To battle it out in London was a harder game, and the stakes were growing somewhat desperate. Francis Newbery seems in some shape to have revived the question of their old accounts on his return; and he appears in that publisher's books as having paid twenty pounds, a new and arduous character. But he wears a cheerful face still; and has his grave kind word for the poor struggling adventurer, or his gay sprightly prologue for the ambitious amateur author. A poor Irish youth told in after life how he had flung himself in despair on a seat in the Temple Gardens, eyeing the water wistfully, when the famous Goldsmith came up to him, talked him into good spirits, brought him into his chambers, and set him afloat in the world by giving him chapters of Buffon to translate. This poor client used to grieve when he saw his patron subject to frequent fits of depression; and tells us that he cried bitterly, and a blank came over his heart, when he afterwards heard of his death. The livelier client was a young man of fortune named Cradock, living in Leicestershire, who, with his wife and a translation of one of Voltaire's tragedies, had come lately to London, very eager about plays and players, being a clever amateur actor as well as writer (he liked to be called little Cradock, and fancied himself quite a private little Garrick), and with introductions to the celebrated people. Goldsmith met him at Yates the actor's house; their mutual knowledge of Lord Clare soon put them on familiar terms; and a prologue for Zobeide was readily promised. Mr. Gold'smith,' says the note which accompanied it, 'presents his

'best respects to Mr. Cradock; has sent him the Prologue 'such as it is. He cannot take time to make it better. He 'begs he will give Mr. Yates the proper instructions; and 'so, even so, he commits him to fortune and the publick.' He had himself dropped the title of Doctor at this time, says one of his friends, but the world would not let him lose it. The prologue, very wittily built on the voyage to Otaheite which was making Lieutenant Cook somewhat famous just now, was spoken, not by Yates, but by Quick, in the character of a sailor.

The influence of Lord Clare is also to be detected in the next poetical product of his pen. This was a Lament for the death of the Princess Dowager of Wales, Robert Nugent's old political mistress and patron, who died in February 1772; before the close of which month the Threnodia Augustalis, announced in the papers to be written for the purpose, by a gentleman of acknowledged literary merit,' was recited and sung with appropriate music at Mrs. Cornely's fashionable rooms in Soho Square. Cradock, whose theatrical accomplishments included a taste for music, seems to have helped him in the adaptation of the parts; and has published a note from Goldsmith in which he declares that he feels himself quite uneasy at not being permitted 'to have his instructions upon those parts where he must necessarily be defective. He will have a rehearsal on Monday,' he adds (the note is dated on Sunday), when if Mr. Cradock would come, and afterwards take a bit of 'mutton chop, it would add to his other obligations.' The

thing was hardly worth even so much trouble, for it was purely an occasional piece. Though not without passages of considerable merit, it was written (as the advertisements prefixed acquaint us) in a couple of days; and it did not appear with his name attached to it till forty years after his death. Cradock then gave it to his friend Nichols, who handed it to Chalmers. His connection with its authorship escaped even Boswell, who, yet busier and more inquisitive than of old, came up from his Scotch practice for his annual London visit not a month after it was performed, more than ever amazed at the amount of Goldsmith's celebrity. 'Sir,' he said to Johnson somewhat later, 'Goldsmith has acquired more fame than all the officers last war who were not generals!' 'Why sir,' answered Johnson, 'you 'will find ten thousand fit to do what they did, before you 'find one who does what Goldsmith has done. You must 'consider that a thing is valued according to its rarity. A 'pebble that paves the street is in itself more useful than 'the diamond upon a lady's finger.' But this did not satisfy Boswell, who had now in truth a strong, secret, and to himself perhaps only half-confessed reason, for his very ludicrous jealousy and impatience. He fancied Goldsmith likely to be Johnson's biographer, and that was an office he already coveted and bad selected for himself. For now began that series of questions, 'what did you do sir, what did you say sir,' which afterwards forced from their victim the energetic protest: Sir, I will not be put to the question. 'Don't you consider, sir, that these are not the manners

understanding between the publisher and his creditor, on the faith of certain completed chapters of the long-promised tale, had now arisen; and Garrick was in no humour to disturb it by reviving any claim of his. Recent courtesies and kindness had been heartily interchanged between the poet and the actor, and shewed how little on either side was at any time needed to have made these celebrated men fast friends. In the last three years they had met more frequently than at any previous time, at Mr. Beauclerc's, Lord Clare's, and Sir Joshua's ; and where there is anything to esteem, the more men know of each other the more they will wish to know. Thus, courtesies and good-nature had freely passed between them; and hints of promise and acceptance for a new comedy (Hoadly warning Garrick soon after against 'giving in' to Doctor Goldsmith's ridiculosity) would appear to have been interchanged. What was lately written in the country (little better than a rough draught at present, it is probable) is for Covent Garden; but he thinks he has so far succeeded as to have yet greater confidence for the future, and something of an understanding for a future dramatic effort seems certainly to have been agreed to. A new and strong link between them was supplied by the family Goldsmith is about to visit; for Garrick was Bunbury's most familiar friend, and a leader in all the sports at Barton. What Goldsmith's ways and habits used to be there, a survivor of that happy circle lived to be still talking about not many years ago. Come now let us play the fool a little,' was his ordinary invitation to

mirth; and he took part in every social game. Tricks were played upon his dress, which he suffered with imperturbable good humour; he was inventive in garden buildings. and operations, over which he blundered amazingly; and if there was a piece of water in any part of the grounds, he commonly managed to tumble into it. Such were the recollections of those days; with the not unimportant addition, that everybody in that circle respected, admired, and loved him. His fondness for flowers was a passion, which he was left to indulge without restraint; here, at Lord Clare's, at Bennet Langton's, and at Beauclerc's. Thus when Beau tells Lord Charlemont a couple of years hence, that if he won't come to London, the Club shall be sent to Ireland to drive him over in self defence, the terrors of his threat are, that Johnson shall spoil his books, Goldsmith pull his flowers, and (for a quite intolerable climax) Boswell talk to him! But most at the card-table does he seem to have spread contagious mirth: affecting nothing of the rigour of the game (whether it was loo or any other), playing in wild defiance of the chances, laughing at all advice, staking preposterously, and losing always as much as the moderate pool could absorb. With fascinating pleasantry he has himself described all this, in an answer to one of Mrs. Bunbury's invitations to Barton, wherein she had playfully counselled him to come to their Christmas party in his smart spring velvet coat, to bring a wig that he might dance with the haymakers in, and above all to follow her and her sister's advice in playing loo. His reply,