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Oliver Goldsmith
1730 - 1774

Goldsmith was born in Ireland and attended Trinity College, Dublin. His first years at Trinity were rocky. He showed no particular ability, indeed, he got himself involved in a riot and thereafter ran away. His brother was to catch up with him, and, eventually, Oliver returned to Trinity and was to receive his B.A. Next his family fixed him up with Ј50, so that he might go to London to study law; but, he did not make it to London as he lost the Ј50 at the gaming tables at Dublin. In 1752, Oliver went off to Edinburgh to study medicine, but, as Chambers points out, while there for the two years, he "was more noted for his social gifts than his professional acquirements." Goldsmith tried practising medicine, but it did not work for him. He turned to writing turning out essays and making contributions to the magazines of the day. In 1766 he came out with a novel, The Vicar of Wakefield; it was to make his reputation as a novelist. In 1773, he brought out the comedy She Stoops To Conquer, the second work for which Goldsmith will be remembered. (For a sample of Goldsmith's writing see his essay, "A City Night-Piece.")

An Elegy on the Death of a Mad Dog

GOOD people all, of every sort,

Give ear unto my song,

And if you find it wondrous short,

It cannot hold you long.

In Islington there was a man,

Of whom the world might say,

That still a godly race he ran,

Whene'er he went to pray.

A kind and gentle heart he had,

To comfort friends and foes;

The naked every day he clad,

When he put on his clothes.

And in that town a dog was found,

As many dogs there be,

Both mongrel, puppy, whelp, and hound,

And curs of low degree.

This dog and man at first were friends;

But when a pique began,

The dog, to gain his private ends,

Went mad, and bit the man.

Around from all the neighboring streets

The wond'ring neighbors ran,

And swore the dog had lost his wits,

To bite so good a man.

The wound it seem'd both sore and sad

To every Christian eye;

And while they swore the dog was mad,

They swore the man would die.

But soon a wonder came to light,

That show'd the rogues they lied:

The man recover'd of the bite --

The dog it was that died.

© 2000 Elena and Yacov Feldman