Pattens; which was to illustrate how a maiden of low degree, by the mere effects of morality and virtue, raised herself to riches and honours. But they would not, he added, discover much wit or humour in it, because, agreeing with the most fashionable of his brother writers, that any signs of joyful satisfaction were beneath the dignity of such an assembly as he saw before him (roars of laughter interrupted him here), he had given up the sensual for the sentimental style. The Puppet-Show proceeded, and sentimental comedy never recovered the shock of that night. Garrick set himself at once to laugh at it, as loudly as though he never had supported it; and to that end sent Goldsmith a very humorous prologue descriptive of its unhappy fate, a tribute to the better prospects of his unsentimental comedy.

Not yet in the theatre itself, however, were these felt or understood. Mortification still attended Goldsmith there. The actors had taken their tone from the manager. Gentleman Smith threw up Young Marlow; Woodward refused Tony Lumpkin; and in the teeth of his own misgivings, Colman could not contest with theirs. So alarming was the defection, to some of Goldsmith's friends, that they urged the postponement of the comedy. 'No,' he said, giving to his necessity the braver look of independence, 'I'd rather my play were damned by bad players, than 'merely saved by good acting.' Tony was cast to Quick, the actor who had played the trifling part of the Postboy in his first comedy; and Shuter (still true to the cause of humour and character, which he admirably supported in

Mr. Hardcastle) suggested Lewes for Young Marlow. He was afterwards better known as Lee Lewes; to distinguish him from the exquisite light comedian whom Cumberland had just discovered at Dublin, and was writing about (in a capital critical style) to Garrick, but who subsequently made his appearance at Covent Garden. Lewes was the harlequin of the theatre; but on Shuter protesting in his vehement odd way that the boy could patter,' and 'use 'the gob-box as quick and smart as any of them,' Goldsmith consented to the trial; and before the second rehearsal was over, felt sure he would succeed. Famous was the company at these rehearsals. Shuter quite lost his presence of mind, and quaint talkativeness, when so many ladies appeared. Johnson attended them; Reynolds, his sister, and the whole Horneck party; Cradock, Murphy, and Colman. But not a jot of the latter's evil prediction, could all the hopeful mirth of the rest abate. He had set his face against success. He would not suffer a new scene to be painted for the play, refused to furnish even a new dress, and was careful to spread his forebodings as widely as he could. He was certainly not a false or ill-natured man; but appears unaccountably to have despaired of the comedy from the first, and to have thought it a kind of mercy to help it out of, rather than into, the world. With a manager so disposed, at almost every step taken within the theatre there was of course a stumble. Murphy volunteered an epilogue, but the lady who was not to speak it made objection to the lady who was; the author wrote an epilogue

to bring in both, and the lady first objected-to, objected in her turn; a third epilogue was then written by poor Goldsmith, to which Colman himself thought proper to object as too bad to be spoken; Cradock meanwhile sent a fourth from the country, rejected for a similar reason (though politely printed with the comedy as having 'arrived 'too late'); and Goldsmith finally tried his hand at a fifth, which, though permitted to be spoken, he thought 'a mawkish thing.' The history of these petty annoyances would be incredible, but that Mr. Cradock has preserved a letter in which Goldsmith describes them; and the epilogues survive in proof, collected with his poems. The letter was written immediately after the performance, but will most properly be quoted here.

"MY DEAR SIR, The play has met with a success much beyond your expectations or mine. I thank you sincerely for your epilogue, which however could not be used, but with your permission shall be printed. The story in short is this. Murphy sent me rather the outline of an epilogue than an epilogue, which was to be sung by Miss Catley, and which she approved; Mrs. Bulkley hearing this, insisted on throwing up her part" (Miss Hardcastle) "unless according to the custom of the theatre she were permitted to speak the epilogue. In this embarrassment I thought of making a quarrelling epilogue between Catley and her, debating who should speak the epilogue; but then Mrs. Catley refused after I had taken the trouble of drawing it out. I was then at a loss indeed; an epilogue was to be made, and for none but Mrs. Bulkley. I made one, and Colman thought it too bad to be spoken; I was obliged therefore to try a fourth time, and I made a very mawkish thing as you'll shortly Such is the history of my Stage adventures, and which I have

see.

at last done with. I cannot help saying, that I am very sick of the stage; and though I believe I shall get three tolerable benefits, yet I shall on the whole be a loser, even in a pecuniary light; my ease and comfort I certainly lost while it was in agitation. I am, my dear Cradock, your obliged and obedient servant, OLIVer Goldsmith. P. S. Present my most humble respects to Mrs. Cradock.'

This anticipates a little; seeing that some touches to the loss of ease and comfort are yet to be added. There were but a few days left before the comedy was to be acted, and no name had been found for it. 'We are all in labour,' says Johnson, whose labour of kindness had been untiring throughout, 'for a name to Goldy's play.' What now stands as the second title, The Mistakes of a Night, was originally the only one; but it was thought undignified for a comedy. The Old House a New Inn was suggested in place of it, but dismissed as awkward. Reynolds then announced what he thought so capital a title, that he threatened, if it were not adopted, he should go and help to damn the play; and he triumphantly named it The Belle's Stratagem. This name was still under discussion, and had well nigh been snatched from Mrs. Cowley, when Goldsmith hit upon She Stoops to Conquer. Graver troubles remained, which he could not remedy; and he left the last rehearsal with a heavy heart. His probable failure had been made matter of such common gossip, that it was even announced in the box-office to the servant who was engaging a box for the Duke of Gloucester; and a very angry remonstrance with Colman followed. Up to this time he had not been able

to muster courage to begin the printing of his play; but in a kind of desperation he now went to Newbery, and, in redemption of the debt between them which had lately cost him some anxiety, offered him the chances of the copyright. And yet to tell you the truth' he added, 'there are great doubts of its success.' Newbery thought it best to accept the offer, by which he afterwards very largely profited.

The eventful day arrived (Monday the 15th of March), and Goldsmith's friends were summoned to a tavern dinner, arranged and to be presided over by Johnson. George Steevens was one; and in calling on his way to the tavern to take up the old zealous philosopher, found him ready dressed, but in coloured clothes.' There was a court mourning at the time, for the King of Sardinia; and being reminded of this, Johnson hastened with reiterated thanks to change his dress, profuse in his gratitude for being saved from an appearance so improper in the front row of a front box,' and protesting that he would not 'for ten pounds' have seemed 'so retrograde to any general observance.' At this dinner, beside Johnson and Steevens, Burke and his brother were present, with Sir Joshua Reynolds, Caleb Whitefoord, and (he would himself have us believe) Cumberland and a party of Scotch friends. But, for the presence of Cumberland and his friends, his own Memoirs (little better than an amusing collection of apocryphal things) is the only authority: and not only has he described a jumble of a party that could never have