B. 1711.

DAVID HUME.

D. 1776.

HUME, whose education was mainly self-acquired from books, early set his affections on literary distinction; and his style of writing, as exhibited in his Essays and his History, is nearly faultless. His ruling passion was,

"What shall I do to be forever known,

And make the age to come mine own?"

After he was elected to a librarianship in Edinburgh, he appeared much elated with the glory of his success; and to his friend Dr. Clephane, to whom he had recently sent a copy of his "Inquiry concerning Human Understanding," writes a letter, from which the following extract is taken:

"I cast a favorable regard on you, and earnestly desire your friendship and good-will; a little flattery, too, from so eminent a hand would be very acceptable to me. You know you are somewhat in my debt in that particular. The present I made you of my Inquiry was calculated both as a mark of my regard and as a snare to catch a little incense from you. Why do you put me to the necessity of giving it to myself?"

In his Autobiography Hume observes: "It is difficult for a man to speak long of himself without vanity; therefore I shall be short. It may be an instance of vanity that I pretend at all to write my

Life. The first success of most of my writings was not such as to be an object of vanity."

Then, after giving credit to several points in his character and no more than he was entitled to, he adds, "I cannot say there is no vanity in making this funeral oration of myself, but I hope it is not a misplaced one."

Dr. Adam Smith relates how Hume diverted himself, a short time before his death, by inventing jocular excuses he might make to Charon, and Charon's surly answers in return. "I thought I

might say to him, 'Good Charon, I have been correcting my works for a new edition; allow me a little time to see how the public receive the alterations.' But Charon would answer, Get into the boat this instant, you lazy, loitering rogue!""

6

B. 1713.

LAURENCE STERNE.

D. 1768.

LAURENCE STERNE, the Beecher of his day, discloses too much of his own character in his "Sentimental Journey;" but his egotism is even more offensive in some of his letters to the wife of Daniel Draper, Esq., then in England, while her husband was in India. He writes to her over the signature of "The Bramin,” much like a rogue, and eagerly proclaims himself a wit. He writes: "And indeed I begin to think you have as many virtues as my Uncle Toby's widow. Talking of widows, - pray, Eliza, if you ever are

such, do not think of giving yourself to some wealthy nabob, because I design to marry you myself. My wife cannot live long, and I know not the woman I should so well like for her substitute as yourself. 'Tis true I am ninety-five in constitution, and you but twenty-five; but what I want in youth I will make up in wit and good humor. Not Swift so loved his Stella, Scarron his Maintenon, or Waller his Saccharissa. Tell me in answer to this that you approve and honor the proposal."

And this wretched old fool was the next day writing a love-letter to Lady P―, and complaining that she had made him miserable!

B. 1723. SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS.

D. 1792.

SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS was not accounted a vain man, and yet he is reported to have purchased a very odd and showy carriage soon after he took his house in Leicester Fields, and requested his sister to ride. about in it, in order that people might ask whose it was, when the answer would be, "It belongs to the great painter."

To a gentleman who had remarked, "Reynolds's tints are admirable, but his colors fly," Reynolds, overhearing him, said, "I thank you, sir, for bringing me off with flying colors."

B. 1728.

OLIVER GOLDSMITH.

D. 1774.

GOLDSMITH is perhaps most loved as an author, by the English-speaking race, of all those who flourished in his day. Certainly he wrote "no line which, dying, he could wish to blot;" and it seems almost cruel to perpetuate any of his deficiencies or excesses. His "Vicar of Wakefield" and most of his poetical works have long been accepted as no mean part among English classics; but in relation to his work on Natural History, his excellent friend Dr. Johnson observed: Goldsmith, sir, will give us a fine book upon the subject; but if he can distinguish a cow from a horse, that I believe may be the extent of his knowledge of natural history." On the whole, the work was a creditable compilation, though he told us that "the cow sheds her horns 1 every two years."

He was jealous of beauty even in the other sex. When the people of Amsterdam gathered round the balcony to look at the Miss Hornecks, he grew impatient, and said peevishly, "There are places where I also am admired." 2

1 Swift was guilty of a similar blunder in the "Voyage to the Land of Houyhnhnms," where he states that all animals reject the use of salt but man; whereas many of the herbivorous animals are more fond of it than man himself. And Jeremy Taylor, in spite of his wonderful genius and eloquence, was also very slipshod and uncritical as to his facts, if they only served his purpose. He not only accepts of a monument "nine furlongs high," erected by Ninus, but he tells us 66 When men sell a mule, they speak of the horse that begat him, not of the ass that bore him."

2 This is a story of Boswell, who was certainly jealous of Goldsmith, and it may not have been well founded, or said only as a jest.

Goldsmith often tried to shine in conversation, but always stumbled; and the contrast between his published works and what he spoke was such that Horace Walpole called him an "inspired idiot; " and Garrick said, "Noll wrote like an angel, and talked like poor Poll." In defiance of his own senses, he obstinately maintained, even angrily, says Macaulay, that he chewed his dinner by moving his upper jaw.

After Goldsmith's "Traveller" appeared, his fame suddenly grew, and his society began to be courted. It is not strange that unusual attentions fed his conceit. The story of the terms of Goldsmith's answer to a dinner invitation which had been given to him used to be frequently repeated by envious rivals. "I would with pleasure accept your kind invitation; but to tell you the truth, my dear boy, my 'Traveller' has found me a home in so many places that I am engaged, I believe, three days. Let me see: to-day I dine with Edmund Burke, to-morrow with Dr. Nugent, and the next day with Topham Beauclerc; but I'll tell you what I'll do for you: I'll dine with you on Saturday."

No doubt "my dear boy" felt grateful to be done for in that way.

Dr. Johnson had a way of contracting the names of his friends,as, Boswell, Bozzy; Goldsmith, Goldy, with which Goldsmith was not pleased. When told that Johnson had said, "We are all in labor for a name to Goldy's play," he muttered, "I have often desired him not to call me Goldy."