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"I have heard Dr. Johnson relate, with infinite humour, the circumstance of his rescuing Goldsmith from a ridiculous dilemma by the purchase-money of The Vicar of Wakefield.' He had run up a score with his landlady of some few pounds, and was at his wits'-end how to wipe off the score, and keep a roof over his head, except by closing with a very staggering proposal on her part, and taking his creditor to wife."

It is curious enough that all these narrators of the story, though each professed to have their information from Johnson, tell it differently; and we have some doubt whether a modern compiler, weaving a story distinct from any of the former, by omitting from each narrative what he finds irreconcilable with the others, is not likely to be farther from the actual truth than if he had adopted even the most improbable of the conflicting statements. In narrating a story in Goldsmith's Club, and with Goldsmith as an auditor, each successive repetition would be accompanied with some new incident. Cumberland tells the story in connexion with the club and club. jokes, and is, with the privilege of a comic author, heightening a little the liveliness. Goldsmith, in his review of a new edition of "The Fairy Queen,"

had said

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through his kindness and liberality, that before his reply was brought, I knew I could afford to joke with the rascal who had me in custody, and did so over a pint of adulterated wine, for which, at that instant, I had no money to pay."

Of the narrators of the story, cach has a different account of the sum paid. Hawkins says £40; Boswell, £60; Cumberland, £10; and each quotes Johnson as authority for the sum. Boswell's statement of £60 is probably accurate, as he tells of Johnson's entering into a proof that, considering Goldsmith's name not being, at the period "The Vicar" was sold, of the same value on a title page as after the publication of "The Traveller," the price was not too little. The bookseller did not publish the work for some two or three years after, which would look as if he was doubtful of its success.

In December, 1764, "The Traveller" was published, the first of Goldsmith's works that was printed with his name. We have not left ourselves room to do more than refer to Mr. Forster's discussions on the circumstances under which it first appeared. It was dedicated to his brother, and the dedication that it had been the proves

subject of his thoughts for many years. Part of the poem had been formerly sent him from Switzerland. Johnson reviewed the poem. The biography laneous Works, printed at Edinburgh prefixed to an edition of the Miscelin 1821, complains of Johnson's review of "The Traveller," in his Critical Review, as not being just to its merits. 66 'It is," said Johnson, “the finest poem that has appeared since the time of Pope."

"This," says the biographer, "is undoubtedly a very measured encomium; but it is fair to presume that, in according the meed of praise, he must have been limited and constrained by the general notoriety of his friendship for the author."

This sentence seems very like nonsense; for it is plain that Johnson intended, in the words quoted, to give the very highest praise. The review was written to announce the fact of the publication. It did it cordially and perfectly. It did it in the best

"Croker's Boswell." London Mag., vol. lv., p. 253.

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"I"-Johnson is the narrator "was sitting by, and said, 'No, sir, you did not mean tardiness of locomotion ; you meant that slugglishness of mind which comes upon a man in solitude.' Ah, exclaimed Goldsmith, that was what I meant. Chamier believed then that I had written the line as much as if he had seen me write it." Poor Goldsmith! It must have been a dreadful thing to be thus talked down. The language of poetry is always, when poetry is exquisite, that of latent association. Goldsmith did mean tardiness of locomotion, though he probably would have shrunk from such a phrase, but he meant it without negativing the thought which Johnson expressed, and which is suggested, and merely suggested in Goldsmith's language. Poets are the only commentators on poetical language; and in Mitford's classical edition of Goldsmith's poems-a beautiful book-the line is illustrated by passages not unlikely to have been in Goldsmith's mind

"Solus, inops, exspes, leto pænisque relictus." Ovid Met. xiv. 217. "Exsul, inops erres alienaque limina lustres." Ovid Ibis, iii,

And compare Petrarch, Son. xxviii.—

"3olo et pensoso, più i deserti campi,

Vo misurando a passi tardi e lenti."

We think the gaiety and goodhu

mour of Goldsmith has been the chief cause of the depreciating estimate in which he was held at the club. Johnson had fought his way to social distinction in much the same way as Goldsmith, but Johnson's was now a fixed and recognised position. Goldsmith was regarded as a sort of Irish adven. turer; had claims distrusted till proved, and their proof in every possible way resisted. Johnson had suffered most of Goldsmith's difficulties, and wished to smooth the way for Goldsmith. Boswell who loved Johnson, and who had no love for Goldsmith, in spite of his record of some perhaps misunderstood phrases of Johnson's, has preserved for us evidences of his admiration, exhibited in every possible way. The very extent to which the club joked with Goldsmith was a proof how he had won on their affections. We regard as evidence of Goldsmith's good humour and good nature the kind of stories that Boswell tells with grave impertinence.

When accompanying two beautiful young ladies in France, he was seriously angry," says Boswell, "that more attention was paid to them than to him; and, once at the exhibition of the Fantoccini, when those who sat next him observed with what dexterity a puppet could top a pike, he could not bear that it should have such praise, and exclaimed, with warmth

She

Pshaw! I can do it better myself."" He went home "to supper with Mr. Burke, and broke his shin by attempting to exhibit to the company how much better he could jump over a stick than the puppets." Northcote told the story of the young ladies, fixing time and place one of the ladies read the story in his "Memoirs of Reynolds," and complained of the circulation of a story founded on circumstances wholly misunderstood. afterwards mentioned to Prior the actual facts. At Lisle, Goldsmith and these English girls were at the window of their hotel, looking at some military manœuvres, when the gallantry of the officers broke forth into a variety of compliments, intended for the ears of the Irish ladies. Goldsmith seemed amused, but at length, assuming something of severity of countenance, which was a peculiarity of his humour often

* Prior.

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displayed, when not disposed to be jocular, turned off, uttering something to the effect of what is commonly stated, that, elsewhere, he would also have his admirers."""This," said one of the ladies to Mr. Prior, "was uttered in mere playfulness, and I was shocked, many years afterwards, to see it adduced, in print, as a proof of his envious disposition." Thus one of the stories is decisively got rid of. Boswell's Fantoccini story, and Goldsmith breaking his shin, in rivalry of the puppets jumping, Forster tells us, "is too pleasant to be objected to; but might he not mean that the puppets jumped even worse than he did? The actual world, and the puppetshow, are, moreover, so much alike, that what was meant for a laugh at the world, might have passed for an attack on the puppet-show." Poor Goldsmith-and is this all that his friend Forster can say for him-and, thus interpreted, is Boswell's story too pleasant to be objected to? For the life of us, we cannot see the fun of his breaking his shins to illustrate a saw of this kind, and we suspect that Reynolds, had he heard this vindication,

"Would have shifted his trumpet, and only take snuff."

"It

Cradock happened to be with Goldsmith at the puppet-show, and expressly tells us that the whole thing originated in a joke-a sort of permitted licence with Goldsmith. was always thought fair by some persons to make what stories they pleased of Dr. Goldsmith, and the following was freely circulated in ridicule of him :-That he attended the Fantoccini in Panton-street, and that from envy he wished to excel one of the puppets. I was of the party, and remember no more than that the Doctor, the Rev. Mr. Ludlam, of St. John's College, and some others, went together to see the puppet-show. Here we were all greatly entertained, and many idle remarks might possibly be made by all of us during the evening. Mr. Ludlam afterwards laughingly declared that he believed he must shut up all his experiments at Cambridge and Leicester in future, and take lectures only during the winter from Fantoccini, and the expert machinists of both the Royal Theatres.'" So that the party were,

it seems, outvying each other in their praise of the puppets a grave professor proposing to take lectures from them in mechanics; Goldsmith's friends probably amusing themselves in mixing him up in similar jokes, and he enjoying the fun which would probably be increased, could he have contrasted the scene as it actually existed with the lachrymose speculations to which it has given birth. That Goldsmith would have humoured such a jest, by enacting the part ascribed to him, there can be no doubt in the mind of any one who remembers what Reynolds said of him-" that on enter, ing a mixed company, he felt that their awe of him deprived him of the enjoyment and freedom of vivacity, and which he made it his endeavour to dispel, by playing wanton and childish pranks, in order to bring himself to the wished - for level." Reynolds's language, or rather Northcote's, is no doubt coloured by an assumption that Goldsmith was vainvery vain or why the awe? word, however, is not likely to have been Goldsmith's; and certainly never was there one who so little, even to himself or others, played the live author. It appears nowhere but in his letters to his Irish friends, where he overstated his prospects to them, lest a true statement should be interpreted into an application for assist

ance.

The

In one of these, after a very humorous description of his future eminence, comes a passage of mingled mirth and pathos"let me stop my fancy to take a view of my future self; and, as the boys say, light down to see my self on horseback. Well, now I am down, where the devil is I? Oh, gods! gods! here in a garret, writing for bread, and expecting to be dunned for a milk-score!" Still we have Reynolds's own evidence, of having wit nessed a company struck with an awful silence at the entrance of Goldsmith, which was quickly dispelled by his boyish and social manners, and he has then become the plaything and favourite of the company.' "Sir Joshua mentioned to Boswell, that he had frequently heard Goldsmith talk of the pleasure of being liked, and observe how hard it would be, if literary excellence should preclude a man from that satisfaction; and Sir Joshua added, that he was convinced Goldsmith

was intentionally more absurd, in order to lessen himself in social intercourse." There may be some truth in this, Reynolds at all events believed it-nay, says Northcote, imitated it.* We have intimated, that we think that there was, from the first, dislike between Boswell and Goldsmith, which was with difficulty overcome, and never thoroughly. In all the conversations, in which Boswell intro. duces Johnson's praises of Goldsmith, it is in reply to some depreciating remark of Boswell's; still we give entire credit to Boswell's veracity, and think that there must have been some general feelings in Goldsmith's associates, of his being an envious man—a feeling, which we do not think the evidence surviving to our day, at all supports. The reluctance to acknowledge Goldsmith's real merits, might have now and then compelled some self-assertion, and this would be misinterpreted-perhaps misrepresented. Johnson tells us, that it was long before Goldsmith's merit came to be acknowledged. Sir Joshua, speaking of the praise which Fox gave "The Traveller," and its value, as his friends might suspect that their own admiration arose from partiality for the author, Johnson replied, "Nay, sir; the partiality of his friends was always against him. It was with difficulty we would give him a hearing." There are some traits in the character of "Lofty" in the "Good-natured Man" that remind us of Boswell; and we should not feel any surprise, if some stage-tradition of the dress of the character, or other circumstance of identification, should confirm a suspicion which we have no opportunity of examining. Boswell was amazed that Goldsmith did not share his veneration of Johnson, or rather did not express it in the same way. Cumberland tells us of an occasion, when Johnson, presiding at a dinner at the Shakspeare, "was in inimitable glee; poor Goldsmith, that day, took all his raillery as patiently and complacently as my friend Boswell any day or every day of his life." This shews that it was Goldsmith's habit to give fight, and

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Goldsmith's giving fight was of some use to others. You are all of you," said Goldsmith to Cradock, "absolutely afraid of Johnson; now I attack him boldly and without the least reserve." "You do, doctor, and sometimes catch a Tartar." "If it were not for me, he would be insufferable; If you remember the last time we supped together, he sat sulky and growling; but I resolved to fetch him out.' "You did, and at last he told you that he would have no more of your fooleries." Goldsmith probably often enough suffered from Johnson's roughness, when he ventured to

"Drag the struggling savage into day;"

but Boswell, when, with amusing solemnity, he undertakes to prove that Johnson was not a bear-an opinion, which, he says, "has gone round the world to Johnson's prejudice;" he calls Goldsmith as a witness, and his answer is, "Johnson, to be sure, has a roughness in his manner; but no man alive has a more tender heart: he has nothing of the bear but his skin.” Kind-hearted Johnson! 66 If nobody was suffered to abuse poor Goldy, but those who could write as well, he would have few censors."t This was said by Johnson after Goldsmith's death, when his originality was disputed. "When not present, he considered him as a kind of sacred character," is Cradock's testimony. Goldsmith's entire unworldliness-his remaining a child in a world of men— made Johnson feel it necessary to throw over him the shield of his protection. Boswell, to whom talk was talk, so that he could put down in his book, and to whom much that Goldsmith said was valuable treasure, even when he was absurdly laughing at poor Goldy, said to Johnson" for my part, I like very well to hear honest Goldsmith talk away carelessly." "Why, yes, sir," said the affectionate old man, "but he should not like to hear himself." Boswell would have it that Goldsmith was an imitator of Johnson's style. This Johnson denied. Johnson read "the Traveller"

Johnson, speaking of Goldsmith, says, "When people find a man of the most distinguished abilities as a writer, their inferior, while he is with them, it must be highly gratifying to them."-Croker's Boswell, 256.

† Northcote.

from beginning to end for a lady, who testified her admiration by saying, "I never more shall think Dr. Goldsmith ugly." When Goldsmith's comedy of "She Stoops to Conquer" was delayed by Garrick, Johnson absolutely compelled Colman to have it acted. Of the first representation of " She Stoops to Conquer" there is an exceedingly amusing account by Cumberland, who attributes the success of the play to the exertions of himself and his friends, applauding by concerted signals. But, of that account it is not possible to believe the details, nor, indeed, does it seem to have much foundation in truth at all. Cumberland-the "Sir Fretful Plagiary" of Sheridan-seems that night to have been acting in character and if there was concert of any kind, it was a concert between him and M'Pherson to damn the play. Sir Fretful being instinctively afraid of the broad humour which was to put an end to sentimental comedy.

"To make you laugh, I must play tragedy," was Garrick's description of the plays

"Of the Kellys, and Kenricks, and Cumberlands grave."

Cumberland, who never could find out why people did not read his poems, was embarrassed by Goldsmith's suc

cess.

"There must be bulk, variety, and grandeur of design, to constitute a first-rate poet. The Deserted Village,' Traveller,' and 'Hermit,' are all specimens beautiful as such, but they are only bird's eggs on a string, and eggs of small birds too." With such feelings of friendship as those remarks indicate, Cumberland went to support his friend's comedy. "You and I,' said Goldsmith to him-thus Sir Fretful' tells the story have very different motives for resorting to the stage. I write for money, and care little about fame.' I was touched by this melancholy confession, and from that moment busied myself assiduously amongst all my connections in his cause.'

He was

busy not alone among the living, but the dead-and Fitzherbert, who had died a year before, is recorded by him as one of the persons clubbing to puff the play. Cumberland describes himself as seated beside a loud laugher, whose joyous neighing was quite contagious. "He knew no more when to give his fire than the cannon did which was planted on a battery-I planted

him in an upper box, in full view of pit and galleries, and perfectly well situated to give the echo all its play through all the hollows and recesses of the theatre." This absurd person seems to have endangered the play, for he began laughing at every word, and the eyes of the audience were directed from the stage to Cumberland and his noisy associates. Cumberland himself, if there be any reliance on the newspapers of the day, was not laughing, though the cause of some laughter. On the third night of the comedy, the following epigram appeared, our knowledge of which we owe to Mr. Prior's diligence:

"At Doctor Goldsmith's merry play

All the spectators laugh, they say:
The assertion, sir, I must deny,
For Cumberland and Kelly cry."

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Even by Cumberland's own account, the danger to the play proceeded from his box. Goldsmith came to the theatre only at the fifth act-his anxiety had before kept him away-as he entered, he heard a hiss-"pshaw, my dear doctor," said Colman to him, "of what consequence is a squib, when we have been sitting for two hours over a barrel of gunpowder ?" The papers of the day referred the solitary hiss to Cumberland. Mr. Forster, and we are inclined to agree with him, thinks that in Cumberland's account there is but one solitary sentence of truth"All eyes were upon Johnson, who sat in a front row of a side-box, and when he laughed, everybody thought themselves warranted to roar." Cumberland closes his account of the matter by saying, "We carried our play through, and triumphed not only over Colman's judgment, but our own." Every account we have from other sources proves that the comedy, whatever services it may have received from parties placed in the house to support it, was not at any time in danger. "His friends," says the late Judge Day, "of whom I was one, assembled in great force, in the pit, to protect it, but we had no difficulty to encounter, for it was received throughout with the greatest acclamations, and had afterwards a great run.

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However Cumberland may have exaggerated the importance of his assistance, and however he may have deceived himself and others, with fragmentary recollections of an incident which occurred many years before the

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