Classics and the Western Canon discussion

XIX. The description of a Person discontented with the present government, and apprehensive of the loss of our liberties
XX. The history of a philosophic vagabond, pursuing novelty, but losing content
XXI. The short continuance of friendship among the vicious, which is coeval only with mutual satisfaction
XXII. Offences are easily pardoned where there is love at bottom
XXIII. None but the guilty can be long and completely miserable
XXIV. Fresh calamities
XXV. No situation, however wretched it seems, but has some sort of comfort attending it

At the end of our last section, the Vicar, to reclaim his lost daughter, walked sixty miles in pursuit of those who had carried her off, only to start home in defeat. After three weeks of illness, he met with some traveling actors, and Goldsmith got to discuss his theories about theater. A well-dressed man in an ale-house invited the Vicar and one of the actors to his home for supper.

What do you think of the political talk at the supper party and of the way the party ended? And then who should enter but the niece of the true host, Miss Arabella Wilmot, George Primrose's former fiancée? The surprises keep coming; the Vicar accompanies the family to the theater, where the highly praised new actor turns out to be George himself! Arabella is flustered. Next, we hear George's account of his many trials and failures at earning his fortune. Two more remarkable coincidences: he meets Squire Thornhill and the the celebrated Sir William Thornhill, of whom we have heard so much.

And now, coincidence of coincidences, the Vicar stops at an inn and finds his daughter there, about to be thrown out. We learn who the real villain is. Were you at all surprised? The two return home to calamity after calamity, and we finally leave the Vicar sleeping soundly in prison under borrowed bedclothes.

I am going to start the conversation after the introduction by a not so deep comment:

“You see me, young man, continued he, I never learned Greek, and I don't find that I have ever missed it. I have had a doctor's cap and gown without Greek: I have ten thousand florins a year without Greek; I eat heartily without Greek, and in short, continued he, as I don't know Greek, I do not believe there is any good in it.”

This is the response the son George's received from the principal when he applied for a position as a Greek instructor. While I found it humorous, you can actually encounter similar sentiments nowadays also. Still the logic is worth a chuckle.

George had also thought of teaching English to the Dutch, but forgot the need to know Dutch himself, which is another episode with humorous logic.

Brit wrote: "I am going to start the conversation after the introduction by a not so deep comment:

“You see me, young man, continued he, I never learned Greek, and I don't find that I have ever missed it. I ha..."

I wonder whether George knew just how funny some of his adventures were. This section reminds me of Dickens's Pickwick Papers.

WHEN lovely woman stoops to folly,
And finds too late that men betray,
What charm can soothe her melancholy,
What art can wash her guilt away?

The only art her guilt to cover,
To hide her shame from every eye,
To give repentance to her lover
And wring his bosom, is—to die.

Does anyone remember how T. S. Eliot changed this poem?

So we see the squire lives up to his reputation after all. In retrospect, we can see that Goldsmith set up this fall with the family's growing pride in the Squire's attentions. But more importantly, where does this leave us as far as Burchell is concerned?

The political rant was interesting. This was a very fractious time in political history & I need to refresh my memory a bit before getting into it too much. In general though, it's cool to get a window into the way ideas were framed in a more conversational tone than we would get from a scholarly treatise. It feels more like the sort of riff on politics that you might hear from a first year poli sci major after a few beers (I have, um, personal expertise on that).

Also, the novel almost starts to feel like a Roman style farce at this point - the servants posing as masters, all of the characters coming together in impossible coincidences, etc. It's probably a fair bet that Goldsmith would have exposed to the form as an educated man in that time. For me, this connection adds some levity to a plot line that would otherwise feel a bit overwrought.

Here's how T. S. Eliot used Goldsmith's lovely woman poem in "The Waste Land" (part III, "The Fire Sermon":

She turns and looks a moment in the glass,
Hardly aware of her departed lover;
Her brain allows one half-formed thought to pass:
"Well now that's done, and I'm glad it's over."
When lovely woman stoops to folly and
Paces about her room again, alone,
She smoothes her hair with automatic hand,
And puts a record on the gramophone.

Goldsmith's original:

WHEN lovely woman stoops to folly,
And finds too late that men betray,
What charm can soothe her melancholy,
What art can wash her guilt away?

The only art her guilt to cover,
To hide her shame from every eye,
To give repentance to her lover
And wring his bosom, is—to die.

Quite a difference in outlook, I would say!

Okay. I'm trying hard to willingly suspend disbelief. I rolled my eyes when Arabella Wilmont showed up at the house he had been invited to by a total stranger. Then I swallowed hard when he went to the play and found George making his stage debut. But when he then found Olivia abandoned in the inn, and I became fully convinced that he was indeed intending to write a satire. No serious novelist, not even Dickens, could ever hope to get away with that many absurd coincidences within so few pages.

But that said, I'm greatly enjoying the book, but on a different level than I would approach Dickens or Tolstoy.

Laurel wrote: "Here's how T. S. Eliot used Goldsmith's lovely woman poem in "The Waste Land" (part III, "The Fire Sermon":

She turns and looks a moment in the glass,
Hardly aware of her departed lover;
Her brain..."

Neat find! And yes, a VERY different approach by one who has stooped to folly.

A reflection of two different societies.

Everyman wrote: "Okay. I'm trying hard to willingly suspend disbelief. I rolled my eyes when Arabella Wilmont showed up at the house he had been invited to by a total stranger. Then I swallowed hard when he went to..."

Those coincidences come on fast and furiously, don't they? The Vicar would call them works of Providence, but that's stretching it.

Mary wrote: "A reflection of two different societies."

And I'm sure Eliot had that very much in mind.

I'm a little late in reading this section but, I agree with Everyman. This many neat coincidences this close...

It also reminds me of the story of Job from the Bible. Especially after the house burnt down I remember thinking- how many more things can wrong in this guy's life?

Tiffany wrote: " Especially after the house burnt down I remember thinking- how many more things can wrong in this guy's life? "

I have this weird view that authors should at some level be fair to their characters. And I'm not sure that Goldsmith was fair to the Vicar in piling so many disasters on his head.

Everyman wrote: "I have this weird view that authors should at some level be fair to their characters. And I'm not sure that Goldsmith was fair to the Vicar in piling so many disasters on his head. "

It's not quite worldly fairness, but in literary terms it allows the vicar to shine through with his virtue and love for his family again. I am a little behind on the reading (hopefully will finish in the next day and be ready for the next book!), but thus far it seems like a real turning point when Olivia leaves home. The distance between how the narrator presents himself and how the vicar behaves is closed. Once his temper calms he searches for his daughter and on eventually finding her he immediately forgives her and concentrates on supporting his family.
He does not mourn the loss of his belongings but is thankful that his children are safe after the fire.
Then he has the moral strength to face up to the Squire, which is a sharp contrast to his behaviour to the richer man in the previous parts of the novel.
Although as people have noted, the coincidences suspend disbelief, but personally I am happier to accept them than have lots of padding and waiting for things to happen in this short novel, I thought there was much more reality in this section. Olivia doesn't get saved, she trusts in her beauty and a man's love for her and gets ruined and betrayed.

I thought the depiction of the Squire was interesting, the way he brazens everything else, is it his privilege that has left him where he has no concept of the pain he causes others? He seems surprised at how cross the vicar is, which makes me think the Squire is more amoral than bad.

I know we've discussed the point of the ballads and stories within stories in this work, so this section I found online might be of interest:

Thus, while the novel may be easy to read, it offers plenty of fodder for interpretation and discussion. Like "An Elegy on the Death of a Mad Dog," which Bill sings, good and evil cannot be simply understood. The good dog can bite at any time, and the good man can be punished. It is in art that goodness is often rewarded - as is the case in Bill's elegy and in The Vicar of Wakefield. And yet in the best of art, the audience is still not quite sure what they are supposed to believe. That Goldsmith can provide such an entertaining story while simultaneously commenting on the limitations and assumptions of story serves as testament to his talent and imagination.

Clari wrote: "Everyman wrote: "I have this weird view that authors should at some level be fair to their characters. And I'm not sure that Goldsmith was fair to the Vicar in piling so many disasters on his head...."

Well put, Clari. Also, we have to remember the early date of this novel and how many later novelists honed their craft on Goldsmith.

Laurel wrote: "Clari wrote: "Everyman wrote: "I have this weird view that authors should at some level be fair to their characters. And I'm not sure that Goldsmith was
fair to the Vicar in piling so many disaster..."

Agree on both points. Sorry to be brief but computer died and I'm trying to navigate gr on a small tablet.