secured for ever an Englishman's liberty and property. They have grown out of my firmness, and the affair of the North Briton;' but neither in this case are we nor our posterity concerned whether John Wilkes, or John à Nokes, wrote or published the 'North Briton' or 'the Essay on Woman.'

The public, then, has no call upon me. I have steadily pursued their object, and I may now, after all their huzzas, fall back into the mass of common citizens. Does any one point suffer by my absence? I have not heard that it does. I know that many of the opposition are, to the full, as much embarrassed about my business as the administration, and detest it as much. I believe, both parties will rejoice at my being here. Too many personalities, likewise, have been mixed with my business, and the King himself has taken too great, not to say too indecent, a share in it, to recede. Can it be thought, too, that the princess dowager can ever forgive what she supposes I have done? What then am I to expect if I return to England? Persecution from my enemies; coldness and neglect from friends, except such noble ones as you and a few more. I go on to some other things.

My private finances are much hurt, by three elections; one at Berwick, and two at Aylesbury. Miss Wilkes's education is expensive. I can live here much cheaper than in London. And what is my duty, and you know is the object I have most at heart, her welfare, will be better, in every point, ascertained here, with me, than at London. Shall I return to Great George-street, and live at so expensive a house? Forbid it real economy, and forbid it pride, to go to another, unless for some great national point of liberty! Perhaps, in the womb of fate, some important public or private event is to turn up. A lucky death often sets all right. Mrs. Mead and Mr. Sherbrooke are both old, and have no relation but Miss Wilkes. She is devoted to me, beyond what you can imagine; and is really all that a fond father can wish. I have taken all possible care of her in every respect. I could live here as well as I wish, for one half of what it will cost me in London; and, when Miss Wilkes was of an age to return to England, not a farthing in debt-which at present oppresses my spirits. I am grown prudent, and will be economical to a great degree.

If government means peace or friendship with me, and to save their honour (wounded to the quick by Webb's affair), I then

breathe no longer hostility. And, between ourselves, if they would send me ambassador to Constantinople it is all I should wish. Mr. Grenville, I am told, solicits his recall. I think, however, the King can never be brought to this, (as to me I mean,) though the ministry would wish it.

If I stay at Paris, I will not be forgot in England; for I will feed the papers, from time to time, with gall and vinegar against the administration. I cannot express to you how much I am courted here, nor how pleased our inveterate enemies are with the 'North Briton.' Gay felt the pulse of the French ministers about my coming here and Churchill's, upon the former report. The answer was sent from the Duke de Praslin, by the King's orders, to monsieur St. Foy, premier commis des affaires étrangères, in these words: Les deux illustres J. W. et C. C. peuvent venir en France et à Paris aussi souvent et pour autant de tems, qu'ils le jugeront propos, &c.'

à

I am offered the liberty of printing here whatever I choose. I have taken no resolution; nor will I, till I hear again from you. Favour me with your sentiments fully and freely.

Your most devoted

JOHN WILKES.

CLXXVIII.

At the close of 1758, Oliver Goldsmith, then at the very lowest ebb of fortune, failed to pass his examination at Surgeon's Hall, and was thrown on the world at the age of thirty with nothing whatever to do for a living. At this moment his landlady came to him with a piteous tale of her distress, and the impetuous poet, having no money, gave her forthwith his new suit of clothes to pawn. Unfortunately these had been lent him by Griffith the publisher, who seems to have found out the circumstance directly, and who indulged his temper by calling Goldsmith a knave and a sharper, and by threatening to send him to prison.

Oliver Goldsmith to Mr. Griffith.

January, 1759.

Sir, I know of no misery but a jail to which my own imprudences and your letter seems to point. I have seen it inevitable these three or four weeks, and, by heavens ! request it as a favor,—as a favor that may prevent something more fatal. I have been some years struggling with a wretched being—with all

that contempt that indigence brings with it—with all those passions which make contempt insupportable. What, then, has a jail that is formidable? I shall at least have the society of wretches, and such is to me true society. I tell you, again and again, that I am neither able nor willing to pay you a farthing, but I will be punctual to any appointment you or the Jailor shall make; thus far, at least, I do not act the sharper, since, unable to pay my own debts one way, I would generally give some security another. No, sir; had I been a sharper-had I been possessed of less good-nature and native generosity, I might surely now have been in better circumstances.

I am guilty, I own, of meannesses which poverty unavoidably brings with it: my reflections are filled with repentance for my imprudence, but not with any remorse for being a villain: that may be a character you unjustly charge me with. Your books, I can assure you, are neither pawned nor sold, but in the custody of a friend, from whom my necessities obliged me to borrow some money. Whatever becomes of my person, you shall have them in a month. It is very possible both the reports you have heard and your own suggestions may have brought you false information with respect to my character; it is very possible that the man whom you now regard with detestation may inwardly burn with grateful resentment.

It is very possible that, upon a second perusal of the letter I sent you, you may see the workings of a mind strongly agitated with gratitude and jealousy. If such circumstances should appear, at least spare invective till my book with Mr. Dodsley shall be published, and then, perhaps, you may see the bright side of a mind, when my professions shall not appear the dictates of necessity, but of choice.

You seem to think Dr. Milner knew me not. Perhaps so; but he was a man I shall ever honor; but I have friendships only with the dead! I ask pardon for taking up so much time; nor shall I add to it by any other professions than that I am, sir your humble servant,

OLIVER GOLDSMITH.

P.S.-I shall expect impatiently the result of your resolutions.

CLXXIX.

In estimating the character of Goldsmith, we gain much by considering what the stock was from which he sprang. Compared with some of his relations, the eccentric poet was a model of social stability. We see him in this highly characteristic letter freely giving up to his family the small legacy of fifteen pounds left him by his uncle Contarine; it was but a drop among all those thirsty souls. No wonder Goldsmith was in no haste to return to his native country.

Oliver Goldsmith to Maurice Goldsmith.

January, 1770.

Dear Brother,-I should have answered your letter sooner, but, in truth, I am not fond of thinking of the necessities of those I love, when it is so very little in my power to help them. I am sorry to find you are every way unprovided for; and what adds to my uneasiness is, that I have received a letter from my sister Johnson by which I learn that she is pretty much in the same circumstances. As to myself, I believe I think I could get both you and my poor brother-in-law something like that which you desire, but I am determined never to ask for little things, nor exhaust any little interest I may have, until I can serve you, him and myself more effectually. As yet, no opportunity has offered; but I believe you are pretty well convinced that I will not be remiss when it arrives.

The King has lately been pleased to make me professor of Ancient History in the royal academy of painting which he has just established, but there is no salary annexed; and I took it rather as a compliment to the institution than any benefit to myself. Honors to one in my situation are something like ruffles to one that wants a shirt.

You tell me that there are fourteen or fifteen pounds left me in the hands of my cousin Lawder, and you ask me what I would have done with them. My dear brother, I would by no means give any directions to my dear worthy relations at Kilmore how to dispose of money which is, properly speaking, more theirs than mine. All that I can say is, that I entirely, and this letter will serve to witness, give up any right and title to it; and I am sure

they will dispose of it to the best advantage. To them I entirely leave it; whether they or you may think the whole necessary to fit you out, or whether our poor sister Johnson may not want the half, I leave entirely to their and your discretion. The kindness of that good couple to our shattered family demands our sincerest gratitude; and, though they have almost forgotten me, yet, if good things at last arrive, I hope one day to return and increase their good-humour by adding to my own.

I have sent my cousin Jenny a miniature picture of myself, as I believe it is the most acceptable present I can offer. I have ordered it to be left for her at George Faulkner's, folded in a letter.

The face you well know is ugly enough, but it is finely painted. I will shortly also send my friends over the Shannon some mezzotint prints of myself, and some more of my friends here, such as Burke, Johnson, Reynolds, and Colman. I believe I have written a hundred letters to different friends in your country, and never received an answer to any of them. I do not know how to account for this, or why they are unwilling to keep up for me those regards which I must ever retain for them.

If, then, you have a mind to oblige me, you will write often, whether I answer you or not. Let me particularly have the news of our family and old acquaintances. For instance, you may begin by telling me about the family where you reside, how they spend their time, and whether they ever make mention of me. Tell me about my mother, my brother Hodson and his son, my brother Harry's son and daughter, my sister Johnson, the family of Ballyoughter, what is become of them, where they live, and how they do. You talked of being my only brother. I don't understand you. Where is Charles? A sheet of paper occasionally filled with the news of this kind would make me very happy, and would keep you nearer my mind. As it is, my dear brother, believe me to be

Yours, most affectionately,

OLIVER GOLDSMITH.