ported himself, there is no proof that George Primrose's adventures were written from a recollection of Goldsmith's own experiences. About all that is really known of his travels is that he passed through Flanders, portions of France, staying some time at Paris, Switzerland, and Italy. He returned through France, and crossed over to England in the beginning of 1756.

As there is a good deal of difference of opinion as to the condition and prospects of a literary man at the time when Goldsmith began his London life, and as authorities like De Quincey and Forster are to some extent at variance on this point, it may, perhaps, be well to hear what Goldsmith himself has to say on the matter. following extract from the Citizen of the World, though supposed to be written by a Chinaman, probably represents mainly his own views.

The

"At present the few poets of England no longer depend on the great for subsistence; they have now no other patrons but the public, and the public, collectively considered, is a good and a generous master. It is, indeed, too frequently mistaken as to the merits of every candidate for favour; but, to make amends, it is never mistaken long. A performance, indeed, may be forced for a time into reputation, but, destitute of real merit, it soon sinks; time, the touchstone of what is truly valuable, will soon discover the fraud, and an author should never arrogate to himself any share of success till his works have been read at least ten years with satisfaction. A man of letters at present, whose works are valuable, is perfectly sensible of their value. Every polite member of the community, by buying what he

writes, contributes to reward him. The ridicule, therefore, of living in a garret might have been wit in the last age, but continues such no longer, because no longer true. A writer of real merit now may easily be rich, if his heart be set only on fortune; and for those who have no merit, it is but fit that such should remain in merited obscurity. He may now refuse an invitation to dinner, without fearing to incur his patron's displeasure, or to starve by remaining at home. He may now venture to appear in company with just such clothes as other men generally wear, and talk even to princes with all the conscious superiority of wisdom. Though he cannot boast of fortune here, yet he can bravely assert the dignity of independence." It is true that, when Goldsmith wrote the above about the obsolete wit of ridiculing the literary man's garret and the rather pompous statement about talking to princes, he was living in a garret himself. But everything must have a beginning. Goldsmith had started literally without funds, and his reputation was yet to make. Later on, when the comedies and poems had been published, money came in fast. It was spent fast too; but if, as seems to be the case, his average income during the last five or six years of his life was nearly £1,000 per annum, it was no one's fault but his own that he was sometimes pressed for money. The Citizen of the World, from which the extract given above is taken, was commenced in the year 1760, so that Goldsmith's real literary career begins very nearly with the accession of George III. to the throne. During the four years intervening between his return to England and the date at which we have arrived, he had been a chemist's assistant, an usher in a school, and a press

corrector. Next we find him earning his bread as a hack writer and reviewer. In April, 1759, he published “An Enquiry into the Present State of Polite Learning." Then he started a magazine called the Bee, which only ran through eight numbers. In 1762 he published the life of Beau Nash, the master of ceremonies at Bath, admirably described by Mr. Black in the "English Men of Letters Series" as the " Funeral March of a Marionnette." About a year more spent in hard work, work nearly always in arrears, and the remuneration for which had been mostly anticipated, and we come to a crisis in his life. He is arrested for debt, and Dr. Johnson, with whom he had been some time acquainted, comes to the rescue. An earnest appeal comes from Goldsmith to Johnson, who sends him a guinea, and presently arrives hiinself. During the short interval between the arrival of the guinea and its sender, Goldsmith had contrived to change the former, and to procure a bottle of Madeira to cheer his spirits. This is eminently characteristic. No "Parson's black champagne" or other plebeian liquor would do, but this very respectable beverage must be procured to allay his thirst and his anxiety. If, as seems reasonable to presume, the idea of sending for the wine was suggested by previous habit, we cannot wonder at his being in debt. On Johnson's arrival Goldsmith told him he had a novel ready for the press. Johnson replaced the cork in the bottle, looked over the manuscript, went out, and sold the Vicar of Wakefield for £60. Not long after this the Traveller made its appearance (1764). It had been projected as far back as 1755, and had probably occupied much of Goldsmith's time in touching and retouching it. We can admire the

beauties of the poem, its simplicity and elegance of diction, and its occasional bursts of tender sentiment -though this last quality is seen more in the Deserted Village without necessarily agreeing with all the poet's views. It certainly cannot be admitted that all forms of government are equally conducive to happiness, and that the state of mind and general felicity of the subject is independent of "laws and kings." This, however, seems to be the argument of the concluding portion of the poem. The language of both poems is simple, and there are not many difficulties in the construction which need puzzle the young student; but while this is so, there are passages in which it must be confessed that the thought is obscure or vague: see nn. on Traveller, 11. 36-50, 205-8, Deserted Village, 1. 188.

Another point worthy of notice is the similarity, of expression sometimes, of thought frequently, between passages in the poems and the prose works: see nn. to Traveller, 11. 310, 340, 392, Deserted Village, 82, 153, etc. This seems to indicate what indeed is known to have been the case, that Goldsmith had not only the plan but much of the form of the poems worked out for years before they were published. His constant revision and careful emendation of the poems would give him a stock of thoughts and expressions which would readily present themselves to his mind, when he might be engaged on other work.

But Goldsmith has not only stock thoughts and stock phrases, but stock words. One of these favourite words is "bliss." This word occurs nine times in the Traveller, and appears to be used for any degree of happiness and almost any kind. In 1. 202 we have the "bliss" which

the "scanty fund" of the Switzer supplies, and in 1. 226 "bliss" apparently means getting drunk. In D. V., 1. 248, "mantling bliss" is beer. In ordinary English "bliss" means a very high degree of pleasure or happiness, but this noun, as well as the verb "bless," was used more widely than it is at present, both in Goldsmith's time and in Pope's before him, e.g.,

"Without satiety, tho' e'er so bless'd."

-Essay on Man iv. 37.

"Hope of known bliss, and faith in bliss unknown."

-Ibid. 346.

In this last line the known bliss is simply the expectation of worldly comforts or advantages which man is able to look forward to, in this way excelling the lower animals, who can form no such anticipations.

Another word frequently used by Goldsmith is "vacant" in the sense of free from care, unconcerned. In our time a notion of silliness, or weakness of intellect, foolishness at least, is attached to this word. Goldsmith uses it nearly in one sense of the Latin vacuus. The Greek ȧuépiuvos, literally "undistracted by thought," is still nearer. "Vacant mind” in l. 122, and the same expression in 1. 257 of the Deserted Village, means a mind void of distracting cares.

Another point to be noticed is his fondness for hypallage, i.e. the transference of an epithet from the word to which it properly belongs and its attachment to another word. The "bleak Swiss" in 1. 167 of the Traveller is an instance of this, and a still more remarkable example occurs in the Citizen of the World, letter li.,