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ton, in his old-fashioned way, considers melan- many mountebanks, empirics, quacksalvers, Paracholy to be at bottom a disease, and frequently celsians,” and others, that he could scarcely find due to direct Satanic agency; and therefore, a patient. The “grasping patrons,” who plunthough he certainly considers that the evil-one der the Church for their own base purposes, are plays a very conspicuous part in human affairs, at the roots of the evil. It is useless to dehe can not properly pride himself upon his melan- nounce them; they care not so long as they have choly as a proof of intellectual and moral superi- money. “Dea Moneta, Queen Money,” the alority. We must not complain of him for not mighty dollar, was even then, it seems, the “ godanticipating a modern discovery.
dess we adore.” We need not wonder, then, that He speaks, however, feelingly of the folly of patrons were a “base, profane, epicurean, hypointellectual labor. Do not scholars labor like critical rout. . . . So cold is my charity, so defecThebet Benchorat, who spent forty years in find- tive in this behalf, that I shall never think better ing out the motion of the eighth sphere, till they of them, than that they are rotten at core, their become "dizzards,” and are scoffed at by gallants bones are full of epicurean hypocrisy and athefor not knowing how to manage a hack, salute a istical marrow, they are worse than heathens." gentlewoman, carve at table, and make cringes And then Burton proceeds to lament over the and congés, “ as every common swasher can do"? contempt for learning characteristic of his time, The greatest scholars are generally fools in all and, of course, of his time alone. Gentlemen worldly matters, such as Paglarensis, who thought thought it unworthy of them; merchants might that his farmer must be a cheat for reporting that study arithmetic, spectacle-makers optics, and his sow had eleven pigs and his mare only one “landleapers" geography—a rich man had no foal. This test of the imbecility of scholars was need of such knowledge. In that base, utilitaone upon which Hazlitt has dwelt in some vigor- rian age men only thought of practical advanous essays, and which has doubtless come home tages; in "former times”-a very comprehensive more or less to many an honest senior wrangler, period—the highest were scholars themselves, and who has discovered that his mathematics did not loved scholars. “Evax, that Arabian prince," enable him to tie his neckcloth after the latest was “a most expert jeweler and exquisite phimodel. But the man who could seriously whinelosopher”; Alexander sent Xenophanes fifty talover such a distress would be showing a defi- ents, because he was poor; and " Archelaus, that ciency of self-respect only too much in Hazlitt's Macedonian king, would not willingly sup withvein. If here and there, in this polished age, a out Euripides (among the rest, he drank to him scholar is a bit of a clown, it is generally from at supper one night, and gave him a cup of gold puerile conceit, and his incapacity for business for his pains).” Those days are gone; though means only that he has admirers enough ready we still have our Cæsar, commonly called James to do his dirty work. Burton has a much more I., “our amulet, our sun, our sole comfort and serious ground for lamentation. Scholars, he refuge; . . . a famous scholar himself, and the says, are generally enforced to “want, poverty, sole patron, pillar, and sustainer of learning,” to and beggary." He quotes a passage from Ver- which, in later editions, it had to be added that gil (applied by Johnson to precisely the same James had left a worthy successor. But, after purpose) enumerating the terrible forms which making his reverence to the king's majesty, and surround the gates of hell-grief, care, labor, to certain rather hypothetical exceptions to the fear, hunger, and poverty—and observes that they general ignorance of the gentry, Burton returns are the familiar attendants of the scholar. His to his lamentations. Our modern nobles are best chance was to keep a school, or turn lec- abandoned to field-sports, gaming, and drinking; turer or curate, for which he might receive "fal- they need nothing but some romance, play-book, coner's wages,” ten pounds a year and his food, or pamphlet, and know only a few scraps of so long as he pleased the parish or his parson; French and Italian picked up in a foreign jouror he might become chaplain in a gentleman's ney. And yet such must be the patrons ! and family, marry an old housekeeper or chamber- those will thrive who please them best. "If the maid, and be settled in a small living—the natu- patron be precise, so must the clerk be; if he be ral aspiration of a poor clergyman for a century papistical, his clerk must be so too, or be turned later, according to the satirists and pamphleteers. out. These "-parasites and time-servers, to wit The scholar, again, might get into a great man's _" are those clerks which serve the turn, while, family, and live, at the cost of gross flattery, as a in the mean time, we, that are university men, like worthless parasite; or, seeing the worthlessness so many hide-bound calves in a pasture, tarry out of the higher learning, might take to one of the our time, wither away as a flower ungathered in " bread studies,” and become a lawyer, to strug- a garden, and are never used; or as so many gle against successful pettifoggers—or a physi- candles, illuminate ourselves alone, obscuring one cian, to find that in every village there were “ so another's light, and are not discerned here at allthe least of which, translated to a dark room, or older, he is constantly inclined to fancy that the to some country benefice where it might shine world must be growing worse. If not, why apart, would give a fair light, and be seen over should he be less cheerful? all."
In this chapter Burton speaks more from his “We that are university men!" It is pleas- own mind, and gives us a stronger dose of pessiant to notice the touch of college pride which mism than is his wont. Yet even here he does breaks out in this little reference. The univer- not quite come up to the modern standard, or, sity indeed was not quite immaculate, but Burton indeed, to that of some of his contemporaries. judiciously veils his suggestions for its reform in The evils upon which he dwells are too specific learned language; it was not for one of the and contingent. He hardly seems to regard the “candles " to develop any doubt as to the bril- melancholy of the scholar as due to an imperfecliancy of his associated luminaries. We have the tion in human nature itself, but rather as somegood old don-the genuine believer in the uni- thing which might conceivably be removed by a versities as the sole sources of pure light in a virtuous prince and a judicious minister. He is feebly appreciative country—who used to flourish thoroughly roused to anger by the baseness of till very recent times, and has perhaps not been patrons and the general misapplication of church utterly abolished even by the profane intrusion of property, but scarcely rises above the tone of a reforming commissioners. But it is more curious sturdy conservative of the common-room grumto remark how easy it would be to rewrite all this bling over the slowness of patronage and the lamentation so as to make it an apparent echo of growth of Puritanism. He does not rise to the modern jeremiads. When, in speaking of politi- sphere of thought in which the many political cal disorders, Burton illustrates his case by “those squabblings of the day appear as petty interludes goodly provinces in Asia Minor which govern in the vast drama of human history. The melanunder the burden of a Turkish government; and choly of the scholar does not suggest to him the those vast kingdoms of Muscovia, Russia, under lofty intellectual melancholy represented, for exa tyrannizing duke,” we fancy that he might have ample, by Faust. Here and there, indeed, we been looking at an article in yesterday's paper; have hints of the futility of all philosophy; celeand the complaints to which we have just been brated authors have exploded school divinity, we listening require little more alteration. We know are told, as a “vast ocean of obs and sols—a how nervous disorders (we do not now call them labyrinth of intricable questions, unprofitable conmelancholy) are specially characteristic of the tentions ", but he is scarcely sensible of that present age; how many of them may be traced weariness of soul which comes over the proto the excessive stimulation of youthful intellects founder thinker, awed by the contemplation of in the period of academical study; how all pro- the stupendous waste of the noblest human facfessions are filled to repletion, and how many ulties, of the vast energy of intellect that has been years a young man has to wait before he can get dissipated in turning the everlasting metaphysical a brief or a patient; how little the spirit of genu- treadmill. He is more of a Wagner than a Faust. ine research is encouraged, and how, in conse- He does not tremble at the comparison between quence, young men take to those studies which his narrow limits of human life and the illimitare likely to bring immediate results in the shape able series of problems to be solved, where each of pounds, shillings, and pence; how ill patronage new answer only serves to suggest new and more is distributed, and what a number of excellent perplexing questions; nor is he frightened by the clergymen are forced to keep up an excellent ap- many names of men greater and wiser than himpearance on totally inadequate stipends; how, if self which are now mere labels to some exploded patrons are no longer so conspicuous in our dem- theory, nor disgusted with the empty verbiage ocratic age, a man is still tempted to seek for presented to him by the most pretentious teachpreferment by flattering the ignorant prejudices ers for solid truth; nor tempted to become a of the many, and prostituting his talents to the charlatan himself in sheer bitterness of spirit, or base acts of popularity-hunting; and how “in to plunge into sensual pleasure as the only subformer times " these evils never existed; how stantial good in losing himself in the stupendous people really believed what they said ; sold what labyrinths of sophistry and mutual contradiction they professed to sell; revered their rulers; and misnamed philosophy. At a time when the keenlived sound, healthy lives, free from hysteria, est thinkers were bracing themselves for a fresh humbug, and money-worship. In every age the departure in inquiry, a man of powerful as well as last new prophet of the doctrine of deteriora- learned mind might have given utterance to some tion is convinced of the startling novelty and such feeling in surveying the huge wilderness of unimpeachable truth of his teaching. The ex- bygone speculation. Placed between the dead planation is probably the obvious one hinted by and the living, a rising and an expiring school of an old writer, who remarks that, as he grows thought, he might have meditated on the vanity
of human wisdom, or have delighted, like Sir are nine kinds of bad spirits, the names of whose Thomas Browne, to reflect, amid the jarring din princes are given ; though Gregorius Holsanus, of controversy, upon the mysterious depths in who is followed by Marsilius Ficinus, makes only which all philosophy must so speedily lose itself. seven kinds, corresponding to the seven planets;
But Burton was really an honest university the angels being placed above and the devils bedon, who had rambled over many fields of learn- neath the moon—an unlucky arrangemet, one ing, but had not really troubled himself to be would say, for human beings! how the sublunary profound and cynical. He rejoiced in " that fa- devils may be divided into six kinds, including mous library, renewed by Sir Thomas Bodley” water-nymphs, three of which appeared to Mac-not because it suggested any reflections, in- beth and Banquo, “two Scotch lords,” and fairies spiring or humiliating, as to the past history of which “are sometimes seen by old women and the mind—but rather because it suggested a children"; while Paracelsus “reckons up many boundless potentiality of rambling among anti- places in Germany where they do usually walk in quarian curiosities. He was, according to his little coats, some two feet long"; others, it seems, own account, a thoroughgoing gossip. He de- sat by the wayside to make men's horses stumlighted to hear“ new news every day, rumors ble, rejoicing heartily if the rider swears; " with of plagues, fires, thefts, murders, inundations, many such pretty feats.” massacres, meteors, comets, spectrums, prodi- He gives his notes upon geography with just gies, apparitions; of towns taken, cities besieged, as much gravity as his remarks upon
the natural in France, Germany, Turkey, Persia, Poland,” history of devils. “What greater pleasure can etc., as much as if he had lived at the present there be,” he asks, “ than to view these elaborate day, and gone to the Union to read his “ Times maps of Ortelius, Mercator, etc. ?" He is curiand “Telegraph.” He heard of “ plenty, pride, ous about the variation of the compass, recently perplexities and cares, simplicity and villainy; discovered by Gilbert, and wishes to find the subtlety, knavery, candor, and integrity, mutually source of the Nile, and to see “ that great bird mixed and offering themselves”; while he rubbed ruck which can carry an elephant," and the Araon privus privatus—left to a solitary life and his bian phænix; he wants to know the depth of the own private discontents, and sometimes justified atmosphere, and to determine whether the peak by the precedents of Diogenes and Democritus, of Teneriffe is fifty miles high, as Patricius holds, walking abroad to make a few observations, sar- or only nine, as Snellius demonstrates; he is cucastic, humorous, petulant, or indignant. His rious about the shells discovered on hill-tops, literary curiosity was pretty much the counter- and the trees and bays, and also about the ship part of this kind of interest in the outside world. which was dug out of a mountain near Berne (in It was not that of a philosopher or poet, but of a the year 1460), with forty-eight human bodies in man with insatiable appetite for every kind of it, from a mine fifty fathoms deep; and then he printed matter, and with enough pungency of plunges into questions about the geography of feeling to give an occasional flavor to his pages, the infernal regions, Ribeira holding that there is and enable him to sustain fairly the character of a “natural and local fire in the center of the Democritus junior, when he happened to remem- earth two hundred Italian miles in diameter”; ber it; but yet sufficient force to digest all his. while Lessius thinks that the diameter can only masses of knowledge, and saturate them with a be one Dutch mile, because he demonstrates that dominant sentiment. He forgets that he is bound that space will hold eight hundred billions of to be a satirist, and contents himself with tum- damned bodies, “which will abundantly suffice.” bling out his stores of queer information without Then he returns to more accessible questions, any pretense at illustrating any doctrines, melan- and asks why places under the same latitude are choly or consolatory. Especially in those famous not equally hot; why it rains stones, frogs, mice, digressions concerning “the nature of devils” and rats; what is the nature of meteors; what and of air,” he exhibits his curiosities with as is the use of the moon; what is the true theory grave a face as if he were displaying the most of the earth's motion, “now so much in quesprecious intellectual wares. The stories which tion”; and whether the stars are inhabited. He he relates must have tickled his fancy, for some seems to regard these last questions as insoluble, reason or other; but he leaves us to guess laughing at the presumption and hopeless discord whether he is a believer or a skeptic, amused or of astronomers, and wonders that they are someawestruck, or idly curious. We hear how Car- how mixed up with the eternal problem about dan's father conjured up seven devils, on August the origin of evil. “ But hoo!" exclaims the 13, 1491, in Greek apparel, about forty years of worthy Burton, “I am now gone quite out of age, some ruddy and some pale, who assured him sight. I am almost giddy with roaming about ; that they lived about seven or eight hundred I could have ranged further yet, but I am an inyears; how, according to the schoolmen, there fant and not able to dive into those profundities
and sound those depths; not able to understand, which Thackeray has somewhere quoted about much less to discuss. I leave the contemplation the amazement of the wild Irish when they saw of these things to stronger wits, that have better the splendors of Henry II.'s court, and their foolability and happier leisure to wade into such phil- ish desire to become English forthwith ; "who osophical mysteries."
but English! but when they had now submitted Wandering through this quaint museum we themselves and lost their former liberty, they come here and there upon familiar anecdotes ; began to rebel some of them, others repent of upon an early form of smart sayings which have what they had done, when it was too late." For been given to the wits of successive generations; one who delights in literary coincidences, in tracor queer illustrations of ancient forms of specula- ing the forms in which anecdotes present themtion. Reading Burton's anecdote of two palm- selves in various ages, and observing how the trees which languished till they grew high enough old materials are being constantly refashioned to to see one another at a distance, we may remem- suit the taste of the present day, there is an amber the two trees in Heine's familiar poem; and ple hunting-ground in Burton's curious miscelon the next page we find the story from which lany; and we come to have a liking for the old Keats took his “ Lamia"; and not far off is a re- gentleman even though we may admit that for mark which Coleridge turned into a well-known the less curious reader it is better to take advanepigram, pointing out that the devil, when he tage of Sterne's spectacles and contemplate Burrobbed Job of all his goods, judiciously omitted ton as reflected in the elder Shandy. to take his wife. Just below is an anecdote
WALL-COVERING FOR BEDROOMS.
becomes in a short time a wearisome process, V.
and in the bedroom is often intolerable. This
sameness, which becomes an objection even to a ROM the floors of the bedroom, which were
is a minor objection when it is considered in my last paper, we may pass tioned. In some instances the paper itself is un
compared with others which have to be mento the walls and ceiling. These should be cov- wholesome, owing to the surface of it containing ered in every case in such a manner that they may be at any time effectively cleaned at as little
arsenic, which, having been used for coloring possible expense and trouble as is possible. We purposes, is given off in fine dust, is disseminated have been accustomed for a long series of years of the room to his decided injury. The common
through the air, and is breathed by the occupant past to use papers for the covering of bedroom walls, and in the shops for the sale of wall-papers
view held on this subject is that the papers called
flock it is the usual thing for the salesman to offer for
papers, and papers of green color, are those inspection a distinct series of bedroom papers, not strictly true, for Dr. Leonard Sedgwick found
only which give off arsenical dust; but this is the patterns of the paper and the quality of the papers being specially displayed in order to meet
that a blue paper gave off arsenical dust into a the tastes of the purchasers. There is no doubt bedroom, and that for a long time the sleepers in that extremely beautiful and artistic papers are
the room were suffering from the irritation caused to be bought, but for my part I object to paper
by arsenic without discerning the true cause. altogether in the bedroom. Paper has one rec
They suffered from irritation of the throat, from ommendation, that of presenting for selection a
dyspepsia, and from considerable malaise until variety, and it may be a beauty of pattern, and the cause was discovered and removed. at first this is an enticing suggestion. After a
Of course it would not be difficult to select in short time, however, the most beautiful pattern every case a paper for the walls of the bedroom causes weariness. The sight every night and
which is quite free of arsenic, and, as the trouble morning of just the same lines and series of ob- and expense of such proof are comparatively slight, jects, so many groups, so many figures, so many city; I name it merely as an objection of an acci
I do not dwell on this objection with any pertinaflowers, so many singular or imaginary designs,
dental kind which can not fairly be omitted. * Continued from “ Journal" for April.
The argument usually offered for the adop
himself of this formality with the grace of the from heaven. He, therefore, exerted himself to bear, to which he bore so striking a resemblance. display all the graces of his mind, to show the
Let us make haste,” he said sulkily ; " and noble stranger that, in spite of all that evil tongues look out and not fall. The highway is only a might say, Monsieur Drommel had not lost his little way off, but we shall not get back to the way in the forest, because it was impossible for hotel for an hour yet, and I am dying of hun- Monsieur Drommel to lose his way anywhere.
He therefore explained the matter in detail, and She made a supreme effort to start off bravely, stated that the road he had followed was the best, but the twist she had given her ankle when she and that, if for a brief moment he had been emfell, and which she had forgotten, now became barrassed, it was owing to the fact that the map very painful. The sprain was not severe, but she with which he was furnished was a French one; was no longer sure-footed, and stumbled from he profited, moreover, by this occasion to declare time to time. When she reached the end of the that the French know nothing of geography, and path, and had taken ten steps on the road to that their maps are always inferior. Fleury, then she realized that her strength was The noble stranger agreed to all these propogone, and that she was dizzy and faint. Fate, sitions, which so delighted Monsieur Drommel which is always interested in pretty women, took that, when the carriage drew up before the door pity on her, and sent her help. A calèche was of the inn at Barbison, he felt a most enthusiastic passing; a noble stranger put his head through liking for his new friend the Prince de Malaserra. the door, and, waving a hand loaded with rings, he called out with a strong Italian accent:
III. “I am going from Fontainebleau to Barbison. I have two seats to offer, and shall be delighted EVERYBODY agrees that on this evening four if you will accept them.”
persons sat at table. This is a fact that has beAt these words he leaped from the carriage, come historical. and compelled Monsieur and Madame Drommel When Monsieur Drommel descended from the to enter it, saying
carriage he was in such a half-famished condition “When I see a tired woman, my heart is al- that he hastened to the kitchen and gave orders ways touched.” If the noble stranger's French that dinner should be served instantaneously. was not of the purest, his manners were stately The mistress of the establishment, who had taken and his air magnificent. He had a handsome a strong dislike to Monsieur Drommel, amused head, a dark face framed in black eyebrows and herself now by thwarting his wishes. She dea beard most carefully cut and combed. Ada, clared that she had not a private room in her whose taste was refined, objected to the excessive house, and that those persons who were too late abundance of his rings, and to the strong per- for the table d'hôte must now eat in the same fumes which exhaled from his handkerchief, his room and at the same time, and that she should clothing, and his hair. But, when she was lux- wait until Monsieur Taconet and little Lestoc aruriously ensconced in the calèche, she felt as if rived: one was her cousin-german, and she felt she were restored to life, and was too grateful to the highest respect for him; the other was her this providential being not to forgive all these especial favorite. faults.
She had, from the beginning, distinguished As to Monsieur Drommel, he was disposed to him from among the herd of young fellows who regard this courtesy shown by an Italian toward frequented her house. She petted him, for she a German thinker as that instinctive and natural was proud of sheltering under her roof a youth homage rendered to a superior race by all inferior whose future was so full of promise—a phænix ones. A spectator would have thought the calèche of whom everybody was talking, and would have belonged to the German, and perhaps he really been glad to inscribe on her sign, “ Little Lestoc believed this to be the case, and that the Italian lives here!” was indebted to him, he treated him with so great She therefore calmly signified to Monsieur condescension. When, however, he learned, in Drommel that no napkin should be unfolded the course of conversation, that this man with until little Lestoc was there. He protested, and the rings was a great Sicilian personage, and lost his temper. She answered that, if he was bore the fine title of Prince de Malaserra, he sud- not satisfied, he could go elsewhere. She was denly changed his attitude-his manner became rude, and he was angry, and would have come to less pompous, and even quite affectionate. He blows had not the Prince de Malaserra interwas always weak enough to admire those things fered. He had all the amenity and graceful good which cost most dearly; he had a naïve respect humor that characterizes great lords and gentlefor titles and rank. The acquaintance and friend- men. With his gay grace he conciliated both ship of a prince seemed to him a direct blessing parties, calmed their perturbed spirits, and