no unoccupied bed, Heyne slept on the floor, with a few folios for his pillow. So fared he as to lodgings: 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 ashore on a barren and uninhabited island- -an island also wellnigh uninhabitable, and needing more than Crusoe ingenuity to yield any thing 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 journey work 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 Rabener, 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, 66 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 good-heartedness which made her among thousands a beneficent angel."

In a few days Heyne commenced his duties, and saw the esteemed Theresa no more till 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 Ensdorf, 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 ecstasy."

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 smooth 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 lot to abide the issue of the Prussian siege. On the 18th of July 1760 the bombardment of Dresden began. "I passed several nights," says Heyne, "in company with others, in a tavern, and the days in my room; so that I could hear the balls from the battery, as they flew through the streets, whizzing past my windows. An indifference to danger and

to life took such possession of me, that on the last morning of the siege I went early to bed, and amid the frightfullest crashing of bombs and grenades, fell fast asleep of fatigue, and lay sound till mid-day. On awakening, I huddled on my clothes, and ran down-stairs, but found the whole house deserted. I had returned to my room, considering what I was to do, whither, at all events, I was to take my chest, when, with a tremendous crash, a bomb came down in the court of the house; did not, indeed, set fire to it, but on all sides shattered every thing to pieces. The thought that where one bomb fell more would soon follow gave me wings; I darted down-stairs, found the house-door locked, ran to and fro; at last got entrance into one of the under rooms, and sprang through the window into the street." There was evidently no time to be lost if he meant to escape destruction. The next morning he was allowed, with other fugitives, to pass out of the city, and found himself at large in the open country with not a groschen of money, or any particle of property except a cloak which he had caught up from a tavern.

The thought soon struck him, Whither bound? It seemed that the best thing he could do was to take the road to Ensdorf, where Theresa and her friend were then staying. They on his arrival received him warmly. He was not favoured, however, with any pressing invitation to remain ; for, as he appeared in the character of an altogether destitute man, the family entertained him coolly. In a few days he took his leave; the excellent Theresa being unspeakably distressed by the shabby treatment he received, in which, we are glad to find it said, the noble lady Frau Schönberg had no participation. Spurning at destiny, and hardening his heart, Heyne now roved reckless about the country, and with the earliest opportunity returned to Dresden. He thought there might be just a possibility that his lodging had been saved. "With heavy heart," says he, "I entered the city, hastened to the place where I had lived, and found -a heap of ashes!"

Heyne took up his quarters in the vacant and dilapidated rooms of the Brühl Library. These for a while he had liberty to occupy rent-free, but with the utmost scarcity of rations. For many months his condition was extremely destitute and unsettled-wars and penury tossing him hither