and we find him the constant associate of Johnson, Burke, and Reynolds. The Deserted Village was published in 1770, and deservedly won a popularity which was as immediate as it has been lasting. This was followed by an abridgment of his Roman History and a Life of Bolingbroke. At this time he had conferred upon him the honorary distinction of Professor of Ancient History in the Royal Academy of Painting. In 1773 was produced his capital comedy She Stoops to Conquer, the success of which was more immediate and decided than that of the first. In the following year he brought to a conclusion his History of the Earth and Animated Nature, on which he had been engaged for two or three years. Though mainly a compilation, it was enriched with a good deal of original observation of country life. A large part of it was composed at a farm-house near Edgeware, where Goldsmith lodged from time to time. He received no less than £850 for this work, but the whole of the money had been spent before the book was finished. To supply his necessities he made an abridgment of his History of England, and compiled a History of Greece. These histories exhibit no depth of learning, or power of historical criticism, but their admirable style has rendered them popular.

Goldsmith died on the 4th of April, 1774, of a low nervous fever, aggravated by mental anxiety and by the injudicious use of a medicine in which he had great faith, and which he insisted upon taking in spite of warning. His debts are supposed to have amounted to some £2,000. The last literary work on which he was engaged, and which he left incomplete, was a satirical poem entitled Retaliation. It consisted of a series of supposed epitaphs on his various friends. It was suggested by a sportive attack made on him one evening at the Club, when each of the members

xiv

LIFE OF OLIVER GOLDSMITH, M.B.

produced an epitaph for Goldsmith. Of these Garrick's is the only one that has been preserved :

"Here lies poet Goldsmith, for shortness called Noll,

Who wrote like an angel, but talked like poor Poll."

Among Goldsmith's minor poetical works may be mentioned the exquisite ballad entitled The Hermit; the Haunch of Venison, a poetical letter of thanks to his friend and benefactor, Lord Clare; various prologues and epilogues; some humorous pieces, such as the Elegy on the Death of a Mad Dog, and the Elegy on Mrs. Mary Blaize ; and other slight occasional pieces.

Goldsmith was buried in the grave-yard of the Temple Church. A monument was erected to his memory in Westminster Abbey, with an inscription composed by Dr. Johnson.

DEDICATION

ΤΟ

SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS.

DEAR SIR,

I can have no expectation in an address of this kind, either to add to your reputation, or to establish my own. You can gain nothing from my admiration, as I am ignorant of that art in which you are said to excel; and I may lose much by the severity of your judgment, as few have a juster taste in poetry than you. Setting interest, therefore, aside, to which I never paid much attention, I must be indulged at present in following my affections. The only dedication I ever made was to my brother, because I loved him better than most other men. He is since dead. Permit me to inscribe this poem to you.

How far you may be pleased with the versification and mere mechanical parts of this attempt, I do not pretend to inquire; but I know you will object (and indeed several of onr best and wisest friends concur in the opinion), that the depopulation it deplores is no where to be seen, and the disorders it laments are only to be found in the poet's own imagination. To this I can scarcely make any other answer, than that I sincerely believe what I have written; that I have taken all possible pains, in my country excursions, for these four or five years past, to be certain of what I allege; and that all my views and inquiries have led me to believe those miseries real, which I here attempt to display. But this is not the place to enter into an inquiry whether the country be depopulating or not: the discussion

would take up much room, and I should prove myself, at best, an indifferent politician, to tire the reader with a long preface, when I want his unfatigued attention to a long poem.

In regretting the depopulation of the country, I inveigh against the increase of our luxuries; and here also I expect the shout of modern politicians against me. For twenty or thirty years past, it has been the fashion to consider luxury as one of the greatest national advantages; and all the wisdom of antiquity in that particular, as erroneous. Still, however, I must remain a professed ancient on that head, and continue to think those luxuries prejudicial to states by which so many vices are introduced, and so many kingdoms have been undone. Indeed, so much has been poured out of late on the other side of the question, that merely for the sake of novelty and variety, one would sometimes wish to be in the right.

I am, Dear Sir,

Your sincere friend and ardent admirer,

OLIVER GOLDSMITH.

THE DESERTED VILLAGE.

SWEET Auburn! loveliest village of the plain,

Where health and plenty cheer'd the labouring swain;
Where smiling spring its earliest visit paid,

And parting summer's lingering blooms delay'd;

Dear lovely bowers of innocence and ease,

5

Seats of my youth, when every sport could please;

How often have I loiter'd o'er thy green,

The hawthorn bush, with seats beneath the shade,

For talking age and whispering lovers made!
How often have I bless'd the coming day,

When toil remitting lent its turn to play,

And all the village train, from labour free,

Led up their sports beneath the spreading tree!
While many a pastime circled in the shade,

The young contending as the old survey'd;
And many a gambol frolick'd o'er the ground,

And sleights of art, and feats of strength went round;