Goldsmith | Page 8

Struggles.--Hack-writing.
Here ensued a very dark period in his life. He was alone in London,
without friends, without money, without introductions; his appearance
was the reverse of prepossessing; and, even despite that medical degree
and his acquaintance with the learned Albinus and the learned Gaubius,
he had practically nothing of any value to offer for sale in the great
labour-market of the world. How he managed to live at all is a mystery:
it is certain that he must have endured a great deal of want; and one
may well sympathise with so gentle and sensitive a creature reduced to

such straits, without inquiring too curiously into the causes of his
misfortunes. If, on the one hand, we cannot accuse society, or
Christianity, or the English government of injustice and cruelty because
Goldsmith had gambled away his chances and was now called on to
pay the penalty, on the other hand, we had better, before blaming
Goldsmith himself, inquire into the origin of those defects of character
which produced such results. As this would involve an excursus into
the controversy between Necessity and Free-will, probably most people
would rather leave it alone. It may safely be said in any case that, while
Goldsmith's faults and follies, of which he himself had to suffer the
consequences, are patent enough, his character on the whole was
distinctly a lovable one. Goldsmith was his own enemy, and everybody
else's friend: that is not a serious indictment, as things go. He was quite
well aware of his weaknesses; and he was also--it may be hinted--aware
of the good-nature which he put forward as condonation. If some
foreigner were to ask how it is that so thoroughly a commercial people
as the English are--strict in the acknowledgment and payment of
debt--should have always betrayed a sneaking fondness for the
character of the good-humoured scapegrace whose hand is in
everybody's pocket, and who throws away other people's money with
the most charming air in the world, Goldsmith might be pointed to as
one of many literary teachers whose own circumstances were not likely
to make them severe censors of the Charles Surfaces, or lenient judges
of the Joseph Surfaces of the world. Be merry while you may; let
to-morrow take care of itself; share your last guinea with any one, even
if the poor drones of society--the butcher, and baker, and milkman with
his score--have to suffer; do anything you like, so long as you keep the
heart warm. All this is a delightful philosophy. It has its moments of
misery--its periods of reaction--but it has its moments of high delight.
When we are invited to contemplate the "evil destinies of men of
letters," we ought to be shown the flood-tides as well as the ebb-tides.
The tavern gaiety; the brand new coat and lace and sword; the midnight
frolics, with jolly companions every one--these, however brief and
intermittent, should not be wholly left out of the picture. Of course it is
very dreadful to hear of poor Boyse lying in bed with nothing but a
blanket over him, and with his arms thrust through two holes in the
blanket, so that he could write--perhaps a continuation of his poem on

the Deity. But then we should be shown Boyse when he was spending
the money collected by Dr. Johnson to get the poor scribbler's clothes
out of pawn; and we should also be shown him, with his hands through
the holes in the blanket, enjoying the mushrooms and truffles on which,
as a little garniture for "his last scrap of beef," he had just laid out his
last half-guinea.
There were but few truffles--probably there was but little beef--for
Goldsmith during this sombre period. "His threadbare coat, his uncouth
figure, and Hibernian dialect caused him to meet with repeated
refusals." But at length he got some employment in a chemist's shop,
and this was a start. Then he tried practising in a small way on his own
account in Southwark. Here he made the acquaintance of a printer's
workman; and through him he was engaged as corrector of the press in
the establishment of Mr. Samuel Richardson. Being so near to literature,
he caught the infection; and naturally began with a tragedy. This
tragedy was shown to the author of Clarissa Harlowe; but it only went
the way of many similar first inspiritings of the Muse. Then Goldsmith
drifted to Peckham, where we find him (1757) installed as usher at Dr.
Milner's school. Goldsmith as usher has been the object of much
sympathy; and he would certainly deserve it, if we are to assume that
his description of an usher's position in the Bee, and in George
Primrose's advice to his cousin, was a full and accurate description of
his life at Peckham. "Browbeat by the master,