“Come, Coley, doff those mourning weeds,
Nor thus with jokes be flamm’d;
Tho’ Goldsmith’s present play succeeds,
His next may still be damn’d.
“As this has ‘scaped without a fall,
To sink his next prepare;
New actors hire from Wapping Wall,
And dresses from Rag Fair.
“For scenes let tatter’d blankets fly,
The prologue Kelly write;
Then swear again the piece must die
Before the author’s night.
“Should these tricks fail, the lucky elf,
To bring to lasting shame,
E’en write the best you can yourself,
And print it in his name.”
The solitary hiss, which had startled Goldsmith, was ascribed by some of the newspaper scribblers to Cumberland himself, who was “manifestly miserable” at the delight of the audience, or to Ossian Macpherson, who was hostile to the whole Johnson clique, or to Goldsmith’s dramatic rival, Kelly. The following is one of the epigrams which appeared:
“At Dr. Goldsmith’s merry play,
All the spectators laugh, they say;
The assertion, sir, I must deny,
For Cumberland and Kelly cry.
“Ride, si sapis.”
Another, addressed to Goldsmith, alludes to Kelly’s early apprenticeship to stay-making:
“If Kelly finds fault with the shape of your muse,
And thinks that too loosely it plays,
He surely, dear doctor, will never refuse
To make it a new Pair of Stays!”
Cradock had returned to the country before the production of the play; the following letter, written just after the performance, gives an additional picture of the thorns which beset an author in the path of theatrical literature:
“MY DEAR SIR—The play has met with a success much beyond your expectations or mine. I thank you sincerely for your epilogue, which, however, could not be used, but with your permission shall be printed. The story in short is this. Murphy sent me rather the outline of an epilogue than an epilogue, which was to be sung by Miss Catley, and which she approved; Mrs. Bulkley hearing this, insisted on throwing up her part” (Miss Hardcastle) “unless, according to the custom of the theater, she were permitted to speak the epilogue. In this embarrassment I thought of making a quarreling epilogue between Catley and her, debating who should speak the epilogue; but then Mrs. Catley refused after I had taken the trouble of drawing it out. I was then at a loss indeed; an epilogue was to be made, and for none but Mrs. Bulkley. I made one, and Colman thought it too bad to be spoken; I was obliged, therefore, to try a fourth time, and I made a very mawkish thing, as you’ll shortly see. Such is the history of my stage adventures, and which I have at last done with. I cannot help saying that I am very sick of the stage; and though I believe I shall get three tolerable benefits, yet I shall, on the whole, be a loser, even in a pecuniary light; my ease and comfort I certainly lost while it was in agitation.
“I am, my dear Cradock, your obliged and obedient servant, OLIVER GOLDSMITH.
“P.S.—Present my most humble respects to Mrs. Cradock.”
Johnson, who had taken such a conspicuous part in promoting the interests of poor “Goldy,” was triumphant at the success of the piece. “I know of no comedy for many years,” said he, “that has so much exhilarated an audience; that has answered so much the great end of comedy—making an audience merry.”