No More Learning

He spent the last year of his life at
Wiesbaden, where he died in 1892.
Bodenstedt was a voluminous writer; his work includes poems,
romances, novels, and dramas. 'Vom Atlantischen zum Stillen
Ocean' (From the Atlantic to the Pacific Ocean: 1882) is a descrip-
tion of his lecturing tour to the United States the year before. His
autobiography, Erinnerungen aus Meinem Leben' (Recollections of
my Life), gives interesting glimpses into his eventful career. His
mind was more receptive than creative, and this, combined with his
great technical skill and his quick intuition, fitted him peculiarly to
be a translator and adapter. His translation of Shakespeare's works,
in conjunction with Paul Heyse, Kurz, and others (fifth edition, Leip-
zig, 1890), is especially noteworthy, as also his rendering of Shake-
speare's sonnets. But he will live in German literature as the poet
Mirza-Schaffy.
T
TWO
ONE exalted aim we both are tending,
I and thou!
To one captivity we both are bending.
I and thou!
In my heart thee I close-thou me in thine;
In twofold life, yet one, we both are blending,
I and thou!
Thee my wit draws-and me thine eye of beauty;
Two fishes, from one bait we are depending,
I and thou!
Yet unlike fishes-through the air of Heaven,
Like two brave eagles, we are both ascending,
I and thou!


## p. 2119 (#317) ###########################################

FRIEDRICH MARTIN VON BODENSTEDT
WINE
IN
IN THE goblet's magic measure,
In the wine's all-powerful spirit,
Lieth poison and delight:
Lieth purest, basest pleasure,
E'en according to the merit
Of the drinker ye invite.
Lo, the fool in baseness sunken,
Having drunk till he is tired,
When he drinks, behold him drunken;
When we drink, we are inspired.
SONG
OWN on the vast deep ocean
The sun his beams doth throw,
Till every wavelet trembles
Beneath their ruddy glow.
D
How like thou to those sunbeams
Upon my song's wild sea;
They tremble all and glitter,
Reflecting only thee.
UNCHANGING
IN EARLY days methought that all must last;
I
Then I beheld all changing, dying, fleeting;
But though my soul now grieves for much that's past,
And changeful fortunes set my heart oft beating,
I yet believe in mind that all will last,
Because the old in new I still am meeting.
2119


## p. 2120 (#318) ###########################################

2120
FRIEDRICH MARTIN VON BODENSTEDT
THE POETRY OF MIRZA-SCHAFFY
From the Thousand and One Days in the East'
Α
BBAS KULI KHAN was one of those gifted ambiguous natures
who, without inspiring confidence, always know how to
work an imposing effect, inasmuch as they hold to the
principle of displeasing no one, as a first rule of prudence.
It so happened then that even Mirza-Schaffy, bribed by the
flattery which the Khan of Baku, when he once surprised us in
the Divan of Wisdom, lavished upon him, declared him to be a
great Wise Man.
The mutual praise, so overflowing in its abundance, which
they bestowed on one another put them both in a very happy
humor. From the Koran, from Saadi, Hafiz, and Fizuli, each
authenticated the other to be the moving embodiment of all the
wisdom of earth.
A formal emulation in old and original songs took place
between them; for every piece of flattery was overlaid with a
tuneful quotation. Unfortunately, however, the entertainment
flowed so swiftly that I was unable to note down any coherent
account of it.
Nevertheless, being unwilling to let the long session go by
without any gain on my part, I requested the Khan to write for
me one of his artistic songs in remembrance. He nodded with
an approving look, and promised to write the most beautiful
song that ever the mouth of man had uttered; a song in praise
of his Fatima, playing on her stringed instrument.
Whilst Mirza-Schaffy raised a questioning look on hearing the
praise which the Khan expended on himself, the latter took the
kalem (reed-pen) and wrote what follows:-
―
FATIMA PLAYING ON HER STRINGED INSTRUMENT
"O'er the strings thy fingers are straying,
O'er my heart stray the tones;
And it wanders obeying,
Far away from the zones;
Up tending,
Round thee bending,
Round thy heart to be growing
And clinging,


## p. 2121 (#319) ###########################################

FRIEDRICH MARTIN VON BODENSTEDT
2121
Round thee flinging,
Its glad mirth overflowing-
Oh! thou Spirit from me springing,
Life on me bestowing!
Dazzled, blinded, confounded,
I see in thy glances
The whole world and its rounded
Unbounded expanses;
And round us it dances
In drunken confusion,
Like floating illusion;
Around thee I'm reeling,
All round me is wheeling-
And Heaven and Ocean,
In flashing commotion,
Round us both as thou singest,
Roll reeling and rushing-
Thou Joy to me that wingest,
Thou Soul from me outgushing! "
"On the following evening," said Mirza-Schaffy, "I appeared
at the appointed hour. During the day I had written a love
song which none of womankind could resist. I had sung it over
about twenty times to myself, in order to be sure of success.
Then I had been into the bath, and had had my head shaved so
perfectly that it might have vied in whiteness with the lilies of
the vale of Senghi. The evening was calm and clear; from the
garden-side where I stood, I could distinctly see my Zuléikha;
she was alone with Fatima on the roof, and had her veil put a
little back, as a sign of her favor. I took courage, and pushed
my cap down behind to show my white head, just fresh shaved,
to the maiden's eyes. Thou canst comprehend what an impres-
sion that would make on a woman's heart! Alas! my head was
much whiter then than it is now. But that is more than ten
years since! " he said sorrowfully, and would have continued in
this digression if I had not interposed the words:-
"Thy head is quite white enough now to fascinate the most
maidenly heart; but thou hast not yet told me how thou sangest
thy love song, and what impression it made upon Zuléikha. ”
"I had folded the song," said the Mirza, "round a double
almond kernel, and thrown it on the roof, as a keepsake for the
Beauty, before I began to sing it; and then I began with clear
voice:


## p. 2122 (#320) ###########################################

FRIEDRICH MARTIN VON BODENSTEDT
2122
"What is the eye of wild gazelle, the slender pine's unfolding,
Compared with thy delightful eyes, and thine ethereal molding?
What is the scent from Shiraz' fields, wind-borne, that's hither
straying,
Compared with richer scented breath from thy sweet mouth out-
playing?
What is Ghazel and Rubajat, as Hafiz ere was singing,
Compared with one word's mellow tone, from thy sweet mouth out-
winging?
What is the rosy-chaliced flower, where nightingales are quaffing,
Compared with thy sweet rosy mouth, and thy lips' rosy laughing?
What is the sun, and what the moon, and all heaven's constellations?
Love-glancing far for thee they glow with trembling scintillations!
And what am I myself, my heart, my songful celebration,
But slaves of royal loveliness, bright beauty's inspiration! "
"Allah, how beautiful! " I cried. "Mirza-Schaffy, thy words
sound as sweet as the songs of the Peris, in the world of spirits!
What is Hafiz to thee? What is a drop to the ocean? "
MIRZA-SCHAFFY
From the Thousand and One Days in the East'
Y FIRST object in Georgia was to secure an instructor in
M Tartar, that I might learn as quickly as possible a lan-
guage so indispensably necessary in the countries of the
Caucasus. Accident favored my choice, for my learned teacher
Mirza-Schaffy, the Wise Man of Gjändsha, as he styles himself,
is, according to his own opinion, the wisest of men.
With the modesty peculiar to his nation, he only calls himself
the first wise man of the East; but as according to his estima-
tion the children of the West are yet living in darkness and
unbelief, it is a matter of course with him that he soars above
us in wisdom and knowledge. Moreover, he indulges the hope
that, thanks to his endeavors, the illumination and wisdom of
the East will also, in the progress of years, actually spread
amongst us. I am already the fifth scholar, he tells me, who
has made a pilgrimage to him for the purpose of participating
in his instructions. He argues from this that the need of travel-
ing to Tiflis and listening to Mirza-Schaffy's sayings of wisdom
is ever becoming more vividly felt by us. My four predecessors,
he is further of opinion, have, since their return into the West,


## p. 2123 (#321) ###########################################

FRIEDRICH MARTIN VON BODENSTEDT
2123
•
promoted to the best of their ability the extension of Oriental
civilization amongst their races. But of me he formed quite
peculiar hopes; very likely because I paid him a silver ruble for
each lesson, which I understand is an unusually high premium for
the Wise Man of Gjändsha.
It was always most incomprehensible to him how we can call
ourselves wise or learned, and travel over the world with these
titles, before we even understand the sacred languages. Never-
theless he very readily excused these pretensions in me, inasmuch
as I was at least ardently endeavoring to acquire these languages,
but above all because I had made the lucky hit of choosing him
for my teacher.
The advantages of this lucky hit he had his own peculiar way
of making intelligible to me. "I, Mirza-Schaffy," said he, "am
the first wise man of the East! consequently thou, as my disciple,
art the second. But thou must not misunderstand me: I have a
friend, Omar-Effendi, a very wise man, who is certainly not the
third among the learned of the land. If I were not alive, and
Omar-Effendi were thy teacher, then he would be the first, and
thou, as his disciple, the second wise man! " After such an effus-
ion, it was always the custom of Mirza-Schaffy to point with his
forefinger to his forehead, at the same time giving me a sly
look; whereupon, according to rule, I nodded knowingly to him
in mute reciprocation.
That the Wise Man of Gjändsha knew how to render his vast
superiority in the highest degree palpable to any one who might
have any misgiving on the point, he once showed me by a strik-
ing example.
Among the many learned rivals who envied the lessons of
Mirza-Schaffy, the most conspicuous was Mirza-Jussuf, the Wise
Man of Bagdad. He named himself after this city, because he
had there pursued his studies in Arabic; from which he inferred
that he must possess more profound accomplishments than Mirza-
Schaffy, whom he told me he considered a "Fschekj," an ass
among the bearers of wisdom. "The fellow cannot even write
decently," Jussuf informed me of my reverend Mirza, "and he
cannot sing at all! Now I ask thee: What is knowledge with-
out writing? What is wisdom without song? What is Mirza-
Schaffy in comparison with me? "
In this way he was continually plying me with perorations of
confounding force, wherein he gave especial prominence to the


## p. 2124 (#322) ###########################################

2124
FRIEDRICH MARTIN VON BODENSTEDT
beauty of his name Jussuf, which Moses of old had celebrated,
and Hafiz sung of in lovely strains; he exerted all his acuteness
to evince to me that a name is not an empty sound, but that the
significance attached to a great or beautiful name is inherited in
more or less distinction by the latest bearers of this name. He,
Jussuf, for example, was a perfect model of the Jussuf of the
land of Egypt, who walked in chastity before Potiphar, and in
wisdom before the Lord.
THE SCHOOL OF WISDOM
From the Thousand and One Days in the East'
"M
IRZA-SCHAFFY! " I began, when we sat again assembled in
the Divan of Wisdom, "what wilt thou say when I tell
thee that the wise men of the West consider you as
stupid as you do them? »
“What can I do but be amazed at their folly? " he replied.
"What new thing can I learn from them, when they only repeat
mine? "
He ordered a fresh chibouk, mused awhile meditatingly before
him, bade us get ready the kalemdan (writing-stand), and then
began to sing:-
"Shall I laughing, shall I weeping
Go, because men are so brute,
Always foreign sense repeating,
And in self-expression mute?
"No, the Maker's praise shall rise
For the foolish generation;
Else the wisdom of the wise
Would be lost from observation! »
"Mirza-Schaffy," said I, interrupting him again, "would it not
be a prudent beginning to clothe thy sayings in a Western dress,
to the end that they might be a mirror for the foolish, a rule of
conduct for the erring, and a source of high enjoyment for our
wives and maidens, whose charm is as great as their inclination
to wisdom? "
"Women are everywhere wise,” replied my reverend teacher,
"and their power is greater than fools imagine. Their eyes are
the original seat of all true devotion and wisdom, and he who
inspires from them needs not wait for death to enter upon the


## p. 2125 (#323) ###########################################

FRIEDRICH MARTIN VON BODENSTEDT
2125
joys of Paradise. The smallest finger of woman overthrows the
mightiest edifice of faith, and the youngest maiden mars the
oldest institutions of the Church! "
"But thou hast not yet given me an answer to my question,
O Mirza! "
"Thou speakest wisely. The seed of my words has taken
root in thy heart. Write; I will sing! "
And now he sang to me a number of wonderful songs, part
of which here follow in an English dress.
MIRZA-SCHAFFY'S OPINION OF THE SHAH OF PERSIA
LEARNED Scribe once came to me from far:
A
"Mirza! " said he, "what think'st thou of the Shah?
Was wisdom really born in him with years?
And are his eyes as spacious as his ears? »
"He's just as wise as all who round them bind
Capuche and gown: he knows what an amount
Of stupid fear keeps all his people blind,
And how to turn it to his own account. "
MIRZA-SCHAFFY PRAISES THE CHARMS OF ZULÉIKHA
OOKING at thy tender little feet
Makes me always wonder, sweetest maiden,
How they so much beauty can be bearing!
Looking at thy lovely little hands
Makes me always wonder, sweetest maiden,
How they so to wound me can be daring!
Looking at thy rosy luring lips
Makes me always wonder, sweetest maiden,
How they of a kiss e'er can be sparing!
Looking at thy meaningful bright eyes
Makes me always wonder, sweetest maiden,
How for greater love they can be caring
Than I feel. Oh, look at me, and love!
Warmer than my heart, thou sweetest maiden,
Heart in thy love never will be sharing.
Listen to this rapture-reaching song!
Fairer than my mouth, thou sweetest maiden,
Mouth thy praise will never be declaring!
L


## p. 2126 (#324) ###########################################

2126
FRIEDRICH MARTIN VON BODENSTEDT
AN EXCURSION INTO ARMENIA
From the Thousand and One Days in the East'
NOW
ow follow me into that blessed land wherein tradition places
Paradise, and wherein I also placed it, until I found that
it lay in thine eyes, thou, mine Edlitam!
Follow me to the banks of the Senghi and Araxes, rich in
bloom, sacred in tradition; where I sought for rest after long
wandering in the mazes of a strange land, until I knew that rest
is nowhere to be found but in one's own bosom; follow me into
the gardens where Noah once planted the vine for his own enjoy-
ment and heart's delight, and for the gladness of all subsequent
races of toiling men; follow me through the steep mountain-paths
overhung with glaciers, to the arid table-lands of Ararat, where,
clad in a garment red as blood, on his steed of nimble thigh, the
wild Kurd springs along, with flashing glance and sunburnt face,
in his broad girdle the sharp dagger and long pistols of Damascus,
and in his practiced hand the slender, death-slinging lance of
Bagdad — where the nomad pitches his black tent, and with wife
and child cowers round the fire that scares away the beasts of the
wilderness—where caravans of camels and dromedaries wend their
way, laden with the treasures of the Orient, and guided by watch-
ful leaders in wide many-colored apparel- where the Tartar,
eager for spoil, houses in hidden rocks, or in half-subterranean,
rudely excavated huts; follow me into the fruitful valleys, where
the sons of Haïghk, like the children of Israel, far from the cor-
ruption of cities, still live in primeval simplicity, plough their
fields and tend their flocks, and practice hospitality in Biblical
pureness; follow me to Ararat, which still bears the diluvian Ark
upon his king-like, hoary head-follow me into the highlands of
Armenia!
In Paradise we will be happy, and refresh our eyes with a
glance at the fair daughters of the land; and at the grave of
Noah we will sit down, the drinking-horn in our hand, a song on
our lips, and joyous confidence in our hearts; for the God who
once when the whole world deserved hanging favored mankind
with a watery grave, and suffered only Noah to live because he
cultivated the vine and rejoiced in love and drinking, will also to
us, who cherish like desires, be as favorable as to the father of
post-diluvian men.


## p. 2127 (#325) ###########################################

FRIEDRICH MARTIN VON BODENSTEDT
2127
MIRZA-JUSSUF
EE Mirza-Jussuf now,
How critical a wight 'tis !
The day displeases him,
Because for him too bright 'tis.
SEE
He doesn't like the rose,-
Her thorn a sad affront is;
And doesn't like mankind,
Because its nose in front is.
-
On ev'rything he spies
His bitter bane he passes;
For naught escapes his eyes,
Except that he an ass is.
Thus, evermore at strife
With Art and Nature too,
By day and night he wanders
Through wastes of misty blue.
Mirza-Schaffy bemocks him
With sly and roguish eye,
And makes of all his bitterness
The sweetest melody.
WISDOM AND KNOWLEDGE
F
RIEND, wouldst know why as a rule
Bookish learning marks the fool?
'Tis because, though once befriended,
Learning's pact with wisdom's ended.
No philosophy e'er throve
In a nightcap by the stove.
Who the world would understand
In the world must bear a hand.
If you're not to wisdom wed,
Like the camel you're bested,
Which has treasures rich, to bear
Through the desert everywhere,
But the use must ever lack
Of the goods upon his back.


## p. 2128 (#326) ###########################################

2128
JOHANN JAKOB BODMER
(1698-1783)
THE beginning of the eighteenth century, the political and
intellectual life of Germany showed no signs of its imminent
awakening. French supremacy was undisputed. French
was spoken by polite society, and only the middle and lower classes
consented to use their mother tongue. French literature was alone
fashionable, and the few scientific works that appeared were pub-
lished in Latin. Life was hard and sordid. Thought and imagina-
tion languished. Such writings as existed were empty, pompous,
and pedantic. Yet from this dreary waste-
land was to spring that rich harvest of
literature which, in a brief half-century,
made the German nation famous.

Klopstock, Wieland, Lessing, Herder,
Goethe, and Schiller-these were the great
names that were soon to shine like stars
in the literary firmament. But the lesser
men who broke the ground and opened
paths for their brilliant followers are
almost forgotten.
JOHANN JAKOB BODMER
Toward the middle of the century, there
lived in Zürich a modest professor of his-
tory, Johann Jakob Bodmer by name (born
July 19th, 1698), who spoke the first word for a national literature,
and who was the first writer to attempt a scientific criticism of
contemporary authors. His efforts were rude beginnings of a style
that culminated in the polished essays of Lessing. It was Bodmer
whose independence of thought and feeling first revolted from the
slavish imitation of French culture that enchained the German mind.
In his youth he had been sent to Italy to study commerce. This
visit aroused his poetic and artistic nature. He forgot his business
in listening to street singers, in imitation of whom he wrote Italian
lyrics. He read French works on art, and wrote artificial French
verses according to French models. With equal versatility he com-
posed German poetry, copying Opitz, whom he esteemed a great
poet. Nor did he hesitate to try his skill at Latin hexameters.
By chance a copy of Addison's Spectator fell into his hands. He
turned at once from French and Italian culture to admire English


## p. 2129 (#327) ###########################################

JOHANN JAKOB BODMER
2129
classics. The first German to appreciate Milton and Shakespeare (the
latter he called the English Sophocles), he never wavered in his
devotion to the English school. With his faithful friend, Johann
Jakob Breitinger, a conscientious scholar, he started in Zürich a
critical weekly paper on the plan of the Spectator. It was called
Discoursen der Mahlern (Discourses of the Painters), and its essays
embody the first literary effort of the Swiss as a nation. A little
weekly coterie soon gathered about Bodmer to discuss the conduct of
the paper; but much of the spirit and enthusiasm of these councils
evaporated in print, the journal being subjected to a rigid censor-
ship. Not alone art and literature came under discussion, but social
subjects. All contributions were signed with the names of famous
painters, and dealt with mistakes in education, the evils of card-
playing, the duties of friendship, love and matrimony, logic, morality,
pedantry, imagination, self-consciousness, and the fear of death.
These discourses were chiefly written by Bodmer and his colleague
Breitinger. The earlier papers, awkwardly expressed, often in Swiss
dialect, masqueraded as the work of Holbein, Dürer, Raphael, or
Michael Angelo. Although intended at first for Swiss readers only,
the little weekly soon captured a German public. Its purpose was to
kindle the imagination, and to suggest a parallel between the art of
painting and the art of literature. Bodmer only dimly outlined what
an infinitely greater mind defined with unerring precision some
twenty years later in the 'Laocoon. ' But the service of the older
man to literature is not therefore to be undervalued. Bodmer created
the function of analytic and psychological criticism in Germany.
Hitherto no writer had been called to account for any literary offense
whatever. Bodmer maintained that the man who demanded a hear-
ing from the public must show good cause for this demand.
After two years the Discourses were discontinued; but Bodmer
had gained great influence over the young writers of the time. He
increased his reputation by translating Milton's 'Paradise Lost,' which
he considered "a masterpiece of poetic genius, and the leading work
of modern times. " He deplores, however, the low standard of public
taste, which, delighting in inferior poets, cannot at once rise to the
greatest works. Already there existed in Leipzig a sort of literary
centre, where Gottsched was regarded as a dictator in matters of
taste. This literary autocrat praised Bodmer's translation of 'Para-
dise Lost' more than the original poem, in which he condemned the
rhymeless metre. A sharp controversy soon divided the literary
world into two hostile parties, known in German literature as the
"conflict between Leipzig and Zürich. " Gottsched followed Voltaire
in considering the English style rude and barbarous; whereas Bodmer,
with keener artistic perception and deeper insight, defended Milton
IV-134


## p. 2130 (#328) ###########################################

2130
JOHANN JAKOB BODMER
1
and Shakespeare. The quarrel, in which Zürich prevailed, called the
attention of Germany to the English literature, so closely affiliated
to the German mind and taste, and hastened its liberation from the
French yoke. Besides these services, Bodmer showed untiring zeal
in rescuing from oblivion the beautiful poems and epics of the
Middle Ages. In his essay The Excellent Conditions for Poetic Pro-
duction under the Rule of the Swabian Emperors,' he directs public
attention to the exquisite lyrics of the Minnesänger. It was he who
revealed that hidden treasure of German literature, the Nibelungen-
lied. By his studies and translations of Middle High German, he
opened the vast and important field of Germanic philology. To the
end of his eighty-five years he was occupied with preparing selec-
tions from the Minnesänger, and his joy was unbounded when his
half-century of work was crowned with success, and the first volume
of these poems was placed in his hands.
Notwithstanding his true appreciation of poetry, he could not write
it. He placed the religious above all other poetic productions, and
valued the fable highly.
His hospitable roof in Zürich had an ever cordial welcome for all
writers, and many were the poets who sojourned in the "Dichterher-
berge " (poets' inn); among them Klopstock, Wieland, and Goethe.
He held the esteem of the nation long after his own writings had
been crowded into forgetfulness by the new men whose way he had
prepared, — for the genius of Herder and Lessing may be said to
have completed the work that was so courageously begun by Bodmer.
THE KINSHIP OF THE ARTS
From Rubens >
W"
HEN I consider the close relationship of the arts that are
represented by the pen, brush, and chisel, I am inclined
to think that the manes of these excellent painters and
sculptors whose names our contributors have assumed would
probably not be displeased with the liberty we have taken. Pro-
vided these departed spirits still feel a passionate interest in our
worldly affairs, they might wish to instruct these painting writers
to follow nature as closely and skillfully with their pens as they
themselves had done with delicate brush or chisel. Nature is
indeed the one universal teacher of all artists. Painter, sculptor,
author, not one can succeed unless he hold counsel with her.
The writer who does not respect her is a falsifier, and the
painter or sculptor who departs from her is a dabbler. The


## p. 2131 (#329) ###########################################

JOHANN JAKOB BODMER
2131
highest place in art belongs to the writer, for his field compre-
hends most. With one stroke of the pen he will describe more
than a painter can represent in a succession of pictures. On
the other hand, the painter appeals more to the imagination,
and leaves a stronger impression than description can possibly
awaken.
POETRY AND PAINTING
From Holbein'
A
TRUE poet will try to paint pictures on the imagination,
which at a man's birth is devoid of impressions. I hold
that the imagination is a vast plain, capable of compre-
hending all that nature may bring forth, besides innumerable
illusions, fancies, and poetic figures. A writer's pen is his brush,
and words are his colors, which he must blend, heighten, or tone
down, so that each object may assume a natural living form.
The best poet will so paint his pictures that his readers will
see the originals reflected as in a mirror. If his imagination
be vivid, words grow eloquent, he feels all that he sees: he is
impelled onward like a madman, and he must follow whither his
madness leads. This frenzy need not be inspired by any real
object, but it must kindle his imagination to arouse a real emo-
tion.
A new conception delights the fancy. The newest is the
most marvelous. To this must be given a semblance of proba-
bility, and to probability a touch of the marvelous.
The poet
must portray to the imagination the struggles of passion and the
emotions of the human heart. His diction must be splendid and
emphatic. Casting aside all earthly love, he must depict the
love that springs from the soul, the love felt by him whose
thoughts soar towards heaven, where God is the source of eternal
beauty. The most artistic ode is that in which art is concealed,
and in which the poet, unfettered, is driven by his own ardor.


## p. 2132 (#330) ###########################################

2132
JOHANN JAKOB BODMER
A TRIBUTE TO TOBACCO
From Dürer)
W extraordinary personage.
HOEVER excels in any direction desires to be considered an
Even the coquettish Phryne,
fearing that the arts in which she really excelled might
be forgotten, offered to rebuild the walls of Thebes on condition
that the following inscription were cut thereon:
"The great
Alexander razed these walls, but the hetaira Phryne rebuilt
them. " Gentlemen, I adore tobacco, and I appeal to the world
for recognition. The floor of my room is strewn with tobacco
ashes, on which my footsteps fall like those of the priests in the
temple of Babylon. Pipes that I have buried in this tobacco
desert lift their bowls here and there like stones in a cemetery.
I shall make a pyramid of these relics, yellow, brown, and black,
from which I shall reap renown as others win it with trophies
gained on the battle-field. Besides books, which I love best
after tobacco, my shelves and walls hold pipes collected from all
nations, and grouped as if they were guns or sabres. My favorite
pipe I never fill except on birthdays or festivals. A Frenchman
who brought this from Canada swore that it was an Iroquois
pipe of peace. Certain people take me for an alchemist, and
my pipes for retorts with chimneys; but they do me wrong.
Not only do I draw smoke but food from my distilling appa-
ratus. I should be hailed rather as a philosopher, for while I
watch the floating smoke I meditate on the vanity of man and
his fleeting occupations. The moral of my tale is moderation;
for my pipe is food and drink at once, and I know no better
example of Nature's frugality than the fact that an ounce of
tobacco provides me with a meal. Women delight in tea even
as men prize tobacco. This difference in taste leads to friction
of temper. Drinkers of tea inhale many a disagreeable whiff of
tobacco, and lovers of tobacco are driven to accept many an
unwelcome cup of tea. I, as a sufferer, would gladly set on foot
a formal league which should compel an armed neutrality, and
protect the one belligerent from the odor of the delicious pipe
and the other from the complaisance of the tyrannous tea-cup.
Breath is smoke, and reason is but a spark in our hearts.
When the spark is extinguished, our body perishes like smolder-
ing ashes, and our breath floats away like the smoke.
-


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2133
BOËTIUS
(475-525)
NICIUS MANLIUS SEVERINUS BOËTIUS was born about 475 A. D.
His father was Flavius Manlius Boëtius, a patrician of great
wealth and influence, who was trusted by the Emperor
Odoacer and held the consulship in 487. The father died before his
son reached manhood; and the youth was left to the guardianship of
his kinsmen Festus and Symmachus, by whom he was carefully
educated. He was remarkable early in life for his scholarship, and
especially for his mastery of the Greek language, an accomplishment
unusual for a Roman of this period. He
entered public life when about thirty years
of age, but duties of State were not per-
mitted to put an end to his studies. He
had married Rusticiana, the daughter of
his guardian Symmachus.
The Roman world was now ruled by
Theodoric the Ostrogoth. This leader had
succeeded to the headship of the Ostro-
goths on the death of his father Theo-
domir in 474. For a time he was a pen-
sioner of the Byzantine court, with the
duty of defending the lower Danube; but
in 488 he determined to invade Italy and
become a sovereign subordinate to no one. By the defeat of Odoacer
in 489 he accomplished that end; and desiring to conciliate the Sen-
atorial party at Rome, he called Boëtius from his studious retirement,
as one who by his position and wealth could reconcile his country-
men to the rule of a barbarian chief.
BOËTIUS

In 510 Boëtius was made consul, and he continued in the public
service till after his sons Symmachus and Boëtius were elevated
to the consulship in 522. Thus far he had enjoyed the full confi-
dence of Theodoric; but in 523 he was thrown into prison in Pavia
and his property confiscated, and the Senate condemned him to
death. Two years later he was executed. Unfortunately, the only
account we have of the causes which led to this downfall is Boëtius's
own in the 'Consolations. According to this, he first incurred Theo-
doric's displeasure by getting the province of Campania excepted
from the operation of an edict requiring the provincials to sell their


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BOËTIUS
2134
corn to the government, and otherwise championing the people
against oppression; was the victim of various false accusations; and
finally was held a traitor for defending Albinus, chief of the Senate,
from the accusation of holding treasonable correspondence with the
Emperor Justin at Constantinople. "If Albinus be criminal, I and
the whole Senate are equally guilty," Boëtius reports himself to have
said. There is no good reason to doubt his truthfulness in any of
these matters; but he does not tell the whole truth, except in a sen-
tence he lets slip later. Theodoric's act was no outbreak of bar-
barian suspicion and ferocity. Boëtius and the whole Senate were
really guilty of holding an utterly untenable political position, which
no sovereign on earth would endure: they wished to make the Em-
peror at Constantinople a court of appeal from Theodoric, as though
the latter were still a subordinate prince. This may not have been
technical treason, but it was practical insubordination; and under
any other barbarian ruler or any one of fifty native ones, Rome would
have flowed with blood. Theodoric contented himself with executing
the ringleader, and the following year put to death Boëtius's father-
in-law Symmachus in fear of his plotting revenge. Even so, the
executions were a bad political mistake: they must have enraged and
thoroughly alienated the Senatorial party,- that is, the chief Italian
families, and made a fusion of the foreign and native elements
definitively out of the question. We need not blame Boëtius or the
Senate for their very natural aspiration to live under a civilized
instead of a barbarian jurisdiction, even though they had their own
codes and courts; but the de facto governing power had its rights also.
In 996 Boëtius's bones were removed to the church of St. Augus-
e, where his tomb may still be seen. As time elapsed, his death
was considered a martyrdom, and he was canonized as St. Severinus.
Boëtius was a thorough student of Greek philosophy, and formed
the plan of translating all of Plato and Aristotle and reconciling their
philosophies. This work he never completed. He wrote a treatise
on music which was used as a text-book as late as the present
century; and he translated the works of Ptolemy on astronomy, of
Nicomachus on arithmetic, of Euclid on geometry, and of Archime-
des on mechanics. His great work in this line was a translation of
Aristotle, which he supplemented by a commentary in thirty books.
Among his writings are a number of works on logic and a comment-
ary on the Topica' of Cicero. In addition to these, five theological
tracts are ascribed to him, the most important being a discussion of
the doctrine of the Trinity.
___
The work which has done most to perpetuate his name is the
'Consolations of Philosophy,' in five books, - written during his im-
prisonment at Pavia,- which has been called "the last work of


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2135
Roman literature. " It is written in alternate prose and verse, and
treats of his efforts to find solace in his misfortune. The first book
opens with a vision of a woman, holding a book and sceptre, who
comes to him with promises of comfort. She is his lifelong com-
panion, Philosophy. He tells her the story of his troubles. In the
second book, Philosophy tells him that Fortune has the right to take
away what she has bestowed, and that he still has wife and children,
the most precious of her gifts; his ambition to shine as statesman
and philosopher is foolish, as no greatness is enduring. The third
book takes up the discussion of the Supreme Good, showing that it
consists not in riches, power, nor pleasure, but only in God. In the
fourth book the problems of the existence of evil in the world and
the freedom of the will are examined; and the latter subject con-
tinues through the fifth book. During the Middle Ages this work
was highly esteemed, and numerous translations appeared. In the
ninth century Alfred the Great gave to his subjects an Anglo-Saxon
version; and in the fourteenth century Chaucer made an English
translation, which was published by Caxton in 1480. Before the six-
teenth century it was translated into German, French, Italian, Spanish,
and Greek.
It is now perhaps best known for the place it occupies in the
spiritual development of Dante. He turned to it for comfort after
the death of his Beatrice in 1291. Inspired by its teachings, he gave
himself up for a time to the study of philosophy, with the result of
his writing the 'Convito,' a book in which he often refers to his
favorite author. In his 'Divine Comedy he places Boëtius in the
Heaven of the Sun, together with the Fathers of the Church and the
schoolmen.
OF THE GREATEST GOOD
From the Consolations of Philosophy'
E
VERY mortal is troubled with many and various anxieties, and
yet all desire, through various paths, to arrive at one goal;
that is, they strive by different means to attain one happi-
ness: in a word, God. He is the beginning and the end of every
good, and he is the highest happiness. Then said the Mind:-
This, methinks, must be the highest good, so that men should.
neither need, nor moreover be solicitous, about any other good
besides it; since he possesses that which is the roof of all other
good, inasmuch as it includes all other good, and has all other
kinds within it. It would not be the highest good if any good
―


## p. 2136 (#334) ###########################################

2136
BOËTIUS
were external to it, because it would then have to desire some
good which itself had not. Then answered Reason, and said: - It
is very evident that this is the highest happiness, for it is both
the roof and the floor of all good. What is that then but the
best happiness, which gathers the other felicities all within it, and
includes and holds them within it; and to it there is a deficiency
of none, neither has it need of any, but they come all from it
and again all to it, as all waters come from the sea and again all
come to the sea? There is none in the little fountain, which
does not seek the sea, and again from the sea it returns into the
earth, and so it flows gradually through the earth, till it again
comes to the same fountain that it before flowed from, and so
again to the sea.
Now, this is an example of the true good, which all mortal
men desire to obtain, though they by various ways think to
arrive at it. For every man has a natural good in himself,
because every mind desires to obtain the true good; but it is
hindered by the transitory good, because it is more prone thereto.
For some men think that it is the best happiness that a man
be so rich that he have need of nothing more, and they choose
their life accordingly. Some men think that this is the highest
good, that he be among his fellows the most honorable of his
fellows; and they with all diligence seek this. Some think that
the supreme good is in the highest power. These strive either
themselves to rule, or else to associate themselves to the friend-
ship of rulers. Some persuade themselves that it is best that
a man be illustrious and celebrated and have good fame; they
therefore seek this both in peace and in war. Many reckon it
for the greatest good and for the greatest happiness that a man
be always blithe in this present life, and follow all his lusts.
Some indeed who desire these riches are desirous thereof be-
cause they would have the greater power, that they may the more
securely enjoy these worldly lusts, and also the riches. Many
there are who desire power because they would gather money;
or again, they are desirous to spread their name.
On account of such and other like frail and perishing ad-
vantages, the thought of every human mind is troubled with
anxiety and with care. It then imagines that it has obtained
some exalted good when it has won the flattery of the people;
and to me it seems that it has bought a very false greatness.
Some with much anxiety seek wives, that thereby they may above


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2137
all things have children, and also live happily. True friends,
then, I say, are the most precious things of all these worldly
felicities. They are not indeed to be reckoned as worldly goods,
but as divine; for deceitful fortune does not produce them, but
God, who naturally formed them as relations. For of every other
thing in this world, man is desirous, either that he may through
it obtain power, or else some worldly lust; except of the true
friend, whom he loves sometimes for affection and for fidelity,
though he expect to himself no other rewards. Nature joins and
cements friends together with inseparable love. But with these
worldly goods, and with this present wealth, men make oftener
enemies than friends. From these, and from many such proofs,
it may be evident to all men that all the bodily goods are in-
ferior to the faculties of the soul. We indeed think that a man
is the stronger, because he is great in his body. The fairness,
moreover, and the strength of the body, rejoices and invigorates
the man, and health makes him cheerful. In all these bodily
felicities men seek one single happiness, as it seems to them.
For whatsoever every man chiefly loves above all other things,
that, he persuades himself, is best for him, and that is his
highest good. When therefore he has acquired that, he imagines
that he may be very happy. I do not deny that these goods and
this happiness are the highest good of this present life. For
every man considers that thing best which he chiefly loves above
other things, and therefore he deems himself very happy if he
can obtain what he then most desires. Is not now clearly
enough shown to thee the form of the false goods; namely, riches,
and dignity, and power, and glory, and pleasure? Concerning
pleasure, Epicurus the philosopher said, when he inquired con-
cerning all those other goods which we before mentioned: then
said he, that pleasure was the highest good, because all the other
goods which we before mentioned gratify the mind and delight
it, but pleasure chiefly gratifies the body.
But we will still speak concerning the nature of men, and
concerning their pursuits. Though, then, their mind and their
nature be now obscured, and they are by that descent fallen to
evil and inclined thither, yet they are desirous, so far as they
can and may, of the highest good. As the drunken man knows
that he should go to his house and to his rest, and yet is not
able to find the way thither, so is it also with the mind, when it
is weighed down by the anxieties of this world. It is sometimes.


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2138
BOËTIUS
intoxicated and misled by them, so far that it cannot rightly find
out good. Nor yet does it appear to those men that they aught
mistake who are desirous to obtain this, namely, that they need
labor after nothing more. But they think that they are able to
collect together all these goods, so that none may be excluded
from the number.
Two things may dignity and power do, if they come to the
unwise. It may make him honorable and respectable to other
unwise persons.
But when he quits the power, or the power
him, then is he to the unwise neither honorable nor respectable.
Has power, then, the custom of exterminating and rooting out
vices from the minds of great men and planting therein virtues?
I know, however, that earthly power never sows the virtues, but
collects and gathers vices; and when it has gathered them, then
it nevertheless shows and does not conceal them. For the vices
of great men many men see; because many know them and
many are with them. Therefore we always lament concerning
power, and also despise it, when we see that it comes to the
worst, and to those who are to us most unworthy.
Every virtue has its proper excellence; and the excellence and
the dignity which it has, it imparts immediately to every one
who loves it. Thus, wisdom is the highest virtue, and it has in
it four other virtues; of which one is prudence, another temper-
ance, the third is fortitude, the fourth justice. Wisdom makes
its lovers wise, and prudent, and moderate, and patient, and
just; and it fills him who loves it with every good quality. This
they who possess the power of this world cannot do. They can-
not impart any virtue to those who love them, through their
wealth, if they have it not in their nature. Hence it is very
evident that the rich in worldly wealth have no proper dignity;
but the wealth is come to them from without, and they cannot
from without have aught of their own. Consider now, whether
any man is the less honorable because many men despise him.
But if any man be the less honorable, then is every foolish man
the less honorable, the more authority he has, to every wise.
man. Hence it is sufficiently clear that power and wealth can-
not make its possessor the more honorable. But it makes him
the less honorable, when it comes to him, if he were not before
virtuous. So is also wealth and power the worse, if he who
possesses it be not virtuous. Each of them is the more worth-
less, when they meet with each other.


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2139
But I can easily instruct you by an example, so that you may
clearly enough perceive that this present life is very like a
shadow, and in that shadow no man can attain the true good.
If any very great man is driven from his country, or goes on
his lord's errand, and so comes to a foreign people, where no
man knows him, nor he any man, nor even knows the language,
do you think his greatness can make him honorable in that
land? Of course it cannot. But if dignity were natural to
wealth and were its own, or again if wealth were the rich man's
own, then it could not forsake him. Let the man who possessed
them be in whatsoever land he might, then his wealth and his
dignity would be with him. But because the wealth and the
power are not his own, they forsake him; and because they have
no natural good in themselves, they go away like a shadow or
smoke. Yet the mistaken opinion and fancy of unwise men
judge that power is the highest good. It is entirely otherwise.
When a great man is either among foreigners, or among wise
men in his own country, his wealth counts nothing to either one
when they learn that he was exalted for no virtue, but through
the applause of the ignorant. But if his power arose from any
personal merit, he would keep that even if he lost the power.
He would not lose the good that came from nature; that would
always follow him and always make him honorable, whatever
land he was in.
Worthless and very false is the glory of this world! Concern-
ing this a certain poet formerly sung. When he contemned this
present life, he said:-O glory of this world! wherefore do erring
men call thee, with false voice, glory, when thou art none! - For
man more frequently has great renown, and great glory, and
great honor, through the opinion of the unwise, than he has
through his deserts. But tell me now, what is more unmeet
than this; or why men may not rather be ashamed of themselves
than rejoice, when they hear that any one belies them. Though
men even rightly praise any one of the good, he ought not the
sooner to rejoice immoderately at the people's words. But at
this he ought to rejoice, that they speak truth of him. Though
he rejoice at this, that they spread his name, it is not the sooner
so extensively spread as he persuades himself; for they cannot
spread it over all the earth, though they may in some land;
for though it be to one known, yet it is to another unknown.
Though he in this land be celebrated, yet is he in another not


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BOËTIUS
celebrated. Therefore is the people's favor to be held by every
man for nothing; since it comes not to every man according to
his deserts, nor indeed remains always to any one. Consider
first concerning noble birth. If any one boast of it, how vain
and how useless is the boast; for every one knows that all men
come from one father and from one mother. Or again, concern-
ing the people's favor, and concerning their applause, I know
not why we rejoice at it. Though they whom the vulgar ap-
plaud be illustrious, yet are they more illustrious and more
rightly to be applauded who are dignified by virtues. For no
man is really the greater or the more praiseworthy for the excel-
lence of another, or for his virtues, if he himself has it not. Are
you ever the fairer for another man's beauty? A man is little
the better though he have a good father, if he himself is inca-
pable of anything. Therefore I advise that you rejoice in other
men's good and their nobility, but so far only that you ascribe
it not to yourself as your own; because every man's good, and
his nobility, is more in the mind than in the flesh. This only,
indeed, I know of good in nobility: that it shames many a man
if he is worse than his ancestors were, and he therefore endeav
ors with all his power to imitate the manners of some one of
the best, and his virtues.


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2141
NICHOLAS BOILEAU-DESPRÉAUX
(1636-1711)
HE name of Louis XIV. suggests ultra-lavishness in life and
taste; a time when French society, surfeited with pleasure,
demanded a stimulus of continual novelty in current litera-
ture. The natural result was preciosité, hyperbole, falsetto sentiment,
which ranked the unusual above the natural, clever conceit above
careful workmanship. It was tainted with artificiality, and now seems
mawkish and superficial.
But Boileau changed all that. Perhaps no author unendowed with
genius has ever so influenced literature.
was usu-
Aside from his work, the man and his
life seem essentially commonplace. Nich-
olas Boileau, who, adding another name to
his own,- quite a fashion then,
ally called Despréaux by his contempora-
ries, was born in Paris, in the palace court,
nearly opposite the royal Sainte Chapelle.
He rarely went farther from the city than
to the little house at Auteuil, where he
spent twenty summers. So he knew his
Paris very intimately, and was limited too
by knowing only her life and thought. To
his repressed youth, guarded by a strict
father and a cross servant,- for his mother
died in his babyhood, -is sometimes attrib-
uted his lack of emotional quality. But his was not an intense nature,
and probably no training could have made the didactic poet lyric or
passionate. Sincerity and common-sense were his predominating qual-
ities, and he had the rare faculty of obedience to his own instincts.
He first studied for the priesthood, but anything like mysticism was
too repellent to his matter-of-fact mind. Then, as many of his family
had been lawyers, he naturally turned toward that career. But the
practice as taught him seemed senseless and arbitrary. Its rational
basis upon a logical theory only dawned upon him later. In spite of
his literary tastes, there was something extremely mundane about the
pleasure-loving bachelor, so fond of good eating and of jovial café
revels with Racine, Furetière, Ninon de L'Enclos, and other witty Bohe-
mians. With them he was much happier than in the more fastidious

—
BOILEAU


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2142
NICHOLAS BOILEAU-DESPRÉAUX
society of the Hôtel Rambouillet, from which he retired after reading
aloud a satiric poem not favorably received. Neither was he happy
at court, in spite of the favor of Louis XIV. , who, entertained by his
rough honesty, gave him a pension of two thousand francs.