Again, to show our author's position, we must refer to two dates in Mr. Newbery's papers. The first is dated 28th of December, 1766, and is as follows:-"Received of Mr. Newbery, five guineas for writing a short English grammar;" and the second, bearing date the 6th of January, 1767:- In cash, lent Doctor Goldsmith, one pound."

behalf seems to have closed all future entrance He also now felt what it was to ignore patronage; to Northumberland House. for a poem by an almost unknown author, called It may be wondered, after the poverty Gold-The New Bath Guide," by means of aristocratic smith had experienced, in what sort of appear- influence, realized to its author two hundred ance he next presented himself to his old ac- pounds, while Goldsmith had only received quaintances at the Turk's Head Club, and at the twenty guineas for his "Traveller." theatres. According to the books of his tailor, Mr. Filby, he must then have worn purple silk small clothes, a scarlet roquelaure buttoned to his chin, a full-dress professional wig, a sword, and a gold-headed cane. Four guineas and a half were paid for the small clothes and coat, and in less than six months he had three similar suits, no less expensive. Certain it is, that Goldsmith now received better pay for his works. For "A Survey of Experimental Philosophy," Newbery paid him sixty guineas. He had removed from his chambers in the Temple, had taken a house in one of the courts leading from Fleet Street, and kept a man-servant. Thus closed the year 1765-a year when, for the first time, he had realized anything like a moderate compensation for his writings. He is, at this period, thus described by Joseph Warton: "Of all solemn coxcombs, Goldsmith is the first, yet sensible; but affects to use Johnson's hard words in conversation."

No wonder, then, that the author of "The Vicar of Wakefield" should turn his attention to stage literature. His first production was The Good-natured Man; but the rivalry between players and managers was so great, that it was difficult into whose hands it could be placed to be brought out successfully. At length, he entrusted it to Garrick, who was then all powerful. This great man expected that the writer of the play would consider his patronage of it a favour; but Goldsmith required mutual pecuniary benefit. The result was, both quarrelled over the matter; delays and interviews The next memorable event to be recorded is took place; and at length, after obtaining a the publication of "The Vicar of Wakefield," in promise that it should be brought out, he borMarch, 1766, " in two volumes (twelves), price six rowed forty pounds of Garrick upon a note of shillings bound, or five shillings sewed." The the younger Newbery. This placed him in the work was printed at Salisbury; was nearly three hands of Garrick, who now wanted no end of months passing through the press, and does not alteration in the play. Goldsmith at first obappear to have been retouched by its author; jected; afterwards, under pecuniary pressure, yet no book whose record has obtained a wider partially consented to the manager's suggestions. popularity, and none is more likely to endure.' Still the play was not brought out. He next Within four years of its publication, a German tried Colman, Garrick's rival as manager; and translation of it was read to Goethe, then quite between the two, several more months elapsed, a youth, by his preceptor, Harder. At the age keeping Goldsmith in such a state of suspense, of eighty-one, Goethe told a friend that "in that he determined never to attempt to write the decisive moment of mental development for the stage again. At this time, too, Newbery The Vicar of Wakefield' had formed his educa- was ill, and our author seems only to have retion, and that he had lately, with unabated de-ceived about ten pounds from him this year. light, read the charming book again from be- Another publisher, however, Davies, took him ginning to erd, not a little affected by the lively in hand, and promised him two hundred and recollection how much he had been indebted to fifty guineas for a history of Rome in two the author seventy years before." Goldsmith volumes. He was now enabled again to visit his died unaware of this exalted tribute to his great clubs: that in Gerard Street every Friday; a work. "sing-song" every Wednesday; at the Globe Tavern, Fleet Stree; this shilling rubber at the Devil Tavern; the parlour of the Bedford, in Covent Garden; and also the theatres. He had chambers now at Canonbury Tower, Islington; and at that period his journeys home must have been exceedingly lonely, had it not been for the numerous claimants on his bounty, and these were mostly his own countrymen, whom he was always befriending to the utmost of his power. But Goldsmith's fame was widening, and his circle of admirers gradually extending.

Within the year, three editions of "The Vicar" had been published; but its immortal author received nothing extra on its account. In fact, the reverse; for a bill which he had drawn upon Newbery for fifteen guineas was returned dishonoured.

For his selection of "Beauties of English Poesy," ," Goldsmith received fifty pounds; and shortly after, on the production of the successful comedy of The Clandestine Marriage (the joint work of Colman and Garrick), he thought he would try his hand as a play-writer. The reputation of his later writings had made him a public man; had led him more into society, into expense, and, as may be surmised, into debt. Another bill for only eleven pounds upon Newbery was again dishonoured, while an old unpaid note for fifty pounds due to the same publisher three years before, now hung threateningly over him. It must not be thought, however, that Goldsmith squandered away the money he received. True, he liked society and suppers, and had joined a whist club; but too often he gave away his last guinea for some charitable purpose. It is stated that on one occasion he suddenly threw up his hand of cards, rushed from the table, and went out. He returned shortly after, took up his cards, and, to the surprise of those playing, went on playing as if nothing had occurred. So intent had the others been at play, that they had not heard the plaintive voice of a female ballad-singer in the street; but Goldsmith had, and it was to relieve the poor creature that he had so suddenly left the table.

At the close of the year, 1767, he was again at his chambers overlooking the Temple Gardens. On the 22nd of December, Newbery died; and The Good-natured Man was promised to be played in January. There had been quarrels and objections among the rival actors as to their characters, and Colman had lost what little faith he had in it. The eventful night, however, arrived -Friday, the 29th of January. Powell had the part of Honeywood, and played it wretchedly tame; but Shuter, as Croker, soon warmed the audience into convulsive laughter; and he alone prevented the play from being thoroughly hissed. At its close, Goldsmith hurried round to the green-room and thanked Shuter before all the performers, and told him "he had exceeded his own idea of the character, and that the fine comic richness of his colouring made it almost appear as new to him as any other person in the house." He afterwards visited his club at Gerard Street, and was unusually hilarious, giving his favourite song (which he only sung on special occasions) about "An old woman tossed

in a blanket seventeen times as high as the moon;" but he afterwards confessed to Johnson and Perey, when dining at the chaplain's table at St. James's, what his real feelings were on the occasion. "All the while," he said, I was suffering horrid tortures; and verily believe that if I had put a bit in my mouth it would have strangled me on the spot, I was so excessively ill; but I made more noise than usual to cover all that, and so they never perceived my not eating, nor, I believe, at all imagined to themselves the anguish of my heart. But when all were gone except Johnson here, I burst out crying, and even swore by that I would never write again."

The comedy, however, was repeated after the removal of one of the objectionable scenes with the bailiffs. Griffin, the publisher, paid him fifty pounds the day after its appearance, and the whole of the first impressions were sold in a week. It was played ten consecutive nights, on the fifth night before their majesties; the third, sixth, and ninth, for the benefit of the author; and a month later Shuter played it for his own benefit, when Goldsmith sent the actor ten guineas, perhaps the last he had at the time, for a box seat.

Better times now smiled on the author. He had received nearly £400 for the three nights' performances, and Griffin had paid him another £100. He purchased chambers in Brick Court, Middle Temple, and paid £400 for them. They consisted of three rooms, which he handsomely furnished with Wilton carpets, blue marine mahogany sofas, chairs corresponding, blue muslin curtains, Pembroke and card-tables, and tasteful book-shelves. Here he might have lived a happy and prosperous life; but his reckless and generous habits led him still further into debt, from which he never recovered. Many an anecdote could be told of the social dinners and nights of feasting that took place here; but our limits forbid us entering upon them. His tailor's bills, too, were increasing For his "Tyrian bloom satin grain, and garter blue silk breeches," Filby charges him £8 2s. 74.; and afterwards he has a more expensive suit, "lined with silk and gold buttons."

It

palated with Griffin for "A Natural History," to
consist of not less than eight volumes; each
volume to consist of four hundred pages, for
which he was to be paid a hundred guineas.
was five years before this work was completed;
for shortly after the above agreement, he com-
menced a "History of England," for Davies, to
be completed within two years, for which he was
to receive five hundred pounds. Yet with these
and other works on hand, Goldsmith could not
keep out of debt; he exchanged his simple man-
ners for the "fast," and, to save himself from
arrest, had managed to exact from Griffin an
advance of five hundred pounds on the "Natu-
ral History," before a half-dozen chapters were
written.

About this time, Reynolds painted the portrait of his friend Goldsmith, and shortly after mezzotinto prints of the author were to be seen in the print-shop windows. He was also continually to be found with Garrick, Johnson, and other celebrities at the famous dinners given by Sir Joshua Reynolds, at his residence in Leicester Square.

|
The Deserted Village" was the next impor-
tant work published. Its success was at once
decisive. Between the months of May and
August, five editions were published; and it was
spoken of on all sides as being one of the most
beautiful poems ever written. Goethe tells of
the transport with which the circle he now lived
in hailed it wher they found themselves once
more as in another "Wakefield;" and with what
zeal he at once set to work to translate it into
German. Gray, on hearing it read at Malvern,
exclaimed, "That man is a poet."
The poem
was dedicated to Sir Joshua Reynolds, who, to
show the honour he considered it, was not content
until he had made a public acknowledgment in
return. He painted his picture of "Resigna-
tion," and had it engraved with these words
upon it:-"This attempt to express a character
in the Deserted Village' is dedicated to Doctor
Goldsmith by his sincere friend and admirer,
Joshua Reynolds."

It is not known what Griffin paid for the poem; but it is supposed that the sum was a comGoldsmith was now engaged upon his "De- paratively small one; for Goldsmith afterwards serted Village," and, after writing his allotted told Lord Lisburn, on being complimented about number of lines, would often indulge in what he it at the Academy dinner: "I cannot afford to called "A shoemaker's holiday." Cooke thus court the draggle-tail muses, my lord; they will describes one of these:-"A shoemaker's holi- make me starve; but by plain prose. I can make day was a day of great festivity to poor Gold-shift to eat, drink, and wear good clothes." At smith, and was spent in the following innocent this time there was another poor starving poet manner. Three or four of his intimate friends in London-this was the boy Chatterton, who, rendezvoused at his chambers to breakfast about shortly after, committed suicide in a miserable ten o'clock in the morning; at eleven they pro- garret, in a wretched street leading out from ceeded by the City Road, and through the fields, Holborn. No one claimed his body, which to Highbury Barn to dinner; about six o'clock in was taken to the bone-house of St. Andrews the evening they adjourned to White Conduit and buried in the pauper burial-ground in ShoeHouse, to drink tea; and concluded by supping Lane. During the last month of Chatterton's at the Grecian, or Temple Exchange Coffee sad career, Goldsmith was absent from England, House, or at the Globe, in Fleet Street. There and knew nothing of the facts until all was over. was a very good ordinary of two dishes and He had gone to Paris with his friends the pastry kept at Highbury Barn about this time, Hornecks, and during his stay there he received at tenpence per head, including a penny for the the news of his mother's death. waiter; and the company generally consisted of literary characters, a few Templers, and some citizens who had left off trade. The whole expenses of this day's fete never exceeded a crown, and were oftener from three-and-sixpence to four shillings; for which the party obtained good air and exercise, good living, the example of good manners, and good conversation."

At a temporary retreat which Goldsmith took about eight miles down the Edgware Road, he finished the "History of Rome," for Davies; and again towards the close of the year he is back to the Temple, editing a new "Gentleman's Journal," which had but a short existence.

Early in 1769, Johnson took Goldsmith to Oxford, and obtained for him, so says Bishop Percy, the degree of M.B. In February, he sti

On his return, he agreed with Davies for an abridgment of his "Roman History," for which he was to receive fifty guineas; in the same year was published Goldsmith's "Life of Parnell;' and also, at the end of the year, his "Life of Bolingbroke.".

At the commencement of the year 1771, he was passing his time with Lord Clare, in the country; and on visiting Bath, occupied a house next door to the residence of the Duchess of Northumberland. While the Duke and Duchess were one day talking together, Goldsmith entered the room unceremoniously, and threw himself upon a sofa. Presently, breakfast was served; and on the author being invited to partake of it, found to his surprise that he was in the wrong house. He hastily and confusedly

a front row in a side box; and when he laughed, every one thought himself warranted to roar." Goldsmith did not go to the theatre with his friends, but wandered in an opposite direction. He was met in the Mall of St. James's Park about seven or eight o'clock, struggling to be brave:" and it was with the utmost difficulty that his friend prevailed upon him to accompany him to the theatre. Sir Joshua Reynolds afterwards told Northcote that, during the supper, Goldsmith had hardly spoken a word, and was so choked, that he could not swallow a mouthful." It was not until the opening of the fifth act that Goldsmith entered the stage-door, and then he heard a solitary hiss at one of the situations. "What s that?" cried Goldsmith, in alarm. "Psha, Doctor!" said Colman, who was standing at the wings, doubtless much gratified at the success so far; don't be afraid of a squib, when we have been sitting these two hours on a barrel of gunpowder!" So great was the success of the comedy, and so great were the lashings of the papers against Colman for his adverse opinions, that the manager had to run away to Bath, and to Goldsmith at last he interceded for mercy For the first three nights, the author is supposed to have received between four and five hundred pounds; on the tenth night it was played by royal command; and ran nearly the whole season, causing laughter to thousands; and She Stoops to Conquer, tor this was the play, has ever since retained its place as one of the greatest favourites of our stock comedies.

withdrew, but not until a promise had been counter, for it was received throughout with the exacted from him to return again to dinner. greatest acclamations." According to CumberHe is shortly again in town, seeing his "England, "All eyes were upon Johnson, who sat in lish History" through the press. One day going through the Strand, a couple of coxcombs passed him. One of them observed to the other, pointing to Goldsmith, Look at that fly, with a long pin stuck through it." The fiery little poet retorted by cautioning passers-by against that brace of disguised pickpockets:" and stepping into the roadway, partially drew his sword, and pluckily asked them to follow him; but they sneaked off, amid the hooting of the spectators. What with being continually imposed upon, and having to keep a cousin of his from Ireland, visiting Ranelagh, Vauxhall, and other places, Goldsmith was as usual getting exceedingly hard-pressed. He therefore made up his mind to attempt another comedy. He withdrew to a country lodging at a farm-house on the Edgware road, and commenced the work with a determination to finish it off at once. The farm-house in which Goldsmith wrote his second comedy is still standing on a gentle eminence in what is called Hyde Lane, near the village of Hyde, looking towards Hendou. Here also he was working upon his "Animated Nature," in which are to be found many pretty observations, showing his love for rural scenes; and his "Essays," which appeared in a new publication that year. Besides all this work, he had involved himself into greater difficulties with Newbery, owing to the non-completion of a new story, after the style of "The Vicar of Wakefield." The debt due to Garrick under the first comedy was ominously pressing; but knowing the difficulty he had with this manager with regard to The Good-natured Man, he entrusted his new comedy into the hands of Colman. Again difficulties were in the way, repeated alterations made, and months flew on, almost maddening to Goldsmith. Still he could sometimes enjoy his jokes over the friendly suppers; and here is one of them. On an occasion when he and Johnson were supping together off rumps and kidneys, the sage remarked to Goldsmith, "These rumps are pretty little things; but then a man must eat a great many of them before he fills his belly."-"Aye," returned Oliver; "but how many of them would reach to the moon ?"-" To the moon?" laughed Johnson. "Aye, Goldy; I fear that exceeds your calculation."-" Not at all, sir," said Goldsmith. "I think I could tell."-" Pray, then, sir," said the other, "let us hear."-" Why," (and here Goldsmith, no doubt, got as far as possible from his companion)," one, if it were long enough.""Well, sir," growled Johnson, "I have deserved it. I should not have provoked so foolish an answer by so foolish a question."

At length, Goldsmith was compelled to write a most urgent letter to Colman to bring his comedy out, detailing at the same time the difficulties he was in. This was in January, 1773. The manuscript was returned with many distasteful remarks written upon the blank leaves. He then sent it to Garrick, and as hastily asked for its return; and then, at last, Colman was almost forced to bring it cut. His impression was, and nothing could remove the idea, that it would be unsuccessful. The actors took up their tone from the manager, and some of them threw up their parts.

Ultimately, all things were settled; and the eventful day for its appearance, the 15th of March, arrived. Goldsmith's friends rallied round him in force. They met at a tavern to sup. presided over by Johnson. Each was aliotted his station in different parts of the house to lead the applause at certain points, and all sallied away in good time for Covent Garden. Mr. Day says that he and some friends also went to the theatre to protect it, having heard it so adversely spoken of. "But they found no difficulty to en

The first volume of the Grecian History" was next completed, and for the two volumes Goldsmith received £250. During the whole of this year, he was working exceedingly nard, though we occasionally find him at Vauxhall with Reynolds and Johnson. In March, 1774. he had finished his "Animated Nature" at his farm-house lodgings; and as he is endeavouring to sell the lease of his Temple chambers, we can understand his telling his farmer friends he shall never again live in London longer than two months in the year.

Alas! death was silently approaching poor Goldsmith; and a sudden attack of an old illness urged him to London to seek advice. He arrived in the middle of March; obtained relief, but was left with symptoms of a low nervous fever. On Friday, the 25th, he was desirous of attending his club; but in the afternoon of that day he took to his bed, and, at eleven at night, was visited by his medical attendant, Mr. Hawes. He found him "complaining of violent pain extending over all the forepart of his head; his tongue moist, his pulse at ninety, and his mind made up that he should be cured by James's fever powders. This was a fashionable medicine at the time, and Goldsmith had experienced benefit from them in previous attacks. Mr. Hawes told him they would be highly dangerous, but the sick man was obstinate. He then despatched a note to Goldsmith's friend, Dr. Fordyce, who was at the club in Gerard street. He came at once, and was equally strong against the fever powders. Mr. Hawes sent leeches and medicine. The first were applied; but the latter rejected. Powders were afterwards sent; but these were declared by Goldsmith to be the wrong sort. On calling again the following day, and inquiring how he did, "he sighed deeply, and in a very low voice said he wished he had taken my friendly advice last night." He was weak and low, and had neither strength ner spirit to speak.

Another physician was called in by Dr. Fordyce-Dr. Turton; and these two attended twice daily for a week; but their efforts were unavailing. He was sometimes cheerful, and his reason was clear; but he could not sleep, and this the

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POEMS.