OLIVER GOLDSMITH

1728-1774

Goldsmith was born in Pallas, an out-of-the-way hamlet in Longford County, Ireland, where his father, the curate, was looked upon as "passing rich, with forty pounds a year." Not long after, the family removed to Lissoy, in the County of Westmeath, where they lived in much comfort. Here Oliver passed his childhood and youth, and it is doubtless to Lissoy that his thoughts returned when he wrote of "Sweet Auburn, loveliest village of the plain." As a boy he had his share of troubles. In school he was pronounced "a stupid, heavy blockhead," and he was often made sport of by his companions on account of his awkward figure and his homely face, pitted with the smallpox. In his eighteenth year he entered Trinity College, Dublin, as a sizar, that is, a poor student who pays in part for his tuition by doing certain kinds of work. After four years devoted to study—spiced with a good deal of fun—he graduated at the foot of his class.

At twenty-one he showed no special bent. For a while he lived with his mother, now a widow, and idled his time away with gay companions. After being refused a position in the church, he resolved to try teaching; but this occupation proved so little to his taste that he decided to give it up and study medicine. With the help of a generous uncle he entered the medical school at Edinburgh, leaving Ireland never to return. At the end of a year and a half he concluded that foreign travel would do more for him than a longer stay in Scotland. His uncle sent him twenty pounds, and with this he reached Leyden, where, if he possibly attended a few lectures, he certainly associated with wild companions who helped him to get rid of his money. Having succeeded in borrowing a small sum, he was about to leave Leyden, when in a florist's garden he saw a rare, high-priced flower which he felt sure would delight his kind uncle, who was an enthusiast in flower culture. Without a thought of his own needs he ran in, bought a parcel of the roots, and sent them off to Ireland; then, with a guinea in his pocket, he started on his travels. Although his uncle may have sent him small sums occasionally, it is not easy to see how he managed to wander as he did from country to country. It is said that he paid his way among the peasants by flute playing, and that he returned the hospitality of convents by disputing on learned subjects; but these stories are doubtless fictitious. One thing is certain, he arrived in London in February, 1756, having reached the age of twenty-eight, with a medical degree, but with no money in his pocket.

For two years he lived in the great city poor and unknown. He was in turn apothecary's assistant, poor physician, proof-reader, usher in a "classical school," and hack writer. At last, almost discouraged, he decided to obtain if possible the position of factory surgeon on the Coromandel coast, in India. He failed to get the place, and was also unsuccessful in his efforts to pass the examination at Surgeon's Hall for the humble post of hospital mate.

At this point there was a turn in the tide of his fortunes. While seeking employment as a physician, he had been engaged upon a work called Enquiry into the Present State of Polite Learning in Europe, and with its publication in 1759 his career as an author began. His essays, which appeared in numerous magazines, brought him into further notice, especially a series collected later under the title, The Citizen of the World. In 1764 he became a member of Dr. Johnson's famous "Literary Club" that met at the "Turk's Head." It was to Johnson that he once said, alluding to his heavy style,—"If you were to make little fishes talk, they would talk like whales." But there was no malice in this remark, for the doctor was one of his stanch friends. Among the other nine original members of the club were Sir Joshua Reynolds, the artist, and Edmund Burke, the noted statesman. Before long The Traveller and The Deserted Village gave Goldsmith a foremost place among the poets of the time, and The Vicar of Wakefield, published in 1776, brought him fame as a novelist. This book remains to-day, after the lapse of nearly a century and a half, one of the most widely read of English novels. Two comedies, The Good-natured Man and She Stoops to Conquer, complete the list of his well-known works, while he wrote many others that were enjoyed by his contemporaries. He died of a fever at the age of forty-six, and was buried in the burial ground of the Temple Church. Two years later a monument was erected to his memory in Westminster Abbey.

This short sketch of Goldsmith's life makes it clear that he lacked strength of character and was wanting also in practical wisdom. Even after he became a successful author his extravagance kept him poor, and he died largely in debt. Many stories are told illustrating his innocent vanity and the love of gay clothing which made him conspicuous even in an age of ruffled shirts and silver knee-buckles. One of his biographers describes him as arriving at a friend's house where he was to dine, "with his new wig, with his coat of Tyrian bloom and blue silk breeches, with a smart sword at his side, his gold-headed cane in his hand, and his hat under his elbow." But while he had more than his share of weaknesses, it must be granted that "e'en his failings leaned to Virtue's side." He was sensitive, open-hearted, generous, and kindly—always ready to help those less fortunate than himself. If in Parson Primrose and in the "village preacher" of The Deserted Village he has painted portraits of his father, the country curate, there is something of himself as well in these lovable characters. Both in poetry and in prose his style is easy and delightful; his humor has no sting. Everything that comes from his pen has the flavor of his quaint personality. In spite of his failings—or possibly in part because of them—this son of Ireland is one of the most popular of English writers.

THE TRAVELLER;

OR, A PROSPECT OF SOCIETY

Remote, unfriended, melancholy, slow, Or by the lazy Scheld[1] or wandering Po; Or onward, where the rude Carinthian boor[2] Against the houseless stranger shuts the door; Or where Campania's plain[3] forsaken lies, 5 A weary waste expanding to the skies; Where'er I roam, whatever realms to see, My heart untravelled fondly turns to thee; Still to my brother[4] turns, with ceaseless pain, And drags at each remove a lengthening chain. 10

Eternal blessings crown my earliest friend, And round his dwelling guardian saints attend: Blest be that spot where cheerful guests retire To pause from toil, and trim their ev'ning fire: Blest that abode where want and pain repair, 15 And every stranger finds a ready chair: Blest be those feasts, with simple plenty crowned, Where all the ruddy family around Laugh at the jests or pranks that never fail, Or sigh with pity at some mournful tale; 20 Or press the bashful stranger to his food, And learn the luxury of doing good.

But me, not destined such delights to share, My prime of life in wand'ring spent and care; Impelled, with steps unceasing, to pursue 25 Some fleeting good that mocks me with the view; That, like the circle bounding earth and skies, Allures from far, yet, as I follow, flies; My fortune leads to traverse realms alone, And find no spot of all the world my own. 30

Even now, where Alpine solitudes ascend, I sit me down a pensive hour to spend; And placed on high above the storm's career, Look downward where an hundred realms appear; Lakes, forests, cities, plains extending wide, 35 The pomp of kings, the shepherd's humbler pride.

When thus Creation's charms around combine, Amidst the store should thankless pride repine? Say, should the philosophic mind disdain That good which makes each humbler bosom vain? 40 Let school-taught pride dissemble all it can,[5] These little things are great to little man; And wiser he, whose sympathetic mind Exults in all the good of all mankind. Ye glitt'ring towns, with wealth and splendor crowned; 45 Ye fields, where summer spreads profusion round; Ye lakes, whose vessels catch the busy gale; Ye bending swains,[6] that dress the flow'ry vale; For me your tributary stores combine: Creation's heir, the world, the world is mine. 50

As some lone miser, visiting his store, Bends at his treasure, counts, recounts it o'er; Hoards after hoards his rising raptures fill, Yet still he sighs, for hoards are wanting still: Thus to my breast alternate passions rise, 55 Pleased with each good that Heaven to man supplies: Yet oft a sigh prevails, and sorrows fall, To see the hoard of human bliss so small; And oft I wish amidst the scene to find Some spot to real happiness consigned, 60 Where my worn soul, each wand'ring hope at rest, May gather bliss to see my fellows blest.

But where to find that happiest spot below Who can direct, when all pretend to know? The shudd'ring tenant of the frigid zone 65 Boldly proclaims that happiest spot his own; Extols the treasures of his stormy seas, And his long nights of revelry and ease: The naked negro, panting at the line,[7] Boasts of his golden sands and palmy wine, 70 Basks in the glare, or stems the tepid wave, And thanks his gods for all the good they gave. Such is the patriot's boast where'er we roam; His first, best country ever is at home. And yet, perhaps, if countries we compare, 75 And estimate the blessings which they share, Though patriots flatter, still shall wisdom find An equal portion dealt to all mankind; As different good, by Art or Nature given, To different nations makes their blessings even. 80

Nature, a mother kind alike to all, Still grants her bliss at Labor's earnest call: With food as well the peasant is supplied On Idra's cliffs[8] as Arno's shelvy side;[9] And though the rocky crested summits frown, 85 These rocks by custom turn to beds of down. From Art more various are the blessings sent; Wealth, commerce, honor, liberty, content. Yet these each other's power so strong contest, That either seems destructive of the rest.[10] 90 Where wealth and freedom reign, contentment fails And honor sinks where commerce long prevails.[11] Hence every state, to one loved blessing prone, Conforms and models life to that alone. Each to the favorite happiness attends, 95 And spurns the plan that aims at other ends: Till carried to excess in each domain, This fav'rite good begets peculiar pain.

But let us try these truths with closer eyes, And trace them through the prospect as it lies: 100 Here for a while my proper cares[12] resigned, Here let me sit in sorrow for mankind; Like yon neglected shrub at random cast, That shades the steep, and sighs at every blast.

Far to the right, where Apennine ascends, 105 Bright as the summer, Italy extends: Its uplands sloping deck the mountain's side, Woods over woods in gay theatric pride; While oft some temple's mould'ring tops between With venerable grandeur mark the scene, 110

Could Nature's bounty satisfy the breast, The sons of Italy were surely blest. Whatever fruits in different climes were found, That proudly rise, or humbly court the ground; Whatever blooms in torrid tracts appear, 115 Whose bright succession decks the varied year; Whatever sweets salute the northern sky With vernal lives, that blossom but to die; These, here disporting, own the kindred soil, Nor ask luxuriance from the planter's toil; 120 While sea-born gales their gelid[13] wings expand To winnow[14] fragrance round the smiling land.

But small the bliss that sense alone bestows, And sensual bliss is all the nation knows.[15] In florid beauty groves and fields appear; 125 Man seems the only growth that dwindles here. Contrasted faults through all his manners reign: Though poor, luxurious; though submissive, vain; Though grave, yet trifling; zealous, yet untrue; And ev'n in penance planning sins anew. 130 All evils here contaminate the mind That opulence departed leaves behind; For wealth was theirs,[16] not far removed the date When commerce proudly nourished through the state, At her command the palace learnt to rise,[17] 135 Again the long-fallen column sought the skies,[18] The canvas glowed, beyond e'en nature warm,[19] The pregnant quarry teemed with human form; Till, more unsteady than the southern gale, Commerce on other shores displayed her sail;[20] 140 While nought remained of all that riches gave, But towns unmanned, and lords without a slave: And late the nation found with fruitless skill Its former strength was but plethoric ill.[21]

Yet still the loss of wealth is here supplied 145 By arts, the splendid wrecks of former pride; From these the feeble heart and long-fall'n mind An easy compensation seem to find. Here may be seen, in bloodless pomp arrayed, The paste-board triumph and the cavalcade, 150 Processions formed for piety and love, A mistress or a saint in every grove. By sports like these are all their cares beguiled; The sports of children satisfy the child. Each nobler aim, repressed by long control, 155 Now sinks at last, or feebly mans the soul; While low delights, succeeding fast behind, In happier meanness occupy the mind: As in those domes where Caesars[22] once bore sway, Defaced by time and tottering in decay, 160 There in the ruin, heedless of the dead, The shelter-seeking peasant builds his shed; And, wond'ring man could want the larger pile, Exults, and owns his cottage with a smile. My soul, turn from them, turn we to survey, 165 Where rougher climes a nobler race display; Where the bleak Swiss their stormy mansions tread, And force a churlish soil[23] for scanty bread. No product here the barren hills afford, But man and steel, the soldier and his sword:[24] 170 No vernal blooms their torpid rocks array, But winter ling'ring chills the lap of May: No Zephyr fondly sues the mountain's breast, But meteors glare, and stormy glooms invest.

Yet, still, even here content can spread a charm, 175 Redress the clime, and all its rage disarm. Though poor the peasant's hut, his feasts tho' small, He sees his little lot the lot of all; Sees no contiguous palace[25] rear its head To shame the meanness of his humble shed; 180 No costly lord the sumptuous banquet deal To make him loath his vegetable meal; But calm, and bred in ignorance and toil,[26] Each wish contracting fits him to the soil. Cheerful at morn he wakes from short repose, 185 Breathes the keen air, and carols as he goes; With patient angle trolls the finny deep; Or drives his venturous plowshare to the steep; Or seeks the den where snow-tracks mark the way, And drags the struggling savage[27] into day. 190 At night returning, every labor sped, He sits him down the monarch of a shed; Smiles by his cheerful fire, and round surveys His children's looks, that brighten at the blaze; While his loved partner, boastful of her hoard, 195 Displays her cleanly platter on the board: And haply too some pilgrim, thither led, With many a tale repays the nightly bed.[28]

Thus every good his native wilds impart Imprints the patriot passion on his heart; 200 And ev'n those ills that round his mansion rise Enhance the bliss his scanty fund supplies. Dear is that shed to which his soul conforms, And dear that hill which lifts him to the storms; And as a child, when scaring sounds molest, 205 Clings close and closer to the mother's breast, So the loud torrent and the whirlwind's roar But bind him to his native mountains more.

Such are the charms to barren states assigned;[29] Their wants but few, their wishes all confined. 210 Yet let them only share the praises due: If few their wants, their pleasures are but few; For every want that stimulates the breast Becomes a source of pleasure when redressed; Whence from such lands each pleasing science flies 215 That first excites desire, and then supplies; Unknown to them, when sensual pleasures cloy, To fill the languid pause with finer joy; Unknown those powers that raise the soul to flame, Catch every nerve, and vibrate 'through the frame. 220 Their level life is but a smould'ring fire, Unquenched by want, unfanned by strong desire; Unfit for raptures, or, if raptures cheer On some high festival of once a year, In wild excess the vulgar breast takes fire, 225 Till, buried in debauch, the bliss expire.

But not their joys alone thus coarsely flow: Their morals, like their pleasures, are but low; For, as refinement stops, from sire to son Unaltered, unimproved, the manners run, 230 And love's and friendship's finely-pointed dart Fall blunted from each indurated heart. Some sterner virtues o'er the mountain's breast May sit, like falcons, cow'ring on the nest; But all the gentler morals, such as play 235 Thro' life's more cultured walks, and charm the way, These, far dispersed, on timorous pinions fly, To sport and flutter in a kinder sky.

To kinder skies, where gentler manners reign, I turn; and France displays her bright domain. 240 Gay, sprightly land of mirth and social ease, Pleased with thyself, whom all the world can please, How often have I led thy sportive choir, With tuneless pipe, beside the murmuring Loire? Where shading elms along the margin grew, 245 And freshened from the wave the Zephyr flew; And haply, though my harsh touch, faltering still, But mocked all tune, and marred the dancer's skill, Yet would the village praise my wonderous power, And dance, forgetful of the noontide hour. 250 Alike all ages. Dames of ancient days Have led their children through the mirthful maze, And the gay grandsire, skilled in gestic lore,[30] Has frisked beneath the burthen of threescore.

So blest a life these thoughtless realms display; 255 Thus idly busy rolls their world away;[31] Theirs are those arts that mind to mind endear, For honor forms the social temper here. Honor, that praise which real merit gains, Or even imaginary worth obtains, 260 Here passes current: paid from hand to hand, It shifts in splendid traffic round the land; From courts to camps, to cottages, it strays, And all are taught an avarice of praise. They please, are pleased; they give to get esteem; 265 Till, seeming blest, they grow to what they seem.

But while this softer art their bliss supplies, It gives their follies also room to rise; For praise too dearly loved, or warmly sought, Enfeebles all internal strength of thought, 270 And the weak soul, within itself unblest, Leans for all pleasure on another's breast. Hence ostentation here, with tawdry art, Pants for the vulgar praise which fools impart; Here vanity assumes her pert grimace, 275 And trims her robes of frieze[32] with copper lace; Here beggar pride defrauds her daily cheer, To boast one splendid banquet once a year; The mind still turns where shifting fashion draws, Nor weighs the solid worth of self-applause. 280

To men of other minds my fancy flies, Embosomed in the deep where Holland[33] lies. Methinks her patient sons before me stand, Where the broad ocean leans against the land, And, sedulous to stop the coming tide, 285 Lift the tall rampire's[34] artificial pride. Onward methinks, and diligently slow, The firm connected bulwark seems to grow; Spreads its long arms amidst the wat'ry roar, Scoops out an empire, and usurps the shore. 290 While the pent ocean, rising o'er the pile, Sees an amphibious world beneath him smile: The slow canal, the yellow blossomed vale, The willow tufted bank, the gliding sail, The crowded mart, the cultivated plain,— 295 A new creation rescued from his reign.

Thus while around the wave-subjected soil Impels the native to repeated toil, Industrious habits in each bosom reign, And industry begets a love of gain. 300 Hence all the good from opulence that springs,[35] With all those ills superfluous treasure brings, Are here displayed. Their much-loved wealth imparts Convenience, plenty, elegance, and arts: But view them closer, craft and fraud appear; 305 E'en liberty itself is bartered here. At gold's superior charms all freedom flies; The needy sell it, and the rich man buys; A land of tyrants and a den of slaves, Here wretches seek dishonorable graves, 310 And calmly bent, to servitude conform, Dull as their lakes that slumber in the storm.[36] Heavens! how unlike their Belgic sires[37] of old, Rough, poor, content, ungovernably bold; War in each breast, and freedom on each brow; 315 How much unlike the sons of Britain now!

Fired at the sound, my genius spreads her wing, And flies where Britain courts the western spring; Where lawns[38] extend that scorn Arcadian pride,[39] And brighter streams than famed Hydaspis[40] glide. 320 There all around the gentlest breezes stray; There gentle music melts on every spray; Creation's mildest charms are there combined, Extremes are only in the master's mind! Stern o'er each bosom Reason holds her state, 325 With daring aims irregularly great; Pride in their port, defiance in their eye, I see the lords of human kind pass by; Intent on high designs, a thoughtful band, By forms unfashioned, fresh from Nature's hand, 330 Fierce in their native hardiness of soul, True to imagined right, above control, While even the peasant boasts these rights to scan, And learns to venerate himself as man.

Thine, Freedom, thine the blessings pictured here; 335 Thine are those charms that dazzle and endear: Too blest indeed, were such without alloy: But fostered even by Freedom ills annoy: That independence Britons prize too high Keeps man from man, and breaks the social tie; 340 The self-dependent lordlings[41] stand alone, All claims that bind and sweeten life unknown. Here, by the bonds of nature feebly held, Minds combat minds, repelling and repelled;[42] Ferments arise, imprisoned factions roar, 345 Repressed ambition struggles round her shore, Till, over-wrought, the general system feels Its motions stop, or frenzy fire the wheels.

Nor this the worst. As nature's ties decay, As duty, love, and honor fail to sway, 350 Fictitious bonds, the bonds of wealth and law, Still gather strength, and force unwilling awe. Hence all obedience bows to these alone, And talent sinks, and merit weeps unknown: Till time may come, when, stripped of all her charms, 355 The land of scholars and the nurse of arms, Where noble stems transmit the patriot flame, Where kings have toiled and poets wrote for fame, One sink of level avarice[43] shall lie, And scholars, soldiers, kings, unhonored die. 360

Yet think not, thus when Freedom's ills I state, I mean to flatter kings, or court the great: Ye powers of truth that bid my soul aspire, Far from my bosom drive the low desire. And thou, fair Freedom, taught alike to feel 365 The rabble's rage and tyrant's angry steel; Thou transitory flower, alike undone By proud contempt or favor's fostering sun, Still may thy blooms the changeful clime endure! I only would repress them to secure: 370 For just experience tells, in every soil, That those who think must govern those that toil;[44] And all that Freedom's highest aims can reach Is but to lay proportioned loads on each. Hence, should one order disproportioned grow, 375 Its double weight must ruin all below.

O then how blind to all that truth requires, Who think it freedom when a part aspires! Calm is my soul, nor apt to rise in arms, Except when fast approaching danger warms; 380 But when contending chiefs blockade the throne, Contracting regal power to stretch their own, When I behold a factious band agree To call it freedom when themselves are free, Each wanton judge new penal statutes draw, 385 Laws grind the poor, and rich men rule the law,[45] The wealth of climes where savage nations roam[46] Pillaged from slaves to purchase slaves at home, Fear, pity, justice, indignation start, Tear off reserve, and bare my swelling heart; 390 Till half a patriot, half a coward grown, I fly from petty tyrants to the throne.

Yes, brother, curse with me that baleful hour When first ambition struck at regal power; And thus polluting honor in its source, 395 Gave wealth to sway the mind with double force. Have we not seen, round Britain's peopled shore, Her useful sons exchanged for useless ore,[47] Seen all her triumphs but destruction haste, Like flaring tapers brightening as they waste? 400 Seen opulence, her grandeur to maintain, Lead stern depopulation in her train, And over fields where scattered hamlets rose In barren solitary pomp repose? Have we not seen at pleasure's lordly call 405 The smiling long-frequented village fall? Beheld the duteous son, the sire decayed,[48] The modest matron, and the blushing maid, Forced from their homes, a melancholy train,[49] To traverse climes beyond the western main; 410 Where wild Oswego[50] spreads her swamps around, And Niagara[50] stuns with thund'ring sound?

Even now, perhaps, as there some pilgrim strays Through tangled forests and through dangerous ways, Where beasts with man divided empire claim, 415 And the brown Indian marks with murderous aim; There, while above the giddy tempest flies, And all around distressful yells arise, The pensive exile, bending with his woe, To stop too fearful, and too faint to go, 420 Casts a long look where England's glories shine, And bids his bosom sympathize with mine.

Vain, very vain, my weary search to find That bliss which only centers in the mind: Why have I strayed from pleasure and repose, 425 To seek a good each government bestows?[51] In every government, though terrors reign, Though tyrant kings or tyrant laws restrain, How small, of all that human hearts endure, That part which laws or kings can cause or cure; 430 Still to ourselves in every place consigned, Our own felicity we make or find: With secret course, which no loud storms annoy, Glides the smooth current of domestic joy. The lifted ax, the agonizing wheel, 435 Luke's iron crown,[52] and Damiens' bed of steel,[53] To men remote from power but rarely known, Leave reason, faith, and conscience all our own.

NOTE.—Although many of the poet's statements are greatly exaggerated, The Traveller is interesting because it contains beautiful descriptions and apt expressions of thought. The verse employed is the heroic couplet, the favorite verse of the eighteenth-century poets. The lines rhyme in pairs, and often a couplet expresses a complete thought. Each line contains five feet, or measures.

[1.] Scheld. The Schelde, or Scheldt, empties into the North Sea near Antwerp.

[2.] Carinthian boor. Carinthia is a province of Austria.

[3.] Campania's plain. Campania includes, among other districts, the province of Naples.

[4.] My brother. Probably the poet alludes to his elder brother, Henry, who lived in Ireland. To him he is said to have sent the first part of his poem, from Switzerland.

[5.] Let school-taught pride, etc. i.e. let the philosopher pretend, if he will, that material things are of small importance.

[6.] Swains, a name used by poets for young men living in the country, especially lovers.

[7.] The line, the equinoctial line, the equator.

[8.] Idra's cliffs. Idria is a town among the mountains in Camiola, Austria. Near it are mines of quicksilver.

[9.] Arno's shelvy side. Shelvy, or shelving, means sloping gradually. Florence is on the Arno.

[10.] Either seems, etc. Either properly signifies one of two; it has occasionally been used for one of several, as Goldsmith uses it here.

[11.] And honor sinks, etc., a sentiment common in the poet's day, but entertained by few persons in these times. Formerly, in many European countries, trade, even on a large scale, was considered belittling. A gentleman's son might enter the Church, the army, or the navy, but he must not become a merchant.

[12.] My proper cares, my own, my personal cares.

[13.] Gelid, cold.

[14.] To winnow, to fan.

[15.] Sensual bliss is all the nation knows. This has never been true of the Italians. At the end of the fifteenth century Italy was the center of European civilization; at the close of the sixteenth she was exhausted and helpless; in 1748, by the treaty of Aix-la-Chapelle, she was divided among various European powers; after a long struggle the greater part of the country was united under Victor Emmanuel, who was proclaimed king in 1861. Italy has now, besides elementary and higher schools, twenty-one universities.

[16.] For wealth was theirs. Venice, Genoa, and Florence were cities of great wealth during the latter part of the Middle Ages.

[17.] The palace learnt to rise. Beside palaces, there are in Italy many noted buildings which the poet must have seen. Among these are St. Peter's in Rome, the cathedral in Milan, and St. Mark's in Venice.

[18.] Again the long-fallen column, etc. When architecture began to flourish anew in Italy, early in the Middle Ages, many of the columns used were taken from the ruins of buildings erected during the days of the Roman Empire.

[19.] The canvas glowed. Giotto, born about 1266, was one of the first of the Italian painters who gained distinction. Later came Leonardo da Vinci, Raphael, Michelangelo, Titian, and many others. Michelangelo (1475-1564) was sculptor, architect, and writer, as well as painter. Benvenuto Cellini, born in 1500, was noted as goldsmith, sculptor, and writer.

[20.] More unsteady than the southern gale, etc. The discovery of America and the opening of a route to India by the way of the Cape of Good Hope, seriously affected the commerce of the Italian seaports.

[21.] Plethoric ill, ill caused by excess.

[22.] Caesars. The name Caesar was assumed by all the Roman emperors. Kaiser and tsar, or csar, come from the word.

[23.] A churlish soil. Nearly three-quarters of the soil of Switzerland is productive. [Transcriber's note: the word "productive" may be incorrect, given Switzerland's mountainous terrain, but it is what was printed in the original book.]

[24.] The soldier and his sword. In former times the Swiss frequently served as soldiers in different European countries as a means of earning a living. Many monarchs had Swiss guards for their personal safety.

[25.] Sees no contiguous palace. The peasant now sees hotels, if not palaces. The Swiss hotels, like the Swiss roads, are among the best in the world.

[26.] Bred in ignorance and toil. Switzerland has at present, beside lower schools, seven institutions of higher learning, five of which are universities.

[27.] Savage, savage beast. Few of these can be found in Switzerland now.

[28.] With many a tale, etc. Possibly the poet alludes to his own experiences.

[29.] Such are the charms, etc. In this and the following lines the poet paints a picture that has not for centuries been true of the Swiss a people. Their principal cities have long been centers of refinement and of intellectual activity.

[30.] Gestic lore, the art of dancing.

[31.] Thus idly busy, etc. The French peasant has always been noted for his industry and economy. This picture was drawn before the French revolution, when the lower classes were miserably poor and the nobles reckless in their extravagance. France has now a remarkable system of public instruction and many large institutions of higher learning. In matters where taste is concerned she still leads the world.

[32.] Frieze, coarse woolen cloth.

[33.] Holland is now known as The Netherlands. The sovereign is the young queen Wilhelmina, who began to reign in 1898.

[34.] Rampire, a dam or dike.

[35.] From opulence that springs. Holland was a great commercial power during the seventh [Transcriber's note: should probably be "seventeenth"] century; then her commerce dwindled, and after 1713 she was of small political importance. Of course the poet's description is greatly exaggerated.

[36.] Dull as their lakes. The Netherlands can at present boast of four public universities.

[37.] Belgic sires. Belgae was the name given to the early inhabitants of Holland and certain regions near that country.

[38.] Lawns, cleared places in a wood; not cultivated grassland near a house, as now.

[39.] Arcadian pride. Arcadia is an inland country in Greece, often mentioned by poets as a place of ideal beauty.

[40.] Famed Hydaspis. The river Jhelum, or Jhelam, in India, about which many fabulous stories used to be told. One was, that its sands were of gold.

[41.] The self-dependent lordlings. Probably in no country in the world have the nobility been so popular as in England. It has been said that an Englishman "dearly loves a lord."

[42.] Repelling and repelled. Goldsmith, who grew up among the warm-hearted people of Lissoy, was doubtless often hurt by the apparent coldness of his English friends.

[43.] One sink of level avarice. At the time The Traveller was written many noted English statesmen had low moral standards and were willing to use corrupt means to gain their ends. Still, the great body of the people were but slightly affected by this state of things, and England was soon to enter upon a new and better era.

[44.] Those who think, etc. Americans believe that the thinkers should toil and the toilers think. When Goldsmith's line was written great ignorance prevailed among the working classes in all European countries.

[45.] Rich men rule the law. Bribery was common in England at the time. Although conditions gradually improved, many abuses remained until they were swept away by the famous Reform Bill of 1832.

[46.] The wealth of climes, etc. It will be remembered that England was having serious trouble at the time this poem was written, both with the people of India and with the American colonists.

[47.] Her useful sons, etc. The slave trade was not abolished in the British Empire until 1807.

[48.] Decayed, fallen as to social condition.

[49.] Forced from their homes. Many Englishmen came to America willingly. The poet fails to understand the adventurous spirit of the emigrant.

[50.] Oswego; Niagara. At this time the regions named were in the wilderness. Note the poet's pronunciation of Niagara.

[51.] A good each government bestows. It would not be easy to mention the special good bestowed by certain governments; by that of Turkey, for instance.

[52.] Luke's iron crown. George Dosia, with his brother Luke, headed an unsuccessful revolt in Hungary in the sixteenth century. George—not Luke—was put to death by means of a red-hot iron crown. In the Middle Ages this punishment was sometimes employed in the case of persons who had attempted to seize the royal power.

[53.] Damiens' bed of steel. Robert Francois Damiens attempted to assassinate Louis XV in 1757. Before being put to death he was cruelly tortured, but the "bed of steel" was not used.