that remains to be noticed, owed its birth to some circumstances of festive merriment that occurred at one of the meetings in St James's Coffee-house. The occasion that produced it is thus adverted to by Mr Cumberland in his Memoirs: « It was upon a proposal started by Edmund Burke, that a party of friends, who had dined together at Sir Joshua Reynolds' and my house, should meet at the St James's Coffee-house; which accordingly took place, and was occasionally repeated with much festivity and good fellowship. Dr Barnard, dean of Derry, a very amiable and old friend of mine, Dr Douglas, since bishop of Salisbury, Johnson, David Garrick, Sir Joshua Reynolds, Oliver Goldsmith Edmund and Richard Burke, Hickey, with two or three others constituted our party. At one of these meetings, an idea was suggested of extemporary epitaphs upon the parties present; pen and ink were called for, and Garrick off-hand wrote an epitaph with a good deal of humour upon poor Goldsmith, who was the first in jest, as he proved to be in reality, that we committed to the grave. The dean also gave him an epitaph, and Sir Joshua illuminated the dean's verses with a sketch of his bust in pen and ink, inimitably caricatured. Neither Johnson nor Burke wrote any thing; and when I perceived Oliver was rather sore, and seemed to watch me with that kind of attention which indicated his expectation of something in the same kind of burlesque with theirs, I thought it time to press the joke no farther, and wrote a few couplets at a side-table; which, when I had finished, and was called upon by the company to exhibit, Goldsmith, with much agitation, besought me to spare him; and I was about to tear them, when Johnson wrested them out of my hand, and in a loud voice read them at the table. I have now lost all recollection of them, and in fact they were little worth remembering; but as they were serious and complimentary, the effect they had upon Goldsmith was the more pleasing for being so entirely unexpected. The concluding line, which is the only one I can call to mind, was— All mourn the poet, I lament the man.' This I recollect, because he repeated it several times, and seemed much gratified by it. At our next meeting, he produced his epitaphs as they stand in the little posthumous poem above mentioned; and this was the last time he ever enjoyed the company of his friends.»> The delicacy with which Mr Cumberland acted on this occasion, and the compliment he paid to our author, were not thrown away. In drawing the character of Cumberland in return, Goldsmith, while he demonstrated his judgment as a critic, proved his gratitude and friendship at the same time, in designating him, Other members of the club, however, were hit off with a much smaller portion of compliment, and for the most part with more truth than flattery; yet the wit and humour with which he discriminated their various shades of character, is happily free from the slightest tincture of ill-nature. His epitaph on Mr Burke proves him to have been intimately acquainted with the disposition and qualities of that celebrated orator. The characteristics of Mr Burke's brother are humorously delineated, and were highly appropriate; the portrait of Dr Douglas is critically true; but the most masterly sketch in the piece is undoubtedly the character of Garrick, who had been peculiarly severe in his epitaph on Goldsmith.' On the evening that Goldsmith produced « Retaliation» he read it in full club, and the members were afterwards called on for their opinions. Some expatiated largely in its praise, and others seemed to be delighted with it; yet, when its publication was suggested, the prevailing sentiment was decidedly hostile to such a measure, Goldsmith hence discovered, that a little sprinkling of fear was not an unnecessary ingredient in the friendship of the world; and though he meant not immediately to publish his poem, he determined to keep it, as he expressed himself to a friend, « as a rod in pickle for any future occasion 1 See Vol. II. p. 98. H. that might occur.» But this occasion never presented itself: a more awful period was now approaching. A short time previous to this, he had projected an important literary work, under the title of « A Universal Dictionary of Arts and Sciences.>> In this undertaking he is said to have engaged all his literary friends, including most of the members of the Literary Club, particularly Johnson, Reynolds, and Burke, who promised to promote the design with all their interest, and to furnish him with original articles on various subjects to be embraced by the work. So much had he this project at heart,--so sanguine was he of its success,—and so little doubt did he entertain of encouragement from the booksellers, that without previous concert with any one of the trade, he actually printed and published the Prospectus at his own expense. These gentlemen, however, were not, at that time, disposed to enter upon so heavy an undertaking, and of course received his proposals so coldly, that he found himself obliged to abandon the design. It is supposed that he had fondly promised himself relief from his pecuniary difficulties by this scheme, and consequently his chagrin at the disappointment was the more keenly felt. He frequently lamented the circumstance to his friends; and there is little doubt that it contributed, with other vexations, to aggravate the disease which ended in his dissolution. Goldsmith had been, for some years, occasionally afflicted with a strangury. The attacks of this disease had latterly become more frequent and violent; and these, combined with anxiety of mind on the subject of his accumulating debts, embittered his days, and brought on almost habitual despondency. While in this unhappy condition, he was attacked by a nervous fever in the spring of 1774. On Friday, the 25th of March, that year, finding himself extremely ill, he sent at eleven o'clock at night for Mr Hawes, an apothecary, to whom he complained of a violent pain extending all over the fore-part of his head; his tongue was moist, he had a cold shivering, and his pulse beat about ninety strokes in a minute. He said he had taken two ounces of ipecacuanha wine as a vomit, and that it was his intention to take Dr James's fever powders, which he desired might be sent him. Mr Hawes replied, that in his opinion this medicine was very improper at that time, and begged he would not think of it; but every argument used seemed only to render him more determined in his own opinion. Mr Hawes knowing that on former occasions Goldsmith had always consulted Dr Fordyce, and that he entertained the highest opinion of his abilities as a physician, requested permission to send for him. To this, with great reluctance, he gave consent, as the taking of Dr James's powders appeared to be the only object that employed his attention; and even after he had given his consent, he endeavoured to throw an obstacle in the way, by saying, that Dr Fordyce was gone to spend the evening in Gerrard-street, « where," added he, «I should also have been myself, if I had not been indisposed." Mr Hawes immediately dispatched a messenger for Dr Fordyce, whom he found at home, and who instantly waited upon Goldsmith. Dr Fordyce, on perceiving the symptoms of the disease, was of the same opinion with Mr Hawes respecting Dr James's powders; and strongly represented to the patient the impropriety of his taking that medicine in his present situation. Unhappily, however, he was deaf to all remonstrances, and persevered in his own resolution. On the following morning Mr Hawes visited his patient, and found him very much reduced; his voice feeble, and his pulse very quick and small. When he inquired of him how he did, Goldsmith sighed deeply, and in a very low and languid tone said, «he wished he had taken his friendly advice last night.» Dr Fordyce arrived soon after Mr Hawes, and saw with alarm the danger of their patient's situation. He therefore proposed to send for Dr Turton, of whose talents and skill he knew Goldsmith had a great opinion: to this proposal the patient readily consented, and ordered his servant to go directly. Doctors Fordyce and Turton accordingly met at the time, appointed, and had a consultation. This they continued twice a-day till the 4th of April, 1774, when the disorder terminated in the death of the poet, in the forty-fifth of his age. year Goldsmith's sudden and unexpected dissolution created a general feeling of regret among the literary circles of that period. The newspapers and periodical publications teemed with tributary verses to his memory; and perhaps no poet was ever more lamented in every possible variety of sonnet, elegy, epitaph, and dirge. Mr Woty's lines on the occasion we select from the general mass of eulogy. Adieu, sweet bard! to each fine feeling true, Thy virtues many, and thy foibles few; Those form'd to charm e'en vicious minds-and these Another's woe thy heart could always melt; None gave more free,-for none more deeply felt. Sweet bard, adieu! thy own harmonious lays « Of poor Dr Goldsmith," said Johnson, in answer to a query of Boswell's, « there is little to be told more than the papers have made public. He died of a fever, made, I am afraid, more violent by uneasiness of mind. His debts began to be heavy, and all his resources were exhausted. Sir Joshua is of opinion, that he owed no less than two thousand pounds.' Was ever poet so trusted before?» The extraordinary sum thus owing by Goldsmith excited general surprise after his death, and gave rise to some ill-natured and injurious reflections. To those, however, who were intimately acquainted with his careless disposition and habits, the wonder was not, that he should be so much in debt, but, as Johnson remarks, that he should have been so much trusted. He was so liberal in his donations, and profuse in his general |