In a society thus composed of men distinguished | self is very true, he always gets the better when he for genius, learning, and rank, where the chief ob- argues alone: meaning, that he is master of a subject of the institution was social and literary enjoy-ject in his study, and can write well upon it; but ment, it is certainly interesting to know what kind when he comes into company grows confused, and of intellectual sauce was usually served up to give a unable to talk. Take him as a poet, his “Travelzest to their periodical suppers. Happily, Mr. ler" is a very fine performance; 2y, and so is his Boswell has supplied such a desideratum; and as a "Deserted Village," were it not sometimes too fair specimen of the numerous conversations which much the echo of his "Traveller." Whether, inhe has reported of the members, it may not be un-deed, we take him as a poet, as a comic writer, of amusing to our readers to be presented with part of as a historian, he stands in the first class.' Boswell, the discussion which took place at the time of his 'A historian! my dear sir, you will not surely rank own election in April, 1773, and a full report of his compilation of the Roman History with the the sitting of the club on the 24th of March, 1775. works of other historians of this age?" Johnson, This we do with the more pleasure, on account of 'Why, who is before him?' Boswell, 'Hume, Rothe first discussion being in some sort illustrative of bertson, Lord Lyttleton,' Johnson (his antipathy the character and writings of our author. to the Scotch beginning to rise,) 'I have not read "On Friday, April 30," says Mr. Boswell, "I Hume; but, doubtless, Goldsmith's History is bet dined with Dr. Johnson at Mr. Beauclerk's, where ter than the verbiage of Robertson, or the foppery were Lord Charlemont, Sir Joshua Reynolds, and of Dalrymple.' Boswell, 'Will you not admit the some more members of the Literary Club, whom he superiority of Robertson, in whose History we find nad obligingly invited to meet me, as I was this such penetration, such painting?" Johnson, 'Sir, evening to be balloted for as candidate for admission you must consider how that penetration and that into that distinguished society. Johnson had done painting are employed. It is not history; it is ima me the honour to propose me, and Beauclerk was gination. He who describes what he never saw, very zealous for me. draws from fancy. Robertson paints minds as "Goldsmith being mentioned, Johnson said, 'It Sir Joshua paints faces in a history-piece: he imais amazing how little Goldsmith knows. He sel- gines a heroic countenance. You must look upon dom comes where he is not more ignorant than any Robertson's work as romance, and try it by that one else,' Sir Joshua Reynolds, 'Yet there is no standard. History it is not. Besides, sir, it is the man whose company is more liked.' Johnson, 'To great excellence of a writer to put into his book as be sure, sir. When people find a man, of the most much as his book will hold. Goldsmith has done distinguished abilities as a writer, their inferior this in his History. Now Robertson might have while he is with them, it must be highly gratifying put twice as much into his book. Robertson is to them. What Goldsmith comically says of him- like a man who has packed gold in wool: the wool takes up more room than the gold. No, sir, I always thought Robertson would be crushed by his own weight-would be buried under his own ornaments. Goldsmith tells you shortly all you want to know; Robertson detains you a great deal too long. No man will read Robertson's cumbrous detail a second time; but Goldsmith's plain narrative will please again and again. I would say to Robertson what an old tutor of a college said to one of his pupils: "Read over your compositions and wherever you meet with a passage which you think is particularly fine, strike it out." Goldsmith's abridgment is better than that of Lucius Florus or Eutropius: and I will venture to say, that if you compare him with Vertot, in the same places of the Roman History, you will find that he excels Vertot. Sir, he has the art of compiling, and of saying every thing he has to say in a pleasing manner. now writing a Natural History, and will make it as Right Hon. William Drum. entertaining as a Persian Tale.' mond. * Duke of Leeds. Earl Lucan. • Earl Macartney. *Mr. Malone. Lord Minto. Dr. French Lawrence. Dr. Marlay, Bishop of Clon- Henry Vaughan, M. D. ⚫Dr. Nugent. Mr. George Steevens. Hon. Frederick North (now *Dr. Warren. Earl of Guilford.) Earl of Upper Ossory. Viscount Palmerston. Dr. Percy, Bishop of Dro more. Major Rennel Sir Joshua Reynolds. 'M. R. B. Sheridan. Dr. Shipley, Bishop of St. Dr. Adam Smith. *Dr. Joseph Warton. Rev. Thomas Warton. •Right Hon. William Wind ham. Right Hon. George Canning. Mr. Marsden. Right Hon. Thos. Grenville. Right Hon. Sir William Sir George Staunton. He is "I can not dismiss the present topic (continues who owned that he often talked for victory, rather Mr. Boswell) without observing, that Dr. Johnson, The members whose names are distinguished by an asterisk In the foregoing list have all paid the debt of nature. Among those who survive, it is generally understood that the spirit of urged plausible objections to Dr. Robertson's ex the original as ciation is still preserved. icellent historical works in the ardour of contest, than expressed his real and decided opinion; for | Boswell, is of the discussion which took place at it is not easy to suppose, that he should so widely the meeting of 24th March, 1775. "Before Johndiffer from the rest of the literary world. son came in, we talked of his 'Journey to the Wes"Johnson, "I remember once being with Gold-tern Islands,' and of his coming away 'willing to smith in Westminster Abbey. While we surveyed the Poet's-Corner, I said to him, Forsitan et nostrum nomen miscebitur istis," When we got to Temple-Bar he stopped me, pointed to the heads upon it, and slily whispered me, I'orsitan et nostrum nomen miscebitur istis.'† believe the second sight,' which seemed to excite some ridicule. I was then so impressed with the truth of many of the stories of which I nad been told, that I avowed my conviction, saying 'He is only willing to believe; I do believe. The evidence is enough for me, though not for his great mind. What will not fill a quart bottle will fill a pint bottle. I am filled with belief.' 'Are you,' said Colman, 'then cork it up.' "Johnson praised John Bunyan highly. 'His "Pilgrim's Progress" has great merit, both for in- "I found his 'Journey' the common topic of vention, imagination, and the conduct of the story; conversation in London at this time, wherever I and it has had the best evidence of its merits, the happened to be. At one of Lord Mansfield's forgeneral and continued approbation of mankind. mal Sunday evening conversations, strangely callFew books, I believe, have had a more extensive ed levees, his Lordship addressed me, 'We have sale. It is remarkable, that it begins very much all been reading your Travels, Mr. Boswell.' I anlike the poem of Dante; yet there was no trans-swered, 'I was but the humble attendant of Dr. lation of Dante when Bunyan wrote. There is Johnson.' The Chief-Justice replied, with that reason to think that he had read Spenser." air and manner which none who ever heard or saw him can forget, 'He speaks ill of nobody but Ossian.' "A proposition which had been agitated, that monuments to eminent persons should, for the time to come, be erected in St. Paul's Church as "Johnson was in high spirits this evening at well as in the Westminster Abbey, was mention- the club, and talked with great animation and ed; and it was asked, who should be honoured by success. He attacked Swift, as he used to do upon having his monument first erected? Somebody all occasions: "The Tale of a Tub" is so much su suggested Pope. Johnson, Why, sir, as Pope was perior to his other writings, that we can hardly a Roman Catholic, I would not have his to be believe he was the author of it: there is in it such first. I think Milton's rather should have the pre-a vigour of mind, such a swarm of thoughts, so cedence. I think more highly of him now than I much of nature, and art, and life.' I wondered to did at twenty. There is more thinking in him hear him say of 'Gulliver's Travels,' 'When and Butler than in any one of our poets.' once you have thought of big and little men, it is "The gentlemen (continues Mr. Boswell) now very easy to do all the rest.' I endeavoured to went away to their club, and I was left at Beau- make a stand for Swift, and tried to rouse those clerk's till the fate of my election should be an- who were much more able to defend him; but in nounced to me. I sat in a state of anxiety, which vain. Johnson at last, of his own accord, allowed even the charming conversation of Lady Di very great merit to the inventory of articles found Beauclerk could not entirely dissipate. In a short in the pocket of 'the Man Mountain,' particulartime I received the agreeable intelligence that I ly the description of his watch, which it was conwas chosen. I hastened to the place of meeting, jectured was his god, as he consulted it upon all and was introduced to such a society as can sel- occasions. He observed, that 'Swift put his name dom be found. Mr. Edmund Burke, whom I but to two things (after he had a name to put), then saw for the first time, and whose splendid ta- the "Plan of the Improvement of the English lents had long made me ardently wish for his ac- Language," and the last "Drapier's Letters." quaintance; Dr. Nugent, Mr. Garrick, Dr. Goldsmith, Mr. (afterwards Sir William) Jones, and the company with whom I had dined. Upon my entrance, Johnson placed himself behind a chair, on which he leaned as on a desk or pulpit, and, with humourous formality, gave me a charge, pointing out the conduct expected from me as a member of this club." The next conversational specimen given by Mr. *Ovid. de Art. Amand. 1. iii. 5. 13. "From Swift there was an easy transition to Mr. Thomas Sheridan. Johnson, 'Sheridan is a wonderful admirer of the tragedy of Douglas, and presented its author with a gold medal. Some years ago, at a Coffee-house in Oxford, I called to, him "Mr. Sheridan, Mr. Sheridan, how came you to give a gold medal to Home, for writing that foolish play?" This, you see, was wanton and insolent; but I meant to be wanton and insolent. A medal has no value but as a stamp of merit. And was Sheridan to assume to himself the right of *In allusion to Dr. Johnson's supposed political principles, giving that stamp? If Sheridan was magnificent Jenough to bestow a gold medal as an honorary re ward of dramatic excellence, he should have re- how much may be done, without the aid of extraquested one of the universities to choose the per-vagant incident, to excite the imagination and inson on whom it should be conferred. Sheridan terest the feelings. Few productions of the kind had no right to give a stamp of merit: it was afford greater amusement in the perusal, and still counterfeiting Apollo's coin.'" fewer inculcate more impressive lessons of moraliNow that Goldsmith had acquired fame as a ty. Though wit and humour abound in every poet of the first rank, and was associated with page, yet in the whole volume there is not one the wit and talent that belonged to this cele- thought injurious in its tendency, nor one sentibrated club, his publisher, Mr. Newberry, thought ment that can offend the chastest ear. Its language, he might venture to give the "Vicar of Wakefield" in the words of an elegant writer, is what "angels to the world. It was accordingly brought out in might have heard and virgins told." In the deli1766, and not only proved a most lucrative specu- neation of his characters, in the conduct of his falation for the bookseller, but brought a fresh ac-ble, and in the moral of the piece, the genius of the cession of literary celebrity to its author. Notwith-author is equally conspicuous. The hero displays standing the striking merit of this work, it is a with unaffected simplicity the most striking virtues fact not less singular than true, that the literary that can adorn social life: sincere in his professions, friends to whom Goldsmith submitted it for criti- humane and generous in his disposition, he is himcism, before publication, were divided in opinion as self a pattern of the character he represents. The to the probability of its success; and it is still more other personages are drawn with similar discrimi singular that Dr. Johnson himself should have en- nation. Each is distinguished by some peculia. tertained doubts on the subject. It has been as- feature; and the general grouping of the whole has serted, that the publisher put it to press in the this particular excellence, that not one could be crude state in which he found it, when the bar- wanted without injuring the unity and beauty of gain was made with Johnson for the manuscript; the design. The drama of the tale is also managed but such a conclusion is obviously erroneous. with equal skill and effect. There are no extraGoldsmith was at that time on the best terms with vagant incidents, and no forced or improbable situNewberry, and engaged in the completion of vari-ations; one event rises out of another in the same ous minor pieces for him; and as the fame of the easy and natural manner as flows the language of one as well as the profit of the other were equally the narration; the interest never flags, and is kept at stake on the success of the performance, it is ex- up to the last by the expedient of concealing the ceedingly improbable that both author and pub- real character of Burchell. But it is the moral of lisher should be regardless of such revisal and cor- the work which entitles the author to the praise of rection as was clearly for the benefit of both. supereminent merit in this species of writing. No That Goldsmith did alter and revise this work be-writer has arrived more successfully at the great fore publication, may be gathered from a conversa- ends of a moralist. By the finest examples, he intion which took place between Johnson and Mr. culcates the practice of benevolence, patience in Boswell. "Talking of a friend of ours," says the suffering, and reliance on the providence of God. latter, "who associated with persons of very dis- A short time after the publication of the "Vicar cordant principles and characters, I said he was a of Wakefield," Goldsmith printed his beautiful very universal man, quite a man of the world." ballad of the "Hermit." His friend Dr. Percy "Yes, sir," said Johnson, "but one may be so had published, in the same year, “Reliques of Anmuch a man of the world, as to be nothing in the cient English Poetry;" and as the "Hermit" was world. I remember a passage in Goldsmith's 'Vi- found to bear some resemblance to a tale in that car of Wakefield,' which he was afterwards fool collection, entitled "The Friar of Orders Gray," enough to expunge; 'I do not lore a man who is the scribblers of the time availed themselves of the zealous for nothing." Boswell, "That was a fine circumstance to tax him with plagiarism. Irritated passage." Johnson, "Yes, sir; there was another at the charge, he published a letter in the St. fine passage which he struck out: 'When I was a young man, being anxious to distinguish my self, I was perpetually starting new propositions; but I soon gare this over; for I found that generally what was new was false.'" James's Chronicle, vindicating the priority of his own poem, and asserting that the plan of the other must have been taken from his. It is probable, however, that both poems were taken from a very ancient ballad in the same collection, beginning The "Vicar of Wakefield” has long been con- "Gentle Heardsman." Our author had seen and sidered one of the most interesting tales in our admired this ancient poem, in the possession of language. It is seldom that a story presenting Dr. Percy, long before it was printed; and some of merely a picture of common life, and a detail of the stanzas he appears, perhaps undesignedly, to domestic events, so powerfully affects the reader. have imitated in the "Hermit," as the reader wil The irresistible charm this novel possesses, evinces perceive on examining the following specimens:— FROM THE OLD BALLAD. And grew soe coy and nice to please, Thus being wearyed with delayes, And there hee dyed without releeffe. And for his sake these weeds I weare, And sacrifice my tender age; Thus every day I fast and pray, FROM THE HERMIT. For still I tried each fickle art, And while his passion touch'd my heart, Till, quite dejected by my scorn, He left me to my pride; And sought a solitude forlorn, In secret, where he died. But mine the sorrow, mine the fault, I'll seek the solitude he sought, And so for him will L gratification of being recognized by a man of the duke's high rank as a literary friend. This distinguished peer and his duchess were accustomed to spend part of each summer at Bath; and one year, after their return to London, her grace related to Dr. Percy, with considerable humour, the following occurrence, characteristic of our author's occasional abstraction of mind. On one of the parades at Bath, the duke and Lord Nugent had hired two adjacent houses. Goldsmith, who was then resident on a visit with the latter, one morning walked up into the duke's dining room, as he and the duchess were preparing to sit down to breakfast. In a manner the most free and easy he threw himself on a sofa; and, as he was then perfectly known to them both, they inquired of him the Bath news of the day. But perceiving him to be rather in a meditative humour, they rightly guessed there was some mistake, and endeavoured, by easy and cheerful conversation to prevent his becoming embarrassed. When breakfast was served up, they invited him to stay and partake of it; and then poor Goldsmith awoke from his reverie, declared he thought he had been in the house of his friend Lord Nugent, and with confusion hastily withdrew; not, however, till the goodhumoured duke and duchess had made him promise to dine with them. Something akin to this incident, is the well known blunder committed by our author during a conversation with the Earl of Shelbourne. One evening, while in company with this nobleman, Goldsmith, after a variety of conversation, fell into a fit of musing. At last, as if suddenly recovering There has been an attempt, in later days, to cast from his abstraction, he addressed his lordship aba doubt upon the title of Goldsmith to the whole ruptly in this manner;-"My lord, I have often of this poem. It has been asserted that the "Her- wondered why every body should call your lordship mit" was a translation of an ancient French poem Malagrida; for Malagrida, you know, was a very entitled "Raimond and Angeline." The pretend- good man." The well bred peer only replied to ed original made its appearance in a trifling peri- this awkward compliment by a smile, and the odical publication, entitled "The Quiz." It bears heedless poet went on totally unconscious of his internal evidence of being in reality an imitation of error. It was afterwards remarked by Dr. JohnGoldsmith's poem. The frivolous source of this son, that this mistake of Goldsmith was only a flippant attack, and its transparent falsity, would blunder in emphasis, and that the expression meant have caused it to pass unnoticed here, had it not nothing more than, "I wonder they should use been made a matter of grave discussion in some Malagrida as a term of reproach.” periodical journals. To enter into a detailed refutation would be absurd. About this period, or perhaps a little earlier, Goldsmith, in addition to the apartments he occuThe poem of "The Hermit" was at first in- pied in the Temple, took a country-house on the scribed to the Countess (afterwards Duchess) of Edgeware-road, in conjunction with a Mr. Bott, Northumberland, who had shown a partiality for one of his literary friends, for the benefit of good productions of this kind, by patronizing Percy's air, and the convenience of retirement. To this "Reliques of Ancient English Poetry" This led little mansion he gave the jocular appellation of Shoeto a renewed intercourse with the dke, to whom maker's Paradise, the architecture being in a fanwe have already narrated Goldsmith's first visit; tastic style, after the taste of its original possessor, but the time had gone by when his grace could who was one of the craft. Here he began and have been politically useful, and we do not know finished one of his most pleasing and successful that our author reaped any other advantage from compilations, a "History of England, in a Series the notice that nobleman took of him, than the of Letters from a Nobleman to his Son." This hittle work was at first published anonymously, suring him that "he had exceeded his own ides and was very generally ascribed to the pen of Lord of the character, and that the fine comic richness Lyttleton. That nobleman then held some rank of his colouring made it almost appear as new to in the world of letters, and as the chief feature in him as to any other person in the house." Dr. the performance was an easy elegance of language, Johnson furnished the prologue, and publicly dewithout much depth of thought, or investigation,clared, that in his opinion, "The Good-natured the public were the more easily betrayed into a be- Man" was the best comedy that had appeared lief that it was the work of his lordship. It had since "The Provoked Husband." He dwelt with likewise the honour to be ascribed to the Earl of much complacency on the character of Croaker, Orrery, and some other noble authors of that period. and averred that none equal to it in originality That it was really the production of Goldsmith, had for a long time been exhibited on the stage. nowever, was soon afterwards generally known; a Goldsmith used to acknowledge, that for his concircumstance, which in all probability, greatly en- ception of this character he was indebted to John. hanced its value in the estimation of the world. son's Suspirius in the "Rambler." That of Honey Few books have had a more extensive sale or wood, in its undistinguishing benevolence, bear wider circulation. some resemblance to his own. "The Good-naThe fame our author had now acquired as a tured Man" has undoubtedly great merit; and critic, a novelist, and a poet, prompted him to ad- though deficient in effect for the stage, will always venture in the drama. His first effort produced be a favourite in the closet. Mr. Cumberland re"The Good-natured Man." This comedy was marks, that it "has enough to justify the good offered to Garrick, to be brought out at his theatre opinion of its literary patrons, and secure its auof Drury-Lane; but after much fluctuation between thor against any loss of reputation; for it has the doubt and encouragement, with his customary hesi- stamp of a man of talents upon it, though its poputation and uncertainty, he at length declined it. The larity with the audience did not quite keep pace with conduct of Garrick in this instance was the more sur- the expectations that were grounded on the fiat it prising, as the piece had been read and applauded in had antecedently been honoured with." Short as manuscript by most of the author's literary friends, its career was, however, its author by the sale of the and had not only the sanction of Burke's critical copy, and the profits of his three nights, acquired judgment, but Johnson himself had engaged to not less than five hundred pounds, a sum which write the prologue. Colman, the manager of Cov-enabled him to enlarge his domestic establishment ent-Garden Theatre, was, however, not so scrupu- and improve his style of living, though it is believlous; especially when he found it presented under ed on rather a too expensive scale. On removing, such patronage. It was therefore agreed that it at this time from an attic in the Inner-Temple, to should be produced at his theatre; and it was repre- elegant chambers in Brick-court, Middle-Temple, sented there for the first time on the 29th of Janu- he is said to have laid out upwards of four hundred ary, 1768. Contrary to the expectations of the au- pounds. thor and his friends, it did not meet with unquali Goldsmith's improved circumstances, did not, fied applause; and though it kept possession of the however, compensate for the vexations he suffered stage nine nights, it was finally withdrawn. The from the virulence of some of the periodical critics. peculiar genius of its author was apparent in the "At that time," says Mr. Cumberland, "there ease and elegance of the dialogue, and throughout was a nest of vipers in league against every name the whole there were many keen remarks on men to which any degree of celebrity was attached; and and manners; but the piece was deficient in stage- they kept their hold upon the papers till certain of effect. The Bailiff scene, in particular, was gene- their leaders were compelled to fly their country, rally reprobated, though the characters were well some to save their ears, and some to save their drawn. This scene was afterwards greatly abridg-necks. They were well known; and I am sorry ed. Whatever were the faults of the piece as a to say, some men whose minds should have been whole, it was admitted that many of the parts pos- superior to any terrors they could hold out, made sessed great comic effect, and these were highly suit to them for favour, nay even combined witn applauded. The part of Croaker, in particular, was them on some occasions, and were mean enough allowed to be excellent. It was admirably sup- to enrol themselves under their despicable banported by Shuter, the most popular comedian of his ners." From this class of critics, poor Goldsmith's day. The drollery of his manner while reading sensitive feelings suffered the horrors of crucifixion. the incendiary letter in the fourth act, and his ex- To add to his mortification, the comedy of "False pression of the different passions by which he was Delicacy," written by his friend Kelly, came out at agitated, were so irresistibly comical, that he brought Drury-Lane Theatre about the same time with down thunders of applause. Goldsmith himself was "The Good-natured Man" at Covent-Garden, and so overcome with the acting of Shuter, that he ex- had such an unexampled run of success, that it pressed his delight before the whole company, as- was said to have driven its opponent fairly off the |