NEW LODGINGS--VISITS OF CEREMONY--HANGERS-ON--PILKINGTON AND THE WHITE
MOUSE--INTRODUCTION TO DR. JOHNSON--DAVIES AND HIS BOOKSHOP--PRETTY MRS.
DAVIES--FOOTE AND HIS PROJECTS--CRITICISM OF THE CUDGEL
In his new lodgings in Wine-Office Court, Goldsmith began to receive visits
of ceremony and to entertain his literary friends. Among the latter he now
numbered several names of note, such as Guthrie, Murphy, Christopher Smart,
and Bickerstaff. He had also a numerous class of hangers-on, the small-fry
of literature; who, knowing his almost utter incapacity to refuse a
pecuniary request, were apt, now that he was considered flush, to levy
continual taxes upon his purse.
Among others, one Pilkington, an old college acquaintance, but now a
shifting adventurer, duped him in the most ludicrous manner. He called on
him with a face full of perplexity. A lady of the first rank having an
extraordinary fancy for curious animals, for which she was willing to give
enormous sums, he had procured a couple of white mice to be forwarded to
her from India. They were actually on board of a ship in the river. Her
grace had been apprised of their arrival, and was all impatience to see
them. Unfortunately, he had no cage to put them in, nor clothes to appear
in before a lady of her rank. Two guineas would be sufficient for his
purpose, but where were two guineas to be procured!
The simple heart of Goldsmith was touched; but, alas! he had but half a
guinea in his pocket. It was unfortunate, but after a pause his friend
suggested, with some hesitation, "that money might be raised upon his
watch; it would but be the loan of a few hours." So said, so done; the
watch was delivered to the worthy Mr. Pilkington to be pledged at a
neighboring pawnbroker's, but nothing further was ever seen of him, the
watch, or the white mice. The next that Goldsmith heard of the poor
shifting scapegrace, he was on his deathbed, starving with want, upon
which, forgetting or forgiving the trick he had played upon him, he sent
him a guinea. Indeed, he used often to relate with great humor the
foregoing anecdote of his credulity, and was ultimately in some degree
indemnified by its suggesting to him the amusing little story of Prince
Bonbennin and the White House in the Citizen of the World.
In this year Goldsmith became personally acquainted with Dr. Johnson,
toward whom he was drawn by strong sympathies, though their natures were
widely different. Both had struggled from early life with poverty, but had
struggled in different ways. Goldsmith, buoyant, heedless, sanguine,
tolerant of evils and easily pleased, had shifted along by any temporary
expedient; cast down at every turn, but rising again with indomitable
good-humor, and still carried forward by his talent at hoping. Johnson,
melancholy, and hypochondriacal, and prone to apprehend the worst, yet
sternly resolute to battle with and conquer it, had made his way doggedly
and gloomily, but with a noble principle of self-reliance and a disregard
of foreign aid. Both had been irregular at college, Goldsmith, as we have
shown, from the levity of his nature and his social and convivial habits;
Johnson, from his acerbity and gloom. When, in after life, the latter heard
himself spoken of as gay and frolicsome at college, because he had joined
in some riotous excesses there, "Ah, sir!" replied he, "I was mad and
violent. It was bitterness which they mistook for frolic. _I was
miserably poor, and I thought to fight my way by my literature and my
wit_. So I disregarded all power and all authority."
Goldsmith's poverty was never accompanied by bitterness; but neither was it
accompanied by the guardian pride which kept Johnson from falling into the
degrading shifts of poverty. Goldsmith had an unfortunate facility at
borrowing, and helping himself along by the contributions of his friends;
no doubt trusting, in his hopeful way, of one day making retribution.
Johnson never hoped, and therefore never borrowed. In his sternest trials
he proudly bore the ills he could not master. In his youth, when some
unknown friend, seeing his shoes completely worn out, left a new pair at
his chamber door, he disdained to accept the boon, and threw them away.
Though like Goldsmith an immethodical student, he had imbibed deeper
draughts of knowledge, and made himself a riper scholar. While Goldsmith's
happy constitution and genial humors carried him abroad into sunshine and
enjoyment, Johnson's physical infirmities and mental gloom drove him upon
himself; to the resources of reading and meditation; threw a deeper though
darker enthusiasm into his mind, and stored a retentive memory with all
kinds of knowledge.
After several years of youth passed in the country as usher, teacher, and
an occasional writer for the press, Johnson, when twenty-eight years of
age, came up to London with a half-written tragedy in his pocket; and David
Garrick, late his pupil, and several years his junior, as a companion, both
poor and penniless, both, like Goldsmith, seeking their fortune in the
metropolis. "We rode and tied," said Garrick sportively in after years of
prosperity, when he spoke of their humble wayfaring. "I came to London,"
said Johnson, "with twopence halfpenny in my pocket." "Eh, what's that you
say?" cried Garrick, "with twopence halfpenny in your pocket?" "Why, yes; I
came with twopence halfpenny in _my_ pocket, and thou, Davy, with but
three halfpence in thine." Nor was there much exaggeration in the picture;
for so poor were they in purse and credit that after their arrival they
had, with difficulty, raised five pounds, by giving their joint note to a
bookseller in the Strand.
Many, many years had Johnson gone on obscurely in London, "fighting his way
by his literature and his wit"; enduring all the hardships and miseries of
a Grub Street writer; so destitute at one time that he and Savage the poet
had walked all night about St. James's Square, both too poor to pay for a
night's lodging, yet both full of poetry and patriotism, and determined to
stand by their country; so shabby in dress at another time, that when he
dined at Cave's, his bookseller, when there was prosperous company, he
could not make his appearance at table, but had his dinner handed to him
behind a screen.
Yet through all the long and dreary struggle, often diseased in mind as
well as in body, he had been resolutely self-dependent, and proudly
self-respectful; he had fulfilled his college vow, he had "fought his way
by his literature and his wit." His Rambler and Idler had made him the
great moralist of the age, and his Dictionary and History of the English
Language, that stupendous monument of individual labor, had excited the
admiration of the learned world. He was now at the head of intellectual
society; and had become as distinguished by his conversational as his
literary powers. He had become as much an autocrat in his sphere as his
fellow-wayfarer and adventurer Garrick had become of the stage, and had
been humorously dubbed by Smollett, "The Great Cham of Literature."
Such was Dr. Johnson, when on the 31st of May, 1761, he was to make his
appearance as a guest at a literary supper given by Goldsmith, to a
numerous party at his new lodgings in Wine-Office Court. It was the opening
of their acquaintance. Johnson had felt and acknowledged the merit of
Goldsmith as an author, and been pleased by the honorable mention made of
himself in the "Bee" and the Chinese Letters. Dr. Percy called upon Johnson
to take him to Goldsmith's lodgings; he found Johnson arrayed with unusual
care in a new suit of clothes, a new hat, and a well-powdered wig; and
could not but notice his uncommon spruceness. "Why, sir," replied Johnson,
"I hear that Goldsmith, who is a very great sloven, justifies his disregard
of cleanliness and decency by quoting my practice, and I am desirous this
night to show him a better example."
The acquaintance thus commenced ripened into intimacy in the course of
frequent meetings at the shop of Davies, the bookseller, in Russell Street,
Covent Garden. As this was one of the great literary gossiping places of
the day, especially to the circle over which Johnson presided, it is worthy
of some specification. Mr. Thomas Davies, noted in after times as the
biographer of Garrick, had originally been on the stage, and though a small
man had enacted tyrannical tragedy, with a pomp and magniloquence beyond
his size, if we may trust the description given of him by Churchill in the
Rosciad:
"Statesman all over--in plots famous grown,
_He mouths a sentence as ours mouth a bone_."
This unlucky sentence is said to have crippled him in the midst of his
tragic career, and ultimately to have driven him from the stage. He carried
into the bookselling craft somewhat of the grandiose manner of the stage,
and was prone to be mouthy and magniloquent.
Churchill had intimated, that while on the stage he was more noted for his
pretty wife than his good acting:
"With him came mighty Davies; on my life,
That fellow has a very pretty wife."
"Pretty Mrs. Davies," continued to be the loadstar of his fortunes. Her
tea-table became almost as much a literary lounge as her husband's shop.
She found favor in the eyes of the Ursa Major of literature by her winning
ways, as she poured out for him cups without stint of his favorite
beverage. Indeed it is suggested that she was one leading cause of his
habitual resort to this literary haunt. Others were drawn thither for the
sake of Johnson's conversation, and thus it became a resort of many of the
notorieties of the day. Here might occasionally be seen Bennet Langton,
George Stevens, Dr. Percy, celebrated for his ancient ballads, and
sometimes Warburton in prelatic state. Garrick resorted to it for a time,
but soon grew shy and suspicious, declaring that most of the authors who
frequented Mr. Davies' shop went merely to abuse him.
Foote, the Aristophanes of the day, was a frequent visitor; his broad face
beaming with fun and waggery, and his satirical eye ever on the lookout for
characters and incidents for his farces. He was struck with the odd habits
and appearance of Johnson and Goldsmith, now so often brought together in
Davies' shop. He was about to put on the stage a farce called The Orators,
intended as a hit at the Robin Hood debating club, and resolved to show up
the two doctors in it for the entertainment of the town.
"What is the common price of an oak stick, sir?" said Johnson to Davies.
"Sixpence," was the reply. "Why, then, sir, give me leave to send your
servant to purchase a shilling one. I'll have a double quantity; for I am
told Foote means to take me off, as he calls it, and I am determined the
fellow shall not do it with impunity."
Foote had no disposition to undergo the criticism of the cudgel wielded by
such potent hands, so the farce of The Orators appeared without the
caricatures of the lexicographer and the essayist.