ger, as we sat over
our wine and dessert, how long he had been at Oxford, how he liked it,
&c.? He answered my questions with a certain impatience, and resuming
the subject of our discussion, he remarked that "Whether the literature
of Germany, or of Italy, be the most original, or in the purest and most
accurate taste, is of little importance! for polite letters are but vain
trifling; the study of languages, not only of the modern tongues, but of
Latin and Greek also, is merely the study of words and phrases; of the
names of things; it matters not how they are called; it is surely far
better to investigate things themselves." I inquired, a little
bewildered, how this was to be effected? He answered, "through the
physical sciences, and especially through chemistry;" and raising his
voice, his face flushing as he spoke, he discoursed with a degree of
animation, that far outshone his zeal in defence of the Germans, of
chemistry and chemical analysis. Concerning that science, then so
popular, I had merely a scanty and vulgar knowledge, gathered from
elementary books, and the ordinary experiments of popular lecturers.
I listened, therefore, in silence to his eloquent disquisition,
interposing a few brief questions only, and at long intervals, as to
the extent of his own studies and manipulations. As I felt, in truth,
but a slight interest in the subject of his conversation, I had leisure
to examine, and I may add, to admire, the appearance of my very
extraordinary guest. It was a sum of many contradictions. His figure was
slight and fragile, and yet his bones and joints were large and strong.
He was tall, but he stooped so much, that he seemed of a low stature.
His clothes were expensive, and made according to the most approved mode
of the day; but they were tumbled, rumpled, unbrushed. His gestures were
abrupt, and sometimes violent, occasionally even awkward, yet more
frequently gentle and graceful. His complexion was delicate, and almost
feminine, of the purest red and white; yet he was tanned and freckled by
exposure to the sun, having passed the autumn, as he said, in shooting.
His features, his whole face, and particularly his head, were, in fact,
unusually small; yet the last _appeared_ of a remarkable bulk, for
his hair was long and bushy, and in fits of absence, and in the agonies
(if I may use the word) of anxious thought, he often rubbed it fiercely
with his hands, or passed his fingers quickly through his locks
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