LORD MONBODDO’S SUPPERS—THE SISTER OF SMOLLETT—ANECDOTE OF
HENRY DUNDAS.
[Illustration]
St John Street, so named with reference to St John’s Cross above
mentioned, was one of the heralds of the New Town. In the latter
half of the last century it was occupied solely by persons of
distinction—nobles, judges, and country gentleman; now it is
possessed as exclusively by persons of the middle rank. In No. 13 lived
that eccentric genius, Lord Monboddo, whose supper-parties, conducted
in classic taste, frequented by the _literati_, and for a time presided
over by an angel in the form of a daughter of his lordship, were of
immense attraction in their day. In a stair at the head of this street
lived the sister of the author of _Roderick Random_.
Smollett’s life as a literary adventurer in London, and the full
participation he had in the woes of authors by profession, have
perhaps conveyed an erroneous idea of his birth and connections. The
Smolletts of Dumbartonshire were in reality what was called in Scotland
a good old family. The novelist’s own grandfather had been one of the
commissioners for the Union between England and Scotland. And it is an
undoubted fact that Tobias himself, if he had lived two or three years
longer, would have become the owner of the family estate, worth about
a thousand a year. All this, to any one conversant with the condition
of the Scottish gentry in the early part of the last century, will
appear quite consistent with his having been brought up as a druggist’s
apprentice in Glasgow—‘the bubbly-nosed callant, wi’ the stane in his
pouch,’ as his master affectionately described him, with reference to
his notorious qualities as a Pickle.
The sister of Smollett—she who, failing him, did succeed to the family
property—was a Mrs Telfer, domiciled as a gentle widow in a common
stair at the head of St John Street (west side), first door up. She
is described as a somewhat stern-looking specimen of her sex, with a
high cast of features, but in reality a good-enough-natured woman, and
extremely shrewd and intelligent. One passion of her genus possessed
her—whist. A relative tells me that one of the city magistrates, who
was a tallow-chandler, calling upon her one evening, she said: ‘Come
awa, bailie, and take a trick at the cartes.’
‘Troth, ma’am,’ said he, ‘I hav’na a bawbee in my pouch.’
‘Tut, man, ne’er mind that,’ replied the lady; ‘let’s e’en play for a
pund o’ candles!’
During his last visit to Edinburgh (1766)—the visit which occasioned
_Humphry Clinker_—Smollett lived in his sister’s house. A person who
recollects seeing him there describes him as dressed in black clothes,
tall, and extremely handsome, but quite unlike the portraits at the
front of his works, all of which are disclaimed by his relations. The
unfortunate truth appears to be that the world is in possession of no
genuine likeness of Smollett! He was very peevish, on account of the
ill-health to which he had been so long a martyr, and used to complain
much of a severe ulcerous disorder in his arm.
His wife, according to the same authority, was a Creole, with a dark
complexion, though, upon the whole, rather pretty—a fine lady, but a
silly woman. Yet she had been the Narcissa of _Roderick Random_.[241]
In _Humphry Clinker_, Smollett works up many observations of things and
persons which he had made in his recent visit to Scotland. His relative
Commissary Smollett, and the family seat near Loch Lomond, receive
ample notice. The story in the family is that while Matthew Bramble was
undoubtedly himself, he meant in the gay and sprightly Jerry Melford
to describe his sister’s son, Major Telfer, and in Liddy to depict his
own daughter, who was destined to be the wife of the major, but, to
the inexpressible and ineffaceable grief of her father, died before
the scheme could be accomplished. Jerry, it will be recollected, ‘got
some damage from the bright eyes of the charming Miss R——n, whom he
had the honour to dance with at the ball.’ Liddy contracted an intimate
friendship with the same person. This young beauty was Eleonora Renton,
charming by the true right divine, for she was daughter of Mr Renton
of Lamerton, by Lady Susan Montgomery, one of the fair offshoots of
the house of Eglintoune, described in a preceding article. A sister
of hers was married to Smollett’s eldest nephew, Telfer, who became
inheritor of the family estate, and on account of it took the surname
of Smollett: a large modern village in Dumbartonshire takes its name
from this lady. It seems to have been this connection which brought
the charming Eleonora under the novelist’s attention. She afterwards
married Charles Sharpe of Hoddam, and became the mother of Charles
Kirkpatrick Sharpe, the well-known antiquary. Strange to say, the lady
whose bright eyes had flamed upon poor Smollett’s soul in the middle of
the last century, was living so lately as 1836.
[Illustration: ST JOHN’S CLOSE.
Entrance to Canongate Kilwinning Mason Lodge.