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The Doctor did not reap a profit from his poetical labours equal to those of his profe. The Earl of Lifburne, whose claffical taste is well known, one day at a dinner of the Royal Academicians, lamented to the Doctor his neglecting the muses, and enquired of him why he forfook poetry, in which he was fure of charming his readers, to compile hiftories, and write novels? The Doctor replied,

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My Lord, by courting the mufes I fhall

ftarve, but by my other labours, I eat, "drink, have good cloaths, and enjoy "the luxuries of life."

During the last Rehearsal of his comedy, intitled, She Stoops to Conquer, which Mr. Colman thought would not fucceed, on the Doctor's objecting to the repetition of one of Tony Lumpkin's fpeeches, being apprehensive it might injure the play, the manager, with great keenness b 3 replied,

replied, "Piha, my dear Doctor, do not "be fearful of Squibs, when we have been "fitting almost these two hours upon a "barrel of gunpowder." The piece, however, contrary to Mr. Colman's expectation, was received with uncommon ap→ plause by the audience; and Goldsmith's pride was fo hurt by the feverity of the above obfervation, that it entirely put an end to his friendship for the gentleman who made it.

The fuccefs of the comedy of She Stoops to Conquer produced a moft illiberal perfo-· nal attack on the author in one of the public prints

that it was highly invi

dious

* To D R,

SIR,

GOLDSM
DSMITH.

Vous vous noyez par vanitè.

THE happy knack which you have learnt of puffing your own compofitions, provokes me to come forth. You have not been the editor of news-papers

and

dious any perfon will allow, when he reads The Traveller, called a flimfey poem, and

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How

and magazines, not to discover the trick of literary bumbug. But the gauze is fo thin, that the very foolish part of the world fee through it, and difcover the Doctor's monkey face and cloven foot. Your poetic vanity, is as unpardonable as your perfonal; would man believe it, and will woman bear it, to be told, that for hours the great Goldfmith will ftand furveying his grotefque Oranthotan's figure in a pier glass? Was but the lovely H-k as much enamoured, you would not figh, my gentle fwain, in vain. But your vanity is prepofterous. will this fame bard of Bedlam ring the changes in praife of Goldy! But what has he to be either proud or vain of? The Traveller is a flimfy poem, built upon falfe principles; principles diametrically oppofite to liberty. What is the Good-natur'd Man, but a poor, water-gruel, dramatic dofe? What is the Deferted Village, but a pretty poem, of easy numbers, without fancy, dignity, genius, or fire? And pray what may be the laft Speaking pantomime, fo praised by the Doctor himself, but an incoherent

piece

The Deferted Village, faid to be without fancy, dignity, genius, or fire. Enraged at

this

piece of stuff, the figure of a woman, with a fish's tail, without plot, incident, or intrigue? We are made to laugh at ftale, dull jokes, wherein we mistake pleasantry for wit, and grimace for humour; wherein every scene is unnatural, and inconfiftent with the rules, the laws of nature and of drama, viz. Two gentlemen come to a man of fortune's houfe, eat, drink, fleep, &c. and take it for an inn. The one is intended as a lover to the daughter; he talks with her for fome hours, and when he sees her again in a different dress, he treats her as a bar girl, and fwears fhe fquinted. He abuses the master of the house, and threatens to kick him out of his own doors. The fquire, whom we are told is to be a fool, proves to be the most fenfible being of the piece; and he makes out a whole act, by bidding his mother lie clofe behind a bufh, perfuading her, that his father, her own husband, is a highwayman, and that he is come to cut their throats; and to give his coufin an opportunity to go off, he drives his mother over hedges, ditches, and through ponds,

There

this abufive publication, Dr. Goldsmith repaired to the house of the publisher, and after remonftrating on the malignity of this attack on his character, began to ap

ply

There is not, fweet fucking Johnson, a natural ftroke in the whole play, but the young fellow's giving the ftolen jewels to the mother, fuppofing her to be the landlady. That Mr. Colman did no juftice to this piece, I honestly allow; that he told all his friends it would be damned, I pofitively aver; and from fuch ungenerous infinuations, without a dramatic merit, it rofe to public notice: and it is now the ton to go to see it; though I never faw a person that either liked it or approved it, any more than the abfurd plot of the Home's tragedy of Alonzo. Mr. Goldfmith, correct your arrogance! reduce your vanity; and endeavour to believe, as a man, you are of the plaineft fort; and as an author, but a mortal piece of mediocrity.

Brife le miroir infidele

Qui vous cache la véritè.

TOM TICKLE.

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