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and procured him occasional employment as a private teacher. He also sought to direct him a little in his studies, advising him 'to imitate Scaliger, and read the ancients, so as to begin with the most ancient, and proceed regularly to the latest-a sage recommendation, reminding one of Goldsmith's pleasantry about the folly of presenting a man with ruffles who was destitute of a shirt. Of all teachers, however, it is clear, as Mr Carlyle observes, that Heyne's best teacher was himself. 'No pressure of distress, no want of books, advisers, or encouragement, not hunger itself, could abate his resolute perseverance. What books he could come at he borrowed; and such was his excess of zeal in reading, that for a whole half year he allowed himself only two nights of sleep in the week, till at last a fever obliged him to be more moderate. His diligence was undirected or ill-directed, but it never rested, never paused, and must at length prevail. Fortune had cast him into a cavern, and he was groping darkly round; but the prisoner was a giant, and would at length burst forth as a giant into the light of day. Heyne, without any clear aim, almost without any hope, had set his heart on obtaining knowledge; a force as of instinct drove him on, and no promise and no threat could turn him back.' In the depth of his destitution he had the almost unparalleled temerity to refuse a tutorship, which promised to be a comfortable appointment, but which he considered it advisable to decline, inasmuch as it would remove him from the university. Crist, aware of the urgency of his circumstances, had sent for him one Sunday, and made him the proposal; 'and thereupon,' says Heyne, 'there arose a violent struggle within me, which agitated me for several days; and to this hour it is incomprehensible to me where I found resolution to determine on renouncing the offer, and to follow out my object in Leipzig.' It was extremely difficult for a man in his extremity to ascertain the wisest course; and doubtless every considerate and practical' person, who might have been consulted, would have advised the contrary of what Heyne decided on; but yet there is ever truth in the soul's instincts, and he who accepts their intimations with purity and singleness of purpose, may rely on them with confidence, and esteem them the best guides of his volition.

Heyne remained at the university; and by dint of starving, and the precarious employment of private teaching, managed both to keep the life in him, and prosecute his studies. It is utterly impossible to tell how; neither his own narrative, nor the 'Biographical Portraiture' by Professor Heeren, affords us any sufficient information in regard to these particulars. All we can gather is, that he lived in a dreary vicissitude of want,' spinning out his existence from day to day, unwarmed by any ray of comfort, except the 'fire that burned or smouldered unquenchably in his own bosom.' It appears that his sole means were the scanty gratuities of Sebastian, and the casual and inconsiderable fees which he earned by private teaching. Sometimes perhaps he might work a little in that capacity which the Germans call 'classical hodmanship'-translating and transcribing passages of Greek and Latin for the use of authors and philosophers who were somewhat 'rusted' in their languages, or who could turn their talents to better account as builders than would be practicable while acting as 'hodmen' for themselves. At one time he had an engagement of this sort under the once famous but now forgotten Crusius, who was then

'first professor of theology' at Leipzig-with what remuneration is not apparent. One thing we can discern with satisfaction, that in such employments as are open to him Heyne does not fail to acquit himself with credit. As a consequence, his talents and endeavours began by degrees to attract notice, and his perverse situation to excite a little sympathy; and 'here and there some well-wisher had his eye on him, and stood ready to do him a service.'

In this way had Heyne struggled up to manhood. Two-and-twenty years had he endured as severe hardship as happened to any man of his generation. Moreover, his difficulties were yet far from being ended. In the latter days of his college life he had betaken himself to the study of the law, though without the slightest prospect of being able to turn it to any immediate practical account. Other branches of learning he continued meanwhile to prosecute, and indeed held himself ready to lay hold of anything that might turn up to his advantage. While thus waiting, as it were, to catch the strings of possibility, a trifling incident occurred, something akin to that 'pedantic adventure' before mentioned, which brought about important changes in his situation. Among the persons in Leipzig who had extended towards him some little measure of favour was a French preacher named Lacoste, who, dying suddenly, was by Heyne somewhat lamented; and he, as it is said, inspired by personal sorrow, composed a long Latin Epicedium on the occasion-a poem nowise intended for the press, but which certain of the deceased's hearers were so extremely pleased with as to cause it to be printed 'in the finest style of typography and decoration.' Now, among the students in Leipzig at that time were the respectable and respected sons of Count Brühl-prime minister and favourite of the Elector of Saxony, and also a person of high repute for his shining patronage of literature. Brühl's sons, it is surmised, sent home to Dresden a copy of Heyne's elegantly-decorated Epicedium; and the count, struck with the decorations, was pleased to express himself well contented with the poem, and to say, moreover, he should like to have the author in his service.

'A prime minister's words,' says one who has written on this matter, 'are not as water spilt upon the ground, which cannot be gathered; but rather as heavenly manna, which is treasured up and eaten, not without a religious sentiment. Heyne was forthwith written to from all quarters that his fortune was made: he had but to show himself in Dresden, said his friends with one voice, and golden showers from the ministerial cornucopia would refresh him almost to saturation; for was not the count taken with him? and who in all Saxony, not excepting serene highness itself, could gainsay the count? Over-persuaded, and against his will, Heyne at length determined on the journey, for which, as an indispensable preliminary, "fifty-one thalers" had to be borrowed; and so, following this hopeful quest, he actually arrived at Dresden in April 1752. Count Brühl received him with the most captivating smiles, and even assured him in words that he, Count Brühl, would take care of him. But a prime minister has so much to take care of! Heyne danced attendance all spring and summer, happier than our Johnson, inasmuch as he had not to "blow his fingers in a cold lobby," the weather being warm; and obtained not only promises,

but useful experience of their value at courts. He was to be made a secretary, with five hundred, with four hundred, or even with three hundred thalers of income; only in the meanwhile his old stock of fifty-one had quite run out, and he had nothing to live upon.'

6

Heyne is convinced at length that he must look about him for something more tangible than Count Brühl's promises. By good-luck he obtained some employment in his old craft of private teaching, which sustained him through the winter; but when this ceased he remained without resources. What to do he could not well conceive. In Dresden, however, there are publishers and booksellers; so Heyne goes to some of them to solicit work in authorship. He is so far fortunate as to get intrusted with a few translations; but, as the writer just quoted says, 'his emoluments would scarcely furnish him with salt, not to speak of victuals.' In a short time he was so far reduced as to be obliged to sell the few books he possessed; and by and by he even finds himself with only the universal canopy for the ceiling of his bedchamber. A licentiate in divinity, one Sonntag, took pity on his houselessness, and shared a garret with him; where, as there was no unoccupied bed, Heyne slept on the floor, with a few folios for his pillow. So fared he as to lodging: in regard to board, he gathered empty peascods, and had them boiled: this was not unfrequently his only meal.' The dogs of any Lazarus in any generation have fared better. However, after 'incredible solicitations,' Heyne at length, in the autumn of 1753, obtained—not his promised secretaryship at five or four hundred thalers, but the subordinate post of under-clerk in the Brühl library, with one hundred thalers-a salary scarcely enough to preserve him from starvation, but which was doubtless very welcome. In this way was Heyne 'taken care of' by the illustrious Count Brühl. Let young scholars think of it, and as far as mortals are concerned, depend on no one but themselves.

Heyne may be nevertheless considered as having now in some sort got to ground. After struggling long with the rough tempestuous breakers that surge above the shoals of worldly life, he is finally washed ashoreon a barren and uninhabited island—an island also wellnigh uninhabitable, and needing more than Crusoe ingenuity to yield anything worth the gathering. Heyne, however, sets to work, and, out of such available soil as he finds in the Brühl Library, produces his first book. This was a carefully-prepared edition of 'Tibullus,' which was printed at Leipzig in 1755—a work reported to exhibit remarkable talent, inasmuch as the rudiments of all those excellences by which Heyne afterwards became distinguished as a commentator on the classics are more or less apparent in it. To whom should the same be dedicated but to the Illustrious Henry Count von Brühl?' So accordingly stands it on the title-page in highly-imposing Latin-Illustrissimo Domino Henrico Comiti de Brühl inscripta. But though thus propitiated, the illustrious Brühl paid no regard to it; nor indeed did Germany at large pay much; though in another country it fell into the hands of Rhunken, by whom it was rightly estimated, and with him lay waiting, as appeared thereafter, to be 'the pledge of better fortune for its author.'

The profits of the 'Tibullus' were not enormous, though it appears they served to cancel a few outstanding debts; and thus, with the aid of

the hundred thalers' regular income, the steam of life was languidly kept up. Unhappily for Heyne as well as others, in 1756 the very memorable Seven-Years' War broke out; Frederick of Prussia advanced on Dresden, 'animated with especial fury against Brühl,' whose palaces and high places were accordingly ere long reduced to ashes, and, with other wreck and devastation, there was an end of 'seventy thousand splendid volumes.' Heyne, it seems, had been engaged in studying Epictetus, and publishing an edition of his 'Enchiridion;' from which work his biographer Heeren affirms his great soul had acquired much stoical nourishment.' Heyne had evidently need of all the support Epictetus could yield him, for now he was again cast homeless on the world. By translating pamphlets, writing articles for newspapers, and by other such journeywork of authorship as happened to turn up, he contrived, though narrowly, to elude starvation, and save the authorities of Dresden the expense of a parish coffin. At a time when he was desperately 'hard up,' the poet Rubener, with whom he had some slight acquaintance, came to him with the offer of a tutorship, which Heyne, knowing the penalty, dared not at the moment do otherwise than accept. Tutorships he habitually abominated; but Want, like Death, regards no man's scruples or conveniences.

The tutorship did not prove so bad as he expected. Indeed we come now upon a little 'cypress-and-myrtle oasis' of romance-a thing one could scarcely have calculated on in so hard and stony a history as Heyne's. He was engaged to teach the son of a Herr von Schönberg; and on entering the Schönberg house, he says he was ushered into a room where sat several ladies engaged, with gay youthful sportiveness, in friendly confidential talk. Frau von Schönberg, but lately married, yet at this time distant from her husband, was preparing for a journey to him at Prague, where his business detained him. On her brow still beamed the pure innocence of youth; in her eyes you saw a glad soft vernal sky; a smiling, loving complaisance accompanied her discourse. This, too, seemed one of those souls clear and uncontaminated as they come from the hands of their Maker. By reason of her brother, in her tender love of him, I must have been to her no unimportant guest. Beside her stood a young lady, dignified in aspect, of fair, slender shape, not regular in feature, yet soul in every glance. Her words, her looks, her every movement, impressed you with respect another sort of respect than what is paid to rank and birth. Good sense, good feeling disclosed itself in all she did. You forgot that more beauty, more softness might have been demanded; you felt yourself under the influence of something noble, something stately and earnest, something decisive that lay in her look, in her gestures, not less attracted to her than compelled to reverence her.'

This latter lady bore the name of Theresa Weiss; she was the orphan daughter of some musical professor, and was present here as the humble companion, having formerly been the schoolmate, of the Frau von Schönberg, whose young brother the destinies had assigned to Heyne for a pupil. The first sight of Theresa seems only to have inspired him with esteem. 'What I noticed most,' says he, 'were the efforts she made to relieve my embarrassment, the fruit of my down-bent pride, and to keep me, a stranger, entering among familiar acquaintances, in easy conversation. Her good heart reminded her how much the unfortunate requires encouragement,

especially when placed, as I was, among those to whose protection he must look up. Thus was my first kindness for her awakened by that goodheartedness which made her among thousands a beneficent angel.'

In a few days Heyne commenced his duties, and saw the esteemed Theresa no more till the next spring, she having accompanied the Frau von Schönberg in her journey to Prague. With the pleasant breath and goodly verdure of the month of May, he had, however, the pleasure of enjoying some days in her society, in agreeable country quarters at Ænsdorf, whither he had been invited to follow the family with his pupil. This is perhaps the most delicious season in the whole of Heyne's life. Though nowise a poetical man, he almost rises into poetry when reproducing it from memory. 'The society of two cultivated women,' says he, 'who were of the noblest of their sex, and the desire to acquire their esteem, contributed to form my own character. Nature and religion were the objects of my daily contemplation; I began to act and live on principles of which till now I had never thought; these, too, formed the subject of our constant conversation. The loveliness of nature and the charms of solitude exalted our feelings to a pious and absorbing ecstacy.'

Heyne informs us further that Theresa discovered, sooner than he, that her friendship for him was growing into a passion. Does he mean to insinuate that Theresa first acknowledged her susceptibility? If she did, there were doubtless reasons for it: Heyne was a slow man, remarkably unexcitable, and needing, like a flint, to be struck before he could exhibit fire. He seems to have been a man of almost preternatural bashfulness. He may have found it difficult to receive the notion that any interesting woman would ever love him. There are some rare examples of men of this description. And what if the amiable Theresa could perceive all this, and with a womanly compassion take it upon her to smoothe the way, and by some very gentle hint, given at the right time, indicate her tender inclinations? Let none condemn Theresa should such turn out to be the fact. But it is hardly likely to be ascertained now whether or not it was the fact. It may suffice for us to know that, in one way or another, Heyne and Theresa were led to consider themselves as lovers. Glad hours of a most exquisite communion were for a while their portion, and then fate cast them wide asunder; and the gulf of distance and of difficulty between them was but slenderly bridged over by an enthusiastic and melancholy correspondence.

Heyne accompanied his pupil to the university of Wittenberg, where he remained for about a year, studying meanwhile, for his own behoof, in philosophy and German history; but at the end of that time the Prussian cannon demolished the university, and sent the students to seek accommodation in other places. The young Schönberg went subsequently to Erlangen, and Heyne was left in Dresden without employment. Theresa was living in his neighbourhood, and is supposed to have rendered him several lover's kindnesses. 'Twice,' says he, 'I received letters from an unknown hand containing money, which greatly alleviated my difficulties.' Who sent them, think you, but Theresa? However, as the cannonading became warmer, she was compelled to take to flight, having first confided her little property to Heyne's charge. Resourceless persons must necessarily stand the brunt of popular calamities, and it was accordingly Heyne's

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