having drunk tea with him and Mrs. Davies, Johnson unexpectedly came into the shop; and Mr. Davies having perceived him through the glass door in the room in which we were sitting, advancing towards us,-he announced his awful approach to me, somewhat in the manner of an actor in the part of Horatio, when he addresses Hamlet on the appearance of his father's ghost, "Look, my lord, it comes." I found that I had a very perfect 10 idea of Johnson's figure, from the portrait of him painted by Sir Joshua Reynolds soon after he had published his Dictionary, in the attitude of sitting in his easy chair in deep meditation; which was the first picture his 15 ventured to make an observation now and

I had long indulged of obtaining his acquaintance was blasted. And, in truth, had not my ardour been uncommonly strong, and my resolution uncommonly persevering, so rough 5 a reception might have deterred me for ever from making any further attempts. Fortunately, however, I remained upon the field not wholly discomfited; and was soon rewarded by hearing some of his conversation..

I was highly pleased with the extraordinary vigour of his conversation, and regretted that I was drawn away from it by an engagement at another place. I had, for a part of the evening, been left alone with him, and had

then, which he received very civilly; so that I was satisfied that though there was a roughness in his manner there was no ill-nature in his disposition. Davies followed me to the

friend did for him, which Sir Joshua very kindly presented to me, and from which an engraving has been made for this work. Mr. Davies mentioned my name, and respectfully introduced me to him. I was much agitated; 20 door, and when I complained to him a little

of the hard blows which the great man had given me, he kindly took upon him to console me by saying, "Don't be uneasy. I can see he likes you very well."

A few days afterwards I called on Davies, and asked him if he thought I might take the liberty of waiting on Mr. Johnson at his chambers in the Temple. He said I certainly might, and that Mr. Johnson would take it as

of May, . . . I boldly repaired to Johnson. His chambers were on the first floor of No. 1 Inner Temple Lane, and I entered with an impression given me by the Rev. Dr. Blair3 of Edinburgh, who had been introduced to him not long before, and described his having "found the Giant in his den;" an expression which, when I came to be pretty well acquainted with Johnson, I repeated to him, and

and recollecting his prejudice against the Scotch, of which I had heard much, I said to Davies, "Don't tell where I come from." "From Scotland," cried Davies roguishly. "Mr. Johnson (said I), I do indeed come from 25 Scotland, but I cannot help it." I am willing to flatter myself that I meant this as light pleasantry to soothe and conciliate him, and not as an humiliating abasement at the expense of my country. But however that might be, 30 a compliment. So upon Tuesday the 24th this speech was somewhat unlucky; for with that quickness of wit for which he was so remarkable, he seized the expression come from Scotland," which I used in the sense of being of that country; and, as if I had said 35 that I had come away from it, or left it, retorted, "That, sir, I find, is what a very great many of your countrymen cannot help." This stroke stunned me a good deal; and when we had sat down I felt myself not a little em- 40 he was diverted at this picturesque account barrassed and apprehensive of what might come next. He then addressed himself to Davies: "What do you think of Garrick? He has refused me an order for the play for Miss Williams, because he knows the house 45 will be full, and that an order would be worth three shillings." Eager to take any opening to get into conversation with him, I ventured to say, "O, sir, I cannot think Mr. Garrick would grudge such a trifle to you." (said he, with a stern look) I have known David Garrick longer than you have done; and I know no right you have to talk to me on the subject." Perhaps I deserved this check; for it was rather presumptuous in me, an entire 55 but he said to me, "Nay, don't go." "Sir

of himself. . . He received me very courteously; but it must be confessed that his apartment, and furniture, and morning dress were sufficiently uncouth. His brown suit of clothes looked very rusty; he had on a little old shrivelled unpowdered wig, which was too small for his head; his shirt-neck and knees of his breeches were loose; his black worsted stockings ill drawn up; and he had a pair of "Sir, 50 unbuckled shoes by way of slippers. But all

stranger, to express any doubt of the justice of the animadversion upon his old acquaintance and pupil. I now felt myself much mortified, and began to think that the hope which

these slovenly particularities were forgotten the moment he began to talk. Some gentlemen, whom I do not recollect, were sitting with him; and when they went away I also rose;

(said I), I am afraid that I intrude upon you.

3 Hugh Blair (1718-1800), minister of the High Church, Edinburgh, professor of rhetoric and belles lettres in the University of Edinburgh, and author of Lectures on Rhetoric, a once famous book.

It is benevolent to allow me to sit and hear you." He seemed pleased with this compliment, which I sincerely paid him, and answered, "Sir, I am obliged to any man who visits me." When I rose a second time he again pressed me to stay, which I did.

Johnson, though, indeed, upon a smaller scale.

At this time1 I think he had published nothing with his name, though it was pretty gen5 erally known that one Dr. Goldsmith was the author of An Inquiry into the Present State of Polite Learning in Europe, and of The Citizen of the World,' a series of letters supposed to be written from London by a Chinese. No man

He told me that he generally went abroad at four in the afternoon, and seldom came home until two in the morning. I took the liberty to ask if he did not think it wrong to 10 had the art of displaying with more advantage live thus, and not make more use of his great talents. He owned it was a bad habit. On reviewing, at the distance of many years, my journal of this period, I wonder how, at my first visit, I ventured to talk to him so freely, 15 whatever chanced to be thrown upon it. No and that he bore it with so much indulgence.

as a writer whatever literary acquisitions he made. "Nihil quod tetigit non ornavit.”3 His mind resembled a fertile, but thin soil. There was a quick, but not a strong vegetation, of

deep root could be struck. The oak of the forest did not grow there; but the elegant shrubbery and the fragrant parterre appeared in gay succession. It has been generally circu

Before we parted he was so good as to promise to favour me with his company one evening at my lodgings; and as I took my leave, shook me cordially by the hand. It is almost need- 20 lated and believed that he was a mere fool in less to add, that I felt no little elation at having now so happily established an acquaintance of which I had been so long ambitious.

OLIVER GOLDSMITH

(From the same)

conversation; but in truth this has been greatly exaggerated. He had, no doubt, a more than common share of that hurry of ideas which we often find in his countrymen, and which some25 times produces a laughable confusion in expressing them. He was very much what the French call un étourdi, and from vanity and eager desire of being conspicuous wherever he was, he frequently talked carelessly without

As Dr. Oliver Goldsmith will frequently appear in this narrative, I shall endeavour to 30 knowledge of the subject, or even without

make my readers in some degree acquainted with his singular character. He was a native of Ireland, and a contemporary with Mr. Burke at Trinity College, Dublin, but did not

thought. His person was short, his countenance coarse and vulgar, his deportment that of a scholar awkwardly affecting the easy gentleman. Those who were in any way dis

then give much promise of future celebrity. 35 tinguished excited envy in him to so ridiculous

He, however, observed to Mr. Malone, that
"though he made no great figure in mathe-
matics, which was a study in much repute
there, he could turn an Ode of Horace into
English better than any of them." He after- 40
wards studied physic at Edinburgh, and upon
the Continent, and, I have been informed,
was enabled to pursue his travels on foot,
partly by demanding at Universities to enter

an excess that the instances of it are hardly credible. When accompanying two beautiful young ladies with their mother on a tour in France, he was seriously angry that more attention was paid to them than to him; and once at the exhibition of the Fantoccini3 in London, when those that sat next him observed with what dexterity a puppet was made to toss a pike, he could not bear that it should

warmth, "Pshaw! I can do it better myself."

He, I am afraid, had no settled system of any sort, so that his conduct must not be

social and generous, and when he had money he gave it away very liberally. His desire of

the lists as a disputant, by which, according 45 have such praise, and exclaimed with some to the custom of many of them, he was entitled to the premium of a crown, when luckily for him his challenge was not accepted; so that, as I once observed to Dr. Johnson, he disputed his passage through Europe. He then 50 strictly scrutinised; but his affections were came to England, and was employed successively in the capacities of an usher to an academy, a corrector of the press, a reviewer, and a writer for a newspaper. He had sagacity enough to cultivate assiduously the acquaint- 55 ance of Johnson, and his faculties were gradually enlarged by the contemplation of such a model. To me and many others it appeared that he studiously copied the manner of

1i. e., 1763.

The Inquiry was published in 1759; Goldsmith also published The Bee, a collection of essays, in the same year. For The Citizen of the World, v. p. 397, supra.

3 He touched nothing that he did not adorn: from Dr. Johnson's epitaph on Goldsmith in Westminster Abbey.

A giddy-goose, a rattle-pate.

Puppets. (Ital. fantoccino, a little doll, or puppet).

imaginary consequence predominated over
his attention to truth. When he began to rise
into notice, he said he had a brother who was
Dean of Durham, a fiction so easily detected,
that it was wonderful how he should have 5
been so inconsiderate as to hazard it. He
boasted to me at this time of the power of his
pen in commanding money, which I believe
was true in a certain degree, though in the
instance he gave he was by no means correct. 10
He told me that he had sold a novel for four
hundred pounds. This was his Vicar of Wake-
field. But Johnson informed me, that he had
made the bargain for Goldsmith, and the
price was sixty pounds. "And, sir (said he),
a sufficient price too, when it was sold; for
then the fame of Goldsmith had not been
elevated, as it afterwards was, by his Traveller;
and the bookseller had such faint hopes of
profit by his bargain, that he kept the manu- 20
script by him a long time, and did not publish
it till after the Traveller had appeared. Then,
to be sure, it was accidentally worth more
money."

15

Mrs. Piozzi and Sir John Hawkins' have 25 strangely misstated the history of Goldsmith's situation and Johnson's friendly interference, when this novel was sold. I shall give it authentically from Johnson's own exact narration:

30

"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 35
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 was in a violent passion. I per-
ceived that he had already changed my guinea, 40
and had got a bottle of Madeira and a glass
before him. I put the cork into the bottle,
desired he would be calm, and began to talk
to him of the means by which he might be
extricated. He then told me that he had a 45

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 he dis- 50
charged his rent, not without rating his land-
lady in a high tone for having used him so
ill."

Hester Lynch Salisbury (1741-1821), a friend of 55 Johnson, who met her in 1764, shortly after her marriage to Henry Thrale. In 1784 she married an Italian musician named Piozzi. She published a book of anecdotes and correspondence relating to Johnson.

One of Johnson's executors, and author of a life of Johnson.

ye, that from the stately brow 'Of WINDSOR's heights th' expanse below Of grove, of lawn, of mead survey, Whose turf, whose shade, whose flowers among Wanders the hoary Thames along

His silver-winding way:

Ah, happy hills, ah, pleasing shade,
Ah, fields belov'd in vain,

Where once my careless childhood stray'd,
A stranger yet to pain!

I feel the gales, that from ye blow,
A momentary bliss bestow,

As waving fresh their gladsome wing,
My weary soul they seem to soothe,
And, redolent of joy and youth,
To breathe a second spring.

Say, father THAMES, for thou hast seen
Full many a sprightly race
Disporting on thy margent green

The paths of pleasure trace,
Who foremost now delight to cleave
With pliant arm thy glassy wave?

The captive linnet which enthral?
What idle progeny succeed
To chase the rolling circle's speed,
Or urge the flying ball?

While some on earnest business bent
Their murm'ring labours ply
'Gainst graver hours, that bring constraint,
To sweeten liberty:

Some bold adventurers disdain
The limits of their little reign,

Still as they run they look behind,
And unknown regions dare descry:
They hear a voice in every wind,
And snatch a fearful joy.

Gay hope is theirs by fancy fed,

Less pleasing when possest;
The tear forgot as soon as shed,
The sunshine of the breast:
Theirs buxom health of rosy hue,
Wild wit, invention ever-new,

And lively cheer of vigour born;
The thoughtless day, the easy night,
The spirits pure, the slumbers light,
That fly th' approach of morn.

1 Henry VI, who founded Eton College in 1440.