Dejected at this disappointment of his cherished hope, the poet wanders among the faint traces of past scenes, contrasting their former life and gaiety with their present solitude and desolation. This gives occasion for some of the richest and mellowest picturing to be found in any poetry. The villagepreacher and his modest mansion; the schoolmaster and his noisy troop; the alehouse and its grotesque frequenters, are all masterpieces of their kind. The village alluded to in this poem is at present sufficiently ascertained to be Lishoy, near Ballymahon, in the county of Westmeath, Ireland, in which Goldsmith passed his youth. It has been remarked, that the description of the place and the people, together with the introduction of the nightingale, a bird, it is said, unknown in Irish ornithology, savour more of the rural scenery and rustic life of an English than an Irish village. But this presents no insuperable difficulty. Such licenses are customary in poetry; and it is notorious that the clear blue sky and the delicious temperature of Italy, have with much greater freedom been appropriated by English bards to deck out their descriptions of an English spring. It is evident, indeed, that Goldsmith meant to represent his village as an English one. He took from Lishoy, therefore, only such traits and characteristics as might be applied to village-life in England, and modified them accordingly. He took what belonged to human nature in rustic life, and adapted it to the allotted scene. In the same way a painter takes his models from real life around him, even when he would paint a foreign or a classic group. There is a verity in the scenes and characters of « The Deserted Village » that shows Goldsmith to have described what he had seen and felt; and it is upon record that an occurrence took place at Lishoy, during his lifetime, similar to that which produced the desolation of the village in the poem. This occurrence is thus related by the Rev. Dr Strean, of the diocese of Elphin, in a letter to Mr Mangin, and inserted in that gentleman's « Essay on light reading." «The poem of "The Deserted Village,'» says Dr Strean, «took its origin from the circumstance of General Robert Napier, the grandfather of the gentleman who now lives in the house, within half a mile of Lishoy, built by the general, having purchased an extensive tract of the country surrounding Lishoy, or Auburn; in consequence of which, many families, here called cottiers, were removed to make room for the intended improvements of what was now to become the wide domain of a rich man, warm with the idea of changing the face of his new acquisition, and were forced, with fainting steps,' to go in search of torrid tracts,' and 'distant climes.' << This fact alone might be sufficient to establish the seat of the poem; but there cannot remain a doubt in any unprejudiced mind, when the following are added; viz. that the character of the village-preacher, the above-named Henry, the brother of the poet, is copied from nature. He is described exactly as he lived; and his 'modest mansion' as it existed. Burn, the name of the village-master, and the site of his schoolhouse, and Catherine Giraghty, a lonely widow, The wretched matron, forced in age, for bread, (and to this day the brook and ditches near the spot where her cabin stood abound with cresses), still remain in the memory of the inhabitants, and Catherine's children live in the neighbourhood. The pool, the busy mill, the house where nut-brown draughts inspired,' are still visited as the poetic scene; and the 'hawthorn bush,' growing in an open space in front of the house, which I knew to have three trunks, is now reduced to one, the other two having been cut, from time to time, by persons carrying pieces of it away to be made into toys, etc. in honour of the bard, and of the celebrity of his poem. All these contribute to the same proof; and the 'decent church,' which I attended for upwards of eighteen years, and which tops the neighbouring hill,' is exactly described as seen from Lishoy, the residence of the preacher."> 6 To the honour of Ireland, and in particular of a gentleman named Hogan, grandson to General Napier the destroyer, we are enabled to add that the village of Lishoy, now bearing its poetical name of Auburn, has been renovated and restored, at least as to its localities, to what it was in its happiest days. The parsonage, rescued from a legion of pigs and poultry, which had taken possession of its lower apartments, and relieved from loads of grain and fodder, under which its upper chambers had for some years groaned, has resumed its ancient title of Lishoyhouse: the church yet crowns the hill, and is again entitled to the appellation of decent; the school-house maintains its station; and the village-inn, with its sign re-painted, its chambers re-whitewashed, and the varnished clock replaced in its corner, echoes once more with the voices of rustic politicians, merry peasants, and buxom maids, Half willing to be press'd, Who kiss the cup to pass it to the rest. To render the dispensation of poetical justice still more complete, the usurping mansion, the erection of which occasioned the downfal of the village, has become dismantled and dilapidated, and has been converted into a barrack.' The following account of the renovation of this village is extracted from a number of the New Monthly Magazine. About three miles from Ballymahon, a very central town in the sister kingdom, is the mansion and village of Auburn, so called by their present possessor, Captain Hogan. Through the taste and improvement of this gentleman, it is now a beautiful spot, although fifteen years since presented a very bare and unpoetical aspect. This, however, was owing to a cause which serves strongly to corroborate the assertion, that Goldsmith had this scene in view when he wrote his poem of The Deserted Village.' The then possessor, General Napier, turned all his tenants out of their farms, that he might enclose them in his own private domain. Littleton, the mansion of the general, stands not far off, a complete emblem of the desolating spirit lamented by the poet, dilapidated and converted into a barrack. " The chief object of attraction is Lishoy, once the parsonage-house of Henry Goldsmith, that brother to whom the poet dedicated his Traveller,' and who is represented as the Village Pastor, Passing rich with forty pounds a-year. Goldsmith dedicated « The Deserted Village» to his friend Sir Joshua Reynolds, from motives of affection. «I can have no expectations," said the poet, « in an address of this kind, either to add to your reputation, or to establish my own. You can "When I was in the country, the lower chambers were inhabited by pigs and sheep, and the drawing-rooms by oats. Captain Hogan, however, has, I believe, got it since into his possession, and has, of course, improved its condition. « Though at first strongly inclined to dispute the identity of Auburn, Lishoy-house overcame my scruples. As I clambered over the rotten gate, and crossed the grassgrown lawn, or court, the tide of association became too strong for casuistry:—here the poet dwelt and wrote, and here his thoughts fondly recurred when composing his 'Traveller,' in a foreign land. Yonder was the decent church, that literally 'topped the neighbouring hill.' Before me lay the little hill of Knockrue, on which he declares, in one of his letters, he had rather sit with a book in haud, than mingle in the proudest assemblies. And, above all, startingly true, beneath my feet was Yonder copse, where once the garden smiled, And still where many a garden-flower grows wild. « A painting from the life could not be more exact. The stubborn currantbush' lifts its head above the rank grass, and the proud hollyhock flaunts where its sisters of the flower-knot are no more. << In the middle of the village stands the old 'hawthorn-tree,' built up with masonry, to distinguish and preserve it: it is old and stunted, and suffers much from the depredations of post-chaise travellers, who generally stop to procure a twig. Opposite to it is the village ale-house, over the door of which swings 'The Three Jolly Pigeons.' Within, every thing is arranged according to the letter: The white-wash'd wall, the nicely sanded floor, The varnish'd clock that click'd behind the door; A bed by night, a chest of drawers by day; The pictures placed for ornament and use, The twelve good rules, the royal game of goose. Captain Hogan, I have heard, found great difficulty in obtaining the twelve good rules,' but at length purchased them at some London book-stall, to adorn the whitewashed parlour of the 'Three Jolly Pigeons. However laudable this may be, nothing shook my faith in the reality of Auburn so much as this exactness, which had the disagreeable air of being got up for the occasion. The last object of pilgrimage is the quondam habitation of the schoolmaster, There, in his noisy mansion, skill'd to rule. « It is surrounded with fragrant proofs of its identity in The blossom'd furze, unprofitably gay. gain nothing from my admiration, as I am ignorant of that art in which you are said to excel; and I may lose much by the severity of your judgment, as few have a juster taste in poetry than you. Setting interest therefore aside, to which I never paid much attention, I must be indulged at présent in following my affections. The only dedication I ever made was to my brother, because I loved him better than most other men. is since dead. Permit me to inscribe this poem to you." He The warm friendship which had subsisted for years between the painter and the poet, warranted this dedication; while the fine qualities which distinguished that eminent artist, richly merited Here is to be seen the chair of the poet, which fell into the hands of its present possessors at the wreck of the parsonage-house: they have frequently refused large offers of purchase ; but more, I dare say, for the sake of drawing contributions from the curious than from any reverence for the bard. The chair is of oak, with back and seat of cane, which precluded all hopes of a secret drawer, like that lately discovered in Gay's. There is no fear of its being worn out by the devout earnestness of sitters-as the cocks and hens have usurped undisputed possession of it, and protest most clamorously against all attempts to get it cleansed, or to seat one's self. « The controversy concerning the identity of this Auburn was formerly a standing theme of discussion among the learned of the neighbourhood, but since the pros and cons have been all ascertained, the argument has died away. Its abettors plead the singular agreement between the local history of the place and the Auburn of the poem, and the exactness with which the scenery of the one answers to the description of the other. To this is opposed the mention of the nightingale, And fill'd each pause the nightingale had made;— there being no such bird in the island. The objection is slighted, on the other hand, by considering the passage as a mere poetical license: 'Besides,' say they, 'the robin is the Irish nightingale.' And if it be hinted, how unlikely it was that Goldsmith should have laid the scene in a place from which he was and had been so long absent, the rejoinder is always, 'Pray, sir, was Milton in hell when he built Pandemonium ?' « The line is naturally drawn between ;—there can be no doubt that the poet intended England by The land to hast'ning ills a prey, Where wealth accumulates and men decay. « But it is very natural to suppose, that at the same time his imagination had in view the scenes of his youth, which give such strong features of resemblance to the picture.» |