historical lecturers and essays-第26节

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he　must　make　gold；　because；　though　he　squandered　all　his　money；　he



had　always　money　in　hand；　and　that　he　kept　a　〃devil's…bird；〃　a



familiar　spirit；　in　the　pommel　of　that　famous　long　sword　of　his；



which　he　was　only　too　ready　to　lug　out　on　provocationthe　said



spirit；　Agoth　by　name；　being　probably　only　the　laudanum　bottle　with



which　he　worked　so　many　wondrous　cures；　and　of　which；　to　judge　from



his　writings；　he　took　only　too　freely　himself。







But　the　charm　of　Paracelsus　is　in　his　humour；　his　mother…wit。　　He



was　blamed　for　consorting　with　boors　in　pot…houses；　blamed　for



writing　in　racy　German；　instead　of　bad　school…Latin：　　　but　you　can



hardly　read　a　chapter；　either　of　his　German　or　his　dog…Latin；



without　finding　many　a　good　thingwitty　and　weighty；　though　often



not　a　little　coarse。　　He　talks　in　parables。　　He　draws　illustrations；



like　Socrates　of　old；　from　the　commonest　and　the　oddest　matters　to



enforce　the　weightiest　truths。　　〃Fortune　and　misfortune；〃　he　says；



for　instance　nobly　enough；　〃are　not　like　snow　and　wind；　they　must　be



deduced　and　known　from　the　secrets　of　nature。　　Therefore　misfortune



is　ignorance；　fortune　is　knowledge。　　The　man　who　walks　out　in　the



rain　is　not　unfortunate　if　he　gets　a　ducking。〃







〃Nature；〃　he　says　again；　〃makes　the　text；　and　the　medical　man　adds



the　gloss；　but　the　two　fit　each　other　no　better　than　a　dog　does　a



bath；〃　and　again；　when　he　is　arguing　against　the　doctors　who　hated



chemistry〃Who　hates　a　thing　which　has　hurt　nobody？　　Will　you



complain　of　a　dog　for　biting　you；　if　you　lay　hold　of　his　tail？　　Does



the　emperor　send　the　thief　to　the　gallows；　or　the　thing　which　he　has



stolen？　　The　thief；　I　think。　　Therefore　science　should　not　be



despised　on　account　of　some　who　know　nothing　about　it。〃　　You　will



say　the　reasoning　is　not　very　clear；　and　indeed　the　passage；　like



too　many　more；　smacks　strongly　of　wine　and　laudanum。　　But　such　is



his　quaint　racy　style。　　As　humorous　a　man；　it　seems　to　me；　as　you



shall　meet　with　for　many　a　day；　and　where　there　is　humour　there　is



pretty　sure　to　be　imagination；　tenderness；　and　depth　of　heart。







As　for　his　notions　of　what　a　man　of　science　should　be；　the　servant



of　God；　and　of　Naturewhich　is　the　work　of　Godusing　his　powers



not　for　money；　not　for　ambition；　but　in　love　and　charity；　as　he



says；　for　the　good　of　his　fellow…manon　that　matter　Paracelsus　is



always　noble。　　All　that　Mr。　Browning　has　conceived　on　that　point；



all　the　noble　speeches　which　he　has　put　into　Paracelsus's　mouth；　are



true　to　his　writings。　　How　can　they　be　otherwise；　if　Mr。　Browning



set　them　fortha　genius　as　accurate　and　penetrating　as　he　is　wise



and　pure？







But　was　Paracelsus　a　drunkard　after　all？







Gentlemen；　what　concern　is　that　of　yours　or　mine？　　I　have　gone　into



the　question；　as　Mr。　Browning　did；　cannot　say；　and　don't　care　to



say。







Oporinus；　who　slandered　him　so　cruelly；　recanted　when　Paracelsus　was



dead；　and　sang　his　praisestoo　late。　　But　I　do　not　read　that　he



recanted　the　charge　of　drunkenness。　　His　defenders　allow　it；　only



saying　that　it　was　the　fault　not　of　him　alone；　but　of　all　Germans。



But　if　so；　why　was　he　specially　blamed　for　what　certainly　others　did



likewise？　　I　cannot　but　fear　from　his　writings；　as　well　as　from



common　report；　that　there　was　something　wrong　with　the　man。　　I　say



only　something。　　Against　his　purity　there　never　was　a　breath　of



suspicion。　　He　was　said　to　care　nothing　for　women；　and　even　that　was



made　the　subject　of　brutal　jests　and　lies。　　But　it　may　have　been



that；　worn　out　with　toil　and　poverty；　he　found　comfort　in　that



laudanum　which　he　believed　to　be　the　arcanumthe　very　elixir　of



life；　that　he　got　more　and　more　into　the　habit　of　exciting　his



imagination　with　the　narcotic；　and　then；　it　may　be；　when　the　fit　of



depression　followed；　he　strung　his　nerves　up　again　by　wine。　　It　may



have　been　so。　　We　have　had；　in　the　last　generation；　an　exactly



similar　case　in　a　philosopher；　now　I　trust　in　heaven；　and　to　whose



genius　I　owe　too　much　to　mention　his　name　here。







But　that　Paracelsus　was　a　sot　I　cannot　believe。　　That　face　of　his；



as　painted　by　the　great　Tintoretto；　is　not　the　face　of　a　drunkard；



quack；　bully；　but　of　such　a　man　as　Browning　has　conceived。　　The



great　globular　brain；　the　sharp　delicate　chin；　is　not　that　of　a　sot。



Nor　are　those　eyes；　which　gleam　out　from　under　the　deep　compressed



brow；　wild；　intense；　hungry；　homeless；　defiant；　and　yet　complaining；



the　eyes　of　a　sotbut　rather　the　eyes　of　a　man　who　struggles　to



tell　a　great　secret；　and　cannot　find　words　for　it；　and　yet　wonders



why　men　cannot　understand；　will　not　believe　what　seems　to　him　as



clear　as　daya　tragical　face；　as　you　well　can　see。







God　keep　us　all　from　making　our　lives　a　tragedy　by　one　great　sin。



And　now　let　us　end　this　sad　story　with　the　last　words　which　Mr。



Browning　puts　into　the　mouth　of　Paracelsus；　dying　in　the　hospital　at



Salzburg；　which　have　come　literally　true：











Meanwhile；　I　have　done　well　though　not　all　well。



As　yet　men　cannot　do　without　contempt；



'Tis　for　their　good；　and　therefore　fit　awhile



That　they　reject　the　weak　and　scorn　the　false；



Rather　than　praise　the　strong　and　true　in　me：



But　after；　they　will　know　me。　　If　I　stoop



Into　a　dark　tremendous　sea　of　cloud；



It　is　but　for　a　time。　　I　press　God's　lamp



Close　to　my　breast；　its　splendour；　soon　or　late；



Will　pierce　the　gloom。　　I　shall　emerge　one　day。















GEORGE　BUCHANAN；　SCHOLAR















The　scholar；　in　the　sixteenth　century；　was　a　far　more　important



personage　than　now。　　The　supply　of　learned　men　was　very　small；　the



demand　for　them　very　great。　　During　the　whole　of　the　fifteenth；　and



a　great　part　of　the　sixteenth　century；　the　human　mind　turned　more



and　more　from　the　scholastic　philosophy　of　the　Middle　Ages　to　that



of　the　Romans　and　the　Greeks；　and　found　more　and　more　in　old　Pagan



Art　an　element　which　Monastic　Art　had　not；　and　which　was　yet



necessary　for　the　full　satisfaction　of　their　craving　after　the



Beautiful。　　At　such　a　crisis　of　thought　and　taste；　it　was　natural



that　the　classical　scholar；　the　man　who　knew　old　Rome；　and　still



more　old　Greece；　should　usurp　the　place　of　the　monk；　as　teacher　of



mankind；　and　that　scholars　should　form；　for　a　while；　a　new　and



powerful　aristocracy；　limited　and　privileged；　and　all　the　more



redoubtable；　because　its　power　lay　in　intellect；　and　had　been　won　by



intellect　alone。







Those　who；　whether　poor　or　rich；　did　not　fear　the　monk　and　priest；



at　least　feared　the　〃scholar；〃　who　held；　so　the　vulgar　believed；　the



keys　of　that　magic　lore　by　which　the　old　necromancers　had　built



cities　like　Rome；　and　worked　marvels　of　mechanical　and　chemical



skill；　which　the　degenerate　modern　could　never　equal。







If　the　〃scholar〃　stopped　in　a　town；　his　hostess　probably　begged　of



him　a　charm　against　toothache　or　rheumatism。　　The　penniless　knight



discoursed　with　him　on　alchemy；　and　the　chances　of　retrieving　his



fortune　by　the　art　of　transmuting　metals　into　gold。　　The　queen　or



bishop　worried　him　in　private　about　casting　their　nativities；　and



finding　their　fates　among　the　stars。　　But　the　statesman；　who　dealt



with　more　practical　matters；　hired　him　as　an　advocate　and



rhetorician；　who　could　fight　his　master's　enemies　with　the　weapons



of　Demosthenes　and　Cicero。　　Wherever　the　scholar's　steps　were



turned；　he　might　be　master　of　others；　as　long　as　he　was　master　of



himself。　　The　complaints　which　he　so　often　uttered　concerning　the



cruelty　of　fortune；　the　fickleness　of　princes　and　so　forth；　were



probably　no　more　just　then　than　such　complaints　are　now。　　Then；　as



now；　he　got　his　deserts；　and　the　world　bought　him　at　his　own　price。



If　he　chose　to　sell　himself　to　this　patron　and　to　that；　he　was　used



and　thrown　away：　　　if　he　chose　to　remain　in　honourable　independence；



he　was　courted　and　feared。







Among　the　successful　scholars　of　the　sixteenth　century；　none　surely



is　more　notable　than　George　Buchanan。　　The　poor　Scotch　widow's　son；



by　force　of　native　wit；　and；　as　I　think；　by　force　of　native　worth；



fights　his　way　upward；　through　poverty　and　severest　persecution；　to



become　the　correspondent　and　friend　of　the　greatest　literary



celebrities　of　the　Continent；　comparable；　in　their　opinion；　to　the



best　Latin　poets　of　antiquity；　the　preceptor　of　princes；　the



counsellor　and　spokesman　of　Scotch　statesmen　in　the　most　dangerous



of　times；　and　leaves　behind　him　political　treatises；　which