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hundred。 He spoke his mind fiercely to them。 I believe； according to
one story； he drew his long sword on the Canon。 His best friends told
him he must leave the place； and within two years； seemingly； after his
first triumph at Basle； he fled from it a wanderer and a beggar。
The rest of his life is a blank。 He is said to have remenced his
old wanderings about Europe； studying the diseases of every country； and
writing his books； which were none of them published till after his death。
His enemies joyfully trampled on the fallen man。 He was a 〃dull rustic； a
monster； an atheist； a quack； a maker of gold； a magician。〃 When he was
drunk； one Wetter； his servant； told Erastus （one of his enemies） that he
used to offer to call up legions of devils to prove his skill； while Wetter； in
abject terror of his spells； entreated him to leave the fiends alonethat he
had sent his book by a fiend to the spirit of Galen in hell； and challenged
him to say which was the better system； his or Paracelsus'； and what not？
His books were forbidden to be printed。 He himself was refused a
hearing； and it was not till after ten years of wandering that he found rest
and protection in a little village of Carinthia。
Three years afterwards he died in the hospital of St。 Sebastian at
Salzburg； in the Tyrol。 His death was the signal for empirics and
visionaries to foist on the public book after book on occult philosophy；
written in his nameof which you may see ten folios not more than a
quarter； I believe； genuine。 And these foolish books； as much as anything；
have helped to keep up the popular prejudice against one who； in spite of
all his faults was a true pioneer of science。 ｛15｝ I believe （with those
moderns who have tried to do him justice） that under all his verbiage and
confusion there was a vein of sound scientific； experimental mon
sense。
When he talks of astronomy as necessary to be known by a physician；
it seems to me that he laughs at astrology； properly so called； that is； that
the stars influence the character and destiny of man。 Mars； he says； did not
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make Nero cruel。 There would have been long… lived men in the world if
Saturn had never ascended the skies； and Helen would have been a wanton；
though Venus had never been created。 But he does believe that the
heavenly bodies； and the whole skies； have a physical influence on climate；
and on the health of men。
He talks of alchemy； but he means by it； I think； only that sound
science which we call chemistry； and at which he worked； wandering； he
says； among mines and forges； as a practical metallurgist。
He tells uswhat sounds startling enoughthat magic is the only
preceptor which can teach the art of healing； but he means； it seems to me；
only an understanding of the invisible processes of nature； in which sense
an electrician or a biologist； a Faraday or a Darwin； would be a magician；
and when he pares medical magic to the Cabalistic science； of which I
spoke just now （and in which he seems to have believed）； he only means； I
think； that as the Cabala discovers hidden meaning and virtues in the text
of Scripture； so ought the man of science to find them in the book of
nature。 But this kind of talk； wrapt up too in the most confused style； or
rather no style at all； is quite enough to account for ignorant and envious
people accusing him of magic； saying that he had discovered the
philosopher's stone； and the secret of Hermes Trismegistus； that 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 thing…
…witty and weighty； though often not a little coarse。 He talks in parables。
He draws illustrations； like Socrates of old； from the monest and the
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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 plain 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
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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 mon 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
fort 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 pressed brow； wild； intense； hungry；
homeless； defiant； and yet plaining； 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
e 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；
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its splendour； soon or late； Will pierce the gloom。 I shall emerge one day。
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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 powerf