No More Learning

At times he sank into
despondency, but he had what he termed "a knack at hoping," which soon
buoyed him up again. He began now to resort to his poetical vein as a
source of profit, scribbling street-ballads, which he privately sold for
five shillings each at a shop which dealt in such small wares of
literature. He felt an author's affection for these unowned bantlings, and
we are told would stroll privately through the streets at night to hear
them sung, listening to the comments and criticisms of bystanders, and
observing the degree of applause which each received.

Edmund Burke was a fellow-student with Goldsmith at the college. Neither
the statesman nor the poet gave promise of their future celebrity, though
Burke certainly surpassed his contemporary in industry and application, and
evinced more disposition for self-improvement, associating himself with a
number of his fellow-students in a debating club, in which they discussed
literary topics, and exercised themselves in composition.

Goldsmith may likewise have belonged to this association, but his
propensity was rather to mingle with the gay and thoughtless. On one
occasion we find him implicated in an affair that came nigh producing his
expulsion. A report was brought to college that a scholar was in the hands
of the bailiffs. This was an insult in which every gownsman felt himself
involved. A number of the scholars flew to arms, and sallied forth to
battle, headed by a hare-brained fellow nicknamed Gallows Walsh, noted for
his aptness at mischief and fondness for riot. The stronghold of the
bailiff was carried by storm, the scholar set at liberty, and the
delinquent catchpole borne off captive to the college, where, having no
pump to put him under, they satisfied the demands of collegiate law by
ducking him in an old cistern.

Flushed with this signal victory, Gallows Walsh now harangued his
followers, and proposed to break open Newgate, or the Black Dog, as the
prison was called, and effect a general jail delivery. He was answered by
shouts of concurrence, and away went the throng of madcap youngsters, fully
bent upon putting an end to the tyranny of law. They were joined by the mob
of the city, and made an attack upon the prison with true Irish
precipitation and thoughtlessness, never having provided themselves with
cannon to batter its stone walls. A few shots from the prison brought them
to their senses, and they beat a hasty retreat, two of the townsmen being
killed, and several wounded.

A severe scrutiny of this affair took place at the University. Four
students, who had been ringleaders, were expelled; four others, who had
been prominent in the affray, were publicly admonished; among the latter
was the unlucky Goldsmith.

To make up for this disgrace, he gained, within a month afterward, one of
the minor prizes of the college. It is true it was one of the very
smallest, amounting in pecuniary value to but thirty shillings, but it was
the first distinction he had gained in his whole collegiate career. This
turn of success and sudden influx of wealth proved too much for the head of
our poor student. He forthwith gave a supper and dance at his chamber to a
number of young persons of both sexes from the city, in direct violation of
college rules. The unwonted sound of the fiddle reached the ears of the
implacable Wilder. He rushed to the scene of unhallowed festivity,
inflicted corporal punishment on the "father of the feast," and turned his
astonished guests neck and heels out of doors.

This filled the measure of poor Goldsmith's humiliations; he felt degraded
both within college and without. He dreaded the ridicule of his
fellow-students for the ludicrous termination of his orgy, and he was
ashamed to meet his city acquaintances after the degrading chastisement
received in their presence, and after their own ignominious expulsion.
Above all, he felt it impossible to submit any longer to the insulting
tyranny of Wilder; he determined, therefore, to leave, not merely the
college, but also his native land, and to bury what he conceived to be his
irretrievable disgrace in some distant country. He accordingly sold his
books and clothes, and sallied forth from the college walls the very next
day, intending to embark at Cork for--he scarce knew where--America, or any
other part beyond sea. With his usual heedless imprudence, however, he
loitered about Dublin until his finances were reduced to a shilling; with
this amount of specie he set out on his journey.

For three whole days he subsisted on his shilling; when that was spent, he
parted with some of the clothes from his back, until, reduced almost to
nakedness, he was four-and-twenty hours without food, insomuch that he
declared a handful of gray peas, given to him by a girl at a wake, was one
of the most delicious repasts he had ever tasted. Hunger, fatigue, and
destitution brought down his spirit and calmed his anger. Fain would he
have retraced his steps, could he have done so with any salvo for the
lingerings of his pride. In his extremity he conveyed to his brother Henry
information of his distress, and of the rash project on which he had set
out. His affectionate brother hastened to his relief; furnished him with
money and clothes; soothed his feelings with gentle counsel; prevailed upon
him to return to college, and effected an indifferent reconciliation
between him and Wilder.

After this irregular sally upon life he remained nearly two years longer at
the University, giving proofs of talent in occasional translations from the
classics, for one of which he received a premium, awarded only to those who
are the first in literary merit. Still he never made much figure at
college, his natural disinclination to study being increased by the harsh
treatment he continued to experience from his tutor.

Among the anecdotes told of him while at college is one indicative of that
prompt but thoughtless and often whimsical benevolence which throughout
life formed one of the most eccentric yet endearing points of his
character. He was engaged to breakfast one day with a college intimate, but
failed to make his appearance. His friend repaired to his room, knocked at
the door, and was bidden to enter. To his surprise, he found Goldsmith in
his bed, immersed to his chin in feathers. A serio-comic story explained
the circumstance. In the course of the preceding evening's stroll he had
met with a woman with five children, who implored his charity. Her husband
was in the hospital; she was just from the country, a stranger, and
destitute, without food or shelter for her helpless offspring. This was too
much for the kind heart of Goldsmith. He was almost as poor as herself, it
is true, and had no money in his pocket; but he brought her to the college
gate, gave her the blankets from his bed to cover her little brood, and
part of his clothes for her to sell and purchase food; and, finding himself
cold during the night, had cut open his bed and buried himself among the
feathers.

At length, on the 27th of February, 1749, O. S. , he was admitted to the
degree of Bachelor of Arts, and took his final leave of the University. He
was freed from college rule, that emancipation so ardently coveted by the
thoughtless student, and which too generally launches him amid the cares,
the hardships, and vicissitudes of life. He was freed, too, from the brutal
tyranny of Wilder. If his kind and placable nature could retain any
resentment for past injuries, it might have been gratified by learning
subsequently that the passionate career of Wilder was terminated by a
violent death in the course of a dissolute brawl; but Goldsmith took no
delight in the misfortunes even of his enemies.

He now returned to his friends, no longer the student to sport away the
happy interval of vacation, but the anxious man, who is henceforth to shift
for himself and make his way through the world. In fact, he had no
legitimate home to return to. At the death of his father, the paternal
house at Lissoy, in which Goldsmith had passed his childhood, had been
taken by Mr. Hodson, who had married his sister Catherine. His mother had
removed to Ballymahon, where she occupied a small house, and had to
practice the severest frugality. His elder brother Henry served the curacy
and taught the school of his late father's parish, and lived in narrow
circumstances at Goldsmith's birthplace, the old goblin house at Pallas.

None of his relatives were in circumstances to aid him with anything more
than a temporary home, and the aspect of every one seemed somewhat changed.
In fact, his career at college had disappointed his friends, and they began
to doubt his being the great genius they had fancied him. He whimsically
alludes to this circumstance in that piece of autobiography, "The Man in
Black," in the Citizen of the World.

"The first opportunity my father had of finding his expectations
disappointed was in the middling figure I made at the University; he had
flattered himself that he should soon see me rising into the foremost rank
in literary reputation, but was mortified to find me utterly unnoticed and
unknown. His disappointment might have been partly ascribed to his having
overrated my talents, and partly to my dislike of mathematical reasonings
at a time when my imagination and memory, yet unsatisfied, were more eager
after new objects than desirous of reasoning upon those I knew. This,
however, did not please my tutors, who observed, indeed, that I was a
little dull, but at the same time allowed that I seemed to be very
good-natured, and had no harm in me. " [Footnote: Citizen of the World,
Letter xxvii. ]

The only one of his relatives who did not appear to lose faith in him was
his uncle Contarine. This kind and considerate man, it is said, saw in him
a warmth of heart requiring some skill to direct, and a latent genius that
wanted time to mature, and these impressions none of his subsequent follies
and irregularities wholly obliterated. His purse and affection, therefore,
as well as his house, were now open to him, and he became his chief
counselor and director after his father's death. He urged him to prepare
for holy orders, and others of his relatives concurred in the advice.
Goldsmith had a settled repugnance to a clerical life. This has been
ascribed by some to conscientious scruples, not considering himself of a
temper and frame of mind for such a sacred office; others attributed it to
his roving propensities, and his desire to visit foreign countries; he
himself gives a whimsical objection in his biography of the "Man in Black":
"To be obliged to wear a long wig when I liked a short one, or a black coat
when I generally dressed in brown, I thought such a restraint upon my
liberty that I absolutely rejected the proposal. "

In effect, however, his scruples were overruled, and he agreed to qualify
himself for the office. He was now only twenty-one, and must pass two years
of probation. They were two years of rather loitering, unsettled life.
Sometimes he was at Lissoy, participating with thoughtless enjoyment in the
rural sports and occupations of his brother-in-law, Mr. Hodson; sometimes
he was with his brother Henry, at the old goblin mansion at Pallas,
assisting him occasionally in his school. The early marriage and
unambitious retirement of Henry, though so subversive of the fond plans of
his father, had proved happy in their results. He was already surrounded by
a blooming family; he was contented with his lot, beloved by his
parishioners, and lived in the daily practice of all the amiable virtues,
and the immediate enjoyment of their reward. Of the tender affection
inspired in the breast of Goldsmith by the constant kindness of this
excellent brother, and of the longing recollection with which, in the
lonely wanderings of after years, he looked back upon this scene of
domestic felicity, we have a touching instance in the well-known opening to
his poem of The Traveler:

"Remote, unfriended, melancholy, slow,
Or by the lazy Scheld or wandering Po;

"Where'er I roam, whatever realms to see,
My heart untravel'd fondly turns to thee;
Still to my brother turns with ceaseless pain,
And drags at each remove a lengthening chain.

"Eternal blessings crown my earliest friend,
And round his dwelling guardian saints attend;
Bless'd be that spot, where cheerful guests retire
To pause from toil, and trim their evening fire;
Bless'd that abode, where want and pain repair,
And every stranger finds a ready chair:
Bless'd be those feasts with simple plenty crown'd,
Where all the ruddy family around
Laugh at the jests or pranks that never fail,
Or sigh with pity at some mournful tale;
Or press the bashful stranger to his food,
And learn the luxury of doing good. "

During this loitering life Goldsmith pursued no study, but rather amused
himself with miscellaneous reading; such as biography, travels, poetry,
novels, plays--everything, in short, that administered to the imagination.
Sometimes he strolled along the banks of the river Inny, where, in after
years, when he had become famous, his favorite seats and haunts used to be
pointed out. Often he joined in the rustic sports of the villagers, and
became adroit at throwing the sledge, a favorite feat of activity and
strength in Ireland. Recollections of these "healthful sports" we find in
his Deserted Village:

"How often have I bless'd the coming day,
When toil remitting lent its turn to play,
And all the village train, from labor free,
Led up their sports beneath the spreading tree:
And many a gambol frolicked o'er the ground,
And sleights of art and feats of strength went round. "

A boon companion in all his rural amusements was his cousin and college
crony, Robert Bryanton, with whom he sojourned occasionally at Ballymulvey
House in the neighborhood. They used to make excursions about the country
on foot, sometimes fishing, sometimes hunting otter in the Inny. They got
up a country club at the little inn of Ballymahon, of which Goldsmith soon
became the oracle and prime wit, astonishing his unlettered associates by
his learning, and being considered capital at a song and a story. From the
rustic conviviality of the inn at Ballymahon, and the company which used to
assemble there, it is surmised that he took some hints in after life for
his picturing of Tony Lumpkin and his associates: "Dick Muggins, the
exciseman; Jack Slang, the horse doctor; little Aminidab, that grinds the
music-box, and Tom Twist, that spins the pewter platter. " Nay, it is
thought that Tony's drinking song at the Three Jolly Pigeons was but a
revival of one of the convivial catches at Ballymahon:

"Then come put the jorum about,
And let us be merry and clever,
Our hearts and our liquors are stout,
Here's the Three Jolly Pigeons forever.
Let some cry of woodcock or hare,
Your bustards, your ducks, and your widgeons,
But of all the gay birds in the air,
Here's a health to the Three Jolly Pigeons.
Toroddle, toroddle, toroll. "

Notwithstanding all these accomplishments and this rural popularity, his
friends began to shake their heads and shrug their shoulders when they
spoke of him; and his brother Henry noted with anything but satisfaction
his frequent visits to the club at Ballymahon. He emerged, however,
unscathed from this dangerous ordeal, more fortunate in this respect than
his comrade Bryanton; but he retained throughout life a fondness for clubs;
often, too, in the course of his checkered career, he looked back to this
period of rural sports and careless enjoyments as one of the few sunny
spots of his cloudy life; and though he ultimately rose to associate with
birds of a finer feather, his heart would still yearn in secret after the
THREE JOLLY PIGEONS.




CHAPTER THREE

GOLDSMITH REJECTED BY THE BISHOP--SECOND SALLY TO SEE THE WORLD--TAKES
PASSAGE FOR AMERICA--SHIP SAILS WITHOUT HIM--RETURN ON FIDDLE-BACK--A
HOSPITABLE FRIEND--THE COUNSELOR


The time was now arrived for Goldsmith to apply for orders, and he
presented himself accordingly before the Bishop of Elfin for ordination. We
have stated his great objection to clerical life, the obligation to wear a
black coat; and, whimsical as it may appear, dress seems in fact to have
formed an obstacle to his entrance into the church. He had ever a passion
for clothing his sturdy but awkward little person in gay colors; and on
this solemn occasion, when it was to be supposed his garb would be of
suitable gravity, he appeared luminously arrayed in scarlet breeches! He
was rejected by the bishop; some say for want of sufficient studious
preparation; his rambles and frolics with Bob Bryanton, and his revels with
the club at Ballymahon, having been much in the way of his theological
studies; others attribute his rejection to reports of his college
irregularities, which the bishop had received from his old tryant Wilder;
but those who look into the matter with more knowing eyes pronounce the
scarlet breeches to have been the fundamental objection. "My friends," says
Goldsmith, speaking through his humorous representative, the "Man in
Black"--"my friends were now perfectly satisfied I was undone; and yet they
thought it a pity for one that had not the least harm in him, and was so
very good-natured. " His uncle Contarine, however, still remained unwavering
in his kindness, though much less sanguine in his expectations. He now
looked round for a humbler sphere of action, and through his influence and
exertions Oliver was received as tutor in the family of a Mr. Flinn, a
gentleman of the neighborhood. The situation was apparently respectable; he
had his seat at the table, and joined the family in their domestic
recreations and their evening game at cards. There was a servility,
however, in his position, which was not to his taste; nor did his deference
for the family increase upon familiar intercourse. He charged a member of
it with unfair play at cards. A violent altercation ensued, which ended in
his throwing up his situation as tutor. On being paid off he found himself
in possession of an unheard of amount of money. His wandering propensity
and his desire to see the world were instantly in the ascendency. Without
communicating his plans or intentions to his friends, he procured a good
horse, and with thirty pounds in his pocket made his second sally forth
into the world.

The worthy niece and housekeeper of the hero of La Mancha could not have
been more surprised and dismayed at one of the Don's clandestine
expeditions than were the mother and friends of Goldsmith when they heard
of his mysterious departure. Weeks elapsed, and nothing was seen or heard
of him. It was feared that he had left the country on one of his wandering
freaks, and his poor mother was reduced almost to despair, when one day he
arrived at her door almost as forlorn in plight as the prodigal son. Of his
thirty pounds not a shilling was left; and instead of the goodly steed on
which he had issued forth on his errantry, he was mounted on a sorry little
pony, which he had nicknamed Fiddle-back. As soon as his mother was well
assured of his safety, she rated him soundly for his inconsiderate conduct.
His brothers and sisters, who were tenderly attached to him, interfered,
and succeeded in mollifying her ire; and whatever lurking anger the good
dame might have, was no doubt effectually vanquished by the following
whimsical narrative which he drew up at his brother's house and dispatched
to her:

"My dear mother, if you will sit down and calmly listen to what I say, you
shall be fully resolved in every one of those many questions you have asked
me. I went to Cork and converted my horse, which you prize so much higher
than Fiddle-back, into cash, took my passage in a ship bound for America,
and, at the same time, paid the captain for my freight and all the other
expenses of my voyage. But it so happened that the wind did not answer for
three weeks; and you know, mother, that I could not command the elements.
My misfortune was that, when the wind served, I happened to be with a party
in the country, and my friend the captain never inquired after me, but set
sail with as much indifference as if I had been on board. The remainder of
my time I employed in the city and its environs, viewing everything
curious, and you know no one can starve while he has money in his pocket.

"Reduced, however, to my last two guineas, I began to think of my dear
mother and friends whom I had left behind me, and so bought that generous
beast Fiddle-back, and bade adieu to Cork with only five shillings in my
pocket. This, to be sure, was but a scanty allowance for man and horse
toward a journey of above a hundred miles; but I did not despair, for I
knew I must find friends on the road.

"I recollected particularly an old and faithful acquaintance I made at
college, who had often and earnestly pressed me to spend a summer with him,
and he lived but eight miles from Cork. This circumstance of vicinity he
would expatiate on to me with peculiar emphasis. 'We shall,' says he,
'enjoy the delights of both city and country, and you shall command my
stable and my purse. '

"However, upon the way I met a poor woman all in tears, who told me her
husband had been arrested for a debt he was not able to pay, and that his
eight children must now starve, bereaved as they were of his industry,
which had been their only support. I thought myself at home, being not far
from my friend's house, and therefore parted with a moiety of all my store;
and pray, mother, ought I not to have given her the other half crown, for
what she got would be of little use to her? However, I soon arrived at the
mansion of my affectionate friend, guarded by the vigilance of a huge
mastiff, who flew at me and would have torn me to pieces but for the
assistance of a woman, whose countenance was not less grim than that of the
dog; yet she with great humanity relieved me from the jaws of this
Cerberus, and was prevailed on to carry up my name to her master.

"Without suffering me to wait long, my old friend, who was then recovering
from a severe fit of sickness, came down in his nightcap, night-gown, and
slippers, and embraced me with the most cordial welcome, showed me in, and,
after giving me a history of his indisposition, assured me that he
considered himself peculiarly fortunate in having under his roof the man he
most loved on earth, and whose stay with him must, above all things,
contribute to perfect his recovery. I now repented sorely I had not given
the poor woman the other half crown, as I thought all my bills of humanity
would be punctually answered by this worthy man. I revealed to him my whole
soul; I opened to him all my distresses; and freely owned that I had but
one half crown in my pocket; but that now, like a ship after weathering out
the storm, I considered myself secure in a safe and hospitable harbor. He
made no answer, but walked about the room, rubbing his hands as one in deep
study. This I imputed to the sympathetic feelings of a tender heart, which
increased my esteem for him, and, as that increased, I gave the most
favorable interpretation to his silence. I construed it into delicacy of
sentiment, as if he dreaded to wound my pride by expressing his
commiseration in words, leaving his generous conduct to speak for itself.

"It now approached six o'clock in the evening; and as I had eaten no
breakfast, and as my spirits were raised, my appetite for dinner grew
uncommonly keen. At length the old woman came into the room with two
plates, one spoon, and a dirty cloth, which she laid upon the table. This
appearance, without increasing my spirits, did not diminish my appetite. My
protectress soon returned with a small bowl of sago, a small porringer of
sour milk, a loaf of stale brown bread, and the heel of an old cheese all
over crawling with mites. My friend apologized that his illness obliged him
to live on slops, and that better fare was not in the house; observing, at
the same time, that a milk diet was certainly the most healthful; and at
eight o'clock he again recommended a regular life, declaring that for his
part he would _lie down with the lamb and rise with the lark_. My
hunger was at this time so exceedingly sharp that I wished for another
slice of the loaf, but was obliged to go to bed without even that
refreshment.

"This lenten entertainment I had received made me resolve to depart as soon
as possible; accordingly, next morning, when I spoke of going, he did not
oppose my resolution; he rather commended my design, adding some very sage
counsel upon the occasion. 'To be sure,' said he, 'the longer you stay away
from your mother, the more you will grieve her and your other friends; and
possibly they are already afflicted at hearing of this foolish expedition
you have made. ' Notwithstanding all this, and without any hope of softening
such a sordid heart, I again renewed the tale of my distress, and asking
'how he thought I could travel above a hundred miles upon one half crown? '
I begged to borrow a single guinea, which I assured him should be repaid
with thanks. 'And you know, sir,' said I, 'it is no more than I have done
for you. ' To which he firmly answered, 'Why, look you, Mr. Goldsmith, that
is neither here nor there. I have paid you all you ever lent me, and this
sickness of mine has left me bare of cash. But I have bethought myself of a
conveyance for you; sell your horse, and I will furnish you a much better
one to ride on. ' I readily grasped at his proposal, and begged to see the
nag; on which he led me to his bedchamber, and from under the bed he pulled
out a stout oak stick. 'Here he is,' said he; 'take this in your hand, and
it will carry you to your mother's with more safety than such a horse as
you ride. ' I was in doubt, when I got it into my hand, whether I should
not, in the first place, apply it to his pate; but a rap at the street door
made the wretch fly to it, and when I returned to the parlor, he introduced
me, as if nothing of the kind had happened, to the gentleman who entered,
as Mr. Goldsmith, his most ingenious and worthy friend, of whom he had so
often heard him speak with rapture. I could scarcely compose myself, and
must have betrayed indignation in my mien to the stranger, who was a
counselor-at-law in the neighborhood, a man of engaging aspect and polite
address.

"After spending an hour, he asked my friend and me to dine with him at his
house. This I declined at first, as I wished to have no further
communication with my hospitable friend; but at the solicitation of both I
at last consented, determined as I was by two motives: one, that I was
prejudiced in favor of the looks and manner of the counselor; and the
other, that I stood in need of a comfortable dinner. And there, indeed, I
found everything that I could wish, abundance without profusion and
elegance without affectation. In the evening, when my old friend, who had
eaten very plentifully at his neighbor's table, but talked again of lying
down with the lamb, made a motion to me for retiring, our generous host
requested I should take a bed with him, upon which I plainly told my old
friend that he might go home and take care of the horse he had given me,
but that I should never re-enter his doors. He went away with a laugh,
leaving me to add this to the other little things the counselor already
knew of his plausible neighbor.

"And now, my dear mother, I found sufficient to reconcile me to all my
follies; for here I spent three whole days. The counselor had two sweet
girls to his daughters, who played enchantingly on the harpsichord; and yet
it was but a melancholy pleasure I felt the first time I heard them; for
that being the first time also that either of them had touched the
instrument since their mother's death, I saw the tears in silence trickle
down their father's cheeks. I every day endeavored to go away, but every
day was pressed and obliged to stay. On my going, the counselor offered me
his purse, with a horse and servant to convey me home; but the latter I
declined, and only took a guinea to bear my necessary expenses on the road.

"OLIVER GOLDSMITH.

"To Mrs. Anne Goldsmith, Ballymahon. "

* * * * *

Such is the story given by the poet-errant of this his second sally in
quest of adventures. We cannot but think it was here and there touched up a
little with the fanciful pen of the future essayist, with a view to amuse
his mother and soften her vexation; but even in these respects it is
valuable as showing the early play of his humor, and his happy knack of
extracting sweets from that worldly experience which to others yields
nothing but bitterness.




CHAPTER FOUR

SALLIES FORTH AS A LAW STUDENT--STUMBLES AT THE OUTSET--COUSIN JANE AND THE
VALENTINE--A FAMILY ORACLE--SALLIES FORTH AS A STUDENT OF
MEDICINE--HOCUS-POCUS OF A BOARDING-HOUSE--TRANSFORMATIONS OF A LEG OF
MUTTON--THE MOCK GHOST--SKETCHES OF SCOTLAND--TRIALS OF TOADYISM--A POET'S
PURSE FOR A CONTINENTAL TOUR


A new consultation was held among Goldsmith's friends as to his future
course, and it was determined he should try the law. His uncle Contarine
agreed to advance the necessary funds, and actually furnished him with
fifty pounds, with which he set off for London, to enter on his studies at
the Temple. Unfortunately, he fell in company at Dublin with a Roscommon
acquaintance, one whose wits had been sharpened about town, who beguiled
him into a gambling-house, and soon left him as penniless as when he
bestrode the redoubtable Fiddle-back.

He was so ashamed of this fresh instance of gross heedlessness and
imprudence that he remained some time in Dublin without communicating to
his friends his destitute condition. They heard of it, however, and he was
invited back to the country, and indulgently forgiven by his generous
uncle, but less readily by his mother, who was mortified and disheartened
at seeing all her early hopes of him so repeatedly blighted. His brother
Henry, too, began to lose patience at these successive failures, resulting
from thoughtless indiscretion; and a quarrel took place, which for some
time interrupted their usually affectionate intercourse.

The only home where poor erring Goldsmith still received a welcome was the
parsonage of his affectionate, forgiving uncle. Here he used to talk of
literature with the good, simple-hearted man, and delight him and his
daughter with his verses. Jane, his early playmate, was now the woman
grown; their intercourse was of a more intellectual kind than formerly;
they discoursed of poetry and music; she played on the harpsichord, and he
accompanied her with his flute. The music may not have been very artistic,
as he never performed but by ear; it had probably as much merit as the
poetry, which, if we may judge by the following specimen, was as yet but
juvenile:

TO A YOUNG LADY ON VALENTINE'S DAY

WITH THE DRAWING OF A HEART

With submission at your shrine,
Comes a heart your Valentine;
From the side where once it grew,
See it panting flies to you.
Take it, fair one, to your breast,
Soothe the fluttering thing to rest;
Let the gentle, spotless toy,
Be your sweetest, greatest joy;
Every night when wrapp'd in sleep,
Next your heart the conquest keep.
Or if dreams your fancy move,
Hear it whisper me and love;
Then in pity to the swain,
Who must heartless else remain,
Soft as gentle dewy show'rs,
Slow descend on April flow'rs;
Soft as gentle riv'lets glide,
Steal unnoticed to my side;
If the gem you have to spare,
Take your own and place it there.

If this valentine was intended for the fair Jane, and expressive of a
tender sentiment indulged by the stripling poet, it was unavailing, as not
long afterward she was married to a Mr. Lawder. We trust, however, it was
but a poetical passion of that transient kind which grows up in idleness
and exhales itself in rhyme. While Oliver was thus piping and poetizing at
the parsonage, his uncle Contarine received a visit from Dean Goldsmith of
Cloyne; a kind of magnate in the wide but improvident family connection,
throughout which his word was law and almost gospel. This august dignitary
was pleased to discover signs of talent in Oliver, and suggested that as he
had attempted divinity and law without success, he should now try physic.
The advice came from too important a source to be disregarded, and it was
determined to send him to Edinburgh to commence his studies. The Dean
having given the advice, added to it, we trust, his blessing, but no money;
that was furnished from the scantier purses of Goldsmith's brother, his
sister (Mrs. Hodson), and his ever-ready uncle, Contarine.

It was in the autumn of 1752 that Goldsmith arrived in Edinburgh. His
outset in that city came near adding to the list of his indiscretions and
disasters. Having taken lodgings at haphazard, he left his trunk there,
containing all his worldly effects, and sallied forth to see the town.
After sauntering about the streets until a late hour, he thought of
returning home, when, to his confusion, he found he had not acquainted
himself with the name either of his landlady or of the street in which she
lived. Fortunately, in the height of his whimsical perplexity, he met the
cawdy or porter who had carried his trunk, and who now served him as a
guide.

He did not remain long in the lodgings in which he had put up. The hostess
was too adroit at that hocus-pocus of the table which often is practiced in
cheap boarding-houses. No one could conjure a single joint through a
greater variety of forms. A loin of mutton, according to Goldsmith's
account, would serve him and two fellow-students a whole week. "A brandered
chop was served up one day, a fried steak another, collops with onion sauce
a third, and so on until the fleshy parts were quite consumed, when finally
a dish of broth was manufactured from the bones on the seventh day, and the
landlady rested from her labors. " Goldsmith had a good-humored mode of
taking things, and for a short time amused himself with the shifts and
expedients of his landlady, which struck him in a ludicrous manner; he
soon, however, fell in with fellow-students from his own country, whom he
joined at more eligible quarters.

He now attended medical lectures, and attached himself to an association of
students called the Medical Society. He set out, as usual, with the best
intentions, but, as usual, soon fell into idle, convivial, thoughtless
habits. Edinburgh was indeed a place of sore trial for one of his
temperament. Convivial meetings were all the vogue, and the tavern was the
universal rallying-place of good-fellowship. And then Goldsmith's
intimacies lay chiefly among the Irish students, who were always ready for
a wild freak and frolic.
Among them he was a prime favorite and somewhat of
a leader, from his exuberance of spirits, his vein of humor, and his talent
at singing an Irish song and telling an Irish story.

His usual carelessness in money matters attended him. Though his supplies
from home were scanty and irregular, he never could bring himself into
habits of prudence and economy; often he was stripped of all his present
finances at play; often he lavished them away in fits of unguarded charity
or generosity. Sometimes among his boon companions he assumed a ludicrous
swagger in money matters, which no one afterward was more ready than
himself to laugh at. At a convivial meeting with a number of his
fellow-students, he suddenly proposed to draw lots with any one present
which of the two should treat the whole party to the play. The moment the
proposition had bolted from his lips his heart was in his throat. "To my
great though secret joy," said he, "they all declined the challenge. Had it
been accepted, and had I proved the loser, a part of my wardrobe must have
been pledged in order to raise the money. "

At another of these meetings there was an earnest dispute on the question
of ghosts, some being firm believers in the possibility of departed spirits
returning to visit their friends and familiar haunts. One of the disputants
set sail the next day for London, but the vessel put back through the
stress of weather. His return was unknown except to one of the believers in
ghosts, who concerted with him a trick to be played off on the opposite
party. In the evening, at a meeting of the students, the discussion was
renewed; and one of the most strenuous opposers of ghosts was asked whether
he considered himself proof against ocular demonstration? He persisted in
his scoffing. Some solemn process of conjuration was performed, and the
comrade supposed to be on his way to London made his appearance. The effect
was fatal. The unbeliever fainted at the sight, and ultimately went mad. We
have no account of what share Goldsmith took in this transaction, at which
he was present.

The following letter to his friend Bryanton contains some of Goldsmith's
impressions concerning Scotland and its inhabitants, and gives indications
of that humor which characterized some of his later writings.

"_Robert Bryanton, at Ballymahon, Ireland_.

"EDINBURGH, September 26, 1753.

"MY DEAR BOB--How many good excuses (and you know I was ever good at an
excuse) might I call up to vindicate my past shameful silence. I might tell
how I wrote a long letter on my first coming hither, and seem vastly angry
at my not receiving an answer; I might allege that business (with business
you know I was always pestered) had never given me time to finger a pen.
But I suppress those and twenty more as plausible, and as easily invented,
since they might be attended with a slight inconvenience of being known to
be lies. Let me then speak truth. An hereditary indolence (I have it from
the mother's side) has hitherto prevented my writing to you, and still
prevents my writing at least twenty-five letters more, due to my friends in
Ireland. No turn-spit-dog gets up into his wheel with more reluctance than
I sit down to write; yet no dog ever loved the roast meat he turns better
than I do him I now address.

"Yet what shall I say now I am entered? Shall I tire you with a description
of this unfruitful country; where I must lead you over their hills all
brown with heath, or their valleys scarcely able to feed a rabbit? Man
alone seems to be the only creature who has arrived to the natural size in
this poor soil. Every part of the country presents the same dismal
landscape. No grove, nor brook, lend their music to cheer the stranger, or
make the inhabitants forget their poverty. Yet with all these disadvantages
to call him down to humility, a Scotchman is one of the proudest things
alive. The poor have pride ever ready to relieve them. If mankind should
happen to despise them, they are masters of their own admiration, and that
they can plentifully bestow upon themselves.

"From their pride and poverty, as I take it, results one advantage this
country enjoys--namely, the gentlemen here are much better bred than among
us. No such character here as our fox-hunters; and they have expressed
great surprise when I informed them that some men in Ireland of one
thousand pounds a year spend their whole lives in running after a hare, and
drinking to be drunk. Truly if such a being, equipped in his hunting dress,
came among a circle of Scotch gentry, they would behold him with the same
astonishment that a countryman does King George on horseback.

"The men here have generally high cheek bones, and are lean and swarthy,
fond of action, dancing in particular. Now that I have mentioned dancing,
let me say something of their balls, which are very frequent here. When a
stranger enters the dancing-hall, he sees one end of the room taken up by
the ladies, who sit dismally in a group by themselves; in the other end
stand their pensive partners that are to be; but no more intercourse
between the sexes than there is between two countries at war. The ladies
indeed may ogle, and the gentlemen sigh; but an embargo is laid on any
closer commerce. At length, to interrupt hostilities, the lady directress,
or intendant, or what you will, pitches upon a lady and gentleman to walk a
minuet; which they perform with a formality that approaches to despondence.
After five or six couple have thus walked the gantlet, all stand up to
country dances; each gentleman furnished with a partner from the aforesaid
lady directress; so they dance much, say nothing, and thus concludes our
assembly. I told a Scotch gentleman that such profound silence resembled
the ancient procession of the Roman matrons in honor of Ceres; and the
Scotch gentleman told me (and, faith, I believe he was right) that I was a
very great pedant for my pains.

"Now I am come to the ladies; and to show that I love Scotland, and
everything that belongs to so charming a country, I insist on it, and will
give him leave to break my head that denies it--that the Scotch ladies are
ten thousand times finer and handsomer than the Irish. To be sure, now, I
see your sisters Betty and Peggy vastly surprised at my partiality--but
tell them flatly, I don't value them--or their fine skins, or eyes, or good
sense, or----, a potato;--for I say, and will maintain it; and as a
convincing proof (I am in a great passion) of what I assert, the Scotch
ladies say it themselves. But to be less serious; where will you find a
language so prettily become a pretty mouth as the broad Scotch? And the
women here speak it in its highest purity; for instance, teach one of your
young ladies at home to pronounce the 'Whoar wull I gong? ' with a becoming
widening of mouth, and I'll lay my life they'll wound every hearer.

"We have no such character here as a coquette, but alas! how many envious
prudes! Some days ago I walked into my Lord Kilcoubry's (don't be
surprised, my lord is but a glover), [Footnote: William Maclellan, who
claimed the title, and whose son succeeded in establishing the claim in
1773. The father is said to have voted at the election of the sixteen Peers
for Scotland, and to have sold gloves in the lobby at this and other public
assemblages. ] when the Duchess of Hamilton (that fair who sacrificed her
beauty to her ambition, and her inward peace to a title and gilt equipage)
passed by in her chariot; her battered husband, or more properly the
guardian of her charms, sat by her side. Straight envy began, in the shape
of no less than three ladies who sat with me, to find faults in her
faultless form. --'For my part,' says the first, 'I think what I always
thought, that the duchess has too much of the red in her complexion. '
'Madam, I am of your opinion,' says the second; 'I think her face has a
palish cast too much on the delicate order. ' 'And let me tell you,' added
the third lady, whose mouth was puckered up to the size of an issue, 'that
the duchess has fine lips, but she wants a mouth. '--At this every lady drew
up her mouth as if going to pronounce the letter P.

"But how ill, my Bob, does it become me to ridicule women with whom I have
scarcely any correspondence! There are, 'tis certain, handsome women here;
and 'tis certain they have handsome men to keep them company. An ugly and
poor man is society only for himself, and such society the world lets me
enjoy in great abundance. Fortune has given you circumstances, and nature a
person to look charming in the eyes of the fair. Nor do I envy my dear Bob
such blessings, while I may sit down and laugh at the world and at
myself--the most ridiculous object in it. But you see I am grown downright
splenetic, and perhaps the fit may continue till I receive an answer to
this. I know you cannot send me much news from Ballymahon, but such as it
is, send it all; everything you send will be agreeable to me.

"Has George Conway put up a sign yet; or John Binley left off drinking
drams; or Tom Allen got a new wig? But I leave you to your own choice what
to write. While I live, know you have a true friend in yours, etc. , etc.

"OLIVER GOLDSMITH.

"P. S. --Give my sincere respects (not compliments, do you mind) to your
agreeable family, and give my service to my mother, if you see her; for, as
you express it in Ireland, I have a sneaking kindness for her still. Direct
to me, ----, Student in Physic, in Edinburgh. "

Nothing worthy of preservation appeared from his pen during his residence
in Edinburgh; and indeed his poetical powers, highly as they had been
estimated by his friends, had not as yet produced anything of superior
merit. He made on one occasion a month's excursion to the Highlands. "I set
out the first day on foot," says he, in a letter to his uncle Contarine,
"but an ill-natured corn I have on my toe has for the future prevented that
cheap mode of traveling; so the second day I hired a horse about the size
of a ram, and he walked away (trot he could not) as pensive as his master. "

During his residence in Scotland his convivial talents gained him at one
time attentions in a high quarter, which, however, he had the good sense to
appreciate correctly. "I have spent," says he, in one of his letters, "more
than a fortnight every second day at the Duke of Hamilton's; but it seems
they like me more as a jester than as a companion, so I disdained so
servile an employment as unworthy my calling as a physician. " Here we again
find the origin of another passage in his autobiography, under the
character of the "Man in Black," wherein that worthy figures as a flatterer
to a great man. "At first," says he, "I was surprised that the situation of
a flatterer at a great man's table could be thought disagreeable; there was
no great trouble in listening attentively when his lordship spoke, and
laughing when he looked round for applause. This, even good manners might
have obliged me to perform. I found, however, too soon, his lordship was a
greater dunce than myself, and from that moment flattery was at an end. I
now rather aimed at setting him right, than at receiving his absurdities
with submission: to flatter those we do not know is an easy task; but to
flatter our intimate acquaintances, all whose foibles are strongly in our
eyes, is drudgery insupportable. Every time I now opened my lips in praise,
my falsehood went to my conscience; his lordship soon perceived me to be
very unfit for his service: I was therefore discharged; my patron at the
same time being graciously pleased to observe that he believed I was
tolerably good-natured, and had not the least harm in me. "

After spending two winters at Edinburgh, Goldsmith prepared to finish his
medical studies on the Continent, for which his uncle Contarine agreed to
furnish the funds. "I intend," said he, in a letter to his uncle, "to visit
Paris, where the great Farheim, Petit, and Du Hammel de Monceau instruct
their pupils in all the branches of medicine. They speak French, and
consequently I shall have much the advantage of most of my countrymen, as I
am perfectly acquainted with that language, and few who leave Ireland are
so. I shall spend the spring and summer in Paris, and the beginning of next
winter go to Leyden. The great Albinus is still alive there, and 'twill be
proper to go, though only to have it said that we have studied in so famous
a university.

"As I shall not have another opportunity of receiving money from your
bounty till my return to Ireland, so I have drawn for the last sum that I
hope I shall ever trouble you for; 'tis £20. And now, dear sir, let me here
acknowledge the humility of the station in which you found me; let me tell
how I was despised by most, and hateful to myself. Poverty, hopeless
poverty, was my lot, and Melancholy was beginning to make me her own. When
you--but I stop here, to inquire how your health goes on? How does my
cousin Jenny, and has she recovered her late complaint? How does my poor
Jack Goldsmith? I fear his disorder is of such a nature as he won't easily
recover. I wish, my dear sir, you would make me happy by another letter
before I go abroad, for there I shall hardly hear from you. . . . Give my--how
shall I express it? Give my earnest love to Mr. and Mrs. Lawder. "

Mrs. Lawder was Jane, his early playmate--the object of his valentine--his
first poetical inspiration. She had been for some time married.

Medical instruction, it will be perceived, was the ostensible motive for
this visit to the Continent, but the real one, in all probability, was his
long-cherished desire to see foreign parts. This, however, he would not
acknowledge even to himself, but sought to reconcile his roving
propensities with some grand moral purpose. "I esteem the traveler who
instructs the heart," says he, in one of his subsequent writings, "but
despise him who only indulges the imagination. A man who leaves home to
mend himself and others is a philosopher; but he who goes from country to
country, guided by the blind impulse of curiosity, is only a vagabond. " He,
of course, was to travel as a philosopher, and in truth his outfits for a
continental tour were in character. "I shall carry just £33 to France,"
said he, "with good store of clothes, shirts, etc. , and that with economy
will suffice. " He forgot to make mention of his flute, which it will be
found had occasionally to come in play when economy could not replenish his
purse, nor philosophy find him a supper. Thus slenderly provided with
money, prudence, or experience, and almost as slightly guarded against
"hard knocks" as the hero of La Mancha, whose head-piece was half iron,
half pasteboard, he made his final sally forth upon the world; hoping all
things; believing all things; little anticipating the checkered ills in
store for him; little thinking when he penned his valedictory letter to his
good uncle Contarine that he was never to see him more; never to return
after all his wandering to the friend of his infancy; never to revisit his
early and fondly-remembered haunts at "sweet Lissoy" and Ballymahon.




CHAPTER FIVE

THE AGREEABLE FELLOW-PASSENGERS--RISKS FROM FRIENDS PICKED UP BY THE
WAYSIDE--SKETCHES OF HOLLAND AND THE DUTCH--SHIFTS WHILE A POOR STUDENT AT
LEYDEN--THE TULIP SPECULATION--THE PROVIDENT FLUTE--SOJOURN AT
PARIS--SKETCH OF VOLTAIRE--TRAVELING SHIFTS OF A PHILOSOPHIC VAGABOND


His usual indiscretion attended Goldsmith at the very outset of his foreign
enterprise. He had intended to take shipping at Leith for Holland, but on
arriving at that port he found a ship about to sail for Bordeaux, with six
agreeable passengers, whose acquaintance he had probably made at the inn.
He was not a man to resist a sudden impulse; so, instead of embarking for
Holland, he found himself plowing the seas on his way to the other side of
the Continent. Scarcely had the ship been two days at sea when she was
driven by stress of weather to Newcastle-upon-Tyne. Here "of course"
Goldsmith and his agreeable fellow-passengers found it expedient to go on
shore and "refresh themselves after the fatigues of the voyage. " "Of
course" they frolicked and made merry until a late hour in the evening,
when, in the midst of their hilarity, the door was burst open, and a
sergeant and twelve grenadiers entered with fixed bayonets, and took the
whole convivial party prisoners.

It seems that the agreeable companions with whom our greenhorn had struck
up such a sudden intimacy were Scotchmen in the French service, who had
been in Scotland enlisting recruits for the French army.

In vain Goldsmith protested his innocence; he was marched off with his
fellow-revelers to prison, whence he with difficulty obtained his release
at the end of a fortnight. With his customary facility, however, at
palliating his misadventures, he found everything turn out for the best.
His imprisonment saved his life, for during his detention the ship
proceeded on her voyage, but was wrecked at the mouth of the Garonne, and
all on board perished.

Goldsmith's second embarkation was for Holland direct, and in nine days he
arrived at Rotterdam, whence he proceeded, without any more deviations, to
Leyden. He gives a whimsical picture, in one of his letters, of the
appearance of the Hollanders. "The modern Dutchman is quite a different
creature from him of former times; he in everything imitates a Frenchman
but in his easy, disengaged air. He is vastly ceremonious, and is, perhaps,
exactly what a Frenchman might have been in the reign of Louis XIV. Such
are the better bred. But the downright Hollander is one of the oddest
figures in nature. Upon a lank head of hair he wears a half-cocked narrow
hat, laced with black ribbon; no coat, but seven waistcoats and nine pair
of breeches, so that his hips reach up almost to his armpits. This
well-clothed vegetable is now fit to see company or make love. But what a
pleasing creature is the object of his appetite! why, she wears a large fur
cap, with a deal of Flanders lace; and for every pair of breeches he
carries, she puts on two petticoats.

"A Dutch lady burns nothing about her phlegmatic admirer but his tobacco.
You must know, sir, every woman carries in her hand a stove of coals,
which, when she sits, she snugs under her petticoats, and at this chimney
dozing Strephon lights his pipe. "

In the same letter, he contrasts Scotland and Holland. "There hills and
rocks intercept every prospect; here it is all a continued plain. There you
might see a well-dressed duchess issuing from a dirty close, and here a
dirty Dutchman inhabiting a palace. The Scotch may be compared to a tulip,
planted in dung; but I can never see a Dutchman in his own house but I
think of a magnificent Egyptian temple dedicated to an ox. "

The country itself awakened his admiration. "Nothing," said he, "can equal
its beauty; wherever I turn my eyes, fine houses, elegant gardens, statues,
grottoes, vistas, present themselves; but when you enter their towns you
are charmed beyond description. No misery is to be seen here; every one is
usefully employed. " And again, in his noble description in The Traveler:

"To men of other minds my fancy flies,
Imbosom'd in the deep where Holland lies.
Methinks her patient sons before me stand,
Where the broad ocean leans against the land,
And, sedulous to stop the coming tide,
Lift the tall rampire's artificial pride.
Onward, methinks, and diligently slow,
The firm connected bulwark seems to grow;
Spreads its long arms amid the watery roar,
Scoops out an empire, and usurps the shore.
While the pent ocean, rising o'er the pile,
Sees an amphibious world before him smile;
The slow canal, the yellow blossom'd vale,
The willow-tufted bank, the gliding sail,
The crowded mart, the cultivated plain,
A new creation rescued from his reign. "

He remained about a year at Leyden, attending the lectures of Gaubius on
chemistry and Albinus on anatomy; though his studies are said to have been
miscellaneous, and directed to literature rather than science. The
thirty-three pounds with which he had set out on his travels were soon
consumed, and he was put to many a shift to meet his expenses until his
precarious remittances should arrive. He had a good friend on these
occasions in a fellow-student and countryman, named Ellis, who afterward
rose to eminence as a physician. He used frequently to loan small sums to
Goldsmith, which were always scrupulously paid. Ellis discovered the innate
merits of the poor awkward student, and used to declare in after life that
"it was a common remark in Leyden, that in all the peculiarities of
Goldsmith, an elevation of mind was to be noted; a philosophical tone and
manner; the feelings of a gentleman, and the language and information of a
scholar. "

Sometimes, in his emergencies, Goldsmith undertook to teach the English
language. It is true he was ignorant of the Dutch, but he had a smattering
of the French, picked up among the Irish priests at Ballymahon. He depicts
his whimsical embarrassment in this respect, in his account in the Vicar of
Wakefield of the _philosophical vagabond_ who went to Holland to teach
the natives English, without knowing a word of their own language.
Sometimes, when sorely pinched, and sometimes, perhaps, when flush, he
resorted to the gambling tables, which in those days abounded in Holland.
His good friend Ellis repeatedly warned him against this unfortunate
propensity, but in vain. It brought its own cure, or rather its own
punishment, by stripping him of every shilling.

Ellis once more stepped in to his relief with a true Irishman's generosity,
but with more considerateness than generally characterizes an Irishman, for
he only granted pecuniary aid on condition of his quitting the sphere of
danger. Goldsmith gladly consented to leave Holland, being anxious to visit
other parts. He intended to proceed to Paris and pursue his studies there,
and was furnished by his friend with money for the journey. Unluckily, he
rambled into the garden of a florist just before quitting Leyden. The tulip
mania was still prevalent in Holland, and some species of that splendid
flower brought immense prices. In wandering through the garden Goldsmith
recollected that his uncle Contarine was a tulip fancier. The thought
suddenly struck him that here was an opportunity of testifying, in a
delicate manner, his sense of that generous uncle's past kindnesses. In an
instant his hand was in his pocket; a number of choice and costly
tulip-roots were purchased and packed up for Mr. Contarine; and it was not
until he had paid for them that he bethought himself that he had spent all
the money borrowed for his traveling expenses. Too proud, however, to give
up his journey, and too shamefaced to make another appeal to his friend's
liberality, he determined to travel on foot, and depend upon chance and
good luck for the means of getting forward; and it is said that he actually
set off on a tour of the Continent, in February, 1775, with but one spare
shirt, a flute, and a single guinea.

"Blessed," says one of his biographers, "with a good constitution, an
adventurous spirit, and with that thoughtless, or, perhaps, happy
disposition which takes no care for to-morrow, he continued his travels for
a long time in spite of innumerable privations. " In his amusing narrative
of the adventures of a "Philosophic Vagabond" in the Vicar of Wakefield, we
find shadowed out the expedients he pursued. "I had some knowledge of
music, with a tolerable voice; I now turned what was once my amusement into
a present means of subsistence. I passed among the harmless peasants of
Flanders, and among such of the French as were poor enough to be very
merry, for I ever found them sprightly in proportion to their wants.
Whenever I approached a peasant's house toward nightfall, I played one of
my merriest tunes, and that procured me not only a lodging, but subsistence
for the next day; but in truth I must own, whenever I attempted to
entertain persons of a higher rank, they always thought my performance
odious, and never made me any return for my endeavors to please them. "

At Paris he attended the chemical lectures of Rouelle, then in great vogue,
where he says he witnessed as bright a circle of beauty as graced the court
of Versailles. His love of theatricals, also, led him to attend the
performances of the celebrated actress Mademoiselle Clairon, with which he
was greatly delighted. He seems to have looked upon the state of society
with the eye of a philosopher, but to have read the signs of the times with
the prophetic eye of a poet. In his rambles about the environs of Paris he
was struck with the immense quantities of game running about almost in a
tame state; and saw in those costly and rigid preserves for the amusement
and luxury of the privileged few a sure "badge of the slavery of the
people. " This slavery he predicted was drawing toward a close. "When I
consider that these parliaments, the members of which are all created by
the court, and the presidents of which can only act by immediate direction,
presume even to mention privileges and freedom, who till of late received
directions from the throne with implicit humility; when this is considered,
I cannot help fancying that the genius of Freedom has entered that kingdom
in disguise. If they have but three weak monarchs more successively on the
throne, the mask will be laid aside and the country will certainly once
more be free. " Events have testified to the sage forecast of the poet.

During a brief sojourn in Paris he appears to have gained access to
valuable society, and to have had the honor and pleasure of making the
acquaintance of Voltaire; of whom, in after years, he wrote a memoir. "As a
companion," says he, "no man ever exceeded him when he pleased to lead the
conversation; which, however, was not always the case. In company which he
either disliked or despised, few could be more reserved than he; but when
he was warmed in discourse, and got over a hesitating manner, which
sometimes he was subject to, it was rapture to hear him. His meager visage
seemed insensibly to gather beauty; every muscle in it had meaning, and his
eye beamed with unusual brightness. The person who writes this memoir,"
continues he, "remembers to have seen him in a select company of wits of
both sexes at Paris, when the subject happened to turn upon English taste
and learning. Fontenelle (then nearly a hundred years old), who was of the
party, and who being unacquainted with the language or authors of the
country he undertook to condemn, with a spirit truly vulgar began to revile
both. Diderot, who liked the English, and knew something of their literary
pretensions, attempted to vindicate their poetry and learning, but with
unequal abilities. The company quickly perceived that Fontenelle was
superior in the dispute, and were surprised at the silence which Voltaire
had preserved all the former part of the night, particularly as the
conversation happened to turn upon one of his favorite topics. Fontenelle
continued his triumph until about twelve o'clock, when Voltaire appeared at
last roused from his reverie. His whole frame seemed animated. He began his
defense with the utmost defiance mixed with spirit, and now and then let
fall the finest strokes of raillery upon his antagonist; and his harangue
lasted till three in the morning. I must confess that, whether from
national partiality or from the elegant sensibility of his manner, I never
was so charmed, nor did I ever remember so absolute a victory as he gained
in this dispute. "

Goldsmith's ramblings took him into Germany and Switzerland, from which
last mentioned country he sent to his brother in Ireland the first brief
sketch, afterward amplified into his poem of The Traveler.

At Geneva he became traveling tutor to a mongrel young gentleman, son of a
London pawnbroker, who had been suddenly elevated into fortune and
absurdity by the death of an uncle. The youth, before setting up for a
gentleman, had been an attorney's apprentice, and was an arrant pettifogger
in money matters. Never were two beings more illy assorted than he and
Goldsmith.