Page:EB1911 - Volume 04.djvu/890

 portrait in Brasenose College shows the face of a scholar, shrewd, contemplative, humorous.

A Latin comedy, Philosophaster, originally written by Robert Burton in 1606 and acted at Christ Church in 1617, was long supposed to be lost; but in 1862 it was printed for the Roxburghe Club from a manuscript belonging to the Rev. W. E. Buckley, who edited it with elaborate care and appended a collection of the academical exercises that Burton had contributed to various Oxford miscellanies (“Natalia,” “Parentalia,” &c.). Philosophaster is a vivacious exposure of charlatanism. Desiderius, duke of Osuna, invites learned men from all parts of Europe to repair to the university which he has re-established; and a crowd of shifty adventurers avail themselves of the invitation. There are points of resemblance to Philosophaster in Ben Jonson’s Alchemist and Tomkis’s Albumazar, but in the prologue Burton is careful to state that his was the earlier play. (Another manuscript of Philosophaster, a presentation copy to William Burton from the author, has since been found in the library of Lord Mostyn.)

In 1621 was issued at Oxford the first edition, a quarto, of The Anatomy of Melancholy by Democritus Junior. Later editions, in folio, were published in 1624, 1628, 1632, 1638, 1651, 1652, 1660, 1676. Burton was for ever engaged in revising his treatise. In the third edition (where first appeared the engraved emblematical title-page by C. Le Blond) he declared that he would make no further alterations. But the fourth edition again bore marks of revision; the fifth differed from the fourth; and the sixth edition was posthumously printed from a copy containing his latest corrections.

Not the least interesting part of the Anatomy is the long preface, “Democritus to the Reader,” in which Burton sets out his reasons for writing the treatise and for assuming the name of Democritus Junior. He had been elected a student of “the most flourishing college of Europe” and he designed to show his gratitude by writing something that should be worthy of that noble society. He had read much; he was neither rich nor poor; living in studious seclusion, he had been a critically observant spectator of the world’s affairs. The philosopher Democritus, who was by nature very melancholy, “averse from company in his latter days and much given to solitariness,” spent his closing years in the suburbs of Abdera. There Hippocrates once found him studying in his garden, the subject of his study being the causes and cure of “this atra bilis or melancholy.” Burton would not compare himself with so famous a philosopher, but he aimed at carrying out the design which Democritus had planned and Hippocrates had commended. It is stated that he actually set himself to reproduce the old philosopher’s reputed eccentricities of conduct. When he was attacked by a fit of melancholy he would go to the bridge foot at Oxford and shake his sides with laughter to hear the bargemen swearing at one another, just as Democritus used to walk down to the haven at Abdera and pick matter for mirth out of the humours of waterside life.

Burton anticipates the objections of captious critics. He allows that he has “collected this cento out of divers authors” and has borrowed from innumerable books, but he claims that “the composition and method is ours only, and shows a scholar.” It had been his original intention to write in Latin, but no publisher would take the risk of issuing in Latin so voluminous a treatise. He humorously apologizes for faults of style on the ground that he had to work single-handed (unlike Origen who was allowed by Ambrosius six or seven amanuenses) and digest his notes as best he might. If any object to his choice of subject, urging that he would be better employed in writing on divinity, his defence is that far too many commentaries, expositions, sermons, &c., are already in existence. Besides, divinity and medicine are closely allied; and, melancholy being both a spiritual and bodily infirmity, the divine and the physician must unite to cure it.

The preface is followed by a tabular synopsis of the First Partition with its several Sections, Members and Subsections. After various preliminary digressions Burton sets himself to define what Melancholy is and what are its species and kinds. Then he discusses the Causes, supernatural and natural, of the disorder, and afterwards proceeds to set down the Symptoms (which cannot be briefly summarized, “for the Tower of Babel never yielded such confusion of tongues as the Chaos of Melancholy doth of Symptoms”). The Second Partition is devoted to the Cure of Melancholy. As it is of great importance that we should live in good air, a chapter deals with “Air Rectified. With a Digression of the Air.” Burton never travelled, but the study of cosmography had been his constant delight; and over sea and land, north, east, west, south—in this enchanting chapter—he sends his vagrant fancy flying. In the disquisition on “Exercise rectified of body and mind” he dwells gleefully on the pleasures of country life, and on the content that scholars find in the pursuit of their favourite studies. Love-Melancholy is the subject of the first Three Sections of the Third Partition, and many are the merry tales with which these pages are seasoned. The Fourth (and concluding) Section treats, in graver mood, of Religious Melancholy; and to the “Cure of Despair” he devotes his deepest meditations.

The Anatomy, widely read in the 17th century, for a time lapsed into obscurity, though even “the wits of Queen Anne’s reign and the beginning of George I. were not a little beholden to Robert Burton” (Archbishop Herring). Dr Johnson deeply admired the work; and Sterne laid it heavily under contribution. But the noble and impassioned devotion of Charles Lamb has been the most powerful help towards keeping alive the memory of the “fantastic great old man.” Burton’s odd turns and quirks of expression, his whimsical and affectate fancies, his kindly sarcasm, his far-fetched conceits, his deep-lying pathos, descended by inheritance of genius to Lamb. The enthusiasm of Burton’s admirers will not be chilled by the disparagement of unsympathetic critics (Macaulay and Hallam among them) who have consulted his pages in vain; but through good and evil report he will remain, their well-loved companion to the end.

BURTON, WILLIAM EVANS (1804–1860), English actor and playwright, born in London in September 1804, was the son of William George Burton (1774–1825), a printer and author of Research into the religions of the Eastern nations as illustrative of the scriptures (1805). He was educated for the Church, but, having entered his father’s business, his success as an amateur actor led him to go upon the stage. After several years in the provinces, he made his first London appearance in 1831. In 1834 he went to America, where he appeared in Philadelphia as Dr Ollapod in The Poor Gentleman. He took a prominent place, both as actor and manager, in New York, Philadelphia and Baltimore, the theatre which he leased in New York being renamed Burton’s theatre. He had much popular success as Captain Cuttle in John Brougham’s dramatization of Dombey and Son, and in other low comedy parts in plays from Dickens’s novels. Burton was the author of a large number of plays, one of which, Ellen Wareham (1833), was produced simultaneously at five London theatres. In Philadelphia he established the Gentleman’s Magazine, of which Edgar Allan Poe was for some time the editor. He was himself the editor of the Cambridge Quarterly and the Souvenir, and the author of several books, including a Cyclopaedia of Wit and Humour (1857). He collected a library of over 100,000 volumes, especially rich in Shakespeariana, which was dispersed after his death at New York City on the 9th of February 1860.

BURTON-UPON-TRENT, a market town and municipal and county borough in the Burton parliamentary division of Staffordshire and the Southern parliamentary division of Derbyshire, England; lying mainly upon the left bank of the Trent, in Staffordshire. Pop. (1891) 46,047; (1901) 50,386. It is 127 m.