The Jessamy Bride

by Frank Frankfort Moore

“Heavens!” cried the visitor. “Have you forgot that you cannot wear colours?”

“Why not?” asked Goldsmith. “Because Woodward is to appear in mourning to speak the prologue, is that any reason why the author of the comedy should also be in black?”

“Nay,” said Steevens, “that is not the reason. How is it possible that you forget the Court is in mourning for the King of Sardinia? That coat of yours is a splendid one, I allow, but if you were to appear in it in front of your box a very bad impression would be produced. I suppose you hope that the King will command a performance.”

Goldsmith's face fell. He looked at the reflection of the gorgeous garments in a mirror and sighed. He had a great weakness for colour in dress. At last he took off the coat and gave another fond look at it before throwing it over the back of a chair.

“It was an inspiration on your part to come for me, my dear friend,” said he. “I would not for a good deal have made such a mistake.”

He reappeared in a few moments in a suit of sober grey, and drove with his friend to the coffee-house, where the party, consisting of Johnson, Reynolds, Edmund and Richard Burke, and Caleb Whitefoord, had already assembled.

It soon became plain that Goldsmith was extremely nervous. He shook hands twice with Richard Burke and asked him if he had heard that the King of Sardinia was dead, adding that it was a constant matter for regret with him that he had not visited Sardinia when on his travels. He expressed a hope that the death of the King of Sardinia would not have so depressing an effect upon playgoers generally as to prejudice their enjoyment of his comedy.

Edmund Burke, understanding his mood, assured him gravely that he did not think one should be apprehensive on this score, adding that it would be quite possible to overestimate the poignancy of the grief which the frequenters of the pit were likely to feel at so melancholy but, after all, so inevitable an occurrence as the decease of a potentate whose name they had probably never heard.

Goldsmith shook his head doubtfully, and said he would try and hope for the best, but still....

Then he hastened to Steevens, who was laughing heartily at a pun of Whitefoord's, and said he was certain that neither of them could have heard that the King of Sardinia was dead, or they would moderate their merriment.