an audience; that has answered so much the great end of comedymaking an audience merry."

A similar idea of the true design of comedy generally, seems to have been entertained by the author himself. Inquiring of Northcote, then a pupil of Sir Joshua, to whom as we have seen he had good-naturedly given tickets for the performance on his benefit night, his opinion of its merits, the latter said he could not presume to decide upon the matter. "Did it make you laugh?" "Exceedingly," was the reply; "Then," continued the Poet, "that is all that I require."

The greater indifference now shown to theatrical pieces, renders it difficult to give an adequate idea of the general exultation at the overthrow, as it was considered, of the class of sentimental comedies which had for a few years occupied the place of mirth and humour. Though fashion had upheld them for a time, sufficient good taste existed among the people to disapprove when the opportunity offered, of what were termed, "Comedies taken from the Whole Duty of Man, and Sentiments from the Book of Proverbs." Goldsmith was loudly hailed as the champion of this reform in taste; he became the theme of conversation, the daily journals rang with his praises or ridicule of his rivals, and complimentary paragraphs and verses were showered down upon the vivacity and humour of his muse. A few of these, as proofs of the general feeling of the moment, may be quoted; one absurdly assumes the name of Johnson, though without a particle of his energy, correctness, or power, and in the concluding lines, pays rather an equivocal compliment; the fourth and best is said to have been written by Mr. Wilkes, although intimate with the manager whom he so wittily assails.*

• Verses from Dr. Johnson to Dr. Goldsmith,

OCCASIONED BY HIS NEW COMEDY, ENTITLED "THE MISTAKES OF A NIGHT.”

"No wonder the Vis Comica is scarce,

Bad taste had banished Comedy and Farce,
Fettered the Drama's sons, their genius dampt,
Their native, manly, sterling honour crampt;
No flights permitted as in days of yore,
'Twas dangerous alike to sink or soar.

With some pert fools who call'd themselves the Town,

Wit was a pedant, Humour was a clown;

Nor one nor t'other durst a play-wright show,

Wit was too high and Humour was too low.

The play-house bard who wanted clothes and fuel,

Must bring a piece harmless as water-gruel :

In order to secure his houses full,

Be chastely moral and genteelly dull;

And if he hoped to live his nine nights out,

Must give no Bill-of-Rights-man cause to pout;

To sentimental dialogues must keep,

Whilst the tame audience yawn, admire and weep.

Too many tears the Comic Muse hath shed,

Too much of Sentiment in Humour's stead;

Old saws too long have charm'd the slumb'ring. Pit,
And musty Proverbs in default of Wit.

In proportion to the praises of the successful author, were the ridicule and odium cast upon his supposed enemies, both in prose and

"But now with joy I tell the Drama's friends,
Now a new progeny from heaven descends;
Thalia long, too long from Britain stray'd,
Appears again in all her charms array'd:
Say not that Wit and Humour now are scarce
Say not we've no new Comedy or Farce;
The arduous task a modern bard has done,
Restoring Farce and Comedy in one."

ON THE SUCCESS OF DR. GOLDSMITH'S NEW COMEDY OF "THE MISTAKES OF A NIGHT.”

"Long have our comic writers tried to move,
With tales of pity and chaste scenes of love;
On stilts sublime the laughing muse they raise,
For nothing low our taste refined can please.
Nor wit nor humour such grave preachers knew,
The Maudlin-house resembles Whitfield's crew.
No bursts of laughter shook the merry Pit,
In solemn silence all attentive sit;
Till some sad story big with tragic wo,
From the touch'd Boxes cause the tear to flow.
So deep the comedy, it makes you stare,
To find no poisoned bowl or dagger there.
Gay mirth and honest joke are in disgrace,
Melpomene usurps her Sister's place:
Let sentiment but stiffen every line,

The raptured audience loudly cry, how fine!
Goldsmith at length warm in Thalia's cause,

Broke the dull charm, and rescued Nature's laws."

To Dr. Goldsmith,

ON THE SUCCESS OF HIS NEW COMEDY CALLED "SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER."

"Long has the Comic Muse, seduced to town,

Shone with false charms, in finery not her own;

And strove by affectation's flimsy arts,

And sickly sentiments to conquer hearts:

But now reclaim'd, she seeks her native plains,

Where pass'd her youth, where mirth, where pleasure reigns;

She throws each tinsel ornament aside,

And takes once more plain Nature for her guide;

With sweet simplicity she smiles again,

And Stoops to Conquer with her Goldsmith's pen."

To Dr. Goldsmith.

"Has then (the question pray excuse,
For Doctor you're a droll man,)
The dose that saved the Comic Muse,
Almost destroy'd poor Colman?

"How drugs alike in strength and name,
In operations vary!

When what exalts the Doctor's fame
Undoes the Apothecary!"

verse.*

Among these, besides the persons already mentioned were numbered Macpherson though no dramatist, which may of itself dis

"Though Dr. Goldsmith's brow has been already covered with such laurels as this grateful nation could bestow, perhaps after all he may regard a sprig of Northern bays as the greater curiosity.

"It is well known that Mr. Macpherson attended the first night's representation of the New Comedy; but the public has not yet been informed, that soon after the conclusion of the piece, he was heard to utter the following sentiments, and in that peculiar style with which he has dignified his late Translation of Homer:

66

"Through the sable boxes darkened the bombasins of women:-But along the mournful veil of artificial grief-quick shot the gay radiance of joy:-and kindled in every bright eye.'

"Dumb the sullen critic sat:-on his cankered heart feeding:-Fiercely frowning, deeply glooming.-Till at last, from lungs of poison-burst faintly a timorous hiss-Turn him out, turn him out, toss him over-was the voice of the crowd in a rage.'

The Manager grumbled within:-The people sat laughing amain:-Through galleries, boxes, and pit-lgud rattled the tumult of joy.'

"I am, Sir, with the sincerest pleasure in being able to communicate this literary curiosity to your paper, your most obedient servant,

To George Colman, Esq.,

"PHILO-FUSTIAN."

ON THE SUCCESS OF DR. GOLDSMITH'S NEW COMEDY.

"Come, Coley, doff those mourning weeds,

Nor thus with jokes be flamm'd;
Tho' Goldsmith's present play succeeds,
His next may still be damn'd

As this has 'scaped without a fall,
To sink his next prepare;

New actors hire from Wapping Wall,
And dresses from Rag Fair.

For scenes let tatter'd blankets fly,

The prologue Kelly write;

Then swear again the piece must die
Before the author's night.

prove the story of Cumberland of the play being supported by many North Britons. But Colman, as manager, was selected more especially for the object of censure. Goldsmith's cause was indeed extremely popular, but in taking it up, several of his partisans were probably revenging their own; some willing to punish the ruler of the theatre for past refusals of their pieces; others meaning to intimidate him from such offences in future. The fire of squibs, witticisms, and paragraphs against him became incessant; his opinion of the play was attributed to extreme jealousy, and if it were not jealousy it was triumphantly asked, how could any dramatic writer in future, with satisfaction to himself, offer a piece to a person so defective in judgment as Mr. Colman had shown himself, or the town receive it with pleasure at his hands? Either horn of the dilemma was thought fatal to his continuance in theatrical power. His marginal criticisms which seemed to be well known, were treated with derision; to be despised, it was said, they need only be published; and the author as the best punishment of his enemy was recommended to print them with the play, in order that the public might see on whom they depended for the selection of their chief amusement.

So perseveringly was this warfare carried on in every variety of form, that the manager became at length seriously annoyed; he wrote what was considered a penitential letter to Goldsmith requesting he would "take him off the rack of the newspapers," and in order to escape the annoyance in London, took flight in the beginning of the second week to Bath. A victory was thus achieved to the great satisfaction of the wits of the day, but the author on the publication of the play gave no intimation either of triumph or discontent in the only allusion he permitted himself to make." The undertaking a comedy," he says, "not merely sentimental, was very dangerous; and Mr. Colman who saw this piece in its various stages always thought it so. However I ventured to trust it to the public; and though it was necessarily delayed till late in the season, I have every reason to be grateful." This moderation which indicates none of the permanent resentment attributed to him, was not without its effect. When death had removed all rivalry, the manager, weaned from his sentimental attachments, thus paid tribute to the genius and memory of his old friend, in the prologue to the Chapter of Accidents, 1780.

"Long has the passive stage howe'er absurd,

Been ruled by names and governed by a word.
Some poor cant term, like magic spells, can awe,
And bend our realms like a dramatic law.
When Fielding, Humour's favourite child, appear'd,
Low was the word, a word each author fear'd!
Till cheer'd at length by Pleasantry's bright ray,
Nature and Mirth resumed their legal sway,
And Goldsmith's genius basked in open day."

Should these tricks fail, the lucky elf,
To bring to lasting shame,

E'en write the best you can yourself,
And print it in his name."

Some imitations of the play have appeared on the French stage; among others La Fausse Auberge a prose comedy in two acts which came out at the Italian theatre at Paris in 1789, and experienced tolerable success.

CHAPTER XXIII.

Fracas with Evans the bookseller.-An unfinished novel.-Claims upon his charity. -The Grumbler.-Dictionary of Arts and Sciences.-History of Greece.

THE applause bestowed upon his comic labours was too great not to draw from less successful candidates for public favour, a portion of that abuse frequently incurred by superior merit. A letter of this description appeared in the London Packet newspaper, of the 24th March, which he would no doubt have treated with the neglect

"To Dr. Goldsmith;

"Vous vous moyez par vanité.

"SIR, "The happy knack which you have learned of puffing your own compositions provokes me to come forth. You have not been the editor of newspapers and magazines, not to discover the trick of literary humbug. But the gauze is so thin, that the very foolish part of the world see through it, and discover the Doctor's monkey face and cloven foot. Your poetic vanity, is as unpardonable as your personal; would man believe it, and will woman bear it, to be told, that for hours, the great Goldsmith will stand surveying his grotesque orang-outang figure in a pier glass. Was but the lovely H-k as much enamoured, you would not sigh, my gentle swain, in vain. But your vanity is preposterous. How will this same bard of Bedlam ring the changes in praise of Goldy! But what has he to be either proud or vain of? The Traveller is a flimsy poem, built upon false principles; principles diametrically opposite to liberty. What is the Good-natured Man, but a poor, water-gruel, dramatic dose? What is the Deserted Village, but a pretty poem, of easy numbers, without fancy, dignity, genius or fire? And pray what may be the last speaking pantomine so praised by the Doctor himself, but an incoherent piece of stuff, the figure of a woman, with a fish's tail, without plot, incident, or intrigue. We are made to laugh at stale, dull jokes, wherein we mistake pleasantry for wit, and grimace for humour; wherein every scene is unnatural, and inconsistent with the rules, the laws of nature, and of the drama; viz. Two gentlemen come to a man of fortune's house, eat, drink, sleep, &c. and take it for an inn. The one is intended as a lover to the daughter; he talks with her for some hours, and when he sees her again in a different dress, he treats her as a bar-girl, and swears she squinted. He abuses the master of the house, and threatens to kick him out of his own doors. The Squire whom we are told is to be a fool, proves the most sensible being of the piece; and he makes out a whole act, by bidding his inother lie close behind a bush, persuading her that his father, her own husband, is a highwayman, and that he is come to cut their throats; and to give his cousin an opportunity to go off, he drives his mother over hedges, ditches, and through ponds. There is not, sweet sucking Johnson, a natural stroke in the whole play, but the young fellow's giving the stolen jewels to the mother supposing her to be the landlady. That Mr. Colman did no justice to this piece, I honestly allow; that he told all his friends