Ill fares the land, to hast'ning ills a prey, as might be applied to village-life in England, and modified them accordingly. He took what belonged to human nature in rustic life, and adapted it to the allotted scene. In the same way a painter takes his models from real life around him, even when he would paint a foreign or a classic group. The poet, again personified in the traveller, re- There is a verity in the scenes and characters of turns from his wanderings in distant countries to "The Deserted Village" that shows Goldsmith to the village of his childhood. In the opening of the have described what he had seen and felt; and it poem he draws from memory a minute and beauti- is upon record that an occurrence took place at ful picture of the place, and fondly recalls its sim- Lishoy, during his life time, similar to that which ple sports and rustic gambols. In all his journey-produced the desolation of the village in the poem. ings, his perils, and his sufferings, he had ever look- This occurrence is thus related by the Rev. Dr. ed forward to this beloved spot, as the haven of re- Strean, of the diocese of Elphin, in a letter to Mr. pose for the evening of his days. And, as a hare, whom hounds and horns Mangin, and inserted in that gentleman's "Essay on light reading." "The poem of 'The Descrted Village,'" says Dr. Strean, "took its origin from the circumstance of General Robert Napier, the grandfather of the gentleman who now lives in the house, within half a mile of Lishoy, built by the general, having purchased an extensive tract of the country sur With these expectations he returns, after the lapse of several years, and finds the village deserted and desolate. A splendid mansion had risen in its neighbourhood; the cottages and hamlets had been rounding Lishoy, or Auburn; in consequence of demolished; their gardens and fields were thrown into parks and pleasure-grounds; and their rustic inhabitants, thrust out from their favourite abodes, had emigrated to another hemisphere. To distant climes, a dreary scene, Where half the convex world intrudes between, Through torrid tracts with fainting steps they go, Where wild Altama murmurs to their woe. which, many families, here called cottiers, were removed to make room for the intended improvements of what was now to become the wide domain of a rich man, warm with the idea of changing the face of his new acquisition, and were forced, 'with fainting steps,' to go in search of 'torrid tracts,' and 'distant climes.' "This fact might be sufficient to establish the Dejected at this disappointment of his cherished seat of the poem; but there can not remain a doubt hope, the poet wanders among the faint traces of in any unprejudiced mind, when the following are past scenes, contrasting their former life and gaiety added; viz. that the character of the village preachwith their present solitude and desolation. This er, the above-named Henry, the brother of the poet, gives occasion for some of the richest and mellow- is copied from nature. He is described exactly as est picturing to be found in any poetry. The he lived: and his 'modest mansion' as it existed. village-preacher and his modest mansion; the Burn, the name of the village-master, and the site schoolmaster and his noisy troop; the ale-house of his school-house, and Catherine Giraghty, a and its grotesque frequenters, are all masterpieces lonely widow, of their kind. The wretched matron, forced in age, for bread, To strip the brook with mantling cresses spread. The village alluded to in this poem is at present sufficiently ascertained to be Lishoy, near Ballymahon, in the county of Westmeath, Ireland, in (and to this day the brook and ditches near the which Goldsmith passed his youth. It has been spot where her cabin stood abound with cresses), remarked, that the description of the place and still remain in the memory of the inhabitants, and the people, together with the introduction of the Catherine's children live in the neighbourhood. nightingale, a bird, it is said, unknown in the Irish The pool, the busy mill, the house where 'nutornithology, savour more of the rural scenery and brown draughts inspired,' are still visited as the rustic life of an English than an Irish village. But poetic scene; and the 'hawthorn bush,' growing this presents no insuperable difficulty. Such li- in an open space in front of the house, which I censes are customary in poetry; and it is notorious knew to have three trunks, is now reduced to one, that the clear blue sky and the delicious tempera- the other two having been cut, from time to time, ture of Italy, have with much greater freedom by persons carrying pieces of it away to be made been appropriated by English bards to deck out into toys, etc. in honour of the bard, and of the their descriptions of an English spring. It is evi-celebrity of his poem. All these contribute to the dent, indeed, that Goldsmith meant to represent same proof; and the 'decent church,' which I athis village as an English one. He took from Lis-tended for upwards of eighteen years, and which hoy, therefore, only such traits and characteristics 'tops the neighbouring hill,' is exactly described as seen from Lishoy, the residence of the preach er." Goldsmith dedicated "The Deserted Village" to his friend Sir Joshua Reynolds, from motives of afTo the honour of Ireland, and in particular of fection. "I can have no expectations," said the a gentleman named Hogan, grandson to General poet, "in an address of this kind, either to add to Napier the destroyer, we are enabled to add that your reputation, or to establish my own. You can the village of Lishoy, now bearing its poetical gain nothing from my admiration, as I am ignoname of Auburn, has been renovated and restor- rant of that art in which you are said to excel: ed, at least as to its localities, to what it was in its and I may lose much by the severity of your judghappiest days. The parsonage, rescued from ment, as few have a juster taste in poetry than a legion of pigs and poultry, which had taken you. Setting interest therefore aside, to which I possession of its lower apartments, and relieved never paid much attention, I must be indulged at from loads of grain and fodder, under which its present in following my affections. The only upper chambers had for some years groaned, has dedication I ever made was to my brother, because resumed its ancient title of Lishoy-house: the I loved him better than most other men. He is church yet crowns the hill, and is again entitled since dead. Permit me to inscribe this poem to to the appellation of decent; the school-house you." maintains its station; and the village-inn, with its sign repainted, its chambers re-whitewashed, and bouring hill.' Before me lay the little hill of Knockrue, on the varnished clock replaced in its corner, echoes which he declares, in one of his letters, he had rather sit with once more with the voices of rustic politicians, merry peasants, and buxom maids, Half willing to be press'd, Who kiss the cup to pass it to the rest. To render the dispensation of poetical justice still more complete, the usurping mansion, the erection of which occasioned the downfall of the village, has become dismantled and dilapidated, and has been converted into a barrack.* a book in hand, than mingle in the proudest assemblies. And Yonder copse, where once the garden smiled, "The "A painting from the life could not be more exact. stubborn currant-bush' lifts its head above the rank grass, and the proud hollyhock flaunts where its sisters of the flowerknot are no more. "In the middle of the village stands the old 'hawthorn tree, built up with masonry, to distinguish and preserve it: it is old and stunted, and suffers much from the depreda- The white-wash'd wall, the nicely sanded floor, •The following account of the renovation of this village is extracted from a number of the New Monthly Magazine. "About three miles from Ballymahon, a very central town in the sister kingdom, is the mansion and village of Auburn, so called by their present possessor, Captain Hogan. Through the taste and improvement of this gentleman, it is now a beautiful spot, although fifteen years since it presented a very bare and unpoetical aspect. This, however, was owing to a cause which serves strongly to corroborate the assertion, that Gold- "Captain Hogan, I have heard, found great difficulty in smith had this scene in view when he wrote his poem of "The obtaining 'the twelve good rules,' but at length purchased Deserted Village.' The then possessor, General Napier, turn them at some London book-stall, to adorn the white-washed ed all his tenants out of their farms, that he might enclose parlour of the Three Jolly Pigeons.' However laudable this them in his own private domain. Littleton, the mansion of may be, nothing shook my faith in the reality of Auburn so the General, stands not far off, a complete emblem of the deso-much as this exactness, which had the disagreeable air of belating spirit lamented by the poet, dilapidated and converted ing got up for the occasion. The last object of pilgrimage is the quondam habitation of the schoolmaster, into a barrack. "The chief object of attraction is Lishoy, once the parsonage-house of Henry Goldsmith, that brother to whom the poet dedicated his 'Traveller,' and who is represented as the Village Pastor, Passing rich with forty younds a-year. "When I was in the country, the lower chambers were inhabited by pigs and sheep, and the drawing-rooms by oats, Captain Hogan, however, has, I believe, got it since into his possession, and has, of course, improved its condition. There, in his noisy mansion, skill'd to rule. "It is surrounded with fragrant proofs of its identity in The blossom'd furze unprofitably gay. "Here is to be seen the chair of the poet, which fell into the hands of its presents possessors at the wreck of the parsonage-house: they have frequently refused large offers of pur. chase; but more, I dare say, for the sake of drawing contributions from the curious than from any reverence for the "Though at first strongly inclined to dispute the identity of bard. The chair is of oak, with back and seat of cane, which Auburn, Lishoy-house overcame my scruples. As I clambered precluded all hopes of a secret drawer, like that lately discoover the rotten gate, and crossed the grass-grown lawn, or vered in Gay's. There is no fear of its being worn out by the court, the tide of association became too strong for casuistry: devout carnestness of sitters-as the cocks and hens have here the poet dwelt and wrote, and here his thoughts fondly usurped undisputed possession of it, and protest most clarecurred when composing his 'Traveller,' in a foreign land. morously against all attemps to get it cleansed, or to seat one's Yonder was the decent church, that literally 'topped the neigh- | self. The warm friendship which had subsisted for Soon after the publication of "The Deserted years between the painter and the poet, warranted Village," Goldsmith found leisure to accompany a this dedication; while the fine qualities which dis-party of ladies on an excursion to Paris. The tinguished that eminent artist, richly merited the only memorial which has been preserved of this elegant compliment thus paid him by Goldsmith. journey, is the following fragment of a letter ad"Reynolds," says Mr. Cumberland, “was a per- dressed to his friend Sir Joshua. fect gentleman; had good sense, great propriety, "MY DEAR FRIEND,-We had a very quick paswith all the social attributes, and all the graces of sage from Dover to Calais, which we performed in hospitality, equal to any man. He well knew how three hours and twenty minutes, all of us extremeto appreciate men of talents, and how near akin ly sea-sick, which must necessarily have happened, the muse of poetry was to that art of which he was as my machine to prevent sea-sickness was not so eminent a master. From Goldsmith he caught completed. We were glad to leave Dover, bethe subject of his famous Ugolino; what aids he cause we hated to be imposed upon; so were in got from others, if he got any, were worthily be- high spirits at coming to Calais, where we were stowed and happily applied. Great as an artist, told that a little money would go a great way. Upon Sir Joshua was equally distinguished as a man; landing two little trunks, which was all we carried and as few have better deserved, so few have had with us, we were surprised to see fourteen or fifa more ample share of prosperity dealt out to them. teen fellows, all running down to the ship to lay He sunned himself, as it were, in an unclouded their hands upon them; four got under each trunk, sky, and his Muse, that gave him a palette dressed the rest surrounded, and held the hasps; and in by all the Graces, brought him also a cornucopia, this manner our little baggage was conducted with rich and full as Flora, Ceres, and Bacchus could a kind of funeral solemnity, till it was safely lodgconspire to make it. When he was lost to the ed at the custom-house. We were well enough world," continues Mr. Cumberland, "his death pleased with the people's civility, till they came to was the dispersion of a bright and luminous circle be paid. Every creature that had the happiness of ingenious friends, whom the elegance of his of but touching our trunks with their finger, exmanners, the equability of his temper, and the at-pected sixpence; and they had so pretty a civil traction of his talents, had caused to assemble manner of demanding it, that there was no refusround him as the centre of their society. In all the ing them. When we had done with the porters, we most engaging graces of his art, in disposition, at- had next to speak with the custom-house officers, titude, employment, character of his figures, and who had their pretty civil way too. We were diabove all, in giving mind and meaning to his por- rected to the Hotel d'Angleterre, where a valet de traits, if I were to say Sir Joshua never was ex- place came to offer his services; and spoke to me celled, I am inclined to believe so many better ten minutes before I once found out that he was opinions would be with me, that I should not be found to have said too much." "The controversy concerning the identity of this Auburn was formerly a standing theme of discussion among the learn ed of the neighbourhood, but since the pros and cons have been all ascertained, the argument has died away. Its abettors plead the singular agreement between the local history of the place and the Auburn of the poem, and the exactness with which the scenery of the one answers to the description of the other. To this is opposed the mention of the nightingale, speaking English. We had no occasion for his services, so we gave him a little money because he spoke English, and because he wanted it. I can not help mentioning another circumstance; I bought a new ribbon for my wig at Canterbury, and the barber at Calais broke it, in order to gain sixpence by buying me a new one." About this period, the Royal Academy of painting was established, and Sir Joshua seized the opportunity it afforded him of testifying his regard and partiality for Goldsmith, by procuring for him the And fill'd each pause the nightingale had made;— appointment of Professor of Ancient History. there being no such bird in the island. The objection is slight. Though unattended with either emolument or ed, on the other hand, by considering the passage as a mere trouble, it conferred some respectability, and entitled poetical license: 'Besides,' say they, 'the robin is the Irish him to a seat at the occasional meetings of the acanightingale.' And if it be hinted, how unlikely it was that Goldsmith should have laid the scene in a place from which demicians, as well as at their annual dinner. He he was and had been so long absent, the rejoinder is always, himself properly considered it a more complimenta'Pray, sir, was Milton in hell when he built Pandemonium?ry distinction, and from a passage in the following "The line is naturally drawn between;-there can be no letter to his brother Maurice, it is evident he would doubt that the poet intended England by The land to hast'ning ills a prey, Where wealth accumulates and men decay. "But it is very natural to suppose, that at the same time his imagination had in view the scenes of his youth, which give such strong features of resemblance to the picture." have prized his new office much more highly had it been coupled with that unpoetical accompaniment, a salary. Maurice was the poet's youngest brother. Not having been bred to any business, he, upon some occasion, complained to Oliver, that The found it difficult to live like a gentlemen. On The letter is dated January, 1770. which the poet begged he would without delay | rive, I hope one day to return, and increase their quit so unprofitable a pursuit, and betake him- good-humour by adding to my own. I have sent self to a trade. Maurice wisely took the hint, and my cousin Jenny a miniature picture of myself, as 1 bound himself apprentice to a cabinet-maker. He believe it is the most acceptable present I can offer. had a shop in Dublin when the Duke of Rutland I have ordered it to be left for her at George Faulkwas Lord Lieutenant; and his grace, at the in- ner's, folded in a letter. The face, you well know, stance of Mr. Orde (afterwards Lord Bolton,) is ugly enough, but it is finely painted. I will shortmade him an inspector of the licenses in that city, ly also send my friends over the Shannon some out of regard for his brother's memory. He was mezzotinto prints of myself, and some more of my also appointed mace-bearer on the erection of the friends here, such as Burke, Johnson, Reynolds, Royal Irish Academy; both of them places very and Colman. I believe I have written a hundred compatible with his business. In the former, he letters to different friends in your country, and gave proofs of his integrity, by detecting several never received an answer from any of them. I do frauds in the revenue in his department, by which not know how to account for this, or why they are he himself might have profited, if he had not been unwilling to keep up for me those regards which I a man of principle. He died without issue. must ever retain for them. If then you have a mind to oblige me, you will write often, whether I an"DEAR BROTHER,-I should have answered swer you or not. Let me particularly have the news your letter sooner, but in truth I am not fond of of our family and old acquaintances. For instance, thinking of the necessities of those I love, when it you may begin by telling me about the family is so very little in my power to help them. I am where you reside, how they spend their time, and sorry to find you are still every way unprovided whether they ever make mention of me. Tell me for; and what adds to my uneasiness is, that I have about my mother, my brother Hodson, and his son, received a letter from my sister Johnson,* by which my brother Harry's son and daughter, my sister I learn that she is pretty much in the same circum-Johnson, the family of Ballyoughter, what is bestances. As to myself, I believe I could get both come of them, where they live, and how they do. you and my poor brother-in-law something like You talked of being my only brother; I don't unthat which you desire, but I am determined never derstand you: Where is Charles? A sheet of pato ask for little things, nor exhaust any little inter-per occasionally filled with news of this kind would est I may have, until I can serve you, him, and make me very happy, and would keep you nearer myself more effectually. As yet, no opportunity my mind. As it is, my dear brother, believe me to has offered, but I believe you are pretty well con-be yours most affectionately."* vinced that I will not be remiss when it arrives. The lives of Lord Bolingbroke and Dr. Parnell, The king has lately been pleased to make me Pro- undertaken for the booksellers, were the next professor of Ancient History in a Royal Academy of ductions that came from his pen. They were prePainting, which he has just established, but there fixed to the respective works of these writers, pubis no salary annexed; and I took it rather as a com-lished about 1770 or 1771. Both performances are pliment to the institution, than any benefit to my-executed with his wonted taste and felicity of exfelf. Honours to one in my situation are something pression; and, in his memoir of Parnell, the poverlike ruffles to a man that wants a shirt. You tell ty of incident peculiar to the life of a scholar is inme that there are fourteen or fifteen pounds left me geniously supplied by the author's own reflections. in the hands of my cousin Lawder, and you ask When Dr. Johnson afterwards undertook to write me what I would have done with them. My dear the "Lives of the Poets," he concluded the series brother, I would by no means give any directions to with that of Parnell, and seized the opportunity it my dear worthy relations at Kilmore how to dis-afforded him of paying an elegant compliment to pose of money, which is, properly speaking, more the memory of his deceased friend. "The life of theirs than mine. All that I can say, is, that I en-Dr. Parnell," said he, "is a task which I should tirely, and this letter will serve to witness, give up very willingly decline, since it has lately been writany right and title to it; and I am sure they will ten by Goldsmith; a man of such variety of powers, dispose of it to the best advantage. To them I en- and such felicity of performance, that he always tirely leave it, whether they or you may think the seemed to do best that which he was doing; a man whole necessary to fit you out, or whether our poor who had the art of being minute without tedioussister Johnson may not want the half, I leave en-ness, and general without confusion; whose lantirely to their and your discretion. The kindness guage was copious without exuberance, exact withof that good couple to our poor shattered family, out constraint, and easy without weakness. demands our sincerest gratitude: and though they have almost forgot me, yet, if good things at last ar To the original of this letter there is annexed a receipt, which shows the sum of 151. was paid to Maurice Goldsmith, for a legacy bequeathed to Oliver Goldsmith by the late Rev. His youngest sister, who had made an unfortunate marriage. Thomas Contarine, dated 4th February, 1770. "What such an author told, who would tell it [ you, and staying double the time of our late intendagain? I have made an abstract from his larger nar-ed visit. We often meet, and never without reration; and have this gratification from my attempt, membering you. I see Mr. Beauclerk very often, that it gives me an opportunity of paying due tri- both in town and country. He is now going dibute to the memory of Goldsmith." rectly forward to become a second Boyle: deep in Amongst his various undertakings for the book-chemistry and physics. Johnson has been down sellers at this period, there was one, however, in upon a visit to a country parson, Dr. Taylor, and which Goldsmith was peculiarly unfortunate. He is returned to his old haunts at Mrs Thrale's. had been employed by Griffin to make a selection Burke is a farmer, en attendant a better place; but of elegant poems from the best English classics, for visiting about too. Every soul is visiting about, the use of boarding-schools, and to prefix to it one and merry, but myself: and that is hard, too, as I of his captivating prefaces. In noting the selections have been trying these three months to do somefor the printer, Goldsmith unluckily marked off one thing to make people laugh. There have I been of the most indecent tales in Prior,—a circumstance strolling about the hedges, studying jests, with a that effectually ruined the reputation and the sale most tragical countenance. The 'Natural Histoof the work at the same time. It has been said, ry' is about half finished, and I will shortly finish that the error in this instance must have arisen the rest. God knows I am tired of this kind of from inadvertency or carelessness; but the inadver- finishing, which is but bungling work; and that tency must have been excessive, as the tale is actually introduced with a criticism. not so much my fault as the fault of my scurvy circumstances. They begin to talk in town of Goldsmith, when conversing on the subject of his the Opposition's gaining ground; the cry of liberty labours at this time as a compiler, used to refer to is still as loud as ever. I have published, or Davies the "Selection of English Poetry," as a striking has published for me, 'An Abridgment of the Hisinstance of the facility with which such work might tory of England,' for which I have been a good sometimes be performed. He remarked "that of deal abused in the newspapers for betraying the all his compilations, this showed most the art of the liberties of the people. God knows I had no thought profession." To furnish copy for it required no in- for or against liberty in my head; my whole aim vention, and but little thought: he had only to being to make up a book of a decent size, that, as mark with a pencil the particular passages for the Squire Richard says, 'would do no harm to noboprinter, so that he easily acquired two hundred dy.' However, they set me down as an arrant pounds; "but then," said he, “lest the premium Tory, and consequently an honest man. When should be deemed more than a compensation for the you come to look at any part of it, you will say that labour, a man shows his judgment in these selec-I am a sour Whig. God bless you; and, with my tions, and he may be often twenty years of his life most respectful compliments to her ladyship, I recultivating that judgment." main, dear sir, your most affectionate humble servant." In 1771, Goldsmith was invited by Mr. Bennet Langton and his lady, the Countess of Rothes, to spend some part of the autumn with them at their seat in Lincolnshire. Sir Joshua Reynolds, it would seem, had promised to accompany him on this visit; but, from the following letter to Mr. Langton, neither he nor Sir Joshua were able at that time to avail themselves of the invitation. The letter is dated Temple, Brick-court, September 7, 1771. of Goldsmith's residence at the farmer's house mentioned in this letter, appears to have been continued for a considerable time. It was situated near to the six-mile stone on the Edgeware-road; and Mr. Boswell mentions that he and Mr. Mickle, translator of "The Lusiad," paid him a visit there, in April, 1772. Unfortunately they did not find him at home; but having some curiosity to see his apartment, they went in, and found curious scraps "MY DEAR SIR,-Since I had the pleasure of descriptions of animals scrawled upon the wall, seeing you last, I have been almost wholly in the with a black lead pencil. He had carried down his country at a farmer's house quite alone, trying to books thither, that he might pursue his labours write a comedy. It is now finished, but when, or with less interruption. According to the testimohow it will be acted, or whether it will be acted at ny of a literary friend, who had close intercourse all, are questions I can not resolve. I am therefore with him for the last ten years of his life, the folso much employed upon that, that I am under the lowing was his mode of study and living, while in necessity of putting off my intended visit to Lin- the country. He first read in a morning from the colnshire for this season.-Reynolds is just return-original works requisite for the compilation he had ed from Paris, and finds himself now in the case of in hand, as much as he designed for one letter or a truant, that must make up for his idle time by chapter marking down the passages referred to on diligence. We have therefore agreed to postpone a sheet of paper, with remarks. He then rode or our journey till next summer, when we hope to walked out with a friend or two, returned to dinner, have the honour of waiting upon Lady Rothes and spent the day generally convivially, without much |