SNIPPET: Oliver GOLDSMITH (c.1730-1774) was a marvelously-talented Irish writer who produced a variety of works marked by a charming, lively style. He was born in or around Ballymahon, Co. Longford, Ireland, studied medicine, but was never a serious student. In 1756, he went to London and tried unsuccessfully to establish himself as a doctor and began writing for magazines to support himself. Goldsmith won his first recognition for "The Traveller" (1764), a philosophical poem. (See excerpt below). He became a successful author, but he was careless with money and owed many debts when he died. He belonged to the famous Literary Club, which centered around Samuel JOHNSON. GOLDSMITH believed that comedy should make people laugh and attacked the tearful comedies then popular on the London stage in an essay "A Comparison between the Laughing and Sentimental Comedy" (1773). His play "She Stoops to Conquer" (1773) ranks among the finest comedies every written. Its hero is a bashful young man who mistakes a country mansion for an inn. He treats the master of the house as an innkeeper and the master's beautiful daughter as a servant. The most amusing character is the daughter's brother, a brat whose antics add to the confusion. Goldsmith's comedy "The Good-Natur'd Man" (1768) was less successful. ''The Vicar of Wakefield (1766), his only novel, is a story about the simple life of the Primrose family and their misfortunes. The father, a vicar (country clergyman), is an idealized figure with a wise philosophy The novel is filled with kindly emotions, and teaches the value of humility and courage. Goldsmith's wonderful poem "The Deserted Village" (1770) is a long poem about the English countryside. It shows the evil that results when people place too much importance on money and luxury. It also paints a tender picture of a happy farm village before commercial considerations destroyed it. "The Citizen of the World" (1762) is a collection of Goldsmith's essays. From "The Traveller" Eternal blessings crown my earliest friend And round his dwelling guardian saints attend Blest be that spot, where cheerful guests retire To pause from toil, and trim their evening fire; Blest that abode, where want and pain repair And every stranger finds a ready chair; Blest be those feasts with simple plenty crown'd, Where all the ruddy family around Laugh at the jests and pranks that never fail, Or sigh with pity at some mournful tale, Or press the bashful stranger to his food, And learn the luxury of doing good.