I omit from consideration the letter Oliver is alleged, on no evidence
at all, to have written to his mother in 1751 after his adventures in
Ireland and attempted voyage to America. This is obviously a hash-up
by some later pen of the story which was written out after the poet’s
death by his sister Mrs. Catherine Hodson for the purposes of the
“Percy Memoir,” the original of which in Mrs. Hodson’s own writing
and spelling is among the papers which I exhibit. The earliest of
Goldsmith’s own letters which is known to have survived was that
written from Edinburgh by Oliver to his benefactor Uncle Contarine on 8
May, 1753. This was unearthed by Sir James Prior at a later period of
his investigations, having been “long though vainly sought in various
quarters,” and is published in his Vol. I, 1837, pp. 145-7. What has
happened to it since I have not been able to discover. Oliver describes
in it his progress with his medical studies, and winds up thus: “How I
enjoy the pleasing hope of returning with skill, and to find my friends
stand in no need of my assistance! How many happy years do I wish you!
and nothing but want of health can take from you happiness, since you
so well pursue the paths that conduct to virtue.”
There is another letter of about the same period addressed by Oliver
from Edinburgh to his brother-in-law, Daniel Hodson of Lissoy, of which
only a fragment now exists. It was formerly in the Rowfant collection
of the late Mr. Locker-Lampson, but now belongs to Mr. F. R. Halsey of
New York. In it Oliver speaks of his attending the public lectures:
“I am in my lodging. I have hardly any society but a folio book, a
skeleton, my cat and my meagre landlady. I read hard, which is a thing
I never could do when the study was displeasing.” He refers to his
impecunious position and to the sacrifices his relations had made on
his behalf. He asks his dear Dan to remember him to every friend.
“There is one on whom I never think without affliction, but conceal it
from him.” (This apparently refers to Uncle Contarine). “Direct to me
at Surgeon Sinclairs in the Trunk Close, Edinburgh.”
The next letter of this student series is to his school-friend and
companion, Robert Bryanton of Ballymahon, dated from Edinburgh “Sepr.
ye 26th 1753.” The original of this letter is the earliest in point of
date which I am able to exhibit to you this afternoon. Oliver commences
by a humorous apology for not having written before. “I might allege
that business had never given me time to finger a pen: but I suppress
those and twenty others equally plausible and as easily invented, since
they might all 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.”
This letter was a long one, with clever references to the Scottish
scenery and people, the relations of the sexes, the characteristics of
the Scotch women, and other light hearted topics. It was published by
Percy in the Edition of 1801, with a number of genteel emendations,
such as “mouth puckered up so as scarcely to admit a pea” in
replacement of “mouth puckered up to the size of an Issue,” and the
omission of the last paragraph and also the postscript: “Give my
sincere regards (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 of Physick in Edinburgh.”
The next letter in order of date is a second one to Uncle Contarine,
not dated but ascribed to the close of 1753 or January, 1754. It was
retrieved by Prior for his Life of 1837 (I, 154), but its present
whereabouts is unknown. It announces Oliver’s intention to go to France
in the following February, to spend the spring and summer in Paris, and
go to Leyden at the beginning of the next winter. He sends his earnest
love to his cousin Jenny (Mrs. Lawder) and her husband, asks after “my
poor Jack” (doubtless his youngest brother), and describes himself as
“dear Uncle, Your most devoted Oliver Goldsmith.”
The next letter is an important and very interesting one, and describes
Oliver’s compulsory change of plans. It was sent from Leyden some time
in the summer of 1754, and is written on three pages of a foolscap
sheet of unusually large size, 15 × 9-3/4 inches. The fourth page
has, as you will see, this address upon it: “To | the Revd. Mr. Thos.
Contarine, at Kilmore near | Carrick on Shannon in Ireland,” with the
words added “This letter is chargd. 1s. 8d.” It appears therefrom that
he embarked from Edinburgh on board a Scotch ship bound for Bordeaux
and that a storm drove them into Newcastle, where he was arrested.
“Seven men and me were one day on shore, and the following evening, as
we were all verry merry, the room door bursts open; enters a Sergeant
and Twelve Grenadiers with their bayonets screwd, and puts us all under
the King’s arrest. It seems my Company were Scotch men in the French
service. I endeavoured all I could to prove my innocence: however, I
remained in prison with the rest a Fortnight and with difficulty got
off even then. Dr. Sr. keep this all a secret, or at least say it was
for debt: for it were once known at the university I should hardly get
a degree.”
As to his future movements, Goldsmith says in this letter from Leyden:
“Physic is by no means taught so well as in Edinburgh.... I am not
certain how long my stay here will be: however I expect to have the
happiness of seeing you at Kidmore, if I can, next March.”
Oliver describes in much humorous detail the scenery of the country and
characteristics of the Dutch people. He says:
“The downright Hollander is one of the oddest figures in Nature. Upon
a head of lank hair he wears a half-cockd narrow-leav’d hat, lacd with
black ribon: no coat but seven waistcoats and nine pairs of breeches
so that his hips reach almost up to his arm-pits. This well cloathed
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 friez cap
with a deal of flanders lace and for every pair of breeches he carries,
she puts on two petticoats. Is it not surprizing how things shoud ever
come close enough to make it a match?”
Bishop Percy prints the whole of this letter, except that he delicately
bowdlerised one or two phrases in it, and from the Percy version it has
reappeared in every one of the succeeding biographies.