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opposition was not so unreasonable, as the young lady was only nineteen when she was married. Florence Estienne brought Casaubon no dower; at least it was never paid, and could not be in the state to which the father's affairs had come. The son-in-law did not even get, what he perhaps would have valued more, access to the library. This contained untold treasures of Greek; for besides his own collections, Henri got from his friends everything he could hear of, with the promise to edit it. He really meant this when that promised day should come on which his press was to begin to work again. It never did come, and it was in vain that the owners petitioned for their MSS. back again. Ritterhusius had lent him his notes on Oppian.' Unable to get any reply from Estienne himself, he had recourse to Casaubon, urging vehemently their restitution, as they were of great importance to him. Casaubon and Madame Estienne, after consulting together, agreed in the extremity of the case to run the risk of breaking open the prohibited chamber. The Oppian’ was found. This was absolutely the only oecasion on which Casaubon ever saw the inside of the library; for in 1598 he tells Scaliger that he had never inspected Estienne's books, not only not since his death, but never at all. When it came to him to open it as one of the heirs-at-law, he found it in a sad state of disorder, and decay from long neglect, but affording still astonishing evidence of industry and learning in memoranda, papers, and notes, for editing.

We are unable to trace Estienne's later wanderings. Even his family often did not know where he was. He continued to pour forth diatribes; but they were below the level even of the feeblest of his former effusions. He had lost himself completely. He had taken up a craze upon the danger to Europe from the advance of the Turks. Danger truly enough there was; but it was a pitiable spectacle that of Henry Stephens leaving his own affairs in confusion, or worse, and going all the way to Ratisbon to hand in a memorial to the Diet against the Turks. From this time everything he touched ran into this key. He published a pamphlet professing to review Lipsius' Latin style. It ought, said Scaliger, “to have been entitled De Latinitate Lipsii contra Turcas.'

He was often in actual need. One of the latest notices of him we find is almost a begging letter addressed to the Bishop of Würzburg. As this letter is unknown to all the biographers, though it has been in print since 1831, we will give an extract from it:• I know not how it came to pass, Right Reverend Prince, that I was 2 A 2



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not able to come near you, nor so much as to pay my respects to you during the Diet at Ratisbon. And again, on my way back to Frankfort, I remained a whole day at Würzburg, not without prejudice to my affairs, with the sole object of seeing you. But in vain. At Ratisbon I called almost each day of my stay without being admitted to you once, while to all the other Princes there I was admitted at

I could not but remember our pleasant intercourse during my former visit to the same city. Unable to wait upon you in person with my present offering, I send a special messenger with it, though little able to afford the expense. May he be the bearer back again of tidings of your welfare, and also of some benefit, so I venture to hope, for the humble individual who now addresses you. ... For in addition to the two orations I send herewith, I am meditating a further address on the subject of the crusade against the Turk. But I am compelled to implore your aid to enable me to bring it out. Long travel, and a long detention in this city, have entirely exhausted my ready money. I have the less misgiving as to meeting with refusal at your hands because I know you have at heart the cause in which I write, and have been told that you entertain a kindly feeling towards myself.'—H. Stephens to Bishop of Würzburg, dated Frankfort, Jan. 17, 1595.

Julius, Bishop of Würzburg and Duke of East Franconia, was one of the leaders of the Church reaction in Germany. He boasted that he had converted 100,000 souls during his episcopate ; and he might have added to the boast that no means had been left untried to effect these conversions. He affected the reputation of a patron of letters-that is, of Jesuit letters. He is habitually addressed by his protégés in the style of servile humility dear to the ears of small German potentates and Mæcenases. For Estienne in his old age to be a suitor, and an unsuccessful one, at the doors of such a man, was indeed a bitter humiliation.

This dreary last act of his life was closed by an unbefriended death. He was seized by his last malady at Lyons, while on one of his excursions. He had been paying a visit to Casaubon, not long removed to Montpellier, and was so far on his return. That he died in the public hospital, and in a state of mental alienation, are statements which have become, by the constant repetition of the biographers, part of the tradition of literature. It is quite time that the tradition should be revised. For the latter statement there is, happily, no foundation whatever; it arose entirely froin misunderstanding the words of Tollius, 'Opibus atque ipso etiam ingenio destitutus ... vitæ in nosocomio finem fecit' (" App. ad Valerian.' p. 76). Tollius meant to express that Estienne had before his death ceased to be his better self—was no longer the man he was. He meant, in short, what Casaubon himself




had often enough said long before Estienne's death. e. g. in 1596

g Casaubon thus writes to a friend: “That Rhodoman has been wronged by our good old man, I was grieved to hear. But so it is; if any one ever was a living illustration of the Greek proverb, dis maides oi yépovtes, it is he. I would rather say and think this than anything more harsh.' Indeed Tollius not only meant the same thing that Casaubon means, but, it appears to us, had no other authority for his statement than what he had gathered from Casaubon's letters. The same Tollius, and in the same passage, is the earliest authority for the death in the hospital. Tollius, a Dutch professor, writing nearly seventy years after Estienne's death, knew nothing of its circumstances but what he had read in books. In what book he had found this circumstance of the hospital we confess we have not been able to make out; but he did not find it in the notices of Estienne's death which occur in Casaubon's or Scaliger's letters. Yet his death at Lyons is repeatedly mentioned in these letters, in the monody written by his son Paul, and in De Thou's History. In none of these is a hint given of the misery of his death having been aggravated by its occurring in a public hospital. The only other apparently independent authority which has been produced is that of Colonia, in his 'Histoire Littéraire de Lyon,' ii. 608. We say apparently independent; for we are not quite sure that that Father is not giving us Tollius amplified with that latitude of invention which local history at that period allowed itself. We cannot, anyhow, allow great authority to an historian who sums up Estienne's life in these facts: that "he was driven from France for heresy, wandered a long time in Germany, was brought back by love of his country, and settled at Lyons, where he became a compositor in a printing-office, and even a printer himself.' From Casaubon's silence merely it cannot be concluded that the hospital is a tragic fiction; for, as M. Rénouard reminds us, it was nothing but the usual practice of travellers at that time, when they found themselves seriously ill, to cause themselves to be removed to the public hospital, where they could have nursing and attendance. It would be no evidence of destitution.

He was interred in the common cemetery near the Hôtel Dieu. A detachment of the burgher guard was obliged to turn out to protect the interment from the violence of the Catholic mob of Lyons, barbarised by the efforts of the religious confraternities. He was pursued beyond the grave by the especial hatred of the Catholic world. Of this a remarkable example has been perpetuated. It is not uncommon to find copies of the Thesaurus in our libraries, in which the name · Henricus Stephanus' has been carefully obliterated from the title-page and preface. A copy of the ‘Pindar' has been found in Spain, in the cover of which are written these words: 'H. Stephanus, autor damnatus, opus tamen hoc permissum.' And M. Rénouard had a copy of the · De Latinitate, &c.,' in which the author's name was erased wherever it occurred. In a copy of the Thesaurus in our possession, not only is the author's name pasted over, but where the name of Queen Elizabeth occurs in the dedication, it has been altered with a pen into 'Belsabeth.'


With all his many and yearly increasing faults, Henri Estienne was no sooner dead than it appeared his friends both valued and loved him. He died in the end of January, 1598, not the beginning of March, as De Thou, followed by all the biographers,

The news reached Casaubon at Montpellier February 2. Scaliger's few words of regret deserve the more prominence because no one was so keenly alive as the great critic to the presumptuous incapacity with which Estienne tampered with his Greek texts. He writes thus in May:

· His death is a great loss to Greek letters. You may say he might have done much more for them, if he had remained true to them, or true to himself. Indeed, I could not but regret his conduct while living, nor can I help regretting his loss now he is gone. I grieve that he did not produce what he might have produced ; I grieve again that I have lost a friend.'-Scaliger to Casaubon, May 16, 1598.

The books which Henry Stephens has left behind him to perpetuate his name may be arranged in three classes :-1. His editions of the Classics. 2. His own writings on the Greek and Latin languages. 3. His writings on the French language. A detailed discussion of his merits as a philologian we can hardly undertake in these pages. We shall be content to indicate their character in a few general terms.

We must observe that the reader will in vain consult the biographers for any such appreciation of Henry Stephens's philological performances. The vague expressions of admiration of his “ learning' and his science,' which the literary handbooks annex to his name, stand in unexplained contiguity to Scaliger's sentence of condemnation, 'H. S. omnes quotquot edidit libros, etiam meos, corrupit.' The fact is that Henry Stephens had that intimate familiarity with Greek idiom which can only be got by the incessant and exclusive occupation of the thoughts, early-begun, long-continued, with the forms, sounds, and habits of the language. Greek was to him not a foreign tongue, he had appropriated it. He thought in it and could speak it, he said, and had done so upon one occasion at Venice, with Michel Sophianos. This was his one and only acquirement in philology. Of the philosophy of speech, of its growth


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and etymology, he was as ignorant as he was destitute of poetical taste, and literary tact. Yet so perfect is his command, and so sure his feeling for the mechanism of a Greek construction, that those who use his books always find their admiration of this rare gift growing upon them, and come at last to understand how scholars like Schafer, Kuster, and Porson, speak of Henry Stephens with the deepest respect as · Vir summus.' It is only in time, and by the use of his editions, that this respect is acquired. When he treats a question of criticism he is another man; garrulous, irrelevant, anile, almost without exception. No one can help wishing that he had had the sense to take De Thou's advice to leave off writing and to stick to his editing.' Unfortunately he took the very opposite course.

He almost ceased to print Greek, and poured forth a stream of diatribes, each more impotent and futile than that which had preceded it.

Henry Stephens as a Greek scholar has hitherto met at the hands of his own countrymen with nothing but neglect-a neglect which the Academy Prize Essay will but perpetuate. As a French critic, however, he still holds a place even in popular Manuals of the history of their literature. The French have ever felt a lively interest in everything that concerns the growth of their own language. It is the province of philology which administers most directly to the national vanity. It is the only approach to what we call “scholarship,' which has received assiduous cultivation in France. From Du Bellay, whose . Illustration de la Langue Française' was published in 1549, downwards, their own speech has been a first object of solicitude on the part of those, who, from time to time, have taken the lead in the world of French letters. It would be impertinent in a foreigner to interpose his own opinion in a question of language. According to the best French authorities, the condition of the French tongue in the reign of Henri III. was something of the folJowing.

The Revival, introducing itself into France thirty years earlier, had excited the spontaneous action of the French mind, and presented to it a whole world of new objects and new forms. Both these presentations created an urgent necessity for expression. Latin, the language of the Church, of diplomacy, and of the professions, was there ready to hand. Accordingly it was in Latin that the new ideas and emotions first strove to vent themselves. But along with the new thoughts, the classical models had also inspired a new taste-the taste for beauty of form. Accordingly the Latin of the Church was transformed into new shapes, and invested with new colours, in order to satisfy this double instinct, and the labour of educated men was to express modern thoughts

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