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He was born in the kingdom of Ireland,
At Fernes, in the province
Of Leinster,

Where Pallas had set her name,
29th Nov. 1731.

He was educated at Dublin,

And died in London,

4th April, 1774.

As to his character, it is strongly illustrated by Mr Pope's line,

In wit a man, simplicity a child.

We insert the following lines, in verse and prose, written by a friend immediately after his death, as they were deemed faithful transcripts of his character.

Here rests, from the cares of the world and his pen,
A poet whose like we shall scarce meet again;
Who, though form'd in an age when corruption ran high,
And folly alone seem'd with folly to vie;

When genius, with traffic too commonly train'd,
Recounted her merits by what she had gain'd;
Yet spurn'd at those walks of debasement and pelf,
And in poverty's spite dared to think for himself.
Thus free'd from those fetters the Muses oft bind,
He wrote from the heart to the hearts of mankind;
And such was the prevalent force of his song,
Sex, ages, and parties, he drew in a throng.
The lovers 'twas theirs to esteem and commend,
For his Hermit had prov'd him their tutor and friend;
The statesman, his politic passions on fire,

Acknowledg'd repose from the charms of his lyre.
The moralist too had a feel for his rhymes,

For his Essays were curbs on the rage of the times;
Nay, the critic, all school'd in grammatical sense,
Who look'd in the glow of description for sense,
Reform'd as he read, fell a dupe to his art,
And confess'd by his eyes what he felt in his heart.

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Yet, blest with original powers like these,
His principal force was on paper to please;
Like a fleet-footed hunter, though first in the chase,
On the road of plain sense he oft slacken'd his pace;
Whilst dullness and cunning, by whipping and goring,
Their hard-footed hackneys paraded before him;
Compounded likewise of such primitive parts,

That his manners alone would have gain'd him our hearts.
So simple in truth, so ingenuously kind,

So ready to feel for the wants of mankind;

Yet praise but an author of popular quill,

His flux of philanthropy quickly stood still;

Transform'd from himself, he grew meanly severe,

And rail'd at those talents he ought not to fear.

Such then were his foibles; but though they were such

As shadow'd the picture a little too much,

The style was all graceful, expressive, and grand,

And the whole the result of a masterly hand.

The prosaic eulogium which follows, does the highest honour to his character, both literary and personal.

"In an age when genius and learning are too generally sacrificed to the purposes of ambition and avarice, it is the consolation of virtue, as well as its friends, that they can commemorate the name of Goldsmith as a shining example to the contrary.

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Early compelled, like many of the greatest men, into the service of the Muses, he never once permitted his necessities to have the least improper influence on his conduct; but, knowing and respecting the honourable line of his profession, he made no farther use of fiction than to set off the dignity of truth; and in this he succeeded so happily, that his writings stamp him no less the man of genius than the universal friend of mankind.

"Such is the outline of his poetical character, which, perhaps, will be remembered whilst the first-rate poets of this country have any monuments left them. But, alas! his noble and immortal part, the good man, is only consigned to the short-lived memory of those who are left to lament his death.

Having naturally a powerful bias on his mind to the cause of virtue, he was cheerful and indefatigable in every pursuit of it; warm in his friendship, gentle in his manners, and in every act of charity and benevolence, "the very milk of human nature." Nay, even his foibles, and little weaknesses of temper, may be said rather to simplify than degrade his understanding; for, though there may be many instances adduced, to prove he was no man of the world, most of those instances would attest the unadulterated purity of his heart. One who esteemed the kindness and friendship of such a man, as forming a principal part of the happiness of this life, pays this last sincere and grateful tribute to his memory.'

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The esteem in which our author was held by Dr Johnson, is evident from the following passage, extracted from a letter of the Doctor to Mr Boswell, soon after his demise. "Of poor dear Dr Goldsmith there is little to be told, more than the papers have made public. He died of a fever, made, I am afraid, more violent by uneasiness of mind. His debts began to be heavy, and all his resources were exhausted. Sir Joshua (Reynolds) is of opinion, that he owed no less than two thousand pounds. Was ever poet so trusted before ?"

To so high a degree of literary fame did Goldsmith arrive, that the product of his writings in general is said to have amounted, in the course of fourteen years, to more than eight thousand pounds; but this sum was dissipated by an improvident liberality, without discrimination of objects, and other foibles incidental to mankind, which our author could not see in himself, or if he could see, wanted resolution to correct. But with these foibles he possessed many virtues, and those particularly of humanity and benevolence, which disposed him to do all the good within his power; so that he lived respected and died lamented.

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"The person of Goldsmith," says Mr Boswell, in the Life of Dr Johnson, was short; his countenance coarse and vulgar; his deportment that of a scholar, awkwardly affecting the complete gentleman. No man had the art of displaying, with more ad

vantage as a writer, whatever literary acquisitions he made. His mind resembled a fertile, but thin soil; there was a quick but not a strong vegetation of whatever chanced to be thrown upon it. No deep root could be struck. The oak of the forest did not grow there; but the elegant shrubbery, and the fragrant parterre, appeared in gay succession. It has been generally circulated, and believed, that he was a mere fool in conversation. In allusion to this, Mr Horatio Walpole, who admired his writings, said, he was "an inspired idiot;" and Garrick describes him as one:

-for shortness call'd Noll,

Who wrote like an angel, and talk'd like poor Poll.

But, in reality, these descriptions are greatly exaggerated. He had, no doubt, a more than common share of that hurry of ideas, which we often find in his countrymen, and which sometimes introduces a laughable confusion in expressing them. He was very much what the French call un etourdi: and from vanity, and an eager desire of being conspicuous wherever he was, he frequently talked carelessly, without any knowledge of the subject, or even without thought. Those who were any ways distinguished, excited envy in him to so ridiculous an excess, that the instances of it are hardly credible. He, I am told, had no settled system of any sort, so that his conduct must not be too strictly criticised; but his affections were social and generous, and when he had money, he bestowed it liberally. His desires of imaginary consequence frequently predominated over his attention to truth."

His prose has been admitted as the model of perfection, and the standard of the English language. D Johnson says, "Goldsmith was a man of such variety of powers, and such felicity of performance, that he seemed to excel in whatever he attempted; a man who had the art of being minute without tediousness, and general without confusion; whose language was capacious without exuberance; exact without restraint; and easy without weakness.

The most admired of his prosaic writings are the Vicar of Wakefield, Essays, Letters from a Nobleman to his Son, and the Life of Parnell.

With respect to the Vicar of Wakefield, it is certainly a composition which has justly merited the applause of all discerning persons as one of the best novels in the English language. The diction is chaste, correct and elegant. The characters are drawn to the life; and the scenes it exhibits are ingeniously variegated with honour and sentiment. The hero of the piece displays the most shining virtues that can adorn relative and social life; sincere in his professions, humane and generous in his disposition, he is himself a pattern of the character he represents, enforcing that excellent maxim, that example is more powerful than precept. His wife is drawn as possessing many laudable qualifications; and her prevailing passion for external parade is an inoffensive foible, calculated rather to excite our mirth than incur our censure. The character of Olivia, the Vicar's eldest daughter, is contrasted with that of Sophia, the younger; the one being represented as of a disposition gay and volatile, the other as rather grave and steady; though neither of them seems to have indulged their peculiar propensity beyond the bounds of moderation.

Upon a review of this excellent production, it may be truly said, that it inculcates the purest lessons of morality and virtue, free from the rigid laws of Stoicism, and adapted to attract the esteem and observation of every ingenuous mind. It excites not

a thought that can be injurious in its tendency, nor breathes an idea that can offend the chastest ear; or, as it has been expressed, the language is such as "angels might have heard, and virgins told." The writer who suggested this pleasing idea, observes further, that "if we do not always admire his knowledge or extensive philosophy, we feel the benevolence of his heart, and are charmed with the purity of its principles. If we do not follow, with awful reverence, the majesty of his reason, or the dignity of the long extended period, we at least catch a pleasing sentiment in a natural and unaffected style.”—

Goldsmith's merit, as a poet, is universally acknowledged. His writings partake rather of the elegance and harmony of Pope, than the grandeur and sublimity of Milton; and, as we observed before, from the authority of Dr Johnson, he rivals every writer of verse since the death of Pope; so that it is to be lamented that his poetical productions are not more numerous; for though his ideas flowed rapidly, he arranged them with great caution, and occupied much time in polishing his periods, and harmonizing his numbers.

His most favourite Poems are the Traveller, Deserted Village, Hermit, and Retaliation. These productions may justly be ranked with the most admired works in English Poetry.

The Traveller delights us with a display of charming imagery, refined ideas, and happy expressions. The characteristics of the different nations are strongly marked, and the predilection of each inhabitant in favour of his own ingeniously described.

The Deserted Village is generally admired: the characters are drawn from the life. The descriptions are lively and picturesque; and the whole appears so easy and natural, as to bear the semblance of historical truth more than poetical fiction.

The poem of 'The Hermit' was at first inscribed to the Countess (afterwards Duchess) of Northumberland, who had shown a partiality for productions of this kind, by patronising Percy's 'Reliques of Ancient English Poetry. This led to a renewed intercourse with the Duke, to whom we have already narrated Goldsmith's first visit; but the time had gone by that his Grace could have been politically useful, and we do not know that our Author reaped any other advantage from the notice which that nobleman took of him, save the gratification his vanity might derive from being recognized by a man of the Duke's high rank and consequence as a literary friend.

His last Poem of Retaliation, to which we have before adverted, is replete with humour, free from spleen, and forcibly exhibits the prominent features of the several characters to which it alludes. Dr Johnson, as reported by Mr Boswell, sums up his literary character in the following concise manner: "Take him (Goldsmith) as a Poet, his Traveller is a very fine performance and so is his Deserted Village, were it not sometimes too much the echo of his Traveller. Whether we take him as a Poet, as a Comic Writer, or as an Historian, he stands in the first class.”

THE

VICAR OF WAKEFIELD.

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