ORIENTAL PROJECTS--LITERARY JOBS--THE CHEROKEE CHIEFS--MERRY ISLINGTON AND
THE WHITE CONDUIT HOUSE--LETTERS ON THE HISTORY OF ENGLAND--JAMES
BOSWELL--DINNER OF DAVIES--ANECDOTES OF JOHNSON AND GOLDSMITH
Notwithstanding his growing success, Goldsmith continued to consider
literature a mere makeshift, and his Vagrant imagination teemed with
schemes and plans of a grand but indefinite nature. One was for visiting
the East and exploring the interior of Asia. He had, as has been before
observed, a vague notion that valuable discoveries were to be made there,
and many useful inventions in the arts brought back to the stock of
European knowledge. "Thus, in Siberian Tartary," observes he in one of his
writings, "the natives extract a strong spirit from milk, which is a secret
probably unknown to the chemists of Europe. In the most savage parts of
India they are possessed of the secret of dying vegetable substances
scarlet, and that of refining lead into a metal which, for hardness and
color, is little inferior to silver."
Goldsmith adds a description of the kind of person suited to such an
enterprise, in which he evidently had himself in view.
"He should be a man of philosophical turn, one apt to deduce consequences
of general utility from particular occurrences; neither swollen with pride,
nor hardened by prejudice; neither wedded to one particular system, nor
instructed only in one particular science; neither wholly a botanist, nor
quite an antiquarian; his mind should be tinctured with miscellaneous
knowledge, and his manners humanized by an intercourse with men. He should
be in some measure an enthusiast to the design; fond of traveling, from a
rapid imagination and an innate love of change; furnished with a body
capable of sustaining every fatigue, and a heart not easily terrified at
danger."
In 1761, when Lord Bute became prime minister on the accession of George
the Third, Goldsmith drew up a memorial on the subject, suggesting the
advantages to be derived from a mission to those countries solely for
useful and scientific purposes; and, the better to insure success, he
preceded his application to the government by an ingenious essay to the
same effect in the "Public Ledger."
His memorial and his essay were fruitless, his project most probably being
deemed the dream of a visionary. Still it continued to haunt his mind, and
he would often talk of making an expedition to Aleppo some time or other,
when his means were greater, to inquire into the arts peculiar to the East,
and to bring home such as might be valuable. Johnson, who knew how little
poor Goldsmith was fitted by scientific lore for this favorite scheme of
his fancy, scoffed at the project when it was mentioned to him. "Of all
men," said he, "Goldsmith is the most unfit to go out upon such an inquiry,
for he is utterly ignorant of such arts as we already possess, and,
consequently, could not know what would be accessions to our present stock
of mechanical knowledge. Sir, he would bring home a grinding barrow, which
you see in every street in London, and think that he had furnished a
wonderful improvement."
His connection with Newbery the bookseller now led him into a variety of
temporary jobs, such as a pamphlet on the Cock-lane Ghost, a Life of Beau
Nash, the famous Master of Ceremonies at Bath, etc.; one of the best things
for his fame, however, was the remodeling and republication of his Chinese
Letters under the title of The Citizen of the World, a work which has long
since taken its merited stand among the classics of the English language.
"Few works," it has been observed by one of his biographers, "exhibit a
nicer perception, or more delicate delineation of life and manners. Wit,
humor, and sentiment pervade every page; the vices and follies of the day
are touched with the most playful and diverting satire; and English
characteristics, in endless variety, are hit off with the pencil of a
master."
In seeking materials for his varied views of life, he often mingled in
strange scenes and got involved in whimsical situations. In the summer of
1762 he was one of the thousands who went to see the Cherokee chiefs, whom
he mentions in one of his writings. The Indians made their appearance in
grand costume, hideously painted and besmeared. In the course of the visit
Goldsmith made one of the chiefs a present, who, in the ecstasy of his
gratitude, gave him an embrace that left his face well bedaubed with oil
and red ocher.
Toward the close of 1762 he removed to "merry Islington," then a country
village, though now swallowed up in omnivorous London. He went there for
the benefit of country air, his health being injured by literary
application and confinement, and to be near his chief employer, Mr.
Newbery, who resided in the Canonbury House. In this neighborhood he used
to take his solitary rambles, sometimes extending his walks to the gardens
of the White Conduit House, so famous among the essayists of the last
century. While strolling one day in these gardens, he met three females of
the family of a respectable tradesman to whom he was under some obligation.
With his prompt disposition to oblige, he conducted them about the garden,
treated them to tea, and ran up a bill in the most open-handed manner
imaginable; it was only when he came to pay that he found himself in one of
his old dilemmas--he had not the wherewithal in his pocket. A scene of
perplexity now took place between him and the waiter, in the midst of which
came up some of his acquaintances, in whose eyes he wished to stand
particularly well. This completed his mortification. There was no
concealing the awkwardness of his position. The sneers of the waiter
revealed it. His acquaintances amused themselves for some tune at his
expense, professing their inability to relieve him. When, however, they had
enjoyed their banter, the waiter was paid, and poor Goldsmith enabled to
convoy off the ladies with flying colors.
Among the various productions thrown off by him for the booksellers during
this growing period of his reputation was a small work in two volumes,
entitled The History of England, in a Series of Letters from a Nobleman to
his Son. It was digested from Hume, Rapin, Carte, and Kennet. These authors
he would read in the morning; make a few notes; ramble with a friend into
the country about the skirts of "merry Islington"; return to a temperate
dinner and cheerful evening; and, before going to bed, write off what had
arranged itself in his head from the studies of the morning. In this way he
took a more general view of the subject, and wrote in a more free and
fluent style than if he had been mousing at the time among authorities. The
work, like many others written by him in the earlier part of his literary
career, was anonymous. Some attributed it to Lord Chesterfield, others to
Lord Orrery, and others to Lord Lyttelton. The latter seemed pleased to be
the putative father, and never disowned the bantling thus laid at his door;
and well might he have been proud to be considered capable of producing
what has been well pronounced "the most finished and elegant summary of
English history in the same compass that has been or is likely to be
written."
The reputation of Goldsmith, it will be perceived, grew slowly; he was
known and estimated by a few; but he had not those brilliant though
fallacious qualities which flash upon the public and excite loud but
transient applause. His works were more read than cited; and the charm of
style, for which he was especially noted, was more apt to be felt than
talked about. He used often to repine, in a half-humorous, half-querulous
manner, at his tardiness in gaining the laurels which he felt to be his
due. "The public," he would exclaim, "will never do me justice; whenever I
write anything they make a point to know nothing about it."
About the beginning of 1763 he became acquainted with Boswell, whose
literary gossipings were destined to have a deleterious effect upon his
reputation. Boswell was at that time a young man, light, buoyant, pushing,
and presumptuous. He had a morbid passion for mingling in the society of
men noted for wit and learning, and had just arrived from Scotland, bent
upon making his way into the literary circles of the metropolis. An
intimacy with Dr. Johnson, the great literary luminary of the day, was the
crowning object of his aspiring and somewhat ludicrous ambition. He
expected to meet him, at a dinner to which he was invited at Davies the
bookseller's, but was disappointed. Goldsmith was present, but he was not
as yet sufficiently renowned to excite the reverence of Boswell. "At this
time," says he in his notes, "I think he had published nothing with his
name, though it was pretty generally understood 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."
A conversation took place at table between Goldsmith and Mr. Robert
Dodsley, compiler of the well-known collection of modern poetry, as to the
merits of the current poetry of the day. Goldsmith declared there was none
of superior merit. Dodsley cited his own collection in proof of the
contrary. "It is true," said he, "we can boast of no palaces nowadays, like
Dryden's Ode to St. Cecilia's Day, but we have villages composed of very
pretty houses." Goldsmith, however, maintained that there was nothing above
mediocrity, an opinion in which Johnson, to whom it was repeated,
concurred, and with reason, for the era was one of the dead levels of
British poetry.
Boswell has made no note of this conversation; he was a Unitarian in his
literary devotion, and disposed to worship none but Johnson. Little Davies
endeavored to console him for his disappointment, and to stay the stomach
of his curiosity, by giving him imitations of the great lexicographer;
mouthing his words, rolling his head, and assuming as ponderous a manner as
his petty person would permit. Boswell was shortly afterward made happy by
an introduction to Johnson, of whom he became the obsequious satellite.
From him he likewise imbibed a more favorable opinion of Goldsmith's
merits, though he was fain to consider them derived in a great measure from
his Magnus Apollo. "He had sagacity enough," says he, "to cultivate
assiduously the acquaintance 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 Johnson, though, indeed,
upon a smaller scale." So on another occasion he calls him "one of the
brightest ornaments of the Johnsonian school." "His respectful attachment
to Johnson," adds he, "was then at its height; for big own literary
reputation had not yet distinguished him so much as to excite a vain desire
of competition with his great master."
What beautiful instances does the garrulous Boswell give of the goodness of
heart of Johnson, and the passing homage to it by Goldsmith. They were
speaking of a Mr. Levett, long an inmate of Johnson's house and a dependent
on his bounty; but who, Boswell thought, must be an irksome charge upon
him. "He is poor and honest," said Goldsmith, "which is recommendation
enough to Johnson."
Boswell mentioned another person of a very bad character, and wondered at
Johnson's kindness to him. "He is now become miserable," said Goldsmith,
"and that insures the protection of Johnson." Encomiums like these speak
almost as much for the heart of him who praises as of him who is praised.
Subsequently, when Boswell had become more intense in his literary
idolatry, he affected to undervalue Goldsmith, and a lurking hostility to
him is discernible throughout his writings, which some have attributed to a
silly spirit of jealousy of the superior esteem evinced for the poet by Dr.
Johnson. We have a gleam of this in his account of the first evening he
spent in company with those two eminent authors at their famous resort, the
Mitre Tavern, in Fleet Street. This took place on the 1st of July, 1763.
The trio supped together, and passed some time in literary conversation. On
quitting the tavern, Johnson, who had now been sociably acquainted with
Goldsmith for two years, and knew his merits, took him with him to drink
tea with his blind pensioner, Miss Williams, a high privilege among his
intimates and admirers. To Boswell, a recent acquaintance whose intrusive
sycophancy had not yet made its way into his confidential intimacy, he gave
no invitation. Boswell felt it with all the jealousy of a little mind. "Dr.
Goldsmith," says he, in his memoirs, "being a privileged man, went with
him, strutting away, and calling to me with an air of superiority, like
that of an esoteric over an esoteric disciple of a sage of antiquity, 'I go
to Miss Williams.' I confess I then envied him this mighty privilege, of
which he seemed to be so proud; but it was not long before I obtained the
same mark of distinction."
Obtained! but how? not like Goldsmith, by the force of unpretending but
congenial merit, but by a course of the most pushing, contriving, and
spaniel-like subserviency. Really, the ambition of the man to illustrate
his mental insignificance, by continually placing himself in juxtaposition
with the great lexicographer, has something in it perfectly ludicrous.
Never, since the days of Don Quixote and Sancho Panza, has there been
presented to the world a more whimsically contrasted pair of associates
than Johnson and Boswell.
"Who is this Scotch cur at Johnson's heels?" asked some one when Boswell
had worked his way into incessant companionship. "He is not a cur," replied
Goldsmith, "you are too severe; he is only a bur. Tom Davies flung him at
Johnson in sport, and he has the faculty of sticking."