ted. The man most laughed at was most loved. Oliver Goldsmith
made the mirth of things. He was always forbearing, and to this
passive pleasingness he added that finest of activities, unfailing
kindliness. If it is no wonder that they loved him, it is no marvel
that they laughed at him as well.

[Illustration:
_Rischgitz Collection._]
GOLDSMITH IN MIDDLE AGE.
(From an engraving by Ridley.)]

It is commonly said that Goldsmith had a thick-set figure. This does
not mean that he was a sturdy, muscular man. Weakness of constitution,
a habit of stooping as he strolled in his meditative manner, and
constantly bending as he wrote at desk or table, and early
deprivations both of soul and body, had huddled up the low stature and
given the compressed frame a semblance of solidity. His cheeks were
sunken, and there were dark rims about the eyes, and the minimum of
fleshly and substantial covering clad these limbs. Goldsmith had a
queer little manner of bobbing. This bob he fondly imagined a bow.
That it was meant to be dignified there is no doubt. It came a little
from that personal vanity from which no one will ever wish to deem him
entirely exempt, and a little, too, from great nervousness. It flowed
also from an innate good breeding and cultured and natural chivalry.
This bobbing as he entered or left a room was finely caricatured by
Garrick. No doubt the actor's own bowing was the perfection of formal
grace. Yet if the motive of politeness and personal ceremonial condone
its outward and practical shortcomings, then we shall discover more
true soul in Goldsmith's bob than Garrick's bow. Noll bobbed timidly
when compliments were paid him, and gratefully and affirmatively when
in his presence he heard others praised. If anything noble or
beautiful was told of anyone, then came the revering little bob, this
time intended as a tribute to human honour and the virtue of the heart
and the valour of the race.

CHAPTER VII

DEBTS AND DIGNITIES

All through his life Goldsmith was greatly given to grand clothes. It
is a pity that grand clothes were not always greatly given to him, for
he never appeared quite able to pay for them. Although he became
deeply involved in debt, he never cultivated luxurious or unworthy
delights. His pleasures were of the simplest. His insolvent condition
was due, true enough, to pleasure and his foremost luxury--the luxury
of ceaseless charities that he could as ill afford as a