to Mr. Forster, "that of all the books which through the fitful changes of three generations, he had seen rise and fall, the charms of the Vicar of Wakefield' had alone continued as at first; and that could he revisit the world, after an interval of many more generations, he should as surely look to find it undiminished." In the "Revue des Deux Mondes," published in Paris in 1857, is a review of the life and works of Oliver Goldsmith, in which the French criticism to the same effect is given. Better still than the judgment of these famous men, is the testimony of the people of all countries, confessing their delight as they enjoy their favourite volume; and acknowledging with one consent that the discourses of the Vicar of Wakefield' have reached, and warmed, and consoled their hearts. The fable may be the worst ever constructed—the absurdities may lie thick over his pages his gleams of pleasantry may be rare, and yet the blundering author has produced a matchless and imperishable work.

The account given by Mr. Boswell of the circumstances connected with the sale of the "Vicar of Wakefield," is accurate, as coming directly from the lips of Dr. Johnson. What a picture of a struggling author's life, and of the state of literature at the time Dr. Johnson speaks!

"I received one morning a message from poor Goldsmith, "that he was in great distress, and as it was not in his power "to come to me, begging that I would come to him as soon as possible. I sent him a guinea, and promised to come to him "directly. I accordingly went as soon as I was drest, and found "that his landlady had arrested him for his rent, at which he

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was in a violent passion. I perceived that he had already "changed my guinea, and had got a bottle of Madeira and a glass before him. I put the cork into the bottle, and desired "he would be calm, and began to talk to him of the means by

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"which he might be extricated. He then told that he had a "novel ready for the press, which he produced to me. I looked "into it, and saw its merit; told the landlady I should soon "return, and having gone to a bookseller, sold it for sixty "pounds. I brought Goldsmith the money, and discharged his "rent-not without rating his landlady in a high tone for hav"ing used him so ill." It is evident Goldsmith had considered long and deeply his subject, and had elaborated the work with much care; he must have accomplished this labour of love in intervals snatched from more irksome occupation; and what a miserable remuneration he received. The bookseller reaped a rich harvest, for the work ran through six editions before the death of Goldsmith; yet, when he subsequently to these gains drew a bill for thirteen guineas upon that same bookseller, the bill was dishonoured. We have lingered too long on this portion of our author's career, but ere I take my leave of Dr. Primrose, I must return to him my best thanks for his enlightened logical and philosophical argument against unnecessary capital punishments. At the time Goldsmith published this masterly condemnation of indiscriminate penal laws and cruel executions, men and women were hanged almost daily for petty thefts, and our criminal code was stained with blood. Goldsmith argued as ably as did Romilly thirty years later. I have no doubt Dr. Primrose counselled many a statesman and jurist who afterwards used his arguments, but did not acknowledge them; we have happily lived to see the theories of our author adopted by an enlightened legislature.

Amongst the most remunerative of Goldsmith's prose publications were his abridgments of English, Roman, and Grecian history, and his Animated Nature. All these works were undertaken for mere pay. Even a poet must live, and the balance out of sixty guineas, after paying the termagant

landlady, the milk bill, and the tailor for a purple velvet coat and silk breeches, must have been small, and in Goldsmith's hands must have vanished quickly. Lord Macaulay affords unqualified praise to the historical compositions of Goldsmith; he thinks our blundering countryman was "a great, perhaps unequalled, master of the arts of selection and condensation." In his preface to his History of England our author aptly says "The business of abridging the works of others has hitherto fallen to the lot of very dull men; and the art of blotting, which an ancient critic calls the most difficult of all others, has been usually practised by those who found themselves unable to write. Hence, our abridgments are generally more tedious than the works from whence they pretend to relieve us; and they have effectually embarrassed that road which they profess to shorten." His idea of an abridged history was therefore excellent. I would mention that his narrative of the Reign of Henry II, including an account of Ireland before the Invasion, and of that event-contained in about forty pages-affords a good specimen of his admirable taste in selection, and clearness in narration. Throughout the book his sketches of character are drawn with great elegance and brevity-for example, those of William III., of the brilliant but perfidious Bolingbroke, and of Queen Elizabeth.

There is an amusing anecdote connected with these abridgments, that should be mentioned. Finding his own name not so money making as he thought it should be, he published the foundation of his history of England in a small compass, entitling the book, "Letters on the History of England, by a Nobleman to his Son." The title took well; the matter was superior, and thought fit for aristocratical authorship. It was ascribed to several noble lords, who blushed, and did not disclaim; they got the credit; and Goldy chuckled and

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filled his purse which he speedily emptied. Upon opening Goldsmith's History of Rome, and turning to his narrative of the conspiracy of Cataline and of subsequent events, I found it impossible to close the volume until I had assisted the pious freedman of Pompey, in collecting the ashes of his headless trunk, and in setting up the subscription-"He whose merits deserved a temple, can now scarce find a tomb." Every historical abridgment by Goldsmith is a clear, concise, and judicious performance. The colloquy of Dr. Johnson with Boswell, on the merits of our author as an historian, may fitly conclude this branch of my subject.

"Boswell.—An historian! My dear sir, you surely will not rank his compilation of the Roman history with the works of other historians of this age?

Johnson.—Why, who are before him?

Boswell.-Hume, Robertson, Lord Lyttleton.

Johnson.—(His antipathy to the Scotch beginning to rise), I have not read Hume; but, doubtless, Goldsmith's history is better than the verbiage of Robertson, or the foppery of Dalrymple.

Boswell.-Will you not admit the superiority of Robertson, in whose history we find such penetration-such painting?

Johnson.-Sir, you must consider how that penetration and that painting are employed. It is not history-it is imagination. He who describes what he never saw, draws from fancy. Robertson paints minds as Sir Joshua paints faces in a history-piece; he imagines an heroic countenance. You must look upon Robertson's work as a romance, and try it by that standard: history it is not. Besides, sir, it is the great excellence of a writer to put into his book as much as his book will hold. Goldsmith has done this in his history. Now, Robertson might have put twice as much in his book. Robertson is like a man who has packed gold in wool; the wool

takes up more room than the gold. No, sir, I always thought Robertson would be crushed by his own weight-would be buried under his own ornaments. Goldsmith tells you shortly all you want to know; Robertson detains you a great deal too long. No man will read Robertson's cumbrous detail a second time; but Goldsmith's plain narrative will please again and again. I would say to Robertson what an old tutor of a college said to one of his pupils, "Read over your compositions, and wherever you meet with a passage which you think is particularly fine, strike it out." Goldsmith's abridgment is better than that of Lucius Florus or Eutropius; and I will venture to say, that if you compare him with Vertot, in the same places of the Roman history, you will find that he excels Vertot. Sir, he has the art of compiling, and of saying every thing he has to say in a pleasing manner. He is now writing a natural history, and will make it as entertaining as a Persian tale.”

And is not the judgment of the ponderous and learned critic correct? Ill-natured people said when Goldsmith began his "Animated Nature," he hardly knew the difference between a horse and a cow, or between a turkey and a goose, except on the dinner-table; and that his notions of birds were formed upon the behaviour of the city rooks, which he had long watched in the gardens from his windows in the temple.

If time permitted, I could establish the truth of Johnson's opinion. Entertaining all admit the "Animated Nature" to be, but I would refer to the concluding chapter on the history of the earth, as a specimen of Goldsmith's powers for solemn and philosophical disquisition.