heirs and assignees of Mr. Filby, the tailor, stories, they must have been a very simple pair; have never been paid to this day: perhaps the as it was a very simple rogue indeed who kind tailor and his creditor have met and set- cheated them. When the lad, after failing in tled their little account in Hades. his clerical examination, after failing in his They showed until lately a window at Trinity | plan for studying the law, took leave of these College, Dublin, on which the name of O. Gold-projects and of his parents, and set out for smith was engraved with a diamond. Whose Edinburgh, he saw mother, and uncle, and lazy diamond was it? Not the young sizar's,7 who Ballymahon, and green native turf, and sparkmade but a poor figure in that place of learn-ling river for the last time. He was never to ing. He was idle, penniless, and fond of pleas- look on old Ireland more, and only in fancy ure: he learned his way early to the pawn- revisit her. broker's shop. He wrote ballads, they say, for the street singers, who paid him a crown "But me not destined such delights to share for a poem: and his pleasure was to steal out My prime of life in wandering spent and care, at night and hear his verses sung. He was Impelled, with steps unceasing to pursue Some fleeting good that mocks me with the view; chastised by his tutor for giving a dance in his That, like the circle bounding earth and skies rooms, and took the box on the ear so much to Allures from far, yet, as I follow, flies: heart, that he packed up his all, pawned his My fortune leads to traverse realms alone, books and little property, and disappeared from And find no spot of all the world my own." 11 college and family. He said he intended to go to America, but when his money was spent, I spoke in a former lecture of that high courthe young prodigal came home ruefully, and the age which enabled Fielding,12 in spite of disgood folks there killed their calf-it was but ease, remorse, and poverty, always to retain a a lean one-and welcomed him back. cheerful spirit and to keep his manly benevoAfter college he hung about his mother's lence and love of truth intact, as if these treashouse, and lived for some years the life of a ures had been confided to him for the public buckeens passed a month with this relation benefit, and he was accountable to posterity for their honourable employ; and a constancy and that, a year with one patron, a great deal of time at the public-house. Tired of this life, equally happy and admirable I think was shown it was resolved that he should go to London, by Goldsmith, whose sweet and friendly nature and study at the Temple; but he got no bloomed kindly always in the midst of a life's farther on the road to London and the wool- storm, and rain, and bitter weather. The poor sack10 than Dublin, where he gambled away the fellow was never so friendless but he could befifty pounds given to him for his outfit, and friend some one; never so pinched and wretched whence he returned to the indefatigable for- but he could give of his crust, and speak his giveness of home. Then he determined to be word of compassion. If he had but his flute a doctor, and uncle Contarine helped him to a left, he could give that, and make the children couple of years at Edinburgh. Then from Edin-happy in the dreary London court. He could burgh he felt that he ought to hear the famous give the coals in that queer coal-scuttle we read professors of Leyden and Paris, and wrote of to his poor neighbour: he could give away most amusing pompous letters to his uncle about the great Farheim, Du Petit, and Duhamel du Monceau, whose lectures he proposed to follow. If uncle Contarine believed those letters-if Oliver's mother believed that story which the youth related of his going to Cork, with the purpose of embarking for America, of his having paid his passage-money, and having sent his kit on board; of the anonymous captain sailing away with Oliver's valuable luggage in a nameless ship, never to return; if uncle Contarine and the mother at Ballymahon, believed his his blankets in college to the poor widow, and warm himself as he best might in the feathers: he could pawn his coat to save his landlord from gaol: when he was a school-usher he spent his earnings in treats for the boys, and the goodnatured schoolmaster's wife said justly that she ought to keep Mr. Goldsmith's money as well as the young gentlemen's. When he met his pupils in later life, nothing would satisfy the Doctor but he must treat them still. "Have you seen the print of me after Sir Joshua Reynolds?''13 he asked of one of his old pupils. "Not seen it? not bought it? Sure, Jack, if your picture had been published, I'd not have 13 Reynolds painted his portrait, and it was engraved in mezzotint by Marchi in 1770. 11 Goldsmith's The Trar- been without it half-an-hour." His purse and are shocking to read of-slander, contumely, vulgar satire, brutal malignity perverting his commonest motives and actions; he had his share of these, and one's anger is roused at reading of them, as it is at seeing a woman insulted or a child assaulted, at the notion that a creature so very gentle and weak, and full of love, should have had to suffer so. And he had worse than insult to undergo-to own to fault and deprecate the anger of ruffians. There is a letter of his extant to one Griffiths, a bookseller, in which poor Goldsmith is forced to confess that certain books sent by Griffiths are in the hands of a friend from whom Goldsmith had been forced to borrow money. "He was wild, sir," Johnson said, speaking of Goldsmith to Boswell, with his great, wise benevolence and noble mercifulness of heart—“Dr. Goldsmith was wild, sir; but he is so no more. Ah! if we pity the good and weak man who suffers undeservedly, let us deal very gently with him from whom misery extorts not only tears, but shame; let us think humbly and charitably of the human nature that suffers so sadly and falls so low. Whose turn may it be to-morrow? What weak heart, confident before trial, may not succumb under temptation invincible? Cover the good man who has been vanquished-cover his face and pass on. his heart were everybody's, and his friends' as much as his own. When he was at the height of his reputation, and the Earl of Northumberland, going as Lord Lieutenant to Ireland, asked if he could be of any service to Doctor Goldsmith, Goldsmith recommended his brother, and not himself, to the great man. "My patrons," he gallantly said, "are the booksellers, and I want no others." Hard patrons they were, and hard work he did; but he did not complain much: if in his early writings some bitter words escaped him, some allusions to neglect and poverty, he withdrew these expressions when his works were republished, and betters days seemed to open for him; and he did not care to complain that printer or publisher had overlooked his merit, or left him poor. The Court face was turned from honest Oliver, the Court patronised Beattie; 14 the fashion did not shine on him-fashion adored Sterne.15 Fashion pronounced Kelly16 to be the great writer of comedy of his day. A little -not ill-humour, but plaintiveness-a little betrayal of wounded pride which he showed render him not the less amiable. The author of the "Vicar of Wakefield' had a right to protest when Newbery17 kept back the manuscript for two years; had a right to be a little peevish with Sterne; a little angry when Colman's18 For the last half-dozen years of his life, actors declined their parts in his delightful Goldsmith was far removed from the pressure comedy, when the manager refused to have a of any ignoble necessity: and in the receipt, scene painted for it, and pronounced its damna- indeed, of a pretty large income from the booktion before hearing. He had not the great sellers his patrons. Had he lived but a few public with him; but he had the noble John-years more, his public fame would have been son, and the admirable Reynolds, and the as great as his private reputation, and he might great Gibbon, and the great Burke, and the have enjoyed alive a part of that esteem which great Fox-friends and admirers illustrious in-his country has ever since paid to the vivid and deed, as famous as those who, fifty years before, sat round Pope's table. versatile genius who has touched on almost every subject of literature, and touched nothing that he did not adorn. Except in rare instances, a man is known in our profession, and esteemed as a skillful workman, years before Nobody knows, and I dare say Goldsmith's buoyant temper kept no account of, all the pains which he endured during the early period of his literary career. Should any man of let-the lucky hit which trebles his usual gains, and ters in our day have to bear up against such, Heaven grant he may come out of the period of misfortune with such a pure kind heart as that which Goldsmith obstinately bore in his breast. The insults to which he had to submit stamps him a popular author. In the strength "Was ever As has been the case with many another good fellow of his nation, his life was tracked and his substance wasted by crowds of hungry beggars and lazy dependants. If they came at a lucky time (and be sure they knew his affairs better than he did himself, and watched his pay-day), he gave them of his money: if they begged on empty-purse days, he gave them his promissory bills: or he treated them to a tavern where he had credit; or he obliged them with an order upon honest Mr. Filby for coats, for which he paid as long as he could earn, and until the shears of Filby were to cut for him no more. Staggering under a load of debt and labour, tracked by bailiffs and reproachful creditors, running from a hundred poor dependants, whose appealing looks were perhaps the hardest of all pains for him to bear, devising fevered plans for the morrow, new histories, new comedies, all sorts of new literary schemes, flying from all these into seclusion, and out of seclusion into pleasure--at last, at five-and-forty, death seized him and closed his career. I have been many a time in the chambers in the Temple which were his, and passed up the staircase, wnich Johnson and Burke and Reynolds trod to see their friend, their poet, their kind Goldsmith-the stair on which the poor women sat weeping bitterly when they heard that the greatest and most generous of all men was dead within the black oak door. Ah! it was a different lot from that for which the poor fellow sighed, when he wrote with heart yearning for home those most charming of all fond verses, in which he fancies he revisits Auburn : monarch of the Irish Yvetot. He would have told again, and without fear of their failing, those famous jokes which had hung fire in London;1 he would have talked of his great friends of the Club-of my Lord Clare and my Lord Bishop, my Lord Nugent-sure he knew them intimately, and was hand and glove with some of the best men in town-and he would have spoken of Johnson and of Burke, and of Sir Joshua who had painted him-and he would have told wonderful sly stories of Ranelagh and the Pantheon,2 and the masquerades at Madame Cornelys ;3 and he would have toasted, with a sigh, the Jessamy Bride-the lovely Mary Horneck. The figure of that charming young lady forms one of the prettiest recollections of Goldsmith's life. She and her beautiful sister, who married Bunbury, the graceful and humorous amateur artist of those days, when Gillray" had but just begun to try his powers, were among the kindest and dearest of Goldsmith's many friends, cheered and pitied him, travelled abroad with him, made him welcome at their home, and gave him many a pleasant holiday. He bought his finest clothes to figure at their country house at Barton-he wrote them åroll verses. They loved him, laughed at him, played him tricks and made him happy. He asked for a loan from Garrick, and Garrick kindly supplied him, to enable him to go to Barton: but there were to be no more holidays and only one brief struggle more for poor Goldsmith. A lock of his hair was taken from the coffin and given to the Jessamy Bride. She lived quite into our time. Hazlitt saw her an old lady, "Here, as I take my solitary rounds, but beautiful still, in Northcote 'ss paintingAmidst thy tangling valks and ruined grounds, room, who told the eager critic how proud she And, many a year elapsed, return to view Where once the cottage stood, the hawthorn grew, always was that Goldsmith had admired her. Remembrance wakes, with all her busy train, The younger Colman has left a touching remSwells at my breast. and turns the past to iniscence of him (vol. i, 63, 64):pain.. In these verses, I need not say with what melody, with what touching truth, with what exquisite beauty of comparison-as indeed in hundreds more pages of the writings of this honest soul-the whole character of the man is told-his humble confession of faults and weakness; his pleasant little vanity, and desire that his village should admire him; his simple scheme of good in which everybody was to be happy-no beggar was to be refused his dinner -nobody in fact was to work much, and he to be the harmless chief of the Utopia, and the Thackeray's quotation here from The Deserted Village extends through thirty lines more, for which see page 374, II. 83-112. † See page 110 and note. 1 Compare page 365. 3 Goldsmith's pet name 5 James Gillray, a cari caturist. 6 David Garrick, actor. the 7 William Hazlitt, the essayist. 8 James Northcote, of the Royal Academy. 9 George Colman, a dramatist, son of the Colman mentioned above. "I was only five years old,'' he says, "when Think of him reckless, thriftless, vain, if you Goldsmith took me on his knee one evening like-but merciful, gentle, generous, full of whilst he was drinking coffee with my father, | love and pity. He passes out of our life, and and began to play with me, which amiable act goes to render his account beyond it. Think I returned, with the ingratitude of a peevish of the poor pensioners weeping at his grave; brat, by giving him a very smart slap on the think of the noble spirits that admired and face: it must have been a tingler, for it left deplored him; think of the righteous pen that the marks of my spiteful paw on his cheek. wrote his epitaph-and of the wonderful and This infantile outrage was followed by sum-unanimous response of affection with which the mary justice, and I was locked up by my indig- world has paid back the love he gave it. His nant father in an adjoining room to undergo humour delighting us still: his song fresh and solitary imprisonment in the dark. Here I began to howl and scream most abominably, which was no bad step towards my liberation, since those who were not inclined to pity me might be likely to set me free for the purpose of abating a nuisance. beautiful as when first he charmed with it: his words in all our mouths: his very weaknesses beloved and familiar-his benevolent spirit seems still to smile upon us; to do gentle kindnesses: to succour with sweet charity: to soothe, caress, and forgive: to plead with the fortunate for the unhappy and the poor. His name is the last in the list of those men of humour who have formed the themes of the FROM ROUNDABOUT PAPERS* DE JUVENTUTE1 "At length a generous friend appeared to extricate me from jeopardy, and that generous friend was no other than the man I had so wantonly molested by assault and battery-discourses which you have heard so kindly. it was the tender-hearted Doctor himself, with a lighted candle in his hand and a smile upon his countenance, which was still partially red from the effects of my petulance. I sulked and sobbed as he fondled and soothed, till I began to brighten. Goldsmith seized the propitious moment of returning good-humour, when he put down the candle and began to conjure. He placed three hats, which happened to be in the room, and a shilling under each. The shillings, he told me, were England, France, and Spain. 'Hey presto cockalorum!' cried the Doctor, and lo, on uncovering the shillings, which had been dispersed each beneath a separate hat, they were all found congregated under one. I was Our last paper of this veracious and roundabout series related to a period which can only be istorical to a great number of readers of this Magazine. Four I saw at the station to-day with orange-covered books in their hands, who can but have known George IV.2 by books, and statues, and pictures. Elderly gentlemen were in their prime, old men in their middle age, when he reigned over us. His image remains on coins; on a picture or two hanging here and there in a Club or oldno politician at five years old, and therefore fashioned dining-room; on horseback, as at might not have wondered at the sudden revolu- Trafalgar Square, for example, where I defy tion which brought England, France, and any monarch to look more uncomfortable. He Spain all under one crown; but as also I was turns up in sundry memoirs and histories which no conjurer, it amazed me beyond measure. may have been published in Mr. Massey 's3 . . . From that time, whenever the Doctor History"; in the "Buckingham and Grencame to visit my father, 'I plucked his gown ville Correspondence"; and gentlemen who to share the good man's smile;' a game at have accused a certain writer of disloyalty are romps constantly ensued, and we were always referred to those volumes to see whether the cordial friends and merry playfellows. Our picture drawn of George is overcharged. unequal companionship varied somewhat as to sports as I grew older; but it did not last long: 1 "pon Youth." my senior playmate died in his forty-fifth year, when I had attained my eleventh. . . . In all the numerous accounts of his virtues and foibles, his genius and absurdities, his knowledge of nature and ignorance of the world, his 'compassion for another's woe' was always predominant; and my trivial story of his humouring a froward child weighs but as a feather in the recorded scale of his benevolence." 66 2 Died 1830. William Massey, author of a history of George III's reign. Grenville's Memoirs of the Court of George IV had just been published (1859). Thackeray's lectures on The Four Georges had been delivered about five years before. In emulation of Household Words, of which Dickens had made such a great success in the fifties, The Cornhill Magazine was founded in 1860 and Thackeray was engaged to edit it. The "Roundabout Papers" were his regular contribution for three years. The Magazine bore an orange cover. duty, if we can keep our place pretty honourably through the combat, let us say Laus Deo! at the end of it, as the firing ceases, and the night falls over the field. The old were middle-aged, the elderly were in their prime, then, thirty years since, when yon royal George was till fighting the dragon. As for you, my pretty lass, with your saucy hat and golden tresses tumbled in your net, and you, my spruce young gentleman in your mandarin's cap (the young folks at the countryplace where I am staying are so attired), your parents were unknown to each other, and wore short frocks and short jackets, at the date of this five-shilling piece. Only to-day I met a dog-cart crammed with children-children with moustaches and mandarin caps-children with saucy hats and hair-nets-children in short frocks and knickerbockers (surely the prettiest boy's dress that has appeared these hundred Charon has paddled him off; he has mingled with the crowded republic of the dead. His effigy smiles from a canvas or two. Breechless he bestrides his steed in Trafalgar Square. I believe he still wears his robes at Madame Tussaud's (Madame herself having quitted Baker Street and life, and found him she modelled t'other side the Stygian stream). On the head of a five-shilling piece we still occasionally come upon him, with St. George, the dragonslayer, on the other side of the coin.† Ah me! did this George slay many dragons? Was he a brave, heroic champion, and rescuer of virgins? Well! Well! have you and I overcome all the dragons that assail us? come alive and victorious out of all the caverns which we have entered in life, and succoured, at risk of life and limb, all poor distressed persons in whose naked limbs the dragon Poverty is about to fasten his fangs, whom the dragon Crime is poisoning with his horrible breath, and about years)-children from twenty years of age to to crunch up and devour? O my royal liege! O my gracious prince and warrior! You a champion to fight that monster? Your feeble spear ever pierce that slimy paunch or plated back? See how the flames come gurgling out of his red-hot brazen throat! What a roar! Nearer and nearer he trails, with eyes flaming like the lamps of a railroad engine. How he squeals, rushing out through the darkness of his tunnel! Now he is near. Now he is here. And now-what?-lance, shield, knight, feathers, horse and all? O horror, horror! Next day, round the monster's cave, there lie a few bones more. You, who wish to keep yours in your skins, be thankful that you are not called upon to go out and fight dragons. Be grateful that they don't sally out and swallow you. Keep a wise distance from their caves, lest you pay too dearly for approaching them. Remember that years passed, and whole districts were ravaged, before the warrior came who was able to cope with the devouring monster. When that knight does make his appearance, with all my heart let us go out and welcome him with our best songs, huzzas, and laurel wreaths, and eagerly recognize his valour and victory. But he comes only seldom. Countless knights were slain before St. George won the battle. In the battle of life are we all going to try for the honours of championship? If we can do our 4 Ferryman of the river Styx. 5 The proprietress of a famous show-place contain- six; and father, with mother by his side, driving in front-and on father's countenance I saw that very laugh which I remember perfectly in the time when this crown-piece was coined-in his time, in King George's time, when we were school-boys seated on the same form. The smile was just as broad, as bright, as jolly, as I remember it in the past-unforgotten, though not seen or thought of, for how many decades of years, and quite and instantly familiar, though so long out of sight. Any contemporary of that coin who takes it up and reads the inscription round the laurelled head, "Georgius IV Britanniarum Rex. Fid. Def. 1823," if he will but look steadily at the round, and utter the proper incantation,‡ I dare say may conjure back his life there. Look well, my elderly friend, and tell me what you see? First, I see a Sultan, with hair, beautiful hair, and a crown of laurels round his head, and his name is Georgius Rex. Fid. Def., and so on. Now the Sultan has disappeared; and what is it that I see? A boy,a boy in a jacket. He is at a desk; he has great books before him, Latin and Greek books and dictionaries. Yes, but behind the great books, which he pretends to read, is a little one, with pictures, which he is really reading. It 6 "Praise God." "King of Britain, Defender of the Faith." |