Oliver Goldsmith | Page 9

of the class as ignorant and stupid; ridiculed
him as awkward and ugly, and at times in the transports of his temper
indulged in personal violence. The effect was to aggravate a passive
distaste into a positive aversion. Goldsmith was loud in expressing his
contempt for mathematics and his dislike of ethics and logic; and the
prejudices thus imbibed continued through life. Mathematics he always
pronounced a science to which the meanest intellects were competent.
A truer cause of this distaste for the severer studies may probably be
found in his natural indolence and his love of convivial pleasures. "I
was a lover of mirth, good humor, and even sometimes of fun," said he,
"from my childhood." He sang a good song, was a boon companion,
and could not resist any temptation to social enjoyment. He endeavored
to persuade himself that learning and dullness went hand in hand, and
that genius was not to be put in harness. Even in riper years, when the
consciousness of his own deficiencies ought to have convinced him of
the importance of early study, he speaks slightingly of college honors.
"A lad," says he, "whose passions are not strong enough in youth to
mislead him from that path of science which his tutors, and not his
inclination, have chalked out, by four or five years' perseverance will
probably obtain every advantage and honor his college can bestow. I

would compare the man whose youth has been thus passed in the
tranquillity of dispassionate prudence, to liquors that never ferment,
and, consequently, continue always muddy."
The death of his worthy father, which took place early in 1747,
rendered Goldsmith's situation at college extremely irksome. His
mother was left with little more than the means of providing for the
wants of her household, and was unable to furnish him any remittances.
He would have been compelled, therefore, to leave college, had it not
been for the occasional contributions of friends, the foremost among
whom was his generous and warm-hearted uncle Contarine. Still these
supplies were so scanty and precarious that in the intervals between
them he was put to great straits. He had two college associates from
whom he would occasionally borrow small sums; one was an early
schoolmate, by the name of Beatty; the other a cousin, and the chosen
companion of his frolics, Robert (or rather Bob) Bryanton, of
Ballymulvey House, near Ballymahon. When these casual supplies
failed him he was more than once obliged to raise funds for his
immediate wants by pawning his books. At times he sank into
despondency, but he had what he termed "a knack at hoping," which
soon buoyed him up again. He began now to resort to his poetical vein
as a source of profit, scribbling street-ballads, which he privately sold
for five shillings each at a shop which dealt in such small wares of
literature. He felt an author's affection for these unowned bantlings, and
we are told would stroll privately through the streets at night to hear
them sung, listening to the comments and criticisms of bystanders, and
observing the degree of applause which each received.
Edmund Burke was a fellow-student with Goldsmith at the college.
Neither the statesman nor the poet gave promise of their future
celebrity, though Burke certainly surpassed his contemporary in
industry and application, and evinced more disposition for
self-improvement, associating himself with a number of his
fellow-students in a debating club, in which they discussed literary
topics, and exercised themselves in composition.
Goldsmith may likewise have belonged to this association, but his

propensity was rather to mingle with the gay and thoughtless. On one
occasion we find him implicated in an affair that came nigh producing
his expulsion. A report was brought to college that a scholar was in the
hands of the bailiffs. This was an insult in which every gownsman felt
himself involved. A number of the scholars flew to arms, and sallied
forth to battle, headed by a hare-brained fellow nicknamed Gallows
Walsh, noted for his aptness at mischief and fondness for riot. The
stronghold of the bailiff was carried by storm, the scholar set at liberty,
and the delinquent catchpole borne off captive to the college, where,
having no pump to put him under, they satisfied the demands of
collegiate law by ducking him in an old cistern.
Flushed with this signal victory, Gallows Walsh now harangued his
followers, and proposed to break open Newgate, or the Black Dog, as
the prison was called, and effect a general jail delivery. He was
answered by shouts of concurrence, and away went the throng of
madcap youngsters, fully bent upon putting an end to the tyranny of
law. They were joined by the mob of the city, and made an attack upon
the prison with true Irish precipitation and thoughtlessness,