I used to wonder sometimes why these people did not sally forth in mass and get a few hours' eating and drinking and plunder to their hearts' content, before the police could stop and hang a few of them. But the poor wretches had not the heart even for that. As a slight, wiry Liverpool detective once said to me when I asked him how it was he managed to deal with such hulking ruffians as we were among, "Lord bless you, sir, drink and disease leave nothing in them."
[This early contact with the sternest facts of the social problem impressed him profoundly. And though not actively employed in what is generally called "philanthropy," still he did his part, hopefully but soberly, not only to throw light on the true issues and to strip away make-believe from them, but also to bring knowledge to the working classes, and to institute machinery by which capacity should be caught and led to a position where it might be useful instead of dangerous to social order.
After some time, however, he left Mr. Chandler to join his second brother-in-law (John Godwin Scott.), who had set up in the north of London, and to whom he was duly apprenticed, as his brother James had been before him. This change gave him more time and opportunity to pursue his medical education. He attended lectures at the Sydenham College, and, as has been seen, began to prepare for the matriculation examination of the University of London. At the Sydenham College he met with no little success, winning, besides certificates of merit in other departments, a prize—his first prize—for botany. His vivid recollections, given below, of this entry into the scientific arena are taken from a journal he kept for his fiancee during his absence from Sydney on the cruises of the "Rattlesnake.">[
ON BOARD H.M.S. "RATTLESNAKE," CHRISTMAS 1847.
Next summer it will be six years since I made my first trial in the world. My first public competition, small as it was, was an epoch in my life. I had been attending (it was my first summer session) the botanical lectures at Chelsea. One morning I observed a notice stuck up—a notice of a public competition for medals, etc., to take place on the 1st August (if I recollect right). It was then the end of May or thereabouts. I remember looking longingly at the notice, and some one said to me, "Why don't you go in and try for it?" I laughed at the idea, for I was very young, and my knowledge somewhat of the vaguest. Nevertheless I mentioned the matter to S. [his brother-in-law.] when I returned home. He likewise advised me to try, and so I determined I would. I set to work in earnest, and perseveringly applied myself to such works as I could lay my hands on, Lindley's and De Candolle's "Systems" and the "Annales des Sciences Naturelles" in the British Museum. I tried to read Schleiden, but my German was insufficient.
For a young hand I worked really hard from eight or nine in the morning until twelve at night, besides a long hot summer's walk over to Chelsea two or three times a week to hear Lindley. A great part of the time I worked till sunrise. The result was a sort of ophthalmia which kept me from reading at night for months afterwards.
The day of the examination came, and as I went along the passage to go out I well remember dear Lizzie [His eldest sister, Mrs. Scott.], half in jest, half in earnest, throwing her shoe after me, as she said, for luck. She was alone, beside S., in the secret, and almost as anxious as I was. How I reached the examination room I hardly know, but I recollect finding myself at last with pen and ink and paper before me and five other beings, all older than myself, at a long table. We stared at one another like strange cats in a garret, but at length the examiner (Ward) entered, and before each was placed the paper of questions and sundry plants. I looked at my questions, but for some moments could hardly hold my pen, so extreme was my nervousness; but when I once fairly began, my ideas crowded upon me almost faster than I could write them. And so we all sat, nothing heard but the scratching of the pens and the occasional crackle of the examiner's "Times" as he quietly looked over the news of the day.
The examination began at eleven. At two they brought in lunch. It was a good meal enough, but the circumstances were not particularly favourable to enjoyment, so after a short delay we resumed our work. It began to be evident between whom the contest lay, and the others determined that I was one man's competitor and Stocks [John Ellerton Stocks, M.D., London, distinguished himself as a botanist in India. He travelled and collected in Beloochistan and Scinde; died 1854.] (he is now in the East India service) the other. Scratch, scratch, scratch! Four o'clock came, the usual hour of closing the examination, but Stocks and I had not half done, so with the consent of the others we petitioned for an extension. The examiner was willing to let us go on as long as we liked. Never did I see man write like Stocks; one might have taken him for an attorney's clerk writing for his dinner. We went on. I had finished a little after eight, he went on till near nine, and then we had tea and dispersed.
Great were the greetings I received when I got home, where my long absence had caused some anxiety. The decision would not take place for some weeks, and many were the speculations made as to the probabilities of success. I for my part managed to forget all about it, and went on my ordinary avocations without troubling myself more than I could possibly help about it. I knew too well my own deficiencies to have been either surprised or disappointed at failure, and I made a point of shattering all involuntary "castles in the air" as soon as possible. My worst anticipations were realised. One day S. came to me with a sorrowful expression of countenance. He had inquired of the Beadle as to the decision, and ascertained on the latter's authority that all the successful candidates were University College men, whereby, of course, I was excluded. I said, "Very well, the thing was not to be helped," put my best face upon the matter, and gave up all thoughts of it. Lizzie, too, came to comfort me, and, I believe, felt it more than I did. What was my surprise on returning home one afternoon to find myself suddenly seized, and the whole female household vehemently insisting on kissing me. It appeared an official-looking letter had arrived for me, and Lizzie, as I did not appear, could not restrain herself from opening it. I was second, and was to receive a medal accordingly, and dine with the guild on the 9th November to have it bestowed. [Silver Medal of the Pharmaceutical Society, 9th November 1842. Another botanical prize is a book—"La Botanique," by A. Richard—with the following inscription:—
THOMAE HUXLEY
In Exercitatione Botanices
Apud Scholam Collegii Sydenhamiensis
Optime Merenti
Hunc librum dono dedit
RICARDUS D. HOBLYN, Botanices Professor.]