"The absurdity of making hay at Christmas you yourself seem sensible of: you say your sister will laugh; and so indeed she well may! The Latins have an expression for a contemptuous kind of laughter, 'naso contemnere adunco;' that is, to laugh with a crooked nose. She may laugh at you in the manner of the ancients if she thinks fit. But now I come to the most extraordinary of all extraordinary propositions, which is, to take your and your sister's advice in playing at loo. The presumption of the offer raises my indignation beyond the bounds of prose; it inspires me at once with verse and resentment. I take advice! and from whom? You shall hear.

"First let me suppose, what may shortly be true,
The company set, and the word to be Loo:

All smirking, and pleasant, and big with adventure,
And ogling the stake which is fix'd in the centre.

Round and round go the cards, while I inwardly damn
At never once finding a visit from Pam.

I lay down my stake, apparently cool,

While the harpies about me all pocket the pool.

I fret in my gizzard, yet, cautious and sly,

I wish all my friends may be bolder than I:
Yet still they sit snug, not a creature will aim
By losing their money to venture at fame.
'Tis in vain that at niggardly caution I scold,
"Tis in vain that I flatter the brave and the bold:

All play their own way, and they think me an ass,

'What does Mrs. Bunbury?' . . . 'I, sir? I pass.'

'Pray what does Miss Horneck? take courage, come do,' .
'Who, I? let me see, sir, why I must pass too.'

Mr. Bunbury frets, and I fret like the devil,

To see them so cowardly, lucky, and civil.

Yet still I sit snug, and continue to sigh on,

Till, made by my losses as bold as a lion,

I venture at all, while my avarice regards

The whole pool as my own. . . . 'Come give me five cards.'
'Well done!' cry the ladies; 'Ah, Doctor, that's good!

The pool's very rich, . . . ah! the Doctor is loo'd!'

Thus foil'd in my courage, on all sides perplext,

I ask for advice from the lady that's next:

'Pray, ma'am, be so good as to give your advice;

Don't you think the best way is to venture for't twice?'
'I advise,' cries the lady,
'Ah! the Doctor is loo'd!

...

to try it, I own.
Come, Doctor, put down.'

Thus, playing, and playing, I still grow more eager,
And so bold, and so bold, I'm at last a bold beggar.

Now, ladies, I ask, if law-matters you're skill'd in,

Whether crimes such as yours should not come before Fielding:
For giving advice that is not worth a straw,

May well be call'd picking of pockets in law;

And picking of pockets, with which I now charge ye,

Is, by quinto Elizabeth, Death without Clergy.

What justice, when both to the Old Bailey brought!
By the gods, I'll enjoy it, tho' 'tis but in thought!
Both are plac' at the bar, with all proper decorum,
With bunches of fennel, and nosegays before 'em;
Both cover their faces with mobs and all that,
But the judge bids them, angrily, take off their hat.
When uncover'd, a buzz of inquiry runs round,
'Pray what are their crimes?

.' They've been pilfering found.'
A doctor, I hear.'

'But, pray, who have they pilfer'd?'
'What, yon solemn-faced, odd-looking man that stands near?'
'The same.' ... 'What a pity! how does it surprise one,

Two handsomer culprits I never set eyes on!'

Then their friends all come round me with cringing and leering,
To melt me to pity, and soften my swearing.

First Sir Charles advances with phrases well-strung,
'Consider, dear Doctor, the girls are but young.'

'The younger the wrose,' I return him again,

'It shows that their habits are all dyed in grain.'

'But then they're so handsome, one's bosom it grieves.'
'What signifies handsome, when people are thieves?'
'But where is your justice? their cases are hard.'
'What signifies justice? I want the reward.

"There's the parish of Edmonton offers forty pounds; there's the parish of St. Leonard Shoreditch offers forty pounds; there's the parish of Tyburn, from the Hog-in-thepound to St. Giles' watch-house, offers forty pounds-I shall have all that if I convict them!'

"But consider their case, it may yet be your own!
And see how they kneel! Is your heart made of stone?'
This moves! . . . so at last I agree to relent,

For ten pounds in hand, and ten pounds to be spent.

"I challenge you all to answer this: I tell you, you cannot. It cuts deep. But now for the rest of the letter: and next-but I want room-so I believe I shall battle the rest out at Barton some day next week. I don't value you all!

"O. G."

We regret that we have no record of this Christmas visit to Barton; that the poet had no Boswell to follow at his heels, and take note of all his sayings and doings. We can only picture him in our minds, casting off all care; enacting the lord of misrule; presiding at the Christmas revels; providing all kinds of merriment; keeping the card-table in an uproar, and finally opening the ball on the first day of the year in his spring-velvet suit, with the Jessamy Bride for a partner.

CHAPTER XXXVII.

THEATRICAL DELAYS-NEGOTIATIONS WITH COLMAN-LETTER TO GARRICK-CROAKING OF THE MANAGER-NAMING OF THE PLAY -SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER-FOOTE'S PRIMITIVE PUPPET-SHOW, PIETY ON PATTENS-FIRST PERFORMANCE OF THE COMEDY— AGITATION OF THE AUTHOR-SUCCESS-COLMAN SQUIBBED OUT OF TOWN.

THE gay life depicted in the two last chapters, while it kept Goldsmith in a state of continual excitement, aggravated the malady which was impairing his constitution; yet his increasing perplexities in money matters drove him to the dissipation of society as a relief from solitary care. The delays of the theatre added to those perplexities. He had long since finished his new comedy, yet the year 1772 passed away without his being able to get it on the stage. No one, uninitiated in the interior of a theatre, that little world of traps and trickery, can have any idea of the obstacles and perplexities multiplied in the way of the most eminent and successful author by the mismanagement of managers, the jealousies and intrigues of rival authors, and the fantastic and impertinent caprices of actors. A long and baffling negotiation was carried on between Goldsmith and Colman, the manager of Covent Garden; who retained the play in his hands until the middle of January (1773), without coming to a decision. The theatrical season was rapidly passing away, and Goldsmith's pecuniary difficulties were augmenting and pressing on him. We may judge of his anxiety by the following letter:

"To George Colman, Esq.

"DEAR SIR: I entreat you'll relieve me from that state of suspense in which I have been kept for a long time. Whatever objections you have made or shall make to my play, I will endeavor to remove and not argue about them. To bring in any new judges either of its merits or faults I can never submit to. Upon a former occasion, when my other play was before Mr. Garrick, he offered to bring me before Mr. Whitehead's tribunal, but I refused the proposal with indignation: I hope I shall not experience as harsh treatment from you as from him. I

have, as you know, a large sum of money to make up shortly; by accepting my play, I can readily satisfy my creditor that way; at any rate, I must look about to some certainty to be prepared. For God's sake take the play, and let us make the best of it, and let me have the same measure, at least, which you have given as bad plays as mine.

"I am your friend and servant,

“OLIVER GOLDSMITH.”

Colman returned the manuscript with the blank sides of the leaves scored with disparaging comments and suggested alterations, but with the intimation that the faith of the theatre should be kept, and the play acted notwithstanding. Goldsmith submitted the criticisms to some of his friends, who pronounced them trivial, unfair, and contemptible, and intimated that Colman, being a dramatic writer himself, might be actuated by jealousy. The play was then sent, with Colman's comments written on it, to Garrick; but he had scarce sent it when Johnson interfered, represented the evil that might result from an apparent rejection of it by Covent Garden, and undertook to go forthwith to Colman, and have a talk with him on the subject. Goldsmith, therefore, penned the following note to Garrick:

"DEAR SIR: I ask many pardons for the trouble I gave you yesterday. Upon more mature deliberation, and the advice of a sensible friend, I began to think it indelicate in me to throw upon you the odium of confirming Mr. Colman's sentence. I therefore request you will send my play back by my servant; for having been assured of having it acted at the other house, though I confess yours in every respect more to my wish, yet it would be folly in me to forego an advantage which lies in my power of appealing from Mr. Colman's opinion to the judgment of the town. I entreat, if not too late, you will keep this affair a secret for some time.

"I am, dear sir, your very humble servant,

"OLIVER GOLDSMITH."

66

The negotiation of Johnson with the manager of Covent Garden was effective. "Colman," he says, was prevailed on at last, by much solicitation, nay, a kind of force," to bring forward the comedy. Still the manager was ungenerous; or, at least, indiscreet enough to express his opinion, that it would not reach a second representation. The plot, he said, was bad,

and the interest not sustained; "it dwindled, and dwindled, and at last went out like the snuff of a candle." The effect of his croaking was soon apparent within the walls of the theatre. Two of the most popular actors, Woodward and Gentleman Smith, to whom the parts of Tony Lumpkin and Young Marlow were assigned, refused to act them; one of them alleging, in excuse, the evil predictions of the manager. Goldsmith was advised to postpone the performance of his play until he could get these important parts well supplied. "No," said he, "I would sooner that my play were damned.by bad players than merely saved by good acting."

Quick was substituted for Woodward in Tony Lumpkin, and Lee Lewis, the harlequin of the theatre, for Gentleman Smith in Young Marlow; and both did justice to their parts.

Great interest was taken by Goldsmith's friends in the success of his piece. The rehearsals were attended by Johnson, Cradock, Murphy, Reynolds and his sister, and the whole Horneck connection, including, of course, the Jessamy Bride, whose presence may have contributed to flutter the anxious heart of the author. The rehearsals went off with great applause, but that Colman attributed to the partiality of friends. He continued to croak, and refused to risk any expense in new scenery or dresses on a play which he was sure would prove a failure.

The time was at hand for the first representation, and as yet the comedy was without a title. "We are all in labor for a name for Goldy's play," said Johnson, who, as usual, took a kind of fatherly protecting interest in pcor Goldsmith's affairs. The Old House a New Inn was thought of for a time, but still did not please. Sir Joshua Reynolds proposed The Belle's Stratagem, an elegant title, but not considered applicable, the perplexities of the comedy being produced by the mistake of the hero, not the stratagem of the heroine. The name was afterward adopted by Mrs. Cowley for one of her comedies. The Mistakes of a Night was the title at length fixed upon, to which Goldsmith prefixed the words She Stoops to Conquer.

The evil bodings of Colman still continued; they were even communicated in the box office to the servant of the Duke of Gloucester, who was sent to engage a box. Never did the play of a popular writer struggle into existence through more difficulties.

In the meantime Foote's Primitive Puppetshow, entitled the Handsome Housemaid, or Piety on Pattens, had been brought