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those who knew of his mother's death, it would appear to be not the proper dress of mourning for so near a relative: so that he satisfied nobody, and displeased some; for Miss Reynolds, who afterwards heard of her death, thought it unfeeling in him to call his mother a distant relation.


I THINK my acquaintance with Dr. Goldsmith must have commenced at Mr. Yates's house. My introduction to Mr. Murphy certainly took place there. The Doctor afterwards favoured me with a Prologue for my tragedy of Zobeide, probably in consequence of some application made by the Yates family, and he sent it to me with the following note:

Mr. Goldsmith presents his best respects to Mr. Cradock; has sent him the Prologue, such as it is. He cannot take time to make it better. He begs he will give Mr. Yates the proper instructions; and so, even so, he commits him to fortune and the public.'

6 For the Right Hon. Lord Clare,
(Mr. Cradock,) Gosfield, Essex.'

This Prologue was evidently intended to be spoken by Mr. Yates, but it was forwarded to Mr. Quick; a comic Prologue, by the husband, in the character of a sailor, would have ill suited with the lofty dignity of the first tragic actress; indeed their names rarely appeared in the same play-bill, they were not calculated for the same meridian.

The following note seems to refer to one of his earlier productions; but I retain neither letter nor written document of any kind from him with a date.

Mr. Goldsmith's best respects to Mr. Cradock: when he asked him to-day, he quite forgot an engagement of above a week's standing, which has been made purposely for him; he feels himself quite uneasy at not being permitted to have his

instructions upon those parts where he must necessarily be defective. He will have a rehearsal on Monday; when, if Mr. Cradock would come, and afterwards take a bit of mutton chop, it would add to his other obligations.

'Sunday morning,

'To J. Cradock, Esq., at the Hotel in Pall Mall.

The first letter I ever received from Dr. Goldsmith was sent to me in Leicestershire, where I had previously altered his Comedy of She Stoops to Conquer.'

'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 Mrs. Catley, and which she approved. Mrs. Bulkley, hearing this, insisted on throwing up her part, 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 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, upon 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,

P.S. Present my most humble respects to Mrs. Cra




WELL, the Play ended, and my comrades gone,
Pray what becomes of mother's n'only son?
A hopeful blade! in town I'll fix my station,
And cut a dashing figure through the nation;
Turn Author, Actor, Statesman, Wit, or Beau,
And stalk the Hero of the 'Puppetshow.'
Could I but gain some present firm support,
I'd quickly barter Country Ale for Port.
No 'Piety in Pattens,' I renounce her,
Off in a crack, and carry big Bet Bouncer.
Bill Bullet now can drive a roaring trade,
And picks up Countesses in Masquerade;

Walks round the new Great room* with Dukes and Peer 6,
And swears he'll never balk his country jeers;

Nay, more, they much admires his lounging gait,

And talks to him as to the Lords of State.

And there's my Comrade, too, that lived o' th' hill,
Odzooks! he quite forgets his father's mill,
Says he was born to figure high in life,
And gets in keeping by a Nabob's wife.

Why should not I, then, in the world appear?
I soon shall have a thousand pounds a year;
What signifies below what men inherit?
In London, there they've some regard for merit.
Mother still talks' of larning, modes refin'd;'
They're all for making mince-meat of my mind.
I'll no such stuff; for, after all their strife,
'Tis best, what haps in lottery and in life.

I'm off, the horses scamper through the streets,
And big Bet Bouncer bobs to all she meets;
To every Race, to Pastimes every night,
Not to the Plays (they say), it been't polite;
To Sadler's Wells, perhaps, or Operas go;
And once, perchance, to th' Roratorio.

Then Bet herself shall sit at top o' th' table;
She manages the house, and I the stable;
The rest o' th' time we'll scamper up and down,
And set the fashions, too, to half the town;
Frequent all auctions, money ne'er regard;
Buy pictures, like the great, ten pounds a yard.
Odzooks! we'll make these London gentry say,
We know what's high genteel as well as they.


Though I was inattentive to my own productions of every sort, I hope I was always careful as to those of others. Dr.. Goldsmith presented to me his Threnodia Augustalis, written on the Princess Dowager's death; I gave it up to Mr. Nichols, and have since seen the following extract from Mr. Chalmers's Life of Goldsmith, in the collection of English Poets, published in 1810:

"The present edition of his poems is copied from the octavo principally, with the addition of the Threnodia Augustalis, a piece which has hitherto escaped the researches of his editors. It is now printed from a copy given by the author to his friend Joseph Cradock, Esq. of Grumley, author of Zobeide, and obligingly lent to me by Mr. Nichols. If it add little to his fame, it exhibits a curious instance of the facility with which he gratified his employers on a very short notice.'

Dr. Percy very kindly introduced me to dine at the Literary Club, at the bottom of St. James's-street, where we met Dr. Goldsmith. The table that day was crowded, and I sat next Mr. Burke; but as Mr. Richard Burke talked much, and the great orator said very little, I was not aware at first who was my neighbour. One of the party near us remarked that there was an offensive smell in the room, and thought it must proceed from some dog that was under the table; but Mr. Burke, with a smile, turned to me, and said, 'I rather fear it is from the beef-steak pie that is opposite to us, the crust of which is made with some very bad butter, that comes from my country.' Just at that moment Dr. Johnson sent his plate for some of it, and Burke helped him to very little, which he soon dispatched, and returned his plate for more. Burke, without thought, exclaimed, 'I am glad that you are able so well to relish this beef-steak pie.' Johnson, not at all pleased that what he eat should ever be noticed, immediately retorted, There is a time of life, sir, when a man requires the repairs of a table.'

Before dinner was finished, Mr. Garrick came in, full dressed, made many apologies for being so much later than he intended, but he had been unexpectedly detained at the House of Lords, and Lord Camden had absolutely insisted upon setting him

down at the door of the hotel in his own carriage. Johnson said nothing, but he looked a volume.

During the afternoon, some literary dispute arose; but Johnson sat silent, till the Dean of Derry very respectfully said, 'We all wish, sir, for your opinion on the subject.' Johnson inclined his head, and never shone more in his life than at that period: he replied without any pomp; he was perfectly clear and explicit, full of the subject, and left nothing undetermined. There was a pause, and he was then hailed with astonishment by all the company. The evening in general passed off very pleasantly: some talked perhaps for amusement, and others for victory. We sat very late; and the conversation that at last ensued was the direct cause of my friend Goldsmith's poem, called Retaliation.'

Dr. Goldsmith and I never quarrelled, for he was convinced that I had a real regard for him; but a kind of civil sparring continually took place between us. You are so attached,' says he, to Hurd, Gray, and Mason, that you think nothing good can proceed but out of that formal school. Now I'll mend Gray's Elegy, by leaving out an idle word in every line,'' And for me, Doctor, completely spoil it.'

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Enough, enough! I have no ear for more.'

'Cradock (after a pause), I am determined to come down into the country, and make some stay with you, and I will build you an ice-house.'-Indeed, my dear Doctor,' I replied, 'you will not; you have got the strangest notion in the world of making amends to your friends, wherever you go; I hope, if you favour me with a visit, that you will consider your own company is the best recompense.'-'Well,' says Goldsmith, 'that is civilly enough expressed; but I should like to build you an ice-house: I have built two already, they are perfect, and this should be a pattern to all your country.'

I dined yesterday,' says he, laying down his papers, 'in

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