadvantage, and made the face extremely pleasing. This is not more evident in Reynolds's paintings than in Bunbury's whimsical drawings. His manners were simple, natural, and 'perhaps, on the whole, we may say not polished:' at least, Mr. Day explains, without that refinement and good breeding which the exquisite polish of his compositions would lead us to expect. He was always cheerful and animated, often indeed boisterous in his mirth;' entered with spirit into convivial society; contributed largely to its enjoyments by solidity of information, and the naïveté and originality of his

character; talked often without premeditation, and laughed loudly without restraint. It was a laugh ambitious to compete with even Johnson's: which Davies, with an enviable knowledge of natural history, compared to the laugh of a rhinoceros; and which seemed to Boswell, in their midnight walkings, to resound from Temple-bar to Fleetditch. To such explosions of mirth from Goldsmith, it would seem, the Grecian Coffee House now oftenest echoed; for it had become the favourite resort of the Irish and Lancashire Templars, whom he delighted in collecting around him, in entertaining with a cordial and unostentatious hospitality, and in occasionally amusing with his flute or with whist, 'neither of which he played very well.' Of his occupations and dress at the time, Judge Day confirms and further illustrates what is already known to us. He was composing light and superficial works, he says, memoirs and histories; not for fame, but for the more urgent need of recruiting exhausted finances. To such labours he returned, and shut himself up to provide fresh matter for his bookseller, and fresh supplies for himself, whenever his funds were dissipated; and they fled more rapidly from his being 'the dupe of many artful persons, male and female, who 'practised upon his benevolence.' With a purse replenished by labour of this kind, adds the worthy judge, the season of relaxation and pleasure took its turn, in attending the theatres, Ranelagh, Vauxhall, and other scenes of gaiety and amusement; which he continued to frequent as long as his supply held out, and where he was fond of exhibiting