What Colman's attitude was in regard to the man who had put thousands of pounds into his pocket may be gathered from the fact that, shortly afterwards, he accepted and produced a play of Kenrick's at his theatre, which was more decisively damned than any play ever produced under Colman's management. Of course, the act of an author in resenting the scurrility of a man who had delivered his stab under the cloak of criticism, called for a howl of indignation from the scores of hacks who existed at that period--some in the pay of the government others of the opposition--solely by stabbing men of reputation; for the literary cut-throat, in the person of the professional libeller-critic, and the literary cut-purse, in the form of the professional blackmailer, followed as well as preceded Junius. The howl went up that the liberty of the press was in danger, and the public, who took then, as they do now, but the most languid interest in the quarrels of literature, were forced to become the unwilling audience. When, however, Goldsmith published his letter in the _Daily Advertiser_--surely the manliest manifesto ever printed--the howls became attenuated, and shortly afterwards died away. It was admitted, even by Dr. Johnson--and so emphatically, too, that his biographer could not avoid recording his judgment--that Goldsmith had increased his reputation by the incident. (Boswell paid Goldsmith the highest compliment in his power on account of this letter, for he fancied that it had been written by Johnson, and received another rebuke from the latter to gloat over.) For some days Goldsmith had many visitors at his chambers, including Baretti, who remarked that he took it for granted that he need not now search for the fencingmaster, as his quarrel was over. Goldsmith allowed him to go away under the impression that he had foreseen the quarrel when he had consulted him regarding the fencingmaster. But at the end of a week, when Evans had been conciliated by the friends of his assailant, Goldsmith, on returning to his chambers one afternoon, found Johnson gravely awaiting his arrival. His hearty welcome was not responded to quite so heartily by his visitor. “Dr. Goldsmith,” said Johnson, after he had made some of those grotesque movements with which his judicial utterances were invariably accompanied--“Dr. Goldsmith, we have been friends for a good many years, sir.” “That fact constitutes one of my pleasantest reflections, sir,” said Goldsmith. He spoke with some measure of hesitancy, for he had a feeling that his friend had come to him with a reproof. He had expected him to come rather sooner. “If our friendship was not such as it is, I would not have come to you to-day, sir, to tell you that you have been a fool,” said Johnson. “Yes, sir,” said Goldsmith, “you were right in assuming that you could say nothing to me that would offend me; I know that I have been a fool--at many times--in many ways.”