ly. Take me then with all my faults. Let me write when I please; for you see, I say what I please, and am only thinking aloud, when writing to you. I suppose you have heard of my intention of going to the East-Indies. The place of my destination is one of the factories on the coast of Coromandel, and I go in quality of physician and surgeon; for which the company has signed my warrant, which has already cost me ten pounds. I must also pay 501. for my passage, and ten pounds for my sea stores: and the other incidental expenses of my equipment will amount to 60 or 701. more. The salary is but trifling, viz. 1001. per ann. but the other advantages, if a person be prudent, are considerable. The practice of the place, if I am rightly informed, generally amounts to not less than one thousand pounds per ann.; for which the appointed physician has an exclusive privilege. This, with the advantages resulting from trade, with the high interest which money bears, viz. 201. per cent. are the inducements which persuade me to undergo the fatigues of sea, the dangers of war, and the still greater dangers of the climate: which induce me to leave a place where I am every day gaining friends and esteem; and where I might enjoy all the conveniences of life. I am certainly wrong not to be contented with what I already possess, trifling as it is; for should I ask myself one serious question-What is it I want? What can I answer? My desires are capricious, as the big-bellied woman's, who longed for a piece of her husband's nose. I have no certainty, it is true; but why cannot I do as some men of more merit, who have lived on more precarious terms? Scarron used jestingly to call himself the marquis of Quenault, which was the name of the bookseller that employed him and why may not I assert my privi lege and quality on the same pretensions? Yet, upon

deliberation, whatever airs I give myself on this side of the water, my dignity, I fancy, would be evaporated before I reached the other. I know you have in Ireland a very indifferent idea of a man who writes for bread; though Swift and Steele did so in the earliest part of their lives. You imagine, I suppose, that every author, by profession, lives in a garret, wears shabby clothes, and converses with the meanest company. Yet I do not believe there is one single writer, who has abilities to translate a French novel, that does not keep better company, wear finer clothes, and live more genteelly, than many who pride themselves for nothing else in Ireland. I confess it again, my dear Dan, that nothing but the wildest ambition could prevail on me to leave the enjoyment of that refined conversation which I am sometimes admitted to partake in, for uncertain fortune, and paltry show. You cannot conceive how I am sometimes divided: to leave all that is dear to me, gives me pain; but when I consider I may possibly acquire a genteel independence for life: when I think of that dignity which philosophy claims, to raise itself above contempt and ridicule; when I think thus, I eagerly long to embrace every opportunity of separating myself from the vulgar, as much in my circumstances, as I am already in my sentiments. I am going to publish a book, for an account of which I refer you to a letter, which I wrote to my brother Goldsmith. Circulate for me among your acquaintance a hundred proposals, which I have given orders may be sent to you: and if, in pursuance of such circulation, you should receive any subscriptions, let them, when collected, be transmitted to Mr. Bradley, who will give a receipt. for the same.

[Omitting here what relates to private family affairs, he then adds:]

I know not how my desire of seeing Ireland, which

had so long slept, has again revived with so much ardour. So weak is my temper, and so unsteady, that I am frequently tempted, particularly when low-spirited, to return home, and leave my fortune, though just beginning to look kinder. But it shall not be. In five or six years I hope to indulge these transports. I find I want constitution, and a strong steady disposition, which alone makes men great. I will, however, correct my faults, since I am conscious of them.

TO EDWARD MILLS, ESQ.

NEAR ROSCOMMON, IRELAND.

DEAR SIR,

YOU have quitted, I find, that plan of life which you once intended to pursue; and given up ambition for domestic tranquillity. Were I to consult your satisfaction alone in this change, I have the utmost reason to congratulate your choice; but when I consider my own, I cannot avoid feeling some regret, that one of my few friends has declined a pursuit, in which he had every reason to expect success. The truth is, like the rest of the world, I am self-interested in my concern; and do not so much consider the happiness you have acquired, as the honour I have probably lost in the change. I have often let my fancy loose when you were the subject, and have imagined you gracing the bench, or thundering at the bar; while I have taken no small pride to myself, and whispered all that I could come near, that this was my cousin. Instead of this, it seems you are contented to be merely a happy man; to be esteemed only by your acquaintance-to cultivate your paternal acres-to take unmolested a nap under one of your own haw

thorns, or in Mrs. Mills' bed-chamber, which, even a poet must confess, is rather the most comfortable place of the two.

lut, however your resolutions may be altered with respect to your situation in life, I persuade myself they are unalterable with regard to your friends in it. I cannot think the world has taken such entire possession of that heart, (once so susceptible of friendship,) as not to have left a corner there for a friend or two; but I flatter myself that even I have my place among the number. This I have a claim to, from the similitude of our dispositions; or, setting that aside, I can demand it as my right, by the most equitable law in nature; I mean that of retaliation: for, indeed, you have more than your share in mine. I am a man of few professions, and yet this very instant I cannot avoid the painful apprehension, that my present professions (which speak not half my feelings) should be considered only as a pretext to cover a request, as I have a request to make. No, my dear Ned, I know you are too generous to think so; and you know me too proud to stoop to mercenary insincerity. I have a request, it is true, to make; but, as I know to whom I am a petitioner, I make it without diffidence or confusion. It is, in short, this: I am going to publish a book in London, entitled, An Essay on the Present State of Taste and Literature in Europe. Every work published here the printers in Ireland republish there, without giving the author the least consideration for his copy. I would in this respect disappoint their avarice, and have all the additional advantages that may result from the sale of my performance there to myself. The book is now printing in London, and I have requested Dr. Radcliff, Mr. Lawder, Mr. Bryanton, my brother Mr. Henry Goldsmith, and brother-in-law Mr. Hodson, to circulate my proposals

among their acquaintance. The same request I now make to you, and have accordingly given directions to Mr. Bradley, bookseller, in Dame-street, Dublin, to send you a hundred proposals. Whatever subscriptions, pursuant to those proposals, you may receive, when collected, may be transmitted to Mr. Bradley, who will give a receipt for the money, and be accountable for the books. I shall not, by a paltry apology, excuse myself for putting you to this trouble. Were I not convinced that you found more pleasure in doing good natured things, than uneasiness at being employed in them, I should not have singled you out on this occasion. It is probable you would comply with such a request, if it tended to the encouragement of any man of learning whatsoever. What then may not he expect who has claims of family and friendship to enforce his?

I am, dear sir, your sincere

Friend and humble servant,

OLIVER GOLDSMITH.

London, Temple Exchange

Coffee-House, Temple-Bar,

August 7, 1759.

TO THE REV. HENRY GOLDSMITH,

AT LOWFIELD, NEAR BALLYMORE, IN WEST-MEATH,

IRELAND.

[This is evidently a second letter, subsequent to all the preceding, and written about the year 1759.]

DEAR SIR,

YOUR punctuality in answering a man, whose trade is writing, is more than I had reason to expect ; and yet you see me generally fill a whole sheet, which