ART. IX.-The Life of Oliver Goldsmith, M. B., from a variety of original sources. By JAMES PRIOR, Esq., Fellow of the Society of Antiquaries; Member of the Royal Irish Academy; author of the Life of Burke, &c. Philadelphia: 1 vol. 8vo. pp. 550.

Of all the writers of whom perhaps any age can boast, Goldsmith engages most the affection and sympathies of his readers. He so identifies himself with his subject, that the interest with which his genius invests it, is involuntarily transmitted to himself. Why is this? What secret chord of the human bosom does he touch, that teaches the heart so to vibrate in harmony with his own emotions? Is it other than a refined and delicate spirit, known as the sensibility of nature, which presides like an enchantress over his delightful and exquisite page?

We pour over the volumes of master minds with gratification, and rise from them with a sense of improvement. We are pleased because we are instructed, and admire for the same reason. But it requires something more than the impress of deep learning or a great understanding, to captivate our fancy and our love. It is possible to admire what we do not esteem, and still more common to be repelled from that which stands high in our estimation.

Nor is the imagination alone that quality in a writer which secures for him the sympathetic regard of his reader. The mind may emit the sublimest conceptions of poetic genius, and yet be unmoved and cold. If the subject of an author be not in unison with the affections of our nature, if he be frigid in his treatment of it, or if he stand at a distance, as if to dictate' lessons of wisdom to inferior beings, no desire will be felt towards an intimate acquaintance, and no sentiment excited but that vague impulse which pays homage to acknowledged superiority.

To Goldsmith we are allured by various concurring influWe feel admiration for his genius, love for the man, and sympathy for his frailties and misfortunes.

ences.

It is a reflection upon the literature of England, that a period of sixty years elapsed from the death of one of its most charming and gifted authors, before any serious attempt was made to collect his writings or record his life. We are certainly grateful to Mr. Prior for what his diligence and talents have accomplished, in the large contribution which has been made to the knowledge of both. But no assiduity can now recover those minute incidents of conversation and personal history, which vividly portray the man as he lived. These rest only in the memory of survivors, and if not immediately seized, become

perverted or indistinct before death closes the possibility of living testimony.

We are accustomed to view Goldsmith through the distorted medium of Boswell's account. This attractive biographer had one absorbing object in view, the glorification of a great idol. Every person and every event introduced into his book was in subserviency to this. He proposes only to record the colloquies of Johnson, and so much of the actions and conversations of others as may render intelligible his piquancy and wisdom. It is remarkable that among the great wits whose sayings are repeated, all are Doctores Minores in the presence of this Doctor Major. Burke and Garrick, whose colloquial sallies, it is well known, were frequently brilliant, and the former scarcely inferior in declamatory dignity to Johnson himself, are exhibited rather as his foils than equals. No surprise therefore should be felt at the unmeasured inferiority of the part which Goldsmith, in his dramatis persona, is permitted to enact.

But candour must acknowledge that other causes were at work, with reference to Boswell's portrait of Goldsmith, than presenting a fine picture in a hero. This was jealousy verging to envy, and vexation approaching to dislike.

Upon his coming to London, Boswell found Goldsmith about his own age, high in the esteem of Johnson, and in the possession of a growing literary fame. The unstudied colloquial ease, denominated by Bozzy the careless rattle of Goldy, his playful and unpremeditated wit, his joyous, perhaps boisterous mirth, were qualities diametrically opposed to the measured stateliness and solemn verbosity of Johnson. Every departure from the habits which marked his venerated favourite, was an abandonment of propriety, and a violation of the rules of true greatness. These might easily detract from his appreciation of a man who took no pains to conceal the contempt in which he held his own pretensions, and whose gibes must have been the more cutting from the exquisite point with which they were conveyed. A bon mot has been preserved by the late Mr. Wheble, which, as it probably reached the ears of its object, may have produced some of the passages objected to. Some one angrily called Boswell "a Scotch cur," in a moment of irritation. Goldsmith replied, "No, no, you are too severe; he is only a Scotch burr. Tom Davies threw him at Johnson in sport, and he has the faculty of sticking." And last, but not least, it was enough to give the preserver of Johnson's conversations and anticipated biographer, a mortal distaste to one who held so high a place in the regard of Johnson himself, as to be considered by that personage the fittest of his contemporaries to transmit his fame to posterity.

These causes conspired to produce ill consequences upon

the usually candid and liberal mind of the panegyrist of Johnson. They soured his feelings, perhaps even unconsciously to himself, and the results are perceptible in almost every page of his interesting Life. The anecdotes of Goldsmith, when related upon his own testimony, may be relied upon; but his comments show the natural effects of jealousy-a disposition to undervalue the character, and depreciate the works of an excellent man and a matchless writer. In one place he applies to him with evident gusto, the ill-natured phrase "an inspired idiot," upon the authority of Hawkins; and, in another, characterizes his mind as a fruitful indeed, but thin soil. These are unjust and disparaging ascriptions, in which none but a determined detractor could indulge.

But notwithstanding the neglect of those friends of the poet from whom mankind had a right to expect some tribute to his memory, and maugre the envemoned shafts of Boswell, his works and memory still live, and promise to live throughout future time. There are few writers to whom all classes of readers recur with so much delight, and no one for whom they entertain feelings so akin to personal friendship. The bland benevolence of his spirit, the simple beauty of his language, the harmony and polish of his sentences, the vivacity of his humour, the elegance of his fancy, and the pungency and occasional power with which he writes, are admitted by all. For ourselves we shall not affect to conceal such a love of the man and admiration of his writings as lead us to examine with minuteness every point in the character of the former, and to read even "Goody Two Shoes," now ranked in the category of the others. We have never been able to believe that a writer of such exquisite genius as Goldsmith, could be the bungling converser described in the pages of Boswell. This opinion receives countenance from the fact, that whenever he is allowed to speak for himself, he does it with characteristic beauty of language and felicity of illustration. Madame D'Arblay, in her amusing but grotesque Life of Dr. Burney, and Sir Joshua Reynolds confirm this impression. We had hoped therefore, perhaps unreasonably, to find in Mr. Prior's book, some detailed and authentic registry of his conversation. But in this we have been disappointed. He disproves many of the opinions and assertions of Boswell, but gives his reader few specimens to enable him to judge of the matter for himself.

In the meagre notices, miscalled biographies, of this eminent writer, there was just enough, with what an admirer could cull from Boswell, to excite his curiosity. Many no doubt have felt, like ourselves, almost feverishly anxious to know something more of the man than these performances convey. Even in this country, the gratification of such a desire was not entirely

hopeless. In one of the editions of Boswell, there is a letter from Dr. Johnson to a late venerable prelate of Philadelphia, referring to the comedy, "She Stoops to Conquer," then about to appear at Covent Garden Theatre. As this very aged gentleman obtained his clerical degree in England, and during his sojourn there associated with the wits of the metropolis, we had no doubt he might possess some anecdotes of the slighted and injured Goldsmith, illustrative of his personal character. But an application to the prelate, though seriously intended, was unfortunately deferred until the death of the distinguished and excellent man at last closed the avenue forever.

sure.

We, therefore, hail Mr. Prior's book with the sincerest pleaWithout the advantage of a personal acquaintance with the illustrious subject of his book, and too far from the period when he lived to hope for literal reports of conversations, he has done all that could have been reasonably expected, if not as much as might reasonably have been hoped for. He has penetrated the obscurity of his early life, traced his wayward career in youth, followed his adventurous fortunes in mature years, fixed the localities of his "Deserted Village," brought to light many interesting facts and anecdotes, and greatly added to the known number of his writings. The charming letters he has preserved, entitle him to our grateful acknowledgments. Of these letters, indeed, which are given to us as new, we recognise many that we have elsewhere perused. Some of these are to be found in Bishop Percy's memoir, and in several others. of the many imperfect biographies which have been prefixed to various editions of Goldsmith's miscellaneous works.

The circulation of this interesting volume, promises to be diffusive in this country. It has not only been republished by one or more booksellers, but Mr. Waldie, of Philadelphia, has reprinted it in his valuable Library. Not only Mr. Prior's biography, but his edition of the works of his beautiful author, not yet in this country, would greatly enrich the pages of such a repository. We cannot wish our countrymen better aid to the attainment of an elegant taste in composition than the writings of Goldsmith. Let them be widely disseminated. Divested of those meretricious trappings which are now so much the fashion, they will correct the false taste which sets so high a value upon fustian and affectation, and lead to an appreciation of the charms of refined simplicity in authorship.

Without wishing to find fault, we may hope that Mr. Prior himself, in a future edition, or some Croker with whom he may be favoured, may glean additional particulars illustrative of Goldsmith's social qualities. We may hope, too, that certain episodes may be lopped, and disquisitions retrenched, which detract from the prevailing interest of his pages. The book, in

this respect, claims some affinity to the recent Life of Cowper by Southey, which includes a somewhat lengthened account of every literary person who had the slightest intimacy with the professed subject of the narrative.

The reading of this biography will, we think, induce the perusal of works, which, from their subject or pretensions, would hardly claim a notice. Mr. Prior not only renders it probable that "Goody Two Shoes" was an emanation of Goldsmith's teeming pen, but ascertains that the Life of Beau Nash, and the Letters on English History in the character of a Nobleman to his Son, successively attributed to Littleton and Chesterfield, are from the same intellectual mine. We have done in this case what, no doubt, many of our readers may likewise be allured to attempt we have searched for and read all that have been thus specified. In Beau Nash we found his easy style, and many of his beauties, but much that is crude, and the result of that haste, rendered necessary "by his scurvy circumstances." Too much praise cannot be awarded to the Letters on English History as a comprehensive and philosophical survey of British annals. Perhaps there is no book extant which embraces so distinct an elucidation of the British constitution, at the same time marking with clearness the events of each historical

era.

But not to anticipate what, on another occasion, we may be required to enlarge upon, we will now rapidly pass in review some of the leading incidents of the poet's life.

The herald's office cannot dissipate the obscurity which hangs over the early progenitors of Oliver Goldsmith. His great-great grandfather, the Rev. John Goldsmith, is the first ascertained ancestor of the family. This gentleman was rector of Borrishoull, in the county of Mayo, Ireland, a respectable and deserving man. It is related of him that he narrowly escaped the popish massacre of 1641. The father of Oliver was Charles Goldsmith, of Trinity College, Dublin. He took orders on leaving it, immediately married, and lived twelve years upon a farm of fifty acres of land, known by the name of Pallismore, in the parish of Kilkenny-West. It was here the poet was born on the 10th of November, 1728. Two or three years after the birth of this son, who was one of six children, the father acceded to the living of Kilkenny-West, then worth from £150 to £200, and occupied a neat house at Lissoy in that parish. Lissoy is the "sweet Auburn" so graphically and beautifully delineated by the poet in after life, as Mr. Prior establishes by abundant proofs, to which we shall hereafter refer.

Oliver does not seem to have been distinguished as a precocious child. A Mrs. Delap, with whom he learnt his letters,