ly 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. Th