unexampled success, since the day they entered London together with fourpence between them, but would rise and plead in his behalf. The popular actor's intercourse with the great, his absolute control of crowds of dependants, his sprightliness as a writer and talker equalled by few, his immense acquired wealth, the elevation and social esteem he had conferred upon his calling, and the applause he had for ever had sounded in his ears, and dashed in his face; all would in succession array themselves in Johnson's mind, till he was fain to protest, philosopher as he was, that if all that had happened to him, if lords and ladies had flattered him, if sovereigns and statesmen had petted him, and if the public had adored him, he must have had a couple of fellows with long poles continually walking before him to knock down everybody that stood in the way. The condescension of patronage was at least a very harmless long pole, and Goldsmith might have taken a few taps from it. A mere sensitive though clever thinker like Hans Andersen, fretting behind the scenes, will talk of an actor putting himself in one scale and all the rest of the world in another; but a profoundly just man like Goethe, wise in a theatre as everywhere else, will show you that the actor's love of admiration is a part of his means to please, and that he is nothing if he seem not something to himself and others. Not to be omitted, at the same time, and not to be palliated, is Garrick's large share of blame in this special instance. His first professions should not have merged, as they did, into

excuses and delays; but should have taken, either way, a decisive tone. Keeping up fair words of success to Goldsmith, it would seem he gave private assurances to Johnson and Reynolds that the comedy could not possibly succeed. Interviews followed at his own house; explanations, and proposals for alteration; doubtful acquiescence, and doubtful withdrawal of it. Matters stood thus, the season meanwhile passing to its close, when Goldsmith, whose wants had never been so urgent, and whose immediate chances of relieving them had been lost through Garrick's delays, thought himself justified in asking the manager to advance him forty pounds upon a note of the younger Newbery's. Garrick had at this time renewed his promise to act the play; and was in all probability very glad to lend this money, and profit by what advantage it might offer him. It is certain that soon afterward he suggested to the luckless dramatist, as essential to his success, a series of important alterations which were at once and with some indignation rejected.

The leading characters in the piece were three; and are understood to remain, at present, much as when they left Garrick's hands. In Honeywood, who gives the comedy its title, we have occasional conscious glance, not to be mistaken, at the writer's own infirmities. Nor is there any disposition to make light of them. Perhaps the errors which arise from easiness of disposition, and tend to unintentional confusions of right and touched with a happier severity.

wrong, have never been

Splendid as they seem,

and borrowing still the name from some neighbouring duty, they are shewn for what they really are; and not all our liking for good-nature, nor all the mirth it gives us in this comedy, can prevent our seeing, with its help, that there is a charity which may be a great injustice, a sort of benevolence for which weakness would be the better name, and a friendship that may be nothing but credulity. In Croaker we have the contrast and foil to this, and one of the best drawn characters of modern comedy. In the way of wit, Wycherly or Congreve have done few things better; and Farquhar himself could not have surpassed the heartiness of it, or thrown into the croaking a more unctuous enjoyment. We feel it to be a perfect satisfaction to be miserable with Croaker. His friend Dick Doleful was quite right when he discovered that he rhymed to joker. The Rambler's brief sketch of 'Suspirius the screech-owl' supplied some hints for the character; but the masterly invention, and rich breadth of comedy, which made a living man out of this half page of a book, were entirely Goldsmith's. It is the business of the stage to deal with what lies about us most familiarly, humanitas humanissima ; and it is the test of a dramatist of genius that he should make matters of this kind, in themselves the least remote, appear to be the most original. No one had seen him on the stage before; yet every one had known, or been, his own Croaker. For all the world is for ever croaking, more or less; and only a few know why. There's the advantage

'of fretting away our misfortunes before-hand, we never

'feel them when they come.' In excellent harmony with these imaginary misfortunes, too, are the ideal acquaintance of Lofty; as new to the stage, and as commonly met with in the street. Jack Lofty is the first of the family of Jack Brags, who have since been so laughter-moving in books and theatres; nor is his mirth without a moral. 'I begin to find that the man who first invented the art 'of speaking truth, was a much cunninger fellow than I 'thought him.'. It was Mrs. Inchbald's favourite character; when it fell into the hands of the admirable Lewis, on the play's reproduction half a century since, it became a general favourite; and when a proposed revival of the comedy was interrupted six years ago by the abrupt termination of the best theatrical management within my recollection, it was the character selected for personation by the great actor who held Garrick's office and power

in the theatre.

Yet on the unlucky Lofty it was, that the weight of Garrick's hostile criticism descended. He pointed out that according to the construction of the comedy, its important figures were Croaker and Honeywood; that anything which drew off attention from them, must damage the theatrical effect; and that a new character should be introduced, not to divide interest or laughter with theirs, but to bring out their special contrasts more broadly. It was a criticism unworthy of Garrick, because founded on the most limited stage notions; yet he adhered to it pertinaciously. He would play the alteration, if made; but

he would not play the comedy as it stood. Goldsmith made in the first instance very violent objections; softened into remonstrance and persuasion, which he found equally unavailing; is described to have written many letters, which displayed in more than the confusion of their language and the unsteadiness of their writing, the anxiety and eagerness of the writer; and at last, under the bitter goad of his pecuniary wants, is understood to have made partial concession. But it had come too late. The alterations were certainly not made, though the comedy remained some time longer in Garrick's hands. There was a long fluctuation between encouragement and doubt, says Bishop Percy, 'with the usual uncertainty.' The truth appears to have been, that the more Garrick examined the comedy, the less available to his views he found it; and he was at last driven to an expedient he had before found serviceable, when more had been promised than he was able to perform and his authorial relations were become somewhat complex, and proposed a sort of arbitration. But poor Goldsmith smarted more under this than any other part of the tedious negotiation; and on Garrick's proceeding to name for his arbitrator, Whitehead the laureat, who was acting at the time as his 'reader' in such matters, a dispute of so much vehemence and anger ensued, that the services of Burke as well as Reynolds were needed to moderate the disputants. Of all the manager's slights of the poet, this was forgotten last; and occasion to recall it was always seized with bitterness. There was in the