Happily, the young man had a friend at the University, in his former preceptor—he of the mild and gentle disposition—who kept back the doubtful recommendation, and procured his matriculation as one of his private pupils.

At Lund, Linnæus lodged in the house of Dr. Stobæus, professor of medicine, and physician to the king. This eminent man, perceiving the industry of his lodger, and his acquirements in natural science, allowed him free access to his excellent museum of minerals, shells, and dried plants; and, highly delighted with the idea of a hortus siccus, Linnæus immediately began to collect all the plants which grew in the vicinity, and to “glue them upon paper.” Still, he was denied the privilege of access to the doctor’s library; but, as it fell out, he managed to obtain that also. He formed an acquaintance with a fellow-lodger, a young German student, who enjoyed the advantage he coveted, and, in return for teaching him the principles of physiology, he obtained of this youth books from Stobæus’s library. He passed whole nights in reading the volumes thus clandestinely procured; but it happened that the mother of Stobæus, who was infirm and ailing, lay awake several nights in succession, and seeing a light constantly burning in Linnæus’s room, fearful of fire, desired her son to chide the young Smalander for his carelessness.

Two nights after, at midnight, the lad was surprised by a visit from his host, who found him, to his astonishment, diligently poring over his books. Being asked why he did not go to bed, and whence he had procured the books, he was compelled to confess everything. Stobæus ordered him immediately to go to bed; and the next morning, calling for him, gave him permission to make what use he pleased of his library. From that time this excellent man admitted the youth to the utmost familiarity, received him at his own table, and treated him even as a son.

While botanizing in the country, in the following spring, Linnæus was bitten in the right arm by a venomous reptile, and so serious were the consequences that his life was endangered. As soon as he was partially recovered, he returned to his father’s house, in order to recruit his health during the summer vacation, and while staying in Smaland he was persuaded by his kind friend and benefactor, Dr. Rothmann, to quit Lund for Upsala, as a superior school of medicine, and affording besides, many other advantages of which he could easily avail himself.

In this University—the first and most ancient seat of Swedish learning, and the scene, in after-years, of his greatness—our young student underwent a severe process of training. Poor and unknown, he had no means of adding to the scanty pittance his parents were able to allow him. Scarcely could they afford to give the small sum of 200 silver ducats (about £8) towards the expenses of his education there. In a short time he found his pockets quite empty; and having no chance of obtaining private pupils, he vainly looked for any other source of maintenance. In a few words, he thus touchingly records the tale of his suffering, and the first beam of hope that shone across his path. As Petronius says, poverty is the attendant of a good mind; and Linnæus was not without it in this university, ... he was obliged to trust to chance for a meal, and in the article of dress was reduced to such shifts that he was obliged, when his shoes required mending, to patch them with folded paper instead of sending them to the cobbler.

Years afterwards, the most distinguished zoologist France ever produced, M. de Lamarck, stated to a friend, “I was poor, indeed, but I had not, like Linnæus, to gather up my fellow-students’ old shoes to wear.”

He repented of his journey to Upsala, and of his departure from the roof of Stobæus; but to return to Lund was a tiresome and expensive undertaking. Stobæus, too, had taken it very ill, that a pupil whom he loved so sincerely had left that University without consulting him.

At this time Linnæus, in spite of his great industry and simple manner of living, naturally had considerable anxieties about his success in life.

It chanced one day, in the autumn of the year 1728, whilst Linnæus was very intently examining some plants in the academical garden, there entered a venerable old clergyman, who asked him what he was about, whether he was acquainted with plants, whence he came, and how long he had been prosecuting his studies? To all these questions he returned satisfactory answers, and was then invited to accompany his interrogator to his house, which proved to be that of Dr. Olaus Celsius.

This estimable and learned man, to whom Scandinavia owes so much in regard to natural history, had just returned from Stockholm, where he had been engaged in preparing his celebrated work upon the plants mentioned in the Holy Scriptures, which he published in 1745, having travelled to the East on purpose to make it more complete. Little did Celsius imagine that the youth, whom he first met, by chance, in the academical garden at Upsala, was destined, in after years, by his genius, to immortalize its fame. He, however, soon discerned the merits of Linnæus, took him under his protection, offering him board and lodging in his own house, and allowing him the full use of his library, which was very rich in botanical books. Among all his patrons, Linnæus appears to have dearly cherished the memory of this venerable man, never referring to him but in terms of reverence and gratitude. The friendship and patronage of one so distinguished, did not fail to procure for the youth the advantages he so much needed. Before long, the son of Professor Rudbeck, and other young men, became his private pupils, and by this means his pecuniary wants were supplied.