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derived from his works-four hundred pounds from the theatre, and one hundred from the publisher. This seemingly, to him, inexhaustible sum of five hundred pounds led poor Goldsmith into all kinds of extravagance, and he accordingly purchased the chambers, consisting of three rooms on the second floor of No. 2, Brick-court, Temple, which overlooked the umbrageous walks of the Temple garden, for four hundred pounds, and furnished them with sofas, card-tables, bookcases, curtains, mirrors, and Wilton carpets, and invited all his courtly acquaintances-young and old-of both sexes; and by their romps and rioting caused Blackstone, who was then occupied with his "Commentaries" in the rooms beneath to complain of the racket made over-head by his revelling neighbour.
In course of the summer of 1768 his career of gaiety was brought to a pause by the intelligence of the death of his beloved brother Henry, then but forty-five years of age. He had led a quiet and blameless life amid the scenes of his youth, fulfilling the duties of a village pastor with unaffected piety, and in all the duties of life acquitting himself with undeviating rectitude. In the winter of 1768-9 Goldsmith was engaged upon his "Roman History," which was published in the ensuing May, and commanded a ready sale, which has continued to this day; and in the same year entered into an engagement with Griffiths for the "History of Animated Nature," in eight volumes, at the price of one hundred pounds per volume.
Amid his prosaic toils, Goldsmith, however, found time to dally with the Muses, and on the 26th of May, 1779, the "Deserted Village" was brought before the public. The popularity of "The Traveller" had prepared the way, and the sale of the poem was immense, so that by the 16th of August a fifth edition was published; he received one hundred guineas for the copyright.
In 1770, on the establishment of the Royal Academy of Painting, Goldsmith received the appointment of Professor of Ancient History in the institution; it was, however, but honorary. He produced his "History of Greece," in two volumes, and "History of England," in four volumes; the latter was without his name.
Early in 1772 he had completed a comedy, which had long engaged his attention, but the year passed without his being able to get it on the stage; the negotiation of Johnson with Colman, the manager of Covent Garden, was at last effective, and on the 15th of March, 1773, it was produced, under the title of "She Stoops to Conquer," and its success was most triumphant. The comedy was immediately printed, with a grateful dedication to Johnson.
The works which Goldsmith had still in hand were already paid for, and the money gone, and for impending debts and present expenses he devised a scheme for a work of greater extent than any he had hitherto undertaken-a "Dictionary of Arts and Sciences," which was to occupy several volumes: and Johnson, Burke, Reynolds, Burney, and others of his friends promised to contribute articles. The booksellers, however, notwithstanding they had a high opinion of his abilities, feared to trust a man of Goldsmith's procrastinating habits with so important an undertaking. Some other plans of a similar kind alike fell to the ground.
In the early part of the year 1774 the poor poet was toiling hopelessly and fitfully at a multiplicity of tasks, and one of the last was a translation of the "Comic Romance of Scarron.".
In sheer despite of his embarrassments, he assumed a forced gaiety, and gave expensive entertainments at his chambers in the Temple; but on one occasion-and it was the last-his imprudent profusion so vexed Johnson and Reynolds that they declined to partake of a needless second
course, and the untasted dishes were a silent rebuke that Goldsmith most sensibly felt. Wearied and harassed, he now took the resolution to retire to the quiet of the country, and accordingly made arrangements to sell his chambers, and in the month of March was at his country lodgings at Hyde; but a local complaint, under which he had some time suffered, having increased, he returned to town for medical advice; the complaint subsided, but was followed by a low nervous fever. His malady fluctuated for several days, and hopes were entertained of his recovery; he had the most skilful medical aid, and good nurses, but would not follow the advice afforded him, and having on former occasions found benefit from the use of James's powder, persisted in the use of it, against the remonstrance of his physician, who pointed out its extreme danger, in the patient's then state; the result was, after some hours of restlessness, a deep sleep, from which he awoke in strong convulsions, that continued till he finally sank at five o'clock in the morning of the 4th of April, 1774, in the forty-sixth year of his age.
His death caused deep affliction to his friends-it is said that Burke, on hearing the news, burst into tears. The grief of Johnson was gloomy, but profound: he truly could say in the words of the psalmist, "I behaved myself as though it had been my brother, I went heavily as one that mourneth for his mother."
In the warm feeling of the moment his friends determined on a public funeral and a tomb in Westminster Abbey, but it being discovered that he died in debt-owing, it was said, as much as two thousand pounds—and there were no means to pay the costs, he was privately interred, on the 9th of April, in the burying-ground of the Temple church. Soon after his death, the Literary Club, of which he had so long been a member, set on foot a subscription to erect a monument to his memory in Westminster Abbey, which was exe
cuted by Nollekens, and placed by that of Gay. Johnson furnished the epitaph in Latin, which has been thus translated:
OF OLIVER GOLDSMITH
A Poet, Naturalist, and Historian.
And touched nothing that he did not adorn;
Whether smiles were to be moved
A powerful yet gentle master;
The fidelity of friends.
And the veneration of readers,
Have by this monument honoured the memory.
At a place called Pallas,
[In the parish] of Forney, [and county] of Longford,
Educated at [the University of] Dublin;
And died in London,
4th April, 1774.
Johnson also penned a Greek tetrastic on his lamented friend, which has thus been translated by Mr. William Seward:
"Whoe'er thou art, with reverence tread
If the sweet muse thy care engage,
Lament him dead, whose powerful mind
Judge Day, of the Irish bench, when a student in the Temple, was acquainted with Goldsmith, and in his reminis cences presents us with what is no doubt a truthful portrait.
'In person he was short, about five feet six inches; strong, but not heavy in make; rather fair in complexion, with brown
hair, such at least as could be distinguished from his wig. His features were plain, but not repulsive, certainly not so when lighted up by conversation. His manners were simple, natural, and perhaps, on the whole, we may say, not polished; at least, without the refinement and good-breeding which the exquisite polish of his compositions would lead us to expect. He was always cheerful and animated, often, indeed, boisterous in his mirth; entered with spirit into convivial society; contributed largely to its enjoyments by solidity of information, and the naïveté and originality of his character, tasked often without premeditation, and laughed loudly without restraint.”
Goldsmith's character has been drawn by many of our best writers, but we think by none so tersely and so truly as by Mr. Bolton Corney, in the memoir prefixed to the beautiful edition of his works illustrated by the Etching Club.
"Oliver Goldsmith was a man of noble aspirations, but very incapable of self-command. His principal faults were— extreme improvidence in pecuniary matters, and an avowed jealousy of rivals. His amiable qualities were-active philanthropy and good-humour. His frailties, of whatever nature, seem rather to have excited compassion than censure; such was the influence of his genius, and of his humane sympathy with distress."
Goldsmith did not shine in conversation, for he talked with careless unpremeditation; his ideas seemed occasionally confused, and his utterance was hurried and ungraceful. At the dinners of the Literary Club he was always one of the last to arrive; and on one occasion a whim seized the company to write epitaphs on him, as "the late Dr. Goldsmith." The only one extant was written by Garrick :
"Here lies poet Goldsmith, for shortness called Noll,
Who wrote like an angel, but talked like poor Poll."
Whether in prose or in verse, Goldsmith is entitled to unmixed praise. His poetry, if not sublime, is exquisitely beautiful. He is the most flowing and elegant of our versifier