his name had not then attained distinction by any popular display of genius; and his petition, or memorial, was treated with neglect. The simplicity of his character however, the integrity of his heart, and the merit of his productions made his company very acceptable to a number of respectable persons; and about the middle of the year 1762 he migrated from his mean apartment in Green Arbour Court, near the Old Bailey, to Wine-Office Court, Fleet Street. At subsequent periods, as his fortunes improved, he inhabited successively the attic story of the Library staircase, and Brooke Court in the Temple.

Among those who were desirous of his acquaintance, was the Earl (afterward Duke) of Northumberland, Lord Lieutenant of Ireland; and the circumstance which attended his introduction to that nobleman, as exhibiting a striking trait of his character, is worthy of being related. "I was invited," said Goldsmith, "by my friend Percy to wait upon the Duke, in consequence of the satisfaction he had received from the perusal of one of my productions. I dressed myself in the best manner I could, and after studying some compliments I thought necessary on such an occasion, proceeded on to Northumberland House, and acquainted the servants that I had particular business with his Grace.' They showed me into an ante-chamber, where after waiting some time, a gentleman very elegantly dressed made his appearance: taking him for the Duke, I delivered all the fine things I had composed, in order to compliment him on the honour he had done me; when, to my great astonishment, he told me I had mistaken him for his master, who would see me immediately.' At

that instant the Duke came into the apartment, and I was so confounded on the occasion, that I wanted words barely sufficient to express the sense I entertained of the Duke's politeness, and went away exceedingly chagrined at the blunder I had committed."

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At the time of this visit, Goldsmith was much embarrassed in his circumstances; but, vain of the honour, he was continually mentioning it. An ingenious executor of the law, who had a writ against him, determining to turn this circumstance to his own advantage, informed him by letter that he was steward to a nobleman who was charmed with read ing his last production, and had ordered him to desire the Doctor to appoint a place where he might have the honour of meeting him, to conduct him to his Lordship.' The vanity of poor Goldsmith immediately swallowed the bait; he appointed the British Coffee House, to which he was accompanied, by his friend Mr. Hamilton, the printer of the Critical Review, who in vain remonstrated on the singularity of the application. On entering the coffee-room, the bailiff paid his respects to Goldsmith, and desired that he might have the honour of immediately attending him. But they had scarcely proceeded to Pall Mall, on their way to his Lordship, when he produced his writ. Mr. Hamilton generously paid the money, and redeemed Goldsmith from captivity.

In 1763, he corrected and revised many of Newbery's publications, particularly his Art of Poetry" in two volumes 12m6., and the Life of Beau Nash in 8vo. He wrote also, about this time, the Let-. ters on English History from a Nobleman to his Son," in two volumes 12mo.; which have been inaccurately

attributed to Lord Lyttelton,* the Earl of Orrery, and other noble authors. About this time he became one of the original members of the Literary Club.†

In 1765, he published his his reputation was established. appeared a collection of his

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Traveller,' by which

At the same time, Essays,' which had

previously been printed in various periodical publications. This was followed, in 1760, by his Vicar of Wakefield,' § and his History of England' in four volumes 8vo. He compiled likewise, with little advantage however to his fame, a History of Rome' in two volumes 8vo., and made an Abridgement' of it in one volume 12mo. For the latter he re

ceived fifty guineas; and for

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6

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his History of Eng

And, what is rather singular, never contradicted either directly or indirectly by that nobleman or by any of his friends. The work itself had, deservedly, a very rapid sale.

† For a more detailed account of this illustrious society, see the Life of Johnson.

Johnson pronounced of it, that there had not been so fine a poem since Pope's time. The MS. had lain by him for some years; when that able writer not only persuaded him to publish it, but also gave him some hints, and some couplets, for it's im provement. See the Life of Johnson. It introduced him to the invaluable acquaintance of Lord Nugent, Mr. Burke, Topham Beauclerc, Sir Joshua Reynolds, &c. who alternately loved the simplicity of the man, admired the elegance of the poet, and ridiculed the vanity of the egotist.

This work, written while he was under arrest for rent, was disposed of, some time before it's publication, through Johnson to Newbery for sixty pounds; a "sufficient price," according to his friendly agent, at the time. The bookseller, indeed, had so faint a hope of profiting by his bargain, that he did not publish it, till after the Traveller' had made it's appearance. He had previously sold, what he himself (in a letter to his brother) calls "a catchpenny performance," the Life of Voltaire,' composed in four weeks, for twenty pounds.

land,' 500%. In the History of Greece,' circulated under his name, it is believed that he had no concern. He drew up, about the same period, the Lives of Parnell and Lord Bolingbroke, and many other lighter compositions; and, in 1768, his Goodnatured Man** was successfully performed at Covent Garden theatre. He now derived large profits from his writings; but being extremely deficient in eco> nomy, and continuing addicted to gaming, though little acquainted with it's mysteries, he became the prey of those who were unprincipled enough to take ad vantage of his ignorance or his prodigality. The "Doctor' (as he was generally called, though he never took any degree beyond that of Bachelor in Medicine) had also, we are told, a constant levee of his distressed countrymen, whose wants, as far as he was able, he always relieved; and he was often known to leave himself without a guinea, in order to supply the necessities of others.

Deserted

Previously to the publication of his Village,† which he addressed to his friend Sir Joshua Reynolds, the bookseller had given him a hundred

!

* The 'Croaker' of this drama, a character most happily conceived and most highly finished, Goldsmith owned he borrowed from the Suspirius' of the Rambler. It was so admirably personated by Shuter, particularly in his reading of the letter in the fourth act, that the author himself assured him, in the presence of all the performers, the fine comic richness of his colouring had made it appear almost as new to him as to any other person in the house.' The Prologue was furnished by Dr. Johnson.

An edition of this poem has recently been published, with engravings, appropriating all it's striking localities to his favourite Irish village. The Village-preacher' is said, by some, to have been the poet's father.

Who, on the establishment of the Royal Academy, pro

guineas as the purchase-money of the copy. This the Doctor mentioned a few hours afterward to one of his friends, who observed it was a very large sum for so short a performance, being nearly five shillings a line.' "In truth," replied Goldsmith, "I

think so too; it is much more than the honest man can afford, or the piece is worth. I have not been easy, since I received it: I will therefore go back, and return him his note;" which he actually did, leaving it entirely to the bookseller to pay him in proportion to the profits produced by the sale of the poem, which proved very considerable.

In 1770, he made a short trip to Paris in company with a party of ladies, including the two beautiful Miss Hornecks.

In 1772, his comedy entitled She stoops to conquer, or the Mistakes of a Night,' was performed at Covent Garden theatre with great applause.* About the same time, likewise, he wrote several prefaces. Of these, one prefixed to Dr. Brookes' New and Accurate System of Natural History' was drawn

cured for him the appointment of Professor of Ancient History; a mere complimentary distinction indeed, attended neither with emolument nor trouble.

* The grand mistake, upon which this admirable play is founded, of a gentleman's house for an inn, is said to have been actually made by himself, on one of his journies from home to the school at Edgeworthstown. The ludicrous circumstance of the robbery is from Albumazar.' He entered the theatre himself only in the fifth act, when there was a hiss at the improbability of Mrs. Hardcastle's supposing herself forty miles from home, though near her own house! "What's that?" he asked in alarm. "Pshaw!" replied Colman, " don't be fearful of squibs, when we have been sitting almost these two hours upon a barrel of gunpowder." This answer was never forgiven. The comedy cleared him eight hundred pounds.