SCHOOL AND COLLEGE LIFE.
In 1848 William Elmslie was regularly enrolled as a pupil in the Grammar
School of Aberdeen, and never student more eager started in pursuit of
knowledge. At that time its Rector was the Rev. Dr. Melvin, whose
character and mode of tuition have been made famous as much by their
results in the men they helped to mould, as by the graphic description
of one of our finest writers. A few sentences from Professor Masson's
paper may enable us to trace the kind of influence now brought to bear
on William. "I have known many other men," writes the Professor, "since
I knew him–men of far greater celebrity in the world, and of
intellectual claims of far more rousing character than belong to Latin
scholarship; but I have known no one, and I expect to know no one so
perfect in his type as Melvin. Every man whose memory is tolerably
faithful, can reckon up those to whom he is indebted; and trying to
estimate at this moment the relative proportions of influences, from
this man and that man, encountered by me, which I can still feel running
in my veins, it so happens that I can trace none more distinct, however
it may have been marred and mudded, than that stream which, as Melvin
gave it, was truly 'honey-wine.'"–(_Macmillan's Magazine_, 1863, p. 231.)
When William first entered school he only felt in part the power of this
remarkable man, but when promoted to the advanced classes, directly
under Melvin's care, the enthusiasm of his nature was stirred, and his
mind yielded itself to be moulded by him. He owed much of his success at
college, and of his power in mastering languages, to the very careful
mental training received from Melvin. "He gave us hard work," he said,
"but it was intense enjoyment, for one's mind was strengthened,
expanded, and in the truest, fullest meaning of the word, _educated_."
During his first year William was often down-cast, for school life was
new to him, and he felt himself far behind others of his age. However,
he resolved to do his best, and to make the most of the much-prized
privileges so long denied him. During holiday time, when others were at
play, he was at his books; and not in vain, for at the beginning of his
second year he gained by competition a bursary that helped to relieve
him from pecuniary anxieties. By the end of the next session he stood
high in his classes, and carried off the first prize in Greek. The Rev.
Mr. Salmond, Free Church, Barry, one of William's friends at school and
college, writes thus of these early days:–"We were close companions and
studied very much together in private as well as in public. These were
ever-memorable days, rich in generous friendships and affluent also with
what should have been most helpful for the up-building of manly moral
character and energetic intellectual life, when Dr. Melvin kept the
youngest of us in fixed devotion to the genius of the Latin tongue, and
when, after the decease of that unique master, Professor Geddes made us
all a-glow with his own enthusiasm, and fired us with the classic spirit
of Greek. Into what was best, in these buoyant and productive times of
earliest mental discipline and most unselfish companionships, William
Elmslie threw himself with all his heart, and was a friend to most. His
position, too, was in some respects peculiar among us. His seriousness
was more marked, and his independent spirit and his determination to do
everything for himself, and to make the utmost of his opportunities, had
methods of expressing themselves which were altogether his own.
Commencing his course at a somewhat more advanced age than most of us,
and possessing the advantage of having learned a trade, he used to
excite our admiration by the sturdy diligence with which he toiled to
support himself, in a way which many a silly youth would have counted
beneath him, and also, in truth, our envy at the ability which he had
thus acquired to possess himself of books beyond the reach of others. I
well remember how ambitious some of us were to get a week's loan of some
of his laboriously-earned treasures, and how ready he was to indulge us
in that line of things. Thus it happened that, in addition to the
text-books usually studied at that stage in Greek and Latin, not a few
boys of some thirteen or fourteen years of age voluntarily mastered
volumes ordinarily reserved for a later period,–such as "Zumpt's
Grammar," "Döderlein's Synonyms," "Ramshorn's Synonyms," the first part
of "Jelf's Greek Grammar,"[1] &c. And for a certain measure of the
attainments aimed at and made by a good many beyond the stated
requirements of the classes in these and other branches, we were
indebted not a little to the stimulus of his example as well as to his
willingness to help others with his books and counsel. His own
acquirements in Latin were very considerable, and to Greek also he took
with a burning affection and a determined perseverance, which might have
led him on to distinguished results had the opportunity of continuing
his studies been given him in Providence. In these youthful days, in
short, the great features of character, which appeared subsequently in
his work in a distant country, and in taxing circumstances, were the
very qualities that constrained respect from all his comrades in school
and college,–his readiness to take in hand all kinds of honest labour,
manual and mental, his patient dedication to the task of the time, his
thirst for knowledge, his zeal in helping others, and the hearty and
fearless interest which he displayed all through his course in every
decidedly religious movement. This last made him a somewhat outstanding
member of our student-circles, and rendered the impression which he left
upon his associates a very happy one."
When William got in some measure abreast of his school-fellows in
learning, he rejoiced to join them in the playground in every manly
sport. His hard work never inclined him to mope. With his whole heart he
threw himself into the game. Of cricket he was particularly fond, and
the company of which he was a member was called the "_Thistle Club_." He
stood A-1 at bowling. He could not endure those meandering, sneaking
balls that creep in upon you at unawares. No; the enemy got fair
warning. Drawing himself well up, the body thrown back, and the lips
compressed, he took careful aim; then off shot the ball, swift and
straight as an arrow; and when he heard the delightsome clatter of the
tumbling wickets, he cut a demi-somersault, and sang out merrily, "_Nemo
me impune lacessit._"
It was near the close of William's fourth session at school that the
death of the reverend rector took place. He fell paralysed to the ground
one day while engaged in his classroom, and William Elmslie was one of
the sorrowing pupils who helped to bear the almost lifeless form to his
home,–not many days later to be borne thence to its narrow bed in the
churchyard. William never ceased to be thankful that so much of his
student life had been passed under an influence so beneficial, being
deeply conscious of having gained in the Grammar School of Aberdeen such
a mental training as enabled him to grapple with, and to overcome, the
intellectual difficulties which, in after days, he had to encounter.
In November 1853, he passed from school to college; and with no little
pride and pleasure his mother saw him don the scarlet cloak worn by the
students of King's College, Aberdeen. "It was there," writes his friend,
the Rev. Andrew Ritchie of Coull, "that I first met with William
Elmslie. We were students of the same year, and I shared the same room
with him in his parents' house. We both worked hard. It was no unusual
thing for us to restrict ourselves to five hours' sleep. We engaged a
watchman to waken us at three o'clock every morning; and we took it in
turn to rise first, kindle the fire, and boil the coffee, which Mrs.
Elmslie had made ready the night before. After enjoying a slice of bread
and that good, warm coffee, we began our day's work. William was always
prayerful and earnest, and from the very first we engaged in devotions
together, as well as separately; it was our delight to talk of Christ,
and of our desire to devote ourselves to his cause.
"William's work was harder than mine, for his father's failing health
and eyesight made him now more and more dependent on his son's
exertions. On this account, William undertook an engagement to teach in
a school in Aberdeen, and he had also several private pupils. Being a
first-rate student, and of gentlemanly manners, he had no difficulty in
getting as much employment of this kind as he wished; but the constant
hard work and severe study told on his health, and, at the close of the
second session at college, he was forced to obey doctor's injunctions,
and to seek rest and country air."
He spent some time with relatives in Elgin, and in the neighbourhood of
Inverness, and returned, strengthened in mind and body, to take up again
the double burden of supporting his parents and maintaining himself at
college. Sometimes when his prospects were peculiarly dark, and he
needed sympathy, friends took the occasion to urge him to give up the
struggle altogether, and turn aside to something that would be
immediately remunerative. He had a hard time of it when passing through
his philosophical classes. To most honest, earnest students, this is a
season of much conflict, and Mr. Elmslie's circumstances did not tend to
make the doubts and temptations that usually encompass it easily borne.
Sometimes, when he knelt to pray, troop after troop of doubts rushed in
upon him, and made such assaults on his long cherished beliefs, that he
gradually ceased to plead with God, and entered into regular mental
warfare, becoming altogether unconscious of his kneeling posture.
Recovering himself, he was shocked at his irreverence; tried to smooth
himself down and feel solemn, but in the stillness a withering chill
stole over him as if he were encircled by a _boundless nothing_. The
"_Eternal Silences_" sent very cheerless responses to the groans that
burst from his burdened spirit. With keen powers of analysis, and a
slight tendency to introspection, it will be believed that such battles
were not infrequent. It is needless to ask, in surprise, "But was he not
a Christian?" Yes; but a far older and more experienced Christian was so
puzzled by the mysteries of Providence that he exclaimed, "As for me, my
feet were almost gone; my steps had wellnigh slipped." Mr. Elmslie's
feet were on the rock, but he staggered greatly notwithstanding. Through
all his varied forms of trial, his mother stood by him to sustain and
cheer; and when his philosophic perplexities went beyond her depth, she
at least could sympathise and pray. He used to say "that a mother's
sympathy, if she had a Mary's faith, was the greatest blessing a young
man could possess when first installed into the mysteries of
philosophy." The mother and son had, all through, an unwavering
conviction that God intended him for a higher form of service than
boot-closing, and therefore trials did not discourage so much as might
have been expected; for they were regarded as a fatherly discipline; a
preparation for future usefulness, upon which they ceased not to ask the
Divine blessing.
Having taken his degree in arts, he felt anxious, before deciding on a
further course of study, to see something of the world, and to have a
change from the scene of so much labour. He therefore gladly accepted a
proposal to go abroad as tutor in the family of an Aberdeenshire
gentleman, who was to spend the following winter in Italy. It was a
curious fact which he sometimes quoted as an instance of God's
overruling even our failings as a means of carrying out His own plan of
our lives, that this gentleman's choice of him as tutor for his sons was
caused by a preference for his handwriting, the very point on which he
was most conscious of deficiency.
The year spent in Italy was not one of much enjoyment. William's
sensitive nature suffered acutely in this first experience of life among
strangers, and his position was rendered more trying and lonely from a
misunderstanding between him and the father of his pupils. Nevertheless
the lessons in human nature, and the experience of the world gained
there, proved invaluable to him ever after.
Here, too, his self-reliance was strengthened, and he gained a firmer
conviction of God's power to give him joy and peace, however untoward
his outward circumstances might be.
In Florence he had the great privilege of meeting with some very helpful
Christian friends, among whom was the Rev. Mr. Hannah, a young Irish
clergyman, who had been appointed to minister to the English residents
in that lovely city. William spent much of his spare time with this dear
servant of God, who was then drawing very near the close of his service
on earth, and was fast ripening for glory. The Spirit of God seemed to
reveal to him much of what eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, neither
hath it entered into the heart of man to conceive, and for which he was
being made ready. To all who then ministered to him much blessing was
given, and William richly shared it in a realisation of the unseen and
the eternal such as he had never known before. During Mr. Hannah's
illness, William agreed to relieve his mind of anxiety by conducting
Sabbath services for his little congregation. He read to them some of
his favourite sermons, such as Chalmers on "The expulsive power of a new
affection;" Caird on the "Solitariness of our Lord's sufferings;" and
Maclaren on the "Soul's thirst after God." The Rev. Mr. Macdougall, who
relieved him of his position some six weeks later, used laughingly to
say that Mr. Elmslie had quite spoiled the people, for they would never
listen to any ordinary man's sermons after having enjoyed those
intellectual feasts. William returned to England in June 1858, and in
London heard an encouraging sermon from the Rev. Dr. Hamilton from a
text well suited to his circumstances, "Casting all your care upon Him,
for He careth for you."
[Footnote 1] Mr. Elmslie was not able to purchase such books as the
above; he _hired_ them from a bookseller at so much per week.