is unworthy of her father's fame, and of the high hopes excited when she was that beautiful and accomplished girl, whose hand was sought so frequently by men of rank. The mother is pretty well, for one who is both dumb and blind.

My commentary on Plutarch is nearly half finished, but none of it is struck off, except the preface, and a dissertation on the spurious treatise on Education. I am now engaged in preparing an edition of Plato's Phaedo. Go on, my dear Wolf, and edit Homer entire, with a commentary, that shall enable us to dispense with all other editions. It is said by those who have read the article, that Heyne's Homer has been reviewed with severity by you and your friends. I have wished to get a sight of that review, but have not yet been able. This circumstance reminds me of our good Villoison, who used to call Heyne his "persecutor." The death of Villoison has inflicted the deeper wound on me, as our friendship was of long standing. It was contracted at Paris in 1775, and has been confirmed by mutual kind offices, and by correspondence, and continued, though often amid differences of opinion, till the present time. May yours, my dear Wolf, still be a long and happy life; and rest assured, that, with me, difference of opinion is no interruption of friendship; and that you are, and will not cease to be, dear to me, on account of our common pursuits, and our common love for the departed Ruhnken.

WYTTENBACH TO HEYNE.

Leyden, Nov. 24, 1805.

My excellent friend, would that the "genius, who presides over my natal star," had not made me such a dilatory and slothful correspondent! Then I should not be undutiful towards every good and indulgent man to whom I have occasion to write. Of all my learned

friends, bound to me by the ties of good-will and scholarship, you are the oldest survivor. I delight to recall the time, though short, when I enjoyed the benefit of your teaching and counsels at Göttingen. I very much regret that I have so long neglected you. I could, indeed, make out a very decent apology, but I prefer to rely on your good-will towards me. "I did the wrong, I own the crime; but now will make amends." The remainder of our joint lives let us not suffer to pass off in like manner; but rather let us seize upon it, and, by frequent intercourse of letters, make the most of our old age, and mutually share each other's affections.

The last time I wrote to you, Ruhnken was still alive and well; I have already felt his loss for seven years, and shall never cease to feel it. I have now no one by me, whom I can enjoy as a teacher and a friend. O, that I had you for my colleague! For J. Luzac, my present colleague, and I do not draw well together. Twenty years ago, in party times, he became the successor of Valckenaer, aided by the recommendation of Ruhnken. He afterwards became ungrateful, and slandered the sole author of his honor and promotion; and struck at him, when dead, with the weapon of envy; and has recently, under the name of a common disciple of ours, the author of the Lectiones Andocideae,-treated certainly with sufficient lenity in your journal,-accused Ruhnken of plagiarism from Valckenaer's papers. I felt myself called upon to vindicate that great man from the suspicion which was unjustly cast upon him; with much gentleness and lenity, however, since the nominal author was my pupil, and yet in such a way, that it might be seen who the accuser was, and who the accused. I wholly disregard the puerile imputations which the disguised writer brings against myself, whom, as the successor of Ruhnken, he considers as a just object of his ire. It is singular, indeed,

that, in leaving my more eligible situation in Amsterdam, and accepting this, in Leyden, I should have drawn upon me the envy and reproaches of so many. These I refute by silence, and by a consciousness of having acted purely from a filial regard for Ruhnken, whose distressed family could have been provided with a comfortable subsistence at that time only by my removal.

But, my venerated friend, I return to you. It was upon you alone that my thoughts were resting, when I sat down to write; and I know not how it is, that, in purposing to make inquiries about you and of you, I have fallen into descanting upon my own affairs. Are you, then, well? and does every thing go to your mind? I doubt not, from what I know of your equanimity, mildness, and experience in human affairs, that you bear your advanced years in such a way, as to render this truly the blooming period of your mind. So it was with our friend Ruhnken. His biography I sent you at the time of its publication, though I had not time then to write. I was obliged reluctantly to defer writing to you, till I could find a little leisure, which has at length arrived. This I will affirm, that, during the whole period that has since intervened, every mention of your name, or that of your country, whether it occurred in conversation, or in recent publications, has awakened a solicitude for you, and it has been my prayer that your public calamities might be counterbalanced by personal and domestic prosperity. When will this protracted and calamitous war come to an end? When shall things be restored to their original state? But you are still vigorous and flourishing in literature. I often hear of your new publications, and sometimes see the works themselves, or summaries of them. It surprises me to find that the same energy, which distinguished your youth, remains undiminished in your old age. It has grieved me to see the severity with which your Homer has been treated by

certain persons. You should have been treated like Nestor, and these words, addressed to him, often occur to me, when thinking of you: "Indeed, old man, the youthful warriors waste thy strength." But the next line, "Thy strength is gone, and dreary age o'ertakes thee," will not apply to you. As I have already said, I say again, your old age is the blooming period of your mind, and you stand in need of no Diomedes, to take you into his chariot. Your established fame, your past life, your immortal works, and your merits, will sufficiently protect you. In a second edition of my Critical Epistle, which I now meditate, it will be to me a pleasure again to pay you a public tribute of respect in connection with Ruhnken. * * Farewell, "thou Nestor, the great glory of the Greeks."

WYTTENBACH TO C. G. SCHÜTZ.

Suburbs of Leyden, April, 1807. I regard it as a special token of love, that your interest in the calamity which has befallen us, has induced you to write to me, and to request that I would give you the particulars, and thus relieve your solicitude. I should have done so immediately, had I not been so engaged in rescuing my effects, and putting them in order, as to leave me no leisure for writing. Though still in a state of disquiet, I must resume my neglected correspondence, and I will begin with you. The task you ask me to perform will revive all the sorrow of that dreadful scene, in which, indeed, I had but little share. My lot was easy compared with that of many others, whose hard fate I could not adequately describe, even if I had a hundred tongues.

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I wonder, my dear sir, that you make no mention of the late change in your political condition,—that you are so occupied with my misfortunes, as if nothing had Whatever be the cause of your

happened among you.

silence in this respect, whether it be a delicate regard to myself or some other consideration, I shall infer that all things are well with you. For a long time, I have been ignorant what the Germans are doing,-what books they are publishing in our department of literature. For, though I am a subscriber for your Literary Journal, it rarely reaches me in these times. I am particularly desirous of knowing what you are about. On finishing Eschylus, have you edited the Rhetorical Writings of Cicero? The last edition of the former I have directed my booksellers to procure for me; the latter I have not yet seen. By sending them, as you say you will, you will do me a great favor.

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Farewell, my dear friend. Pray remember me to your colleagues, Wolf and Niemeyer. To the former, I purpose to write without delay; briefly, however, in respect to my affairs, as he can, if he should think it worth his while, ascertain them of you. I beg you to answer me soon, unless it is too much trouble.

P. S. I have finally thought it safest to enclose Wolf's letter in yours. Be so kind as to send it to him, and add

one more to the favors already conferred upon me.

WYTTENBACH TO WOLF.

Suburbs of Leyden, April 7, 1807.

"Providence brings good out of evil." The Leyden calamity has brought me a letter from you, which might otherwise have been long delayed. * * * Should you desire further information respecting the explosion, you will find it in my letter to Schütz.

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I now come to your own affairs.—You are right in not suffering political troubles to interrupt your studies. Your edition of Homer, then, is completed, and the commentary published. I wish very much to see it. As soon as our library, which has hitherto been closed on