his uncle, if not happily introduced or so well expressed as might be wished, is not devoid of interest. The scenery described is that which adjoins the family residence, named St. John's, near Athlone.

When thoughts like these invade my mind,

As winter's rage assails,

Oh what are clouds or howling winds,

To what my bosom feels!"

In the spring of 1767, his play, to the completion of which some anxious months had been devoted, was finished; but the greater difficulty remained to introduce it to the stage.

There are perhaps few writers of lively imagination and versatile powers who have not at some period of their lives wished to write for the theatre, influenced by the variety of excitements which commonly attend its representations. A success

ful dramatist, if shorn of some former honours in our own days, still occupies a large space in the public eye, his reputation spreads more rapidly than that of any other writer, and his name, which is frequently bandied with a familiarity implying regard, forms a passport to the favour of that large class of society, who in a great metropolis find in the amusements of the theatre relaxation from the

cares of life. He identifies himself not merely with the literature but with the enjoyments of the people; with one of the most social, and certainly not least intellectual, of their recreations. Like the orator, he has the gratification of wit

nessing his own triumphs; of seeing in the plaudits, tears, or smiles of delighted spectators, the strongest testimony to his own powers. The author of a good book hears of his success, but the writer of a good play may night after night witness it.

On the other hand, the discouragements are of a serious description; so great as to cause some wonder how such as possess reputation in another department of writing can commit it to the caprice of managers, actors, and audiences; and the risks they must necessarily run, has kept many proud or sensitive minds not otherwise indisposed to dramatic composition, from trusting their labours to the stage. The composition of a good play we know is no ordinary effort of mind: its requisites of plot, incident, character, and dialogue, their combinations and developments so as to produce an agreeable whole, require genius of a high and varied order. When the piece is completed, interest is commonly necessary to secure its representation. Friends for this purpose are to be sought, especially by such as are poor and unknown. private judgment of the manager may be unfavourable, or the actors dissatisfied with their parts; alterations are suggested in order to satisfy caprice or unreasonable pretension, which sometimes have the effect either of obscuring the author's original design, or impairing his sense. The delay of months or seasons in bringing it forward even when all other obstacles are surmounted; the annoyance of being

The

brought forward at a late or unfavourable period of the season; the chance of being finally rejected by the audience, often as capricious and uncertain as either manager or performers, but from whom there lies no appeal; the consequent extinction of all hopes of fame or profit, the annoyance of having taxed his ingenuity in vain, and the mortification, if not ridicule, consequent upon ill success-these form very solid reasons for men of high reach of mind frequently declining to write for the stage.

All these obstacles were very well known to Goldsmith, but some he fancied might be obviated by his reputation, and others by personal knowledge of theatrical persons. It serves to heighten our dislike to embark labour and genius in such a calling, to know that however popular as a poet, though familiar with the tastes of the town, and well acquainted with the manager of at least one of the theatres, besides being introduced by friends of influence and celebrity to another, he was fated to experience them all.

His first interview with Garrick some years before, led, as may be supposed, to no further intercourse, but his interests rendering such an acquaintance now desirable, Sir Joshua Reynolds, by a letter still in existence, appears to have brought them together. Goldsmith wished to have the manager's opinion of his play; the latter at the first glance is said to have approved it, but in his usual manner, took care not to express himself so frankly as to be unable to retreat from any rash

inferences of the author of receiving it for representation. This habitual indecision gave rise to frequent charges against him of insincerity by the dramatists of the day; Murphy and Bickerstaffe were sometimes loud in his condemnation ; and Goldsmith heard enough to believe that less was to be expected from the civilities of the manager, than from what he believed his own reputation and the influence of literary friends. From the first therefore, without wholly disregarding Drury Lane, it is certain he contemplated Covent Garden Theatre as more likely to prove favourable to his views.

That no reasonable precaution should be neglected in case of being refused at one house, it was however submitted to Garrick in form for his stage, and the result turned out as had been anticipated. He at first hesitated to give so decided an opinion to the author as to his friends, for Reynolds and Johnson were soon told it would not succeed in representation. In one of the interviews succeeding this communication of his sentiments, Garrick after some discussion, finally offered to submit the piece to Mr. Whitehead, which Goldsmith thought proper to deline, believing that its condemnation was already resolved upon in that quarter; another person of no critical or dramatic note was then named, at which the Poet exhibited some warmth, influenced by an impression that the friends of the manager had been canvassed for unfavourable opinions of his play. In this temper they parted, when