YEARS OF EDUCATION
But after the youthful Tobias had passed those momentous years when
the science of suction and the art of following his nose constituted
the principal ends of existence, the Scots pride in giving children a
good education wherewith to begin the world, led his mother to send him
early to school. As usual in such cases, during the first two years of
his intellectual seedtime he was committed to the care of a worthy dame
in the neighbourhood, who fulfilled the duties so admirably described
by Shenstone in his _School–mistress_—the only poem of a worthy poet
that has lived—
‘In every village marked with little spire
Embowered in trees and hardly known to fame,
There dwells in lowly shed and mean attire
A matron old whom we schoolmistress name.’
But from the hornbook and the mysteries of ‘a b, ab,’ and ‘t o, to,’
he was presently called to proceed to the scholastic establishment of
one of the most famous Scots pedagogues of the eighteenth century.
John Love had the reputation of having turned out more celebrated men
from his various seminaries than any other teacher of his age. In
addition to Smollett, Principal Robertson, Dr. Blair, Wilkie, author
of the _Epigoniad_, and many other notable scholars and literary
men, were his pupils. He was successively head teacher of Dumbarton
Grammar School,[1] classical master in the High School of Edinburgh,
and finally rector of the Dalkeith Grammar School,—a position which,
as Robert Chambers says, would not now be considered the equivalent
of the one he resigned to accept it. Love was first the correspondent
and defender against sundry attacks on his Latin Grammar, afterwards
the antagonistic critic of the great Ruddiman,—one of the last of
the mighty Scots polymaths, before the days of specialists and the
extension of the boundaries of learning rendered omniscience, in a
humanist sense, an impossibility.
From Love the youthful Smollett received a thorough grounding in the
classics, particularly in Latin. The days had not dawned when that
human instrument of youthful torture known as ‘the crammer’ had come on
the scene. Education, if conducted on wrong principles in many cases,
was, at least, rational in the end it proposed to accomplish. Boys in
the eighteenth century were not treated like prize turkeys, and stuffed
to repletion with all and sundry items of knowledge, whereof about one
per cent. is found useful in after life. Love did not believe in taking
passing sips from the cup of every classic author, and then relegating
their works to the dust and the spiders. His was not the system to
make a sort of fox–hunt scamper over Latin literature, from Nepos to
Statius, or in Greek, from Homer to Lucian, clearing difficulties at
a bound, and cutting the Gordian knot of vexed passages by the rough
and ready method of omission. His pupils were the ‘_homines unius
libri_’—the men of the single book, who are always to be feared. The
consequence was that to the end of life Smollett acknowledged his
indebtedness to Love. He took an interest in the lad’s progress,
and, knowing the circumstances of his lot, and how much depended on
his proficiency in the subjects of study, he paid every attention to
him, and spared no pains to make him a thoroughly sound if not a very
profound classical scholar. All through the long and laborious life of
Smollett, the lessons of Love bore fruit.
Here, however, I must once more enter a protest against the ready
credulity of several previous biographers, in believing the foul
slander,—manufactured by some one utterly unacquainted with the true
facts of the case,—that the portrait of the pedagogue in _Roderick
Random_ could possibly be intended to represent Love. Disproof the
most convincing is to be found in the fact that the distinguishing
characteristic of the pedagogue in the novel was his resemblance to
Horace’s _plagosus Orbilius_—the flogging Orbilius. But of Love’s
system the glory—and glory it certainly was—consisted in the total
abolition of the degrading corporal punishment, in his successive
schools, at the time when the sparing of the rod by any pedagogue was
esteemed to be unquestionably equivalent to spoiling the child.
As to the estimation in which the youthful Smollett was held by his
companions, there is but scant evidence. He seems, like many another
youth, whom the stirrings of great imaginings within were beginning
to puzzle and in some degree to annoy, as being unlike anything his
companions experienced, to have been masterful, irritable, and proud.
He even appears, with a lad’s lack of judgment, to have exhibited the
snobbery of family pride, that most ignoble form of vulgarity. All
through life Smollett betrayed a smack of this failing—a trait of
character which, long years after, led him to surround himself with his
poor and needy brethren in literature, to whom he played the part of
‘the Great Cham’ of the press.
Mr. Robert Chambers, in his excellent biography of Smollett, in many
respects still one of the best accounts of the great novelist’s life
and works, regards the influence of the surrounding scenery as being
the main factor in turning Smollett’s ideas towards imaginative and
romantic themes. To a certain extent, as we have already pointed out,
the charms of the district must have produced a deep impression on
him. The vividness of his recollections of them in after years, and
the terms of passionate delight wherewith he spoke of them, all go
to prove this. But there was another agency at work. The charms of
our immortal English literature were slowly but surely casting their
glamour over him. From the study of classics he had passed to that of
Milton, Dryden, and of the Restoration drama, with close attention
paid to that great period which had closed but a few years before his
birth—the reign of Queen Anne. Chambers also states that ‘Smollett,
like Burns, was at a very early period struck with admiration of the
character of Wallace, whose adventures, reduced from the verse of
Blind Harry by Hamilton of Gilbertfield, were in every boy’s hand, and
formed a constant theme of fireside and nursery stories. To such a
degree arose Smollett’s enthusiasm on this subject, that, ere he had
quitted Dumbarton School, he wrote verses to the memory of the Scottish
champion.’
But schooldays could not last for ever. Besides, the young Tobias ere
long lost interest in the Dumbarton Grammar School. John Love had been
translated to Edinburgh, and a new pedagogue had arisen who knew not
Tobias. Accordingly, the lad began to plague his mother to allow him to
become a soldier like his elder brother James. The matter, of course,
had to be referred to the family dictator—the old Commissary. But that
stern incarnation of Puritanic duty decided that while the family
interest might procure the advancement of one soldier, two were beyond
its exercise of patronage. Hence he insisted on Tobias being sent to
Glasgow University, to prepare for one of the learned professions,
offering to bear a share in the expense of his education. But as the
old man died almost immediately afterwards, namely, in 1733, before
the youth was actually sent to college, the latter benefited little
from his grandfather’s intentions, because in his will no provision was
made for the children of his youngest son. But his uncle James appears
to have proved more kind–hearted than was anticipated, and to have
assisted him, at least during the first years of his course.
During his attendance on the Arts classes in Glasgow University,—only
one of which seems to have made any deep impression on him, namely,
the lectures of Francis Hutcheson, Professor of Moral Philosophy,
and father of Scots Philosophy,—he made the acquaintance of several
medical students, who were then going through their curriculum,
with a view to graduation in medicine. As in the case of Sir James
Y. Simpson[2] it was the fact of lodging in the same house with two
medical students from Bathgate, to wit, Drs. Reid and M’Arthur, which
gave him the bias towards medicine that was to make the world so much
his debtor, so in Smollett’s case his association with these youths
directed his thoughts also towards the prosecution of medicine as
a career in life. In those days the difficulties of carrying out
such an intention were not so great as now. Medicos were not then
as plentiful as leaves in Vallombrosa, so much so that the great
degree–granting institutions must for their own protection make the
examinations increasingly severe, in order that the survival only of
the scientifically fittest may in time relieve the congestion. When,
therefore, Smollett announced his intention to his mother and his uncle
James (who only recently had succeeded to the family honours), they
appeared to consider that the proposal was one to which they could give
a cordial assent, although surgery had not yet commenced the wonderful
march of progress achieved by it later on in the same century, and
though the prestige of the craft, sadly tarnished by its association
with the trade of the barber and of the phlebotomist, was by no means
one calculated as yet to render its members proud of their connection
with it—in Scotland at least. The genius of the three Alexander
Monroes,—grandfather, father, and son, who consecutively held the
chair of Anatomy in Edinburgh University for a hundred and twenty–six
years, namely, from 1720 to 1846,—of Gregory, of Cullen, and of other
illustrious knights of the knife, was needed to efface the lingering
associations of the razor and basin, and to crown the name of surgeon
with undying laurels.
This, then, was the career which Tobias George Smollett marked out for
himself, hoping in the course of time, by hard work and assiduity, to
obtain a position, first as surgeon’s mate and afterwards as surgeon,
in the navy. Only qualified surgeons were accepted by the Admiralty,
and the prospect stimulated him to put forth all his exertions to
qualify for the post. The friends in the Vale of Leven amongst them
managed to provide the necessary funds. Tobias, in addition, was also
apprenticed to a worthy man, Mr. John Gordon, who, in the quaint old
Trongate of Glasgow, during the fourth, fifth, and sixth decades of
the eighteenth century, discharged the dual vocations of medical
practitioner and apothecary. Smollett’s meagre salary or wage, eked
out by what his mother and the Bonhill folks could furnish, was made
to serve the purpose of paying his way through the medical classes in
the University and of supplying himself with clothing. Mr. Gordon, his
master, gave him a room in his house, and a cover was always laid for
him at the good old surgeon’s table.
A striking insight is thus afforded into the proud, irritable nature
of the youth, whom poverty, in place of teaching lessons of patience
and gratitude to the kindly hearts that were smoothing his life’s path
for him, rather stung into angry repining against such indebtedness,
as well as into emphatic asseveration of their action being no more
than what was due to him. Humility was at no time one of the virtues
in which Smollett excelled. His _amour–propre_ was of so sensitive a
composition that the least breath of contradiction made, so to speak,
‘Each particular hair to stand an–end,
Like quills upon the fretful porpentine.’
That Smollett studied hard during these years, that, moreover, he took
every means lying within his power to increase his fund of general
knowledge, as well as to amass stores of that information which lay in
the line of his own special studies in medicine and science, has been
recorded for us by some of his early companions. Neither a laggard nor
a dullard in his work was he, as is evinced by the fact that he was
devoting attention to Latin, Greek, and philosophy at the same time
that he was endeavouring to master anatomy and medicine. How he was
able to accomplish the achievement of acquiring even a superficial
acquaintance with the subjects named, at the identical period that he
was serving in his master’s shop from eight in the morning till nine at
night, is a mystery. Strong evidence is it of his zeal in the pursuit
of knowledge, that he cheerfully prosecuted labours so onerous and so
prolonged at a time when his age, according to the most liberal scale
of calculation, could not have exceeded from fifteen to seventeen
years. But through the gates of knowledge he already saw a means of
escape for himself from the grinding penury wherein it was his lot to
be cast.
John Gordon, surgeon and apothecary, to whom so beautiful a tribute
is paid in _Humphrey Clinker_, appears to have shown the youthful
Tobias substantial kindness. A sincere affection, on his side at
least, existed towards Smollett. The latter, however, seems to have
made him somewhat of a poor return for his benevolent disposition
towards him, though really it is questionable whether Smollett was
responsible for his frigid temperament, which showed no interest in
anyone whose goodwill would not in some way react advantageously on
himself. Notwithstanding that Gordon aided Smollett both by precept
and purse during his years of study, the latter was in the habit of
satirising him behind his back in juvenile pasquinades. The same evil
spirit of social Ishmaelitism, the feeling that the world had been
hard on him, and that he was therefore justified by satire and sneers
in ‘taking it out’ of anyone else who might have relations with him,
was present with him until a year or two of his death. Shortly before
the great end came, this vitriolic acidulousness, as well as the
saturnine bitterness of his nature, became somewhat softened. He then
wrote in _Humphrey Clinker_, under the character of ‘Matthew Bramble,’
as follows:—‘I was introduced to Mr. Gordon, a patriot of a truly
noble spirit, who is father of the linen manufactory in that place,
and was the great promoter of the city workhouse, infirmary, and other
works of public utility. Had he lived in ancient Rome, he would have
been honoured with a statue at the public expense.’ Thus he made the
_amende honorable_, but the description in the first instance of Gordon
as ‘Potion’ in _Roderick Random_ was cruelly unjust, though Smollett
in later years declared the portraits of both ‘Crab’ and ‘Potion’ to
be imaginary. In early years such was the ‘sheer cussedness’ of his
disposition, that even at the risk of offending his dearest friends, he
could not refrain from firing off some of his satirical pasquinades.
In fact, until the offending devil was whipped out of him by the lash
of John Wilkes’ stronger controversial pen, Smollett was too ready to
indulge in satirical outbursts against friend and foe alike, where his
fancied infallibility chanced to be impugned.
Dr. John Gordon seemed to have had some dim, undefinable consciousness
that his proud, irritable, unmanageable apprentice was destined yet
to do something in the world of worthy work. Sir Walter Scott, in his
_Lives of the Novelists_, remarks: ‘His master expressed his conviction
of Smollett’s future eminence in very homely but expressive terms,
when some of his neighbours were boasting the superior decorum and
propriety of the pupils they possessed. “It may be all very true,”
said the keen–sighted Mr. Gordon; “but give me before them all my own
bubbly–nosed callant with the stane in his pouch.”’ And Scott adds
that, without attempting to render the above into English, Southern
readers ought to be informed that the words contain a faithful sketch
of a negligent, unlucky, but spirited urchin, never without some
mischievous prank in his head, and a stone in his pocket ready to
execute it. Better portrait than this of the young Tobias could not
be desired. Only one other boyish trait shall we add to illustrate
his readiness of resource in extricating himself and others from
awkward predicaments. From Dr. Moore’s _Life of Smollett_ we take
it—a volume upon which all succeeding biographers have had to draw,
as he had the privilege of personal intercourse with the novelist. ‘On
a winter evening, when the streets were covered with snow, Smollett
happened to be engaged in a snowball fight with a few boys of his own
age. Among his associates was the apprentice of that surgeon who is
supposed to have been delineated under the name of “Crab” in _Roderick
Random_. He entered his shop while his apprentice was in the heat of
the engagement. On the return of the latter, the master remonstrated
with him severely for his negligence in quitting the shop. The youth
excused himself by saying, that while he was employed in making up a
prescription, a fellow hit him with a snowball in the teeth, and that
he had been in pursuit of the delinquent. “A mighty probable story,
truly,” said the master in an ironical tone. “I wonder how long I
should stand here,” added he, “before it would enter into mortal man’s
head to throw a snowball at me.” While he was holding his head erect
with a most scornful air, he received a very severe blow in the face by
a snowball. Smollett, who stood concealed behind the pillar at the shop
door, had heard the dialogue, and, perceiving that his companion was
puzzled for an answer, he extricated him by a repartee equally smart
and _àpropos_.’
But it must not be supposed, pardonable though it might be, considering
his early love of rollicking fun, that all his spare time was spent
in roistering horseplay like the above. Such an incident as it must
assuredly be relegated to the early days of apprenticeship. Meagre
though the facts are which have descended to us of his residence in
Glasgow, that he studied both hard and perseveringly is proved by
the position he secured in his final medical examination. Not for a
moment do I desire to institute any comparison between the standard
or extent of requirements demanded in order to qualify for a medical
degree nowadays, and that which gave Smollett his first step on the
medical ladder. In those days physicians were in reality supervised by
no competent board as to their qualifications, and surgeons, despite
the navy regulations, were in a case very little better. At the same
time, to accept the description Smollett gives in _Roderick Random_ of
the ‘first and only’ professional examination candidates were expected
to undergo prior to obtaining an appointment in the service, would
be uncharitable. The creator of _Roderick Random_ was still in his
youthfully exuberant period, when fidelity to fact was esteemed by
him as a very secondary consideration, provided a piquant, sarcastic
colouring was imparted to the incidents. Not until he became a
historian did Smollett really learn, in a literary sense, to recognise
the value of truthfulness in delineation.
From the records of Glasgow University for 1738–39, the facts are
to be gleaned that he passed with approbation his examination in
anatomy and medicine, and was thereafter qualified to practise as a
surgeon. But whether comprehensive or not as a course of medical study,
the curriculum was sufficient to endow him with a knowledge of his
profession, quite adequate for all the professional calls afterwards
made on it. From the unconscious testimony of his own works, in the
number and accuracy of the medical references contained therein, we
are able to gauge the range and depth of his surgical and scientific
knowledge. For the times wherein he lived, his acquaintance with
matters the most recondite was extraordinary.
Not only, however, had his studies been of a scientifico–medical
character. English literature in more than one of its manifold
departments was made the subject of systematic reading. To the plays
of Otway, Davenant, Dryden, Rowe, Southerne, and other post–Revolution
tragedy writers, he devoted close attention. To the romantic tales
of French literature, and to their imitations by Robert Greene, Mrs.
Aphra Behn, Mrs. Manley, and others, he likewise turned with delight,
while we learn from his own correspondence at this period that he drank
deep draughts of Milton, Cowley, and Dryden, whose earlier poems he
especially admired. The fruit of these studies appeared in a tragedy
entitled _The Regicide_, written during the last year of his University
work. Dealing with an outstanding event in early Scottish history, an
event that afforded scope for considerable diversity of opinion as
to the nobility or otherwise of the motives actuating the murderers
of James I., the drama could have been made a great psychological
and ethical study in the hands of a stronger writer. But as Smollett
was neither a Cowley nor a Milton, able to produce verse at thirteen
and sixteen worthy to be compared with the work of men twenty years
their seniors, _The Regicide_ is but a sorry production. A curious
problem how far a man is fitted to act as his own critic is raised
by _The Regicide_. Nine readers out of every ten who peruse the work
will toss it on one side contemptuously as the immature ravings of a
callow poet. Yet, until he had been five years editor of the _Critical
Review_,—that _olla podrida_ of everything that was not criticism,
along with a great deal that was of the best type of it,—he believed
almost as implicitly as in his own salvation, that _The Regicide_ was
not much less notable a play than any of Shakespeare’s, but had been
sacrificed by the spleen of envious rivals and knavish managers. But
the point settled by it at this stage of our inquiry is that young
Tobias had not idled his time during his University days. Not only
had he taken a good place in the estimation of his examiners, but the
fruit of the occupation of his spare time is a tragedy, for a youth of
nineteen a sufficiently notable achievement, though not by any means
so when we regard it as the mature expression of manhood’s ideas, as
Smollett later on asserted it to be. In 1738–9, Smollett completed his
studies, passed his examination, and then faced the future manfully, to
see what indications of weal or of woe it might hold for him.