and Colman. I believe I have written a hundred letters to different friends in your country, and never received an answer from any of them. I do not know how to account for this, or why they are unwilling to keep up for me these 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 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, 1 OLIVER GOLDSMITH.2 LETTER XVIII. TO SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS.3 MY DEAR FRIEND, We had a very quick passage from Dover to Calais, which we performed in three hours and twenty minutes, all of us extremely sea-sick, which must necessarily have ED. The Rev. Henry Goldsmith died in 1768. John had died young.— 2 To the original is annexed a receipt which shows that the sum of £15 was paid to Maurice Goldsmith, for a legacy bequeathed to Oliver Goldsmith by the late Rev. Thomas Contarine. Dated 4th February, 1770. PERCY. Mr. Contarine died shortly before Jan., 1770, according to Prior (Life of Goldsmith,' vol. ii., p. 220).—Ed. This fragment of a letter was first published in the Percy Memoir. It bears no date, but Goldsmith's visit to the Continent with the Hornecks, its occasion, is known to have occurred towards the end of July, 1770; and the letter itself shows that it was written immediately on landing at Calais.-ED. happened, as my machine to prevent sea-sickness was not completed. We were glad to leave Dover, because we hated to be imposed upon; so were in high spirits at coming to Calais, where we were told that a little money would go a great way. Upon landing two little trunks, which was all we carried with us, we were surprised to see fourteen or fifteen fellows all running down to the ship to lay their hands upon them; four got under each trunk, the rest surrounded, and held the hasps; and in this manner our little baggage was conducted, with a kind of funeral solemnity, till it was safely lodged at the custom-house. We were well enough pleased with the people's civility, till they came to be paid: every creature that had the happiness of but touching our trunks with their finger, expected six-pence; and they had so pretty, civil a manner of demanding it, that there was no refusing them. When we had done with the porters, we had next to speak with the custom-house officers, who had their pretty, civil way too. We were directed to the Hotel d'Angleterre, where a valet-de-place came to offer his service, and spoke to me ten minutes before I once found out that he was speaking English. We had no occasion for his service, so we gave him a little money because he spoke English, and because he wanted it. I cannot help mentioning another circumstance: I bought a new ribbon for my wig at Canterbury, and the barber at Calais broke it in order to gain sixpence by buying me a new one. LETTER XIX. TO SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS.1 MY DEAR FRIEND, PARIS, July 29th [1770]. I began a long letter to you from Lisle, giving a description of all that we had done and seen; but finding it very dull, and knowing that you would show it again, I 1 First published in Prior's Life,' from the original, then in the possession of Mr. Singer.-ED. threw it aside, and it was lost. You see by the top of this letter that we are at Paris, and (as I have often heard you say), we have brought our own amusement with us, for the ladies do not seem to be very fond of what we have yet seen. With regard to myself, I find that travelling at twenty and at forty are very different things. I set out with all my confirmed habits about me, and can find nothing on the Continent as good as when I formerly left it. One of our chief amusements here is scolding at everything we meet with and praising everything and every person we left at home. You may judge, therefore, whether your name is not frequently bandied at table among us. To tell you the truth, I never thought I could regret your absence so much as our various mortifications on the road have often taught me to do. I could tell you of disasters and adventures without number, of our lying in barns, and of my being half poisoned with a dish of green peas, of our quarrelling with postillions, and being cheated by our landladies, but I reserve all this for an happy hour which I expect to share with you upon my return. I long to hear from you all; how you yourself do, how Johnson, Burke, Dyer, Chamier, Colman, and every one of the Club do. I wish I could send you some amusement in this letter; but I protest I am so stupefied by the air of this country (for I am sure that it can never be natural) that I have not a word to say. I have been thinking of the plot of a comedy which shall be entitled 'A Journey to Paris,' in which a family shall be introduced with a full intention of going to France to save money. You know there is not a place in the world more promising for that purpose. As for the meat of this country, I can scarce eat it, and though we pay two good shillings a head for our dinner, I find it all so tough that I have spent less time with my knife than my pick-tooth. I said this as a good thing at table, but it was not understood. I believe it to be a good thing. As for our intended journey to Devonshire, I find it out of my power to perform it; for as soon as I arrive at Dover, I intend to let the ladies go on, and I will take a country lodging somewhere near that place in order to do some business. I have so outrun the constable, that I must mortify a little to bring it up again. For God's sake, the night you receive this, take your pen in your hand, and tell me something about yourself, and myself, if you know of anything that has happened. About Miss Reynolds, about Mr. Bickerstaff,1 my nephew, or any body that you regard. I beg you will send to Griffin the bookseller, to know if there be any letters left for me, and be so good as to send them to me at Paris. They may perhaps be left for me at the Porter's Lodge, opposite the pump in Temple Lane. The same. messenger will do. I expect one from Lord Clare from Ireland. As for others, I am not much uneasy about [them]. Is there any thing I can do for you at Paris? I wish you would tell me. The whole of my own purchases here is one silk coat, which I have put on, and which makes me look like a fool. But no more of that. I find that Colman has gained his lawsuit. I am glad of it. I suppose you often meet. I will soon be among you, better pleased with my situation at home, than I ever was before. And yet I must say that if any thing could make France pleasant, the very good women, with whom I am at present, would certainly do it. I could say more about that, but I intend showing them this letter before I send it away. What signifies teasing you longer with moral observations, when the business of my writing is over. I have one thing only more to say, and of that I think every hour in the day, namely, that I am your most Sincere and most affectionate friend, OLIVER GOLDSMITH. Direct to me, at the Hotel de Danemarc, Rue Jacob, Fauxbourg St. Germains. 6 1 The Irish playwright, author of The Padlock,' The Hypocrite,' 'Love in a Village,' and other popular plays: born 1737; died about 1787.-ED. 2 Oliver Goldsmith Hodson, the son of Daniel Hodson. He was at this time living in London (principally upon his uncle's means, it seems), in search of employment. He afterwards became an apothecary in Newman Street, Oxford Street; but ultimately succeeded to his grandfather Hodson's Irish estates.-ED. 1 LETTER XX. 1 TO BENNET LANGTON, ESQ., AT LANGTON, NEAR MY DEAR SIR, 3 Since I had the pleasure of seeing you last, I have been almost wholly in the country at a farmer's house, quite alone, trying to write a comedy. It is now finished, but when or how it will be acted, or whether it will be acted at all, are questions I cannot resolve. I am therefore so much employed upon that, that I am under the necessity of putting off my intended visit to Lincolnshire for this season. Reynolds is just returned from Paris, and finds himself now in the case of a truant that must make up for his idle time by diligence. We have therefore agreed to postpone our journey till next summer, when we hope to have the honour of waiting upon Lady Rothes and you, and staying double the time of our late intended visit. We often meet, and never without remembering you. I see Mr. Beauclerc very often, both in town and country. He is now going directly forward to become a second Boyle: deep in chemistry and physics. Johnson has been down upon a visit to a country parson, Dr. Taylor; and is returned to his old haunts at Mrs. Thrale's. Burke is a farmer, en attendant, a better place; but visiting about too. Every soul is a-visiting about, and merry, but myself; and that is hard too, as I have been trying these three months to do something to make people laugh. There have I been strolling about the 1 Mr. Langton was one of the original members of the Literary Club, and succeeded Dr. Johnson as Professor of Ancient Literature in the Royal Academy of Arts. He married the Dowager Countess of Rothes.-B. 2 First printed in the Percy Memoir by permission of Mr. Langton.ED. 3 Probably' She Stoops to Conquer.' This house was on the Edgware Road, near Hyde. From it Goldsmith wrote Letters XXI. and XXII.; and here, it is supposed,' She Stoops to Conquer,' most of the Animated Nature,' and some others of Goldsmith's works were written.-ED. |