on the reward of his talents, indebted to no other patronage than that of the public. After Scarron he playfully took his badge of nobility from his bookseller, and called himself the Marquis of Newberry; and while he could furnish such papers as the Bee or the Chinese Letters, and volumes like the History of England, he was able to back his title by a liberal estate. Newberry supplied him with small sums, credited the bills of his landlady, met the drafts from his tailor; and what needed the Poet more? He could entertain Johnson, and Burke, and Reynolds, and whole troops of children at his lodgings; could take his seat at the Club; and had means to sport an extra wardrobe at the masquerade; had always a guinea for the distressed; and besides the relief of his present desires, found time without adequate reward to write two of the finest poems in the language for the sake of Fame and Posterity. On the score of wealth he could enjoy all his wants, since he was a man of simple habits, and asked for little from without; he was rich in himself, and illustrated his own couplet Man wants but little here below, for he travelled through Europe on foot without bills of credit, and subsisted in London on the moderate recompense of the publishers. Our estimate of the infelicity of Genius is partial. We talk of the miseries of authorship, but take no account of the painful life of the merchant; the careful brow, the early and late application, the diligence of many years at the sport of an unruly wind; and, drawn over the soul like a pall, the harrowing visions of inevitable bankruptcy, which must sweep away his long-sought earnings, with the trust of the widow and orphan in his keeping to rob him of his last, best earthly possession, his station of honour among men. We do not think of the anxieties of wealth when we overvalue the suffering of the improvidence which neglects it. So, too, of the physician, the lawyer, and of every grade of society from the highest; each has its evils and knows its own bitterness: the wretched outcasts on the world, the unhappy inmates of the sad wards in Bedlam, are not all numbered or constituted from the race of Poets, though they be imprudent, or "of imagination all compact." There are woes dark enough in the annals of literary history, but they are not confined to its pages; they are the lot of man, "thick sown like a scurf o'er life;" nor should we repine over the sorrows of others, till we are securely strengthened against those liable to ourselves. So superior is every thing connected with literature, that we care not to see its true nobility drawn into contempt; the scholar, even with his faults and imperfections, his distaste of "the sacred thirst for gold," is a greater, perhaps not less unfortunate, and may be a better man than the being who despises him. Mr. Prior's new life of Goldsmith does honour to the poet, and must ensure to the author the gratitude of the literary world. It is rarely that such qualifications meet for the work of biography as those possessed by Mr. Prior, whose task is of no common order. His subject appears slight on its surface as comprehending the simple life of a man of letters disentangled from the interests of party politics or religion; but this very ease constitutes its difficulty. Had there been virulent prejudices against Goldsmith, they would have asked the attention of his friends; their discussion would have elucidated his character; his errors would have been weighed, and his good qualities fairly established. Nothing of this kind was called forth. At his death Johnson pronounced him " a very great man," which the world knew from his writings; but no one, while the materials were recent, erected a suitable monument to his worth. Exaggerated anecdotes of his extreme simplicity were suffered to pass current; his foibles were multiplied to failings; and in the great literary memorial of his times his pretensions were obscured by the vast shadow of Johnson. In the mean time the fame of the author increased; edition after edition was published of his delightful, heart-easing novel; his poetry was copied and emulated, and, what was more, popularly read; thousands, in defiance of the unities and good breeding, went away pleased from the performance of his comedy; the rich humour of his Essays was admitted, but no attempt was made to give the world a just idea of the man. While entire hecatombs were sacrificed at the altar of Johnson, scarce a single offering was presented at the deserted fane of Goldsmith. This neglect Mr. Prior has amply remedied. With untiring industry he has sought out and traced every possible memorial of the poet, whether in loose fragments of his writing, or personal anecdotes and recollections lingering in the memory of his friends. He has collected so vast an amount of new and interesting matter, that before this the life of the poet can hardly be said to have been written. The way in which many of these materials have been found is extraordinary. We shall offer several instances that naturally hang together. The fact of Goldsmith's residence at Green Arbour 283 Court (made the scene of one of Irving's happy sketches,) is well known; but what do we not owe to Mr. Prior for the recovery of the following characteristic incidents ? "In the year 1820, long before any thought of this biography was entertained, entering a small shop of miscellaneous articles in the Clapham-Road, in order to purchase the first edition (1765) of his Essays lying in the window, the owner, a fresh-looking woman between sixty and seventy, in opening the volume made a variety of affectionate encomiums on his kindness and charity to others when labouring under difficulties himself, intimating, at the same time, her personal knowledge of the persons befriended. Curiosity thus excited, occasioned inquiry; and this person, whose features and shop, though not her name, are well remembered, communicated all she professed to recollect. "By her account she was a near relative of the woman who kept the house in Green-Arbour Court, and at the age of seven or eight years went frequently thither, one of the inducements to which was the cakes and sweetmeats given to her and other children of the family by the gentleman who lodged there; these they duly valued at the moment, but when afterwards, considered as the gifts of one so eminent,.the recollection became a source of pride and boast. Another of his amusements consisted in assembling these children in his room, and inducing them to dance to the music of his flute. Of this instrument, as a favourite relaxation from study, he was fond. He was usually, as she subsequently heard when older and induced to inquire more about him, shut up in the room during the day, went uot in the evenings, and preserved regular hours. His habits otherwise were sociable, and he had several visitors. One of the companions, whose society gave him particular pleasure, was a respectable watchmaker residing in the same court, celebrated for the possession of much wit and humour; qualities which, as they distinguish his own writings, he professes to have sought and cultivated wherever they were to be found. His benevolence, as usual, flowed freely, according to my informant, whenever he had any thing to bestow, and even when he had not, the stream could not always be checked in its current; an instance of which tells highly to his honour. The landlord of the house having fallen into difficulties, was at length arrested; and Goldsmith, who owed a small sum for rent, being applied to by his wife to assist in the release of her husband, found that, although without money, he did not want resources; a new suit of clothes was consigned to the pawnbroker, and the amount raised, proving much more than sufficient to discharge his own debt, was handed over for the release of the prisoner. It would be a singular though not an improbable coincidence, if this story, repeated to the writer by the descendant of a person who afterwards became his tailor, and who knew not that it had been previously told, should apply to that identical suit of apparel for 37 -NO. II. VOL. I. which he incurred so much odium and abuse from Griffiths; and that an effort of active benevolence to relieve a debtor from gaol should have given rise to a charge against him resembling dishonesty. The quarrel appears to have occurred about the period in question." Life, p. 171. The allusion in the latter clause is this. Goldsmith, it seems, had procured Griffiths, his publisher, to be surety to his tailor for a new suit of clothes, when he desired to secure a situation in the army, to obtain which he must appear well dressed. He was immediately to return the suit or discharge the debt. He failed in his object, of which more presently, and in his necessity took the clothes to a pawnbroker, where they were found by Griffiths. A correspondence took place, severe on the part of the publisher, which drew forth the annexed letter from Goldsmith hitherto unpublished. The passages we have underscored certainly favour Mr. Prior's ingenious and honourable suggestion. "Sir, "I know of no misery but a gaol to which my own imprudences and your letter seem to point. I have seen it inevitable these three or four weeks, and, by heavens! request it as a favour-as a favour that may prevent somewhat more fatal. I have been some years struggling with a wretched being-with all that contempt that indi. gence brings with it-with all those strong passions which make contempt insupportable. What, then, has a gaol that is formidable? I shall at least have the society of wretches, and such is, to me, true society. I tell you again and again, I am now neither able nor willing to pay you a farthing, but I will be punctual to any appointment you or the tailor shall make; thus far, at least, I do not act the sharper, since, unable to pay my debts one way, I would willingly give some security another. No, Sir; had I been a sharper, had I been possessed of less good nature and native generosity, I might surely now have been in better circumstances. "I am guilty, I own, of meannesses which poverty unavoidably brings with it my reflections are filled with repentance for my imprudence, but not with any remorse for being a villain; that may be a character you unjustly charge me with. Your books, I can assure you, are neither pawned nor sold, but in the custody of a friend from whom my necessities obliged me to borrow some money : whatever becomes of my person, you shall have them in a month. It is very possible, both the reports you have heard and your own suggestions may have brought you false information with respect to my character; it is very possible that the man whom you regard with detestation may inwardly burn with grateful resentment. sible that, upon a second perusal of the letter I sent see the workings of a mind strongly agitated with It is very posyou, you may gratitude and jealousy. If such circumstances should appear, at least spare invective till my book with Mr. Dodsley shall be published; and then perhaps you may see the bright side of a mind, when my professions shall not appear the dictates of necessity, but of choice. "You seem to think Dr. Milner knew me not. Perhaps so; but he was a man I shall ever honour; but I have friendships only with the dead! I ask pardon for taking up so much time; nor shall I add to it by any other professions, than that I am, "Sir, your humble servant, "OLIVER GOLDSMITH." The situation in the army alluded to as sought by Goldsmith unfolds a third instance (incidentally hit upon from a large volume) of Mr. Prior's diligence. At one period Goldsmith had in view an appointment with liberal perquisites under the East India Company, as physician on the coast of Coromandel, which he mentions in one of his letters to Ireland. The cause of his abandoning this scheme, so favourable to his wants, has never before been explained. The investigation discloses a new disappointment in the life of the Poet, which but adds to his misfortunes or ennobles his after-character according to the disposition of the reader. The circumstances were these: "Difficulty in providing necessary supplies for the voyage, or the unsteadiness of mind confessed by him as one of his faults, produced soon afterwards its necessary results; for his views on India were for a time suspended. Looking seriously to the length of absence necessary to acquire the promised independence, the pain felt in quitting his native country, and the improbability, when once away, of returning to it, probably occasioned distaste to the expedition altogether. The navy or army promised all he now wanted, present provision and less permanent removal from England. To one of these departments his medical services were now tendered, induced by the example of several acquaintance, and the remembrance of Grainger and Smollett, who, in the spirit of adventure, or for a more extensive observation of mankind, pursued a similar course in early life. "Either of the services could be joined with a less expensive outfit than that required for an India voyage, and might be quitted with greater facility if uncongenial to his feelings. Prompted by such considerations, he presented himself at Surgeon's Hall for examina. tion as an hospital mate, in December 1758; and to the utter dis. comfiture of all his projects, and with feelings nearly akin to despair, was rejected as unqualified. "Whether this mortifying result arose from want of knowledge of minute anatomy, which, having been long from the schools, might be easily forgotten; or of operative surgery, to which, contemplating |