Theodori Bezæ, Juvenilia.
CHAPTER I.
It is not always that the manuscripts of authors fall into good and faithful hands. He, the substance of whose history is now about to be given, would frequently make this observation, but he little thought what would be the ultimate destination of his own. Our friend was of a character somewhat singular; yet, like most other men, he had very mixed qualities. The world gave him credit for learning and talents; many of his productions were very favourably received, and extensively circulated. He did not, however, so much pride himself upon his reputation, as on the means by which he acquired it. From an humble origin and obscure situation, with many obstructions to remove, and great difficulties to overcome, he contrived to raise himself to honourable distinction, and might reckon among his acquaintance, at least, a large proportion of those individuals, who in the last fifty years excited curiosity and respect, from their station, their learning, and their abilities. He had substantial reasons to believe that Mr. Pitt thought favourably of him; he was patronized by Lord Chancellor Roslyn; he received kindness from the venerable Archbishop Moore. He expressed himself with emotions of the warmest gratitude towards Bishops Porteus, Barrington, Tomline, and Bathurst. He had frequent and familiar intercourse with the most learned men of his time; with Porson much, much with Burney, not a little with Dr. Parr, some with Dean Vincent, Dr. Maltby, Bishop Burgess, Professor Marsh, Professor Vince. The catalogue indeed might be far, though perhaps uselessly, extended.
Of some of the advantages which such connections promised, he did not avail himself as far as he might; others he turned to the best of purposes. He had always a weak and delicate constitution, which, aided by a sedentary life, excited a morbid sensibility, and occasioned an improper and timid distrust of himself, at times, and on occasions, when he most wanted self-confidence. This nervous weakness, which he often and deeply lamented, materially obstructed his elevation to situations of honour and of rank, to which certain of his qualifications seemed naturally to point the way, and the avenues to which, might eventually have been facilitated to him, by some at least of his high connections.
Notwithstanding these and other infirmities, a few friends loved him well. Among some of his better qualities, he possessed good conversation talents, talents he used to say not so much cultivated in this country as they ought, since they never fail to produce a powerful impression, and often outweigh more substantial and important endowments. Every man, he would assert, of the commonest observation, if he has lived at all in the world, must have much to remember which deserves communication. He was once urging this in his careless way, when he was reminded by a friend, whose judgment he much valued, that few were better qualified than himself, to produce from what he must have remembered, and was certainly able to communicate, a pleasing and a useful memorial of himself and his contemporaries; their entrance into and progress in life; their pursuits, successes, and disappointments. He promised to think of it, and it appears that he did so.
It is to be apprehended that some untoward circumstances, some mortifications or disappointments, clouds of duskier hue, attended him in the decline of life. He disappeared rather abruptly from among his friends.
One morn we missed him on the ’customed hill,
Along the heath, and near his favourite tree;
Another came, nor yet beside the rill,
Nor up the lawn, nor at the wood was he.