CONTENTS
TRANSCRIBER'S NOTE

A BIOGRAPHY

BY
G E O R G   E B E R S

TRANSLATED FROM THE GERMAN

BY
ZOE DANA UNDERHILL

WITH FRONTISPIECE

—AUTHORIZED EDITION—

NEW YORK
WILLIAM S. GOTTSBERGER, PUBLISHER
11 MURRAY STREET
1887


Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1887
by William S. Gottsberger
in the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington

{i}

My dear Johannes!

To you shall this biography be dedicated. As the eldest pupil of our master you have in a certain sense a right to it. From many conversations with you, and from your letters since his death, I have seen with what cheerful alacrity you were always prepared to recognize the great qualities of our Lepsius; and how often, behind your back, has the departed spoken warmly to me of your enthusiastic and self-sacrificing devotion to our science.

Accept this offering, then, as a slight countervailing gift for the many donations which you have bestowed upon me and every Egyptologist. Imitating the master’s example you have followed him to Egypt, and there, like him, undertaken the task of disclosing to your colleagues at home the wealth of unexplored inscriptions in which the temples and tombs of the Nile valley are still so rich. From hundreds of walls you have copied the pictorial and hieroglyphic decorations, and made them accessible for investigation by collecting them in convenient volumes. A stately row of{ii} folios,—yonder they stand and each contains cordial words which assure me of your faithful remembrance,—bears witness to your industry, the acuteness of your eye and intellect, and the precision of your hand. But few know what great sacrifices of comfort, sleep, health, and your own property, lie hidden within these volumes, for without assistance worth mentioning, either from the government or its chiefs, you, relying upon yourself alone, have achieved great results. You were aided by no firmans to afford you protection, no powerful patron to assume the cost of publication, no helpful fellow-traveller, as for years you made your way up the Nile far into the Sudān. Month after month have you been a self-invited guest of the god to whom the sanctuary of your choice was dedicated, you have passed the nights on a hard couch in a chamber of the temple which you desired to examine, and shared their scanty meal with the Arabs. To me it will ever be incomprehensible whence you derived the endurance to copy, through weeks of labor, the inscriptions on the walls of the tomb of Petuamenapt, the so-called bat sepulchre, while those misshapen creatures which dread the day extinguished your lights, flapped about you in swarms, and entangled themselves in that magnificent beard which procured for you among the Arabs the name of Abu Dakn (Father of the Beard).

But your endurance has borne admirable fruits. Through you and your works the inscriptions of the time of Ptolemy, formerly neglected, have for the first time received due honor. The keys to many mysteries{iii} lie concealed within them, and with what sagacity have you established the value of the enigmatical signs with which the priests during the Lagid period knew how to withdraw from the understanding of the multitude the mysteries to which they gave freer expression than their predecessors of earlier epochs. Golden Hathor of the beautiful countenance, under whose protection you spent such long months of privation, has endowed you with her dearest sanctuary, that of Dendera, entirely for your own, and Tehuti has aided you to apprehend correctly the fractional reckoning of the Egyptians, to determine many of their measures, and to make clear the division of the Egyptian land in ancient time.

It is a delight to offer a gift to such a giver, and if mine, my dear Johannes, pleases you, I shall be happy.

I have allowed neither diligence nor care to be lacking in its preparation, but nevertheless I should not have attained the goal which from the first I have had in view, if the family of the deceased had not committed to my use, with such great kindness and noble confidence, all the materials at their disposal. Of the greatest service have been the diaries of Mrs. Lepsius, her husband’s letters to her, to his parents, to Bunsen and many others, and the master’s own memoranda in the form of note-books and diaries, or on scraps of paper and in little books of poetry, in which are also included the poems of Abeken, the family friend.

The heads of the school, especially the principal,{iv} Professor Volkmann, as well as Professor Buchbinder, willingly furnished me with such information as I desired; memoirs and collections of letters already published helped me to make good many deficiencies, and where I wished to consult the records of public authorities I have everywhere met with a courtesy which merits thanks. I owe special acknowledgment for the many communications, both by letter and word of mouth, which I have received from the eldest son of the deceased, Professor R. Lepsius of Darmstadt.

As is natural, the principle materials have been drawn from the works of the master, and my own vivid memories of his character.

The index to his writings will, I think, be welcome to you and to many colleagues. To bring it to the perfection which he had desired was a task attended with many difficulties.

You must yourself judge whether the old adage “a pupil’s praise is lame,” is applicable to this biography. I am conscious of having handled my brush with love indeed, but also with all fidelity. On account of the great abundance of material there was far less need of original research than of sifting and selecting, and this had to be done with special pains and prudence in regard to the twenty-seven volumes of Mrs. Lepsius’ interesting diary.

I hope that you, the master’s eldest pupil, will miss, in this likeness painted by the hand of friendship, no essential trait of the dead who was dear to us both, and that you will find that the artist has introduced{v} into it no more of his own personality than may be permitted to an historian. He tenders you this book with affection, and knows that you will receive it in the same spirit from

Your very faithful,

Georg Ebers.

Leipsic, Easter, 1885.{vii}{vi}

{1}{viii}

the head master of Egyptology, closed his eyes during the past summer, and his departure has been deeply lamented, not only in our own country, but among scholars of all lands. The task of portraying his life has fallen to me, and this task I have willingly assumed, for I am—with the exception of my dear and excellent friend and colleague, Dümichen of Strasburg—the oldest of his pupils. Till his latter end an intimate untroubled friendship united me to the beloved master, the benevolent promoter of my studies, the colleague, the man who followed with sympathy my poetical as well as my scientific productions. His family have assisted me in the kindest manner by placing at my disposal everything left by the deceased which could possibly aid my purpose. Diaries, memorandum books, letters of great interest, were submitted to my inspection, and these abundant materials confirmed my conviction that the personality of a German scholar has seldom presented so rounded and happily balanced a whole as that of the man whose life it has devolved upon me to describe. In him are united all things which can be required of a scholar in the highest sense of the word, and hence his biographer, while depicting the development, the individuality, and the vast activity{2} of the man, can at the same time present to his nation such a model, such a beautiful type, of the German master of science, as is worthy of imitation.

In that great community which we call “the cultivated world,” and which has its home in every civilized land, the name of Richard Lepsius stands among those which are well known. Everyone within this circle knows, too, that he was a great Egyptologist. As one holds the diamonds in a king’s crown for genuine, even if he sees them only from afar, so one believes in the value and importance of the works of the celebrated scholar, although one may not even so much as know their titles, and although it is scarcely granted to one amongst ten thousand to comprehend them, or even to study them deeply.

The brief obituaries and biographical sketches published in the papers and periodicals shortly after the death of the great master, could give but a general idea of his labors, and yet these extended over many important domains of science, and his strong and firm hand laid the foundations upon which a long and varied series of future researches can and must be based.

It will be ours to show, in a way accessible and intelligible to every educated person, of what nature were the scientific achievements to which Lepsius owed his high and well-deserved honor and renown, and what a man the nation lost in him.

Georg Ebers.
{3}

Richard Charles Lepsius was born on the 23d of December, 1810, at Naumburg on the Saal, a pretty town which rises pleasantly from the grape-grown foothills of the Thuringian forest. Here he passed his childhood among circumstances than which none more favorable could have been imagined for the future scholar and antiquarian.

His father, afterwards President of the provincial court of justice and Privy Counsellor, was at that time Saxon Finance Procurator for the whole Thuringian district, and as such one of the leading men of the place and region. Naumburg is rich in fine buildings of the middle ages, and Charles Peter Lepsius, the father of young Richard, applied such leisure as his exacting occupations afforded him to searching out the history of these venerable monuments. It was he who founded the Thuringian-Saxon Archæological Society, the seat of which was subsequently removed to Halle, and the three volumes of his short papers testify to his zeal and ability as an investigator. He is represented as a strict and methodical official, of distinguished bearing, as well as an indefatigable worker; and precisely these qualities fell as a paternal inheritance to his son, and afterwards constituted the conditions of his greatness.{4}

Among those remarkable men who have compassed high aims by means of marked qualities of temperament or of the imaginative faculty, the maternal influence has usually predominated, while in those cases where strength and acuteness of intellect have made a man great, the paternal character has commonly had most weight. A poet like Goethe, a man of faith like Augustine, a Napoleon Bonaparte, whose imagination transgressed all limits, owed what was best in them to their mothers; the mind of a Lepsius, severe, never seeking after uncertainties, but always inclined to profound research, must be an inheritance from the father.

Throughout Thuringia and Saxony all who were interested in antiquities were connected with the archæologists and founders of the society at Naumburg, the air of the house in which the boy grew up was permeated with historical and antiquarian interests, and its master early permitted his son to take part in those occupations which he himself could only pursue as an amateur, and yet to which his tastes so entirely inclined. Thus it is easy to understand how the Minister of Finance, as soon as he recognized the scientific bent of his son, did everything to further it and to make of his child what he himself, under more favorable circumstances, might have become: a great investigator to whom science should be all and everything, the end and aim of existence, in short, the vocation of life.{5}

Circumstances facilitated the attainment of this purpose, for in the immediate vicinity of Naumburg was situated an excellent educational institution which, at the time when young Lepsius was received among its pupils, had already long attained that flourishing condition in which it still rejoices.

Private teachers had given him his first instruction under the direction of his father, and at Easter, 1823, he was already, as a boy of twelve, qualified for admission to the school, which begins with the third class of the Prussian gymnasiums. At that time Ilgen was principal of the school, but Professor Lange, his tutor, seems to have exerted a stronger influence than he over the pupils. The latter became principal after the departure of Lepsius in 1831, but unfortunately died a few months after assuming office. He is the only one of all his teachers whom Lepsius especially mentions in the biography attached to his “dissertation” and it is true that this man exercised a marked influence over his gifted pupil by his moral fervor, his great learning and spirited interpretations of the old classic writers.

Professor Koberstein had come to the school three years before Lepsius, and had introduced new life into the teaching of German. He understood how to interest the pupils in ancient and mediæval high German, and after the fashion of Tieck he read German{6} and Shakespearian dramas at his own house in the evenings to a select circle. How greatly Lepsius was affected by the instruction of this able pedagogue and scholar may be seen from the so-called valedictory theme which he was obliged to compose and hand in before his departure, according to the custom in the school at that time. This painstaking essay, unusually mature for a lad of eighteen, handles the following subject, selected by himself: “On the Influence which must be Exerted on the Tendency of Philology in General, and Especially of Classic Philology, by the Most Recent Methods of Treating German Grammar, and the Universal Comparison of Languages Arising from this and the Wider Knowledge of Sanscrit.” It appears from the little sketch of his life appended to this essay that Koberstein had also given Lepsius special instruction in ancient German and Italian. “The time which I spent with you will ever appear to me the bright spot of my life here,” writes the pupil, on his departure from the excellent institution which he long remembered with affection and gratitude.

And he had reason to be grateful to Koberstein, for in the valedictory theme mentioned above and composed under his auspices we see indicated, as it were, the path which, after much groping and many essays, the studies of Lepsius were finally to follow.

With him, as with so many others, a vigorous individuality had, even in his school-days, exerted a decisive influence upon his subsequent intellectual tendencies. The elder Lepsius, the antiquarian, and{7} Koberstein the accomplished linguist, indicated to their son and pupil from afar the goal for which he afterwards strove, it was reserved for others to be the guides who should determine and direct him thither.

At Easter, 1829, Lepsius, then seventeen years old, passed the final examination with the general certificate I., and left the school with a body invigorated by the merry games of boyhood on the gymnastic-ground and skating-pond and in the swimming-school, with a mind well prepared for every study, and a thorough mastery of the old classical languages.

How dear the school had been to him is shown by the following verses, taken from the farewell poem which he dedicated to it:

His father who, as president of the provincial court and commissioner for the examinations previous to matriculation, was a person of influence with the directors of the school, had desired that in the final scrutiny the performances of his son should be no more indulgently judged than those of every other alumnus. After Richard had been honored with the I., Ilgen wrote to his father in the following reassuring manner, having first announced the results of the examination: “You must on no account imagine that you are under obligations to any one. I assure you for my part that I would have done as I have, even if you were my worst enemy, and that I have only acted according to my conscience, as you may hear from Neue and Jacobi.”

It need not be said that young Lepsius was among the most prominent pupils of the institution. On the king’s birthday, on the third of August, 1826, the task of composing and delivering a poem in honor of the festival was imposed upon him. He chose for his subject “Albert of Babenberge,” and handled it, skilfully enough, in the Nibelungen stanza.

He derived great pleasure, in after days, from poetical composition, and although he ardently devoted himself to science from the very first, yet among the poems lying before us many a gay song bears witness to the vivacity of his youthful spirit.{9}

The elder Lepsius kept most of the letters which his son wrote him from Leipsic, where he began his studies. They show how earnestly he took hold of the matter from the start, and how attentively the president of the court at Naumburg watched not only the practical daily life, but also the scientific activity of his son. The methodical official wished to be informed as to the expenditure of every groschen which he allowed his son, and the accounts accompanying the student’s letters show us how cheaply it was possible to live in Leipsic some fifty years ago. A good dinner, with soup, roast, and salad or compote, cost three groschen, Richard thought the morning coffee too dear at a groschen, the beer at dinner for fourteen days came to seven groschen, a room at the inn for one night was three groschen, a pat (half-pound) of butter was two groschen, three pfennigs. However, the hard-working student seems to have been absolved from this exact rendering of accounts in the third term, but it had been of great advantage to him, for it would have been impossible for him to bring the greatest of his subsequent works to such a successful issue, or indeed to produce them at all, without the strict sense of order which he had acquired both by inheritance and training. For example, after his return from Egypt he was able without the slightest error to join and fit into{10} their proper places the thousands of sheets of paper with which he had taken impressions of the inscriptions. This shows a painstaking exactness in the marking and numbering of each leaf such as had been practised by no previous traveller, not even by Champollion and Rosellini, in whose works errors are by no means rare.

From the first, it was clear to him that he wished to study philology, but he hesitated for some time as to what course he should pursue afterwards. He had presented himself at the proper time, but in those days the professors took things easily. Godfrey Hermann, of whom he had the highest expectations, only began to lecture after Whitsuntide, “most of the others, such as Beck, Rost, Nobbe, Weiske, only at the beginning of June.” The first course of lectures which he attended was Wachsmuth’s “Universal History.” “I was much pleased,” he writes to his father, “with his introduction, in which he expressed his views on the exposition of the general conception, on the division and proper treatment of history. He has besides an agreeable fluent delivery, and a very pleasant voice. Yet his public lectures on Roman History, which followed immediately, were almost more interesting to me. Here his discourse is perfectly unfettered, because he has already laid his foundations in the preceding lectures on Universal History. Roman History is a department to which he has given special attention, and in the treatment of which he repeatedly differs from those views of Niebuhr’s which have introduced a new epoch. On this account it is very inter{11}esting to hear him criticise Niebuhr, of whom, however, he speaks with the greatest respect.”

The philosopher Krug he had imagined as quite a different person and much younger. He writes to his father of him: “He has the face of an old philosopher, and it is so beset with solemn wrinkles that at first I could not reconcile it with the biting satirical wit which one finds in his writings. His eyes, however, are very brilliant, and they wander perpetually over the ceiling as if he were unaware of the presence of auditors, during the quiet almost monotonous, but pointed discourse, in which he never blunders or hesitates for a syllable.”

From what might be called the more fortuitous selection of the other courses of lectures which he attended, it is apparent with how little consciousness of his ultimate goal he began his studies, and he makes his father the confidant of his indecision. The interesting letter of the seventh of August, 1829, which we give herewith, shows the young aspirant for the right path in the best light, and proves that he had just discerned in the great philologist, Godfrey Hermann, the man in Leipsic from whom he had most to gain.

Before the end of his first term he writes to his father in this letter:

This letter, certainly unusually mature and thoughtful for a lad of eighteen, is followed by many others, from which we may see how judiciously Lepsius knew how to divide his time, with what diligence he not only attended lectures, but also twice a day read Greek and Roman classics with his friend Schweckendieck for hours, and still found time to practise music, play chess and visit socially, a welcome guest, among families of good standing in Leipsic. Shortly before the outbreak of the revolution of July, there was a significant fermentation among the German students. After the momentous Carlsbad Decrees, and in consequence of the “Executive Order” carried through by Metternich, the University was placed under political supervision “for the security of public order.” Thus it became not only dangerous to take an active share in the movement for liberty, but even to have any close intercourse with a fellow-student who was suspected of having taken part in “seditious intrigues,” and what were not so styled by the wretched oppressors of political liberty during the supremacy of Metternich’s influence?

How anxious must the Naumburg Landrath have felt when he learned that an older fellow-student of his son’s, of whom the latter wrote to him with great warmth, was involved in demagogic alliances in his native city of Brunswick, at that time a centre of the political dissatisfaction which was soon to lead to the{16} expulsion of Duke Charles. This singularly talented man, named Silberschmidt, was ten years older than young Richard, and had interested him greatly. He had an eventful life behind him, and was so thoroughly at home in the most diverse departments of science, that Lepsius described him to his father as a “universal genius.” In his nine-and-twentieth year he began to study law, had essayed all possible branches of literature, had been page to the King of Westphalia in Cassel, huntsman and fencing-master, said he had studied in Giessen, written a dissertation “On the Immortality of the Soul,” a book on the art of fencing, many dramas, reviews, etc., and called himself also the author of a work on chess. Lepsius who, even as a student, was already an able chess-player, recognized in his fellow-lodger one of the greatest masters of this noble game, and when he visited Silberschmidt in his apartment the latter showed him a very remarkable testimonial. It contained a certificate from the parish of Ströbeck, in Halberstadt, that it had been beaten at chess by Silberschmidt. This was subscribed by the local town magistrate, and stamped with the seal of the parish. The parish in question enjoyed a wide celebrity on account of its chess playing, in which every peasant was a master, and in which even the boys had to pass an examination. Old electoral foundations had endowed the people of Ströbeck with great privileges and possessions on account of their skill in this game. They had never been beaten until Silberschmidt had appeared to conquer them. A Jew from Bruns{17}wick had also told Richard’s landlord that his remarkable new friend was the most famous of all living chess-players. As he also proved to be “pleasant, and anything but conceited,” and showed himself “an industrious man of excellent moral principles, and at the same time always cheerful and interesting in his conversation,” Richard supposed he could derive nothing but benefit from intercourse with him. All that he writes to his father of the Brunswicker proves the brilliant talents of the latter, but also shows that he tried to win his younger fellow-student by boasting. Silberschmidt had spoken to Lepsius about his demagogic associations, and as soon as the father had warned his son against this dangerous man, Richard knew how to withdraw from the connection with tact and address. Here, as in every similar case, the youth, scarcely past his boyhood, shows himself entirely submissive to the superior wisdom of his father, and at the same time he already evinces the discretion which he afterwards exhibited in every position in which he was placed during a long life in the midst of the world, where there could not fail to be conflicts and collisions of every kind.

At the end of the second term at Leipsic he debated with his father whether he should not exchange the Leipsic University for another, and in this consultation also we see him weigh the pros and cons with a clear head and great circumspection. To Leipsic he was attached by many a good comrade and many a pleasant family, from whom he had received kindness, and beneath whose roof he had sung and danced and been{18} treated like a son of the house. Of the academic instructors, Hermann alone detained him on the Pleisse, and as the latter intended to travel during the coming summer term, he decided on a change of University. At first his father had some objection, we can no longer fathom what, to Göttingen, whither Richard most desired to go. He therefore weighed Berlin, to which he was particularly attracted by Böeckh, Lachmann, C. Ritter and Bopp, against Bonn, where he had the highest expectations of Welcker and Niebuhr. In his last letter from Leipsic the son decides for the Rhenish University, but during the vacation, which brought him and his father once more together, he seems to have succeeded in inducing the latter to accede to his desire to enter the Georgia Augusta, and so we see him, in the spring of 1830, proceed to Göttingen by way of Eisenach and Cassel, where he saw Spohr conduct a performance of “The White Lady.”

On the eight of May Lepsius arrived in Göttingen, and found good lodgings with the tailor, Volkmann, 129 Kurze Street. For fellow-lodger he had again his friend Schweckendieck of Leipsic, with whom he continued to work and to read Greek and Latin classics. He took with him excellent letters of introduction to those professors of whom he expected most, Otfried Müller, Dissen, and the Grimms, and was thus received{19} by them in the kindest manner. During the first term he attended the lectures of Dissen, on Universal Science; of Müller, on Archaeology and Thucydides; of J. Grimm, on Ancient Law, and of Beneke, on the Poems of Walter von der Vogelweide.

All that he writes to his father concerning the more illustrious of his teachers, is interesting enough. It shows us how here in Göttingen, and especially through listening to and associating with Otfried Müller, Dissen, and the Grimms, science was revealed to him in a new and clearer light. We observe, too, how his mind became accustomed to take cognizance of a subject as a whole, and to its fullest extent, and yet preserve due regard to details; how he acquired his esthetic ideals, and how he laid the foundation for those works which were afterwards to make him famous, not only in philology, but also in history, the history of art, and mythology.

His first visit was paid to the excellent scholar and sufferer, G. L. Dissen, the illustrious editor of Pindar, Tibullus and Demosthenes.

“I can give you briefly,” he tells his father, “what I noted down of Dissen’s views on my return from him. ‘Above all else,’ he said, ‘the time has come to elevate hermenentics, the advanced science of exegesis, for the old poets as well as prose writers, to a higher standard. Up to this time scholars have usually been content to expound the words in their grammatical connection, and according to their significance in the dictionary or by the rules of syntax. They have sought to discover{20} the meaning of detached passages, or perhaps the nexus sententiarum. But they have neither recognized nor expressed in a sufficient manner the inestimable superiority of the Greek language especially, in the perfect correspondence between thought and form,—in the possibility of easily reproducing the least modulation of thought by an appropriate adaptation of the expression. Nor have they known how to detect the deep technical design, the economy of words, of poems, of choral songs, which can be shown everywhere, and which is executed with admirable poetical perfection, as well as with severe logical art. Yet the superiority of the ancients consists precisely in this, that in their works they develop in admirable harmony these two powers, lofty poetic inspiration in the conception, and clear, penetrating judgment in the execution. It is just this that separates them from the poesy of to-day, in which one side is almost always cultivated at the expense of the other. Classic poetry and the whole of classic literature is not yet, by any means, valued as it should be, and it is now incumbent upon hermenentics to instruct us therein, and to exhibit in detail all the treasures of classical literature to their profoundest depths. Such commentaries as are at present written upon the ancients usually contain explanations of isolated words, and matters which often have but a very slight connection with the text. They consist for the most part of general remarks on grammar, and are compiled from collectanea. Such dull and lifeless handiwork should at least be abandoned to those who{21} can attain no higher standpoint of science; but the higher hermenentics must proceed from the basis of grammatical knowledge, which is requisite in every case, to point out in their works the genius and art of the ancients. A correct understanding of the separate parts can only be attained by steadily keeping in view the essential order, the fundamental idea, and it can be proved repeatedly with regard to Hermann that he has neglected this in his writings and commentaries, or he would have perceived that often, in a chorus, the notes to strophe and anti-strophe contradict each other. Pindar especially must be treated in this way.” Lepsius then describes the law which Dissen thinks he has found to be observed, in an analogous manner, through all the poems of Pindar.

“I was also received very cordially,” writes Richard to his father, “by O. Müller. He is just such a man as I had expected, and that is saying a great deal; his whole external appearance, even, corresponded amazingly to the idea which I had formed of him. This morning he depicted himself most aptly in describing the Greek character. He is at the same time earnest and vivacious, enthusiastic and calm, imaginative and lucid. This is, of course, most applicable to the manner in which he expresses himself in his lectures, yet his whole character is so transparently manifested in them, especially in the first lectures on the archaeology of art, that it is safe to draw conclusions thence as to all other relations. He has besides an almost ideally fine figure, an expressive countenance which ex{22}hibits real humanity, and a distinct, sonorous voice. His lectures are almost entirely extemporaneous, as far as the subject permits, enthusiastic, yet calm too, clear and convincing.”

Jacob Grimm he calls a “very kind-hearted, unaffected man. This is apparent in everything. He is also prodigiously learned in every possible direction, but yet, it seems, very easily embarrassed in expressing himself, perhaps because he does not yet feel at home among the affectations of Göttingen life.” Later he learned to esteem the brothers Grimm more and more highly, and met with the most cordial reception in their house. “Eight days ago,” he writes to his father, “I dined with the Grimms, and I cannot praise the family enough to you. The whole family are simplicity and affection personified, and it is especially funny to see these two men forget all their immense learning, and play with their little Hermann, until the mother really becomes quite troubled lest he should be spoiled. William, the husband, is still more agreeable and easy in conversation,” (than Jacob).

In Otfried Müller’s Seminary, to which he, as well as his friends Schweckendieck and Gravenhorst, was admitted, he reaped an abundant intellectual harvest, and the Göttingen Philological Society, into which he had been received as a member, was also of great benefit to him. This consisted of seven or eight of the best young philologists, elected by vote, who met once every week (on Tuesdays, at half past seven o’clock). They began by discussing some critical paper presented by a{23} member, often in the presence of O. Müller. This was submitted for inspection to each member, who was free to make remarks upon it, and defend his own views. The business of the society was then transacted, and finally they all sat sociably together, engaged in pleasant and serious conversation, and cosily enjoyed their beer and tobacco, both of which the society was bound to furnish. Lepsius informs his father that he, who always before expected to play the persona muta, to his astonishment here became a homo disputax, which he did not indeed, in its full sense, exactly desire, but which still appeared to him a much more interesting role than that of the persona muta.

Upon the whole, Müller, in Göttingen, exerted the deepest and most lasting influence over him. Thus while, in Leipsic, he had still hesitated whether he should devote himself to the grammatical or the archaeological division of philology, he here decided in favor of the latter, although without entirely losing sight of the former. No other scholar of that time had such a lofty and far-reaching apprehension of archaeology as Otfried Müller, and hence we see Lepsius allow himself to be locked in daily for hours, in order to trace on transparent paper the copper-plates from all the works which had at that time appeared on the architecture and plastic art of the ancients. He wished to make their forms his own, and to retain them in his possession, even if in the unsatisfactory shape of copies. The architectural pictures thus traced he afterwards copied at home.{24}

All that Müller had to offer the students, whether in the lecture-room, in the seminary, or by personal intercourse, was received by Lepsius with enthusiasm, and at the close of the term, he wrote to his father: “To-morrow Müller will finish the historical portion of his archaeology, and thus once more lies fully extended before my vision a new branch of science, which, if any so deserves, should be called the very flower of science. It is fostered, too, with such unusual care as none other receives, and rejoices in such noble foundations as the Institute for Archaeological Correspondence, which, for two years, has been under the patronage of our Crown Prince (afterwards Frederick William IV.). The Central Board of Directors are in Rome, and thence it extends over the whole of northern Europe, with the co-operation of almost all eminent scholars and experts. Its results in the various departments of science are recorded in several languages, and within a few weeks are spread abroad from Syracuse to Belt, from Paris to Petersburg. So that any one should indeed be accounted fortunate who is in a position to obtain even a superficial comprehension of the whole of this immeasurable field, whose boundaries cannot even be discerned, if we have regard only to the material yet to be obtained. For even such comprehension will furnish the means for a more thorough understanding and farther progress.”

To secure these very means, he continued to work hard under O. Müller’s direction. Yet he could not, at that time, foresee that he himself was destined, first to{25} enter into close connection with that Archaeological Institute at Rome of which he writes to his father, and finally to be chosen one of its directors.

In Göttingen also he was a welcome guest in some of the best professors’ families, and his refined and reticent nature led him, as he wrote to his father, to prefer social intercourse in pleasant families, and profitable communion with one or two friends, even to the assemblies of the Philological Society, where he took little pleasure in the rough comradeship and the enforced intimacy with many a young fellow with whom he had really little in common.

Whenever a superior artistic performance was produced, he know how to profit by it here, as he had done before during his stay in Berlin. When Paganini came to Göttingen, he and Schweckendieck took a seat together (it cost a thaler and a half), and he went to the second half of the concert after his friend had enjoyed the first. “It would be useless,” he writes, “to try to describe in any way Paganini’s playing. One can only comprehend the nature and method of such playing while he is actually playing; afterwards one loses sight of nearly every measuring scale that could be applied to it, in order to retain it in the imagination.”

His interest in politics had also been excited by the revolution of July, and in order to follow political events and changes, he subscribed, at that time, to the Hamburg Correspondent. He prudently keeps out of the way of the Brunswicker Silberschmidt, who was in{26}volved in “seditious intrigues,” when he meets him again in Göttingen, and mentions that by his fellow-students, who almost universally called themselves “Republicans,” he was accounted a Conservative and aristocrat, on account of his well-known monarchial tendencies.

During a pedestrian tour in the long vacation of 1830, which took him into the Hartz, to Hanover, etc., he was to become witness of an historical incident, and soon afterwards, at Göttingen, to be an onlooker at a revolution.

Unfortunately, the limits of this biography forbid our giving in full the letters addressed to his father by the active young wanderer through the Hartz, so susceptible to all that was beautiful or remarkable. We can only mention here his experiences in and around Brunswick. He had been invited thither by Gravenhorst, his fellow-student at Göttingen, whose parents were to be his hosts. His travelling-companions separated from him at Blankenburg, and he had still nine post-miles to travel alone. “As I walked on the ‘Faust’ which I had brought with me luckily occurred to me, and for the rest of the way I occupied myself with learning some of the scenes by heart, which shortened the road wonderfully. Meanwhile the Brocken was brewing behind me, soon the whole range was enveloped in thick mist, and thick rain clouds gathered, which were driven towards me by a violent wind. It was indeed a splendid sight as the storm came on, but it inspired me with no very pleasant anticipations of the{27} time when it should reach me, and now I regularly began to run a race with the rain, which came more from one side; twice it actually caught me, another time I could only escape it by hard running. So it happened that I got over four post-miles in four hours without once stopping, and I should soon have finished the fifth when a postilion called to me to ask whether I would not like to ride back with him to Brunswick in an hour.” The young traveller accepted the offer, and sat down in the inn to wait for the conveyance. “While I,” he writes, “sat with a glass of beer at the big oaken table, knapsack and stick beside me, reading this poem of all poems (Faust), this poem which unites the heights and depths of human life, conceived and represented by such a genius, one by one there assembled at this and a neighboring table some wagoners, a tipsy shopkeeper, and some mechanics, who entertained themselves after their own fashion, talked politics, railed, and so formed an incomparable foreground to some of the scenes in Faust. The events at Brunswick particularly were represented and criticized in the most glaring and original colors; in short, my Faust played upon a stage such as could scarcely be found again.”

After this prelude, he was himself to take part, at Brunswick, in the conclusion of the tragic-comic revolutionary drama which occurred there. The father of his friend, Gravenhorst, was chief of police, and in the hospitable house of this man, who had been concerned as an active participant in all the phases of the expulsion and reinstatement of the Duke, Lepsius had a good{28} opportunity to obtain an authentic account of all that had happened.

“Naturally,” writes the young traveller, “the conversation fell chiefly on present events, which, however, interested me none the less, because I had long been well acquainted with them, and was now here on the very spot, besides being in the house of the chief of police, where we received each of the fresh reports, which crowded in every hour, at first hand and in the most trustworthy manner. No excess had occurred beyond the burning of the castle (at the expulsion of the Duke Charles in 1830), ... but all the lamps had been smashed and several of the windows. I will copy for you some of the lampoons, of which Gravenhorst has fifty or sixty, as they all have to be handed in here. You may see from them the universal feeling against ‘Charley,’ as he is called, the former Duke. The rage against him was, and still is, indescribable, but it is completely justified against such a scum of all humanity. Fortunately (and a sign, too, that the burning of the castle did not proceed from the mob, which is notorious here), there was rescued from the fire one chest alone, with private papers and books, amongst which the black and the blue book are especially noticeable. In one are recorded all the officials, and beside the names are remarks by the Duke in his own handwriting, such as ‘dog,’ ‘blockhead,’ ‘must be worried to death,’ ‘he shall be invited, allow to stand for three hours in the ante-chamber, and then told it was a mistake,’ ‘he is to be provoked to a duel until he sends a{29} challenge, then dismissed,[2] etc.’ Beside all the police officials stood three crosses, beside Gravenhorst and his brother-in-law, Langerfeldt, four. Gravenhorst’s successor had also already been decided on. In the other book was the record of the secret police, and an autograph essay on the best mode of tyrannizing, in which there are the most abominable things, such as one would not credit if the majority of the maxims had not been already carried out in detail. I could repeat a hundred anecdotes of him which are all notorious here, but are not known abroad; they all show that the Duke, in his miserable, tyrannical life, was not only a man devoid of all heart, but also actually without common-sense. By this you may measure the fury with which all the inhabitants of Brunswick were filled when it came at last to acts of violence, and the rejoicing with which William,[3] the brother of the banished Charles, and the last scion of the house, is received here.”

The reception which was prepared for the new Duke seems indeed to have been especially cordial. While the deputies delivered the address to the new prince, Lepsius saw the populace rejoicing and singing the LaFayette hymn, and Götte,[4] “with all his coarseness, a very droll man,” quietly submit to the honors which were heaped upon him. “They wanted to go{30} back to Richmond in crowds, and Götte gave out songs which were to be sung there. The Duke’s answer to the address was read amid great rejoicings. Every one was carried away by the happiest hopes of the future. Then they flocked to Richmond. The Duke was still at dinner. Permission was requested to sing the song: “Hail to Thee, William.” The Duke came out with General Hertzberg and several others, and remained standing during the whole song, which was sung by the crowd to a musical accompaniment. He then caused several citizens of consideration, who stood near, to be summoned, conversed graciously with them, etc. The rejoicing is indescribable, and the Brunswick ladies especially take the most active part in it all.”

An illumination was announced for the evening, and as Lepsius’ friends, who were members of the city militia, had to patrol, he also, to his delight, took a gun{31} over his shoulder, and as an impromptu soldier, accompanied them through the brightly-lighted streets, unobserved and unmolested. The main guard, where the patrol finally came to anchor, was stationed on the old market-place, just opposite to the very beautifully-illuminated town-hall. Here he first listened to several remarkable narratives, and then heard them sing the so-called “ballad,” a satirical poem on the banished Duke Charles. The author himself, a goldsmith, sang the verses, and the whole chorus joined in the refrain, “Go ahead slowly!” It sounded very well. The first verse of this song, which in every respect was very moderate, ran thus:

The last stanza greets the new Duke thus:

Richard copied off this song of nine stanzas, as well as all the documents relating to the Duke’s expulsion which he could get possession of, and sent the copies to his father. He was in the habit of thus col{32}lecting and writing out in his letters all that he thought could possibly give pleasure to his family in Naumburg. He maintained throughout his whole life this affectionate endeavor to show his gratitude to his father and to requite his love with deeds. He wished him not only to sympathize with his serious labors, but also to participate in everything amusing which he encountered, and to this category belonged the following verse, which he found on a sandstone pillar in the mill-stone quarry at Mansfield:

During his fourth term (the second at Göttingen), Lepsius attended the lectures of O. Müller on Grecian Antiquities, Persius and Juvenal; of Dissen, on the oratio pro corona of Demosthenes; of Heeren, on the History of the European States, and of Ewald, on the Elements of Sanscrit. This language, indispensable for the linguist, and whose importance for the philologist also he had recognized even when at school, he had wished to study in Leipzig, but had not before been able to find time for it. He became one of H. Ewald’s most industrious pupils, though at first only with a view to general comparative philology, to which he now intended to devote himself with special zeal, in addition to his archaeological and historical studies. “Ewald,” he writes, “reads his Sanscrit Grammar in{33} his room before five or six hearers, a great advantage for us, for he has an extremely low voice, though at the same time he speaks with extraordinary clearness and correctness. As I have always taken special interest in general comparative philology, I am so much the more delighted that Ewald enters into this largely, and does not always confine himself to Sanscrit. He by no means adheres strictly to Bopp’s Grammar. A great deal he gives in a more general way, and many things more briefly, and, as is always the case in oral teaching, everything more plainly: in Bopp, too, one finds nothing of comparison with other languages.” When Lepsius wrote these words, and even after his first meeting with Bopp in Berlin, he did not foresee that this was the scholar to whom he should afterwards be indebted for his own method in this very science of comparative philology.

The winter term, begun with great enthusiasm, was to meet with an unexpected interruption, for in December, 1830, the noted Göttingen revolution broke out. Richard, indeed only witnessed it as an impartial spectator, but it was followed by the closing of the lecture-rooms and the expulsion of many students. Even Lepsius could only escape this order with difficulty, under many conditions, and after his patrons and instructors had interceded for him. He naturally describes the “Göttingen Revolution” most minutely to his father, and his first letter on this subject we annex as an appendix to these pages.[5]{34}

During the time that the government prohibited the professors from lecturing, Lepsius pursued the studies which he had commenced with undiminished assiduity, and he says in his letters that the closer personal intercourse with the instructors amply compensated him for the suspended lectures.

In the following summer term of 1831, his fifth, he attended, and always with the same enthusiasm, O. Müller’s lectures on Archaeology, on Grecian Antiquities, and on Tragic Art among the Greeks and its interpretation of the Homeric Hymns. He continued to follow Mitscherlich’s exposition of the Pharsalia of Lucan, and pursued Sanscrit with Ewald. He advanced the study of this important language so far into the foreground of his scientific labors that he placed himself in open opposition to the old philological school. This he did in conjunction with the two friends who, with himself, composed the clover leaf of Ewald’s auditory. In the spirit of F. A. Wolf, and encouraged by O. Müller, he wished to become acquainted with ancient humanity, not only in its entity but also in its development. He was no longer contented with learning Greek and Latin, and although his admiration was still excited by Hermann’s rational presentation of the grammar according to the principles of Kant, the elegance and acuteness of his criticism, and his original investigations in the domain of metric art, yet he nevertheless desired to follow his lead no longer, but had turned his attention to antiquity in its universal and interdependent evolution. His object{35} was to trace out the origin of the ancient languages and their relation to each other, and the growth and blossoming of the art and intellectual life of the ancients. Therefore, under Ewald’s tuition, he became a Sanscrit scholar and a comparative linguist, under the guidance of O. Müller, an archaeologist who was also interested in comparative mythology, and, powerfully influenced by Heeren and Dahlmann, a historian. If we picture to ourselves the nature of the scientific aspirations of our friend, and the advances which he had made, we can only wonder that even at Göttingen he had not already turned his eyes towards Egypt, where many a branch of the art and learning of the ancients has its root.

Nevertheless, as we shall see, he was to be led thither by external circumstances, which at the time, however, coincided with his own inclinations.

He attended Dahlmann’s course on “Ancient History,” and wrote of him to his father: “He pleases me extremely; he is just as far from giving a dry skeleton of the chief events, without grasping history in its higher significance, as he is from serving up generalities and conclusions based upon theories instead of facts. An upright mind, and an earnest nature which must inspire respect, are united in him to the clear penetrating sagacity which sifts a subject and seizes its essential points. This makes him as skillful and pre-eminent in scientific research in the domain of ancient history as he is in the study of the politics of the most recent times, with which he principally and most suc{36}cessfully occupies his remaining time. His mode of presenting his theme is especially distinguished by a perfect command and critical examination of the very extensive subject-matter, whose most important periods he understands how to characterize and place in the proper light in brief yet apposite phrases. His discourse is distinguished by quiet, clear, singularly fine, indeed classical language, not a word too much or too little.”

We know no more happy sketch of the excellent Dahlmann as an academical teacher.

Dissen, whose influence had especially attached Lepsius to classical philology at Göttingen, had become so ill that he could offer him but little more. Besides, the pupil had been more and more alienated from the excellent, but irritable and feeble scholar, by his doctrinary and over-subtle mode of systematizing. “Unfortunately,” he writes, “Dissen is not yet at all restored to health; he suffers from excessive weakness and sleeplessness. As he often feels very lonely and depressed through the night, he frequently has some of the students with whom he is more intimately acquainted to sit up with him. He lies on the sofa with his clothes on and has something read aloud to him, or converses with them, till now and then he catches a little nap. I shall go there to-day or to-morrow, and Kreiss, who has offered to do the same, is in great distress about it, because he inevitably falls asleep about ten o’clock, even when he is reading aloud. Dissen considers himself sicker now than he really is, by which he only makes his sickness worse.{37}”

This opinion was mistaken, and was proved to be so by the painful end of the distinguished scholar.[6]

In the autumn of 1831, at the conclusion of this fruitful summer term, Lepsius begged his father for permission to follow his best friend, Kreiss, to his home at Strasburg, in Alsace, and to pass the holidays there in the house of Kreiss’s parents. Just at this time the court president had incurred great expenses, yet he was willing to comply with his son’s wish, if the latter could assure him that he expected to derive substantial scientific advantages from the proposed journey.

“As I am well acquainted,” runs the answer, “with your present circumstances of which you write, and how all your expenses accumulate just at this time, it would be foolish and very wrong of me to expect from you any considerable sum for a pure pleasure trip. You yourself make your permission dependent upon your firm conviction that I shall derive from this trip great, and not trifling, gains for my scientific as well as for my general education, and indeed on a moderate sum. Of the former I cannot say so much, since the literary advantages will be confined to the diligent, and let us hope, more intelligent and judicious consideration of the treasures of art on the way, and whatever chance may possibly throw into my hands at the library in Strasburg. But I cannot overlook the indirect benefit, dependent upon forming the acquaintance of so many learned men, which must conduce to{38} advancement in my general culture. For I may well say that this lies no less near to my heart, and has always done so, than purely philological progress; indeed, I have always regarded them as quite inseparable, one completing and sustaining the other. But if I can say of none of my former excursions that they were mere pleasure trips, from which I derived no substantial benefit, still less would it be true of this next one, to which I should address myself with better preparation and more knowledge than to any previous journey. Besides, I could neither make up for it in the future, during my final years of study, when my time will be still more limited, nor could I ever again expect to meet so good an opportunity.”

Lepsius remained faithful to this desire for general culture throughout his later years, and it preserved the indefatigable investigator, who was often obliged to devote the best part of his time and energy to apparently trivial scientific problems, from becoming, even in the remotest degree, what is called a closet scholar.

Unfortunately we have before us only the lesser half of the account which he sent his father of this autumn journey to Strasburg and his sojourn there. This, however, is sufficient to show with what vigilance he seized on everything that was noteworthy, what a keen appreciation he had acquired, under the tuition of O. Müller, for art and all that is classed under the head of relics of antiquity, and how indefatigably he searched the libraries for their stores of knowledge. Wherever he went, too, he considered it especially{39} desirable to make the acquaintance of eminent men, and to establish relations with them. Of books, characteristically enough, he took none with him but Müller’s Handbook of Archaeology and Ewald’s work on Sanscrit. He was an active pedestrian, but the hard work of the last term was visible on his originally robust physique, for after he had claimed at Mainz the hospitality of a cousin of his father’s the latter wrote to the president of the court at Naumburg: “Moreover, I cannot conceal from you that friend Richard looks thinner now than he did three years ago.[7] His pedestrian tour from Göttingen here cannot be to blame, therefore I have made inquiries of H. Kreiss as to the cause of it, and learned from him that he (Richard) is in the habit of studying far into the night. This never answers, and undermines the best constitution; so warn him against it, for it would be a great pity if with all his talents and the learning which he has already acquired, he should carry away an infirm body.”

Lepsius fortunately escaped this danger, in spite of rather increased than diminished application during the final terms, which were devoted to the completion of his studies.

The journey to Strasburg also took him through Heidelberg. Here he sought out those scholars who{40} had inspired him with interest, and described them to his father in concise and pointed language. Excellent is the likeness which he sketched of Creuzer, the author of the “Symbolism and Mythology of Ancient Nations.” This work was at that time highly esteemed, but was really inaccurate and worthless, in spite of the pains spent upon it, and an imaginative faculty which was unfortunately too easily excited. Not in vain had Lepsius enjoyed the teaching of the author of the “Prologomena to a Scientific Mythology” (O. Müller). “Dr. Hitzig,” he writes, “we did not find at home. We found Creuzer, though, whom I had fancied quite a different sort of person; he left an unpleasant impression upon me, with his peruke and snuff-box. I could not discover a single intellectual trait in the expression of his countenance, nothing in his eye, which could have helped me to excuse his well-known presumptuous and mystifying treatment of mythology. I found in his character a certain frivolous pedantry, and far too much self-confidence. We talked of archaeology; he put on great airs, without manifesting much wisdom; he found fault with O. Müller’s hand-book for having too much in it!”

After his return from Strasburg, Lepsius went back to Göttingen, and in the spring of 1832 he removed thence to Berlin, there to conclude his studies. The{41} testimonials which he received at his departure did him the highest honor. Otfried Müller said, that he had attended his lectures with remarkable diligence, and an unmistakable love for the subject; that he had participated with “philological intelligence and talent” in the exercises of the school of philology, and had, in general, given to that subject “arduous study, guided by scientific ideas.” Jacob Grimm commended him as having gained a comprehensive survey of philology, and already acquired much well-grounded knowledge of that science. Ewald said he had followed his lectures with praiseworthy diligence and zeal, and had made great progress in the study of Sanscrit. Dahlmann praised his industry warmly, and added that Lepsius had also become known to him as making most laudable progress on the path of scientific and moral culture.

With such testimonials, and thus excellently equipped, he came to Berlin in the beginning of May, 1832. Here he had the pleasure of again meeting his friends and fellow-students of Göttingen—Kreiss and Ehrhardt. The three now clubbed together to keep house.

At first he gave but qualified approval to the leaders of philological life in Berlin, Boeckh and Lachmann, and even to Bopp. With the latter, however, in the course of time he entered into closer relations, and afterwards, in our own presence, called him the founder of his linguistic method. He had been spoiled at Göttingen by Müller, Dahlmann and Heeren, who united the most brilliant eloquence to profound and{42} far-seeing intellects. His reverence for the immortal achievements of Boeckh had been shaken, first in Leipsic by Hermann, who was always glad to give a cut at his Berlin colleagues in his lectures,[8] and afterwards by Dissen. Later, he entirely regained his respect for the great erudition, the sound criticism, the statesmanlike views, the excellent method, and the noble character of this rare scholar and man. Even Schleiermacher did not fully answer his expectations. He only attended the lectures on the History of German Literature because Lachman was dreaded as an examiner in this branch of study, and it was said that he was accustomed to “chaff” those students who were not well prepared. “He reads very disagreeably, but he gives good things, and fortunately I had previously formed a still worse idea of him—from the description of others.” He attended the lectures on the History of Greek Literature by Boeckh, “and because one really misses the best less among bad than among good, I miss our Otfried Müller especially in this course. For I am firmly convinced that Boeckh, although his teacher, does not by any means approach him. Yet they are, as they are reputed to be, good lectures. In the afternoons from four to five I hear Comparative Grammar by Bopp, a lifeless, dull dis{43}course, in which the arrangement of the material is never clear and workmanlike. In many fundamental views however, on the formation of the main stem, I have always been much more of his than of Grimm’s or Müller’s opinion, and on this account he interests me greatly, although Müller’s lectures on the History of the Greek and Latin languages were infinitely more copious and satisfactory than these can ever be. But in his own house Bopp is an agreeable man, by whose vast and profound learning I hope to benefit farther.”

This Lepsius did, and to his great advantage, for at that time Bopp, whose lectures were indeed lifeless and tiresome (we too were among his pupils), was at the acme of his great activity, and had raised comparative philology to the rank of a science. We should rather call him the promoter than, as is commonly done, the father of this branch of study, which had indeed an existence, although an irregular one, before his time. His method, which was determinative for subsequent works in the same field, set aside, as idle pastime, the attractive search for and comparison of accidental resemblances between the sounds in different languages, and taught that the common origin of allied idioms should be sought for in a radical manner by examination of their grammatical construction.

When Lepsius came to Berlin, Bopp was working with his whole energy on his imperishable colossal work, the “Comparative Grammar,” and exercised far greater influence over such well-equipped young scholars as sought personal acquaintance with him,{44} than through his stiff academic discourses. Lepsius first learned to thoroughly appreciate him and to benefit by his exuberant learning after he had entered into intimate private relations with the master, to whom, as far as comparative philology is concerned, young Lepsius’ teacher at Göttingen was also greatly indebted.

From his letters to his father it appears that it was chiefly the lack of that method of exposition to which he had become accustomed in Göttingen, and which was in every respect consummate, that led Richard more than once to undervalue the Berlin professors, and even the excellent Boeckh. He attended Schleiermacher’s lectures on the “Life of Jesus,” in order to have heard at least one theological course, and to learn to know the man. But these lectures too, although for other reasons, found little favor with him. “Schleiermacher,” he writes, “gives in his Life of Jesus nothing but negative dialectics, and to me he is a living contradiction from beginning to end.”

He speaks most unfavorably of the school of philology as it existed at that time in Berlin, under the management of Boeckh and Lachmann. “A frightful confusion is the order of the day here, and it is scarcely to be compared with that at Göttingen. So that it would not have occurred to me to enter, if in spite of all this they did not think so highly of it here. They translate Herodotus (in my opinion a very unsuitable choice for such a school), and the odes of Horace, and hold discussions over papers which are handed in, and difficult passages which are propounded.{45}”

In truth the lectures had little more to offer him, for he already stood firmly upon his own feet, and had learned both how to avail himself of the works of his instructors and to labor independently in an assured and methodic manner. Besides, his time was much taken up with his dissertation for the doctor’s degree. He had found for this a theme as interesting as it was difficult, and we may be permitted to point out how he came to select it, and to whom he was indebted for special assistance in the execution of his task.

First let it be noted that the famous Eugubian Tablets are seven plates of copper, which were found in 1444 in a subterranean vault (concameratio subterranea), and are now preserved in the town hall of Gubbio (the Eugubium or Iguvium of the ancients). The inscriptions with which the tablets are covered are partly based upon the Umbrian and partly on the Latin language. Where the latter is employed as the language of the text Latin letters are used, but otherwise the letters of a peculiar alphabet. These inscriptions are the oldest of all ancient Italian monuments of language, and with their help it has become possible to reproduce a good part of the old Umbrian language. Their contents furnish important disclosures as to the forms of worship and the sacrificial customs of the heathen Umbrians. The liturgical fragments make us acquainted with the hymns and liturgies which were to be recited or sung by the priests. The Saturnian metre and many alliterations have been found again in them. The old dialect which forms the basis of the Umbrian{46} inscriptions seems to belong to the fourth century before Christ.

Bonarota and Lanzi (1789) had given their attention to these tablets, and they were afterwards treated by O. Müller in his “Etruscans,” and there for the first time handled in a critical though by no means exhaustive manner. On the 30th of December, 1831, Lepsius, while yet at Göttingen, writes to his father: “I have found an excellent subject for investigation. Müller first drew my attention to it, and if I can make anything out of it I will perhaps choose it for my doctor’s dissertation. It is the seven Eugubian Tablets, the sole but important relic of the Umbrian language. So far, no one understands them, but they would be of the greatest consequence for the old Italian forms of worship and sacrificial customs, since it is easy to conjecture that the inscriptions upon them are sacrificial formulas. Müller has already attempted to determine the terminations of some of the declensions in his “Etruscans;” a considerable resemblance to the Latin and also to the Greek, is unmistakable, and I am convinced that a great deal can yet be made out, though it would cost much time and labor. With regard to this, it is of great moment that five of the tablets are in Etruscan characters, and two in Latin, which gives a clue to the relations of many of the sounds in Umbrian, especially since there are an extraordinary number of repititions, and both the Latin tablets, as I have already discovered, are only the farther continuation of an Etruscan, so that I have already made out almost all{47} the words of this Etruscan tablet on those in Latin, and written them over the Latin words. I have also already discovered two new alphabetical characters which were known neither to Müller nor the earlier commentators on the ‘Eugubian Tablets.’” Thereupon he gives his father a specimen, in which he writes the Latin text in black ink and the Etruscan above it in red.

While in Berlin he became more and more deeply absorbed in the Eugubian Tablets, and from the letters at our disposal it appears that even before going there he had decided positively to discuss these remarkable monuments of language in his doctor’s dissertation. A few days after his arrival on the Spree he appeals to the legal knowledge of his father and his familiarity with the form of mediaeval contracts, to decide a question which seems to him of importance for the work on which he is engaged. In the town hall at Gubbio there was preserved a contract of sale of the year 1456 which set forth that the city had acquired seven tablets from the owner, at a high price. Since the contract was concluded only twelve years after the discovery, it seemed to follow that no more than seven tablets had been discovered; and as Lepsius now believed that more than seven tablets had been originally found, he took the contract for one of those counterfeits which were not uncommon in Italy. He now wished to know whether any marks of a counterfeit could be detected in the form, and on this account sent a copy of the contract to his father.{48}

Amongst the professors of his faculty there was none whose advice Lepsius wished to ask in this matter, but he received welcome assistance from a lawyer. This was C. A. K. Klenze, an unusually talented scholar and noble philanthropist who, besides important works on law, had also written those excellent philological “Dissertations,” which were afterwards published by Lachmann. Lepsius had already made the acquaintance of Klenze in Göttingen, he sought him out in Berlin, and could soon write to his father: “He handles Oscan subjects as I do Umbrian. The two are nearly related, and he has had the courtesy to let me see in manuscript a treatise which is shortly to appear in print, and to allow me to make use of as much of it as I think best. In return I am to give him my opinion of his work, which is very flattering for me.”

The arrival in Berlin of the distinguished archaeologist, Gerhard, at that time Secretary of the great Archaeological Institute at Rome, was of great advantage to Lepsius, not only with regard to the progress of his dissertation, but also in many other respects. He met Richard’s friend, Kreiss, at Professor Steffens’, and told him that on his (Gerhard’s) way through Göttingen, Otfried Müller had spoken to him of the Eugubian work of a very promising young scholar, to whom he would gladly be of service. In consequence of this Lepsius called on him, “and he,” so Richard writes to Naumburg, “kindly gave me much interesting information, showed me his drawings, and promised to attend to any inquiries that I might wish to have made in{49} Gubbio. Of these there were of course plenty. I wrote them all out in Latin on a sheet of paper, and as soon as I brought it to him he sent it to Vermiglioli in Perugia, which is only a few hours distant from Gubbio. I may have an answer in six weeks. But if they take an entire new transcript of the tables, which I asked for afterwards, it cannot be so soon.”

The further intercourse which he at this time enjoyed with Gerhard was afterwards to prove most useful to him. But he could not yet know how favorable it was also to be for his material prosperity, when he wrote after a three hours visit to the celebrated archaeologist, just before the examination, “Truly very precious time just now, and yet well spent.” In the middle of January, 1833, Gerhard invited him to assist him in the publication and exposition of his copious collections for the Archaeological Institute. He also engaged him as assistant on a review concerning the history of art which he intended to publish in Germany. Lepsius’ work was to consist mainly in reading over the epigraphic department of archaeology, and selecting what was noteworthy, which he would have done at any rate on his own account. He was to put it in readable shape, and let himself be paid. This prospect of lucrative literary employment after the close of the examination delighted Lepsius as much as did the invitation to write short papers for the Bulletino of the Institute, chiefly on Umbrian coins and mythological subjects, which he could consider as a side-work to the more important work on the Eugubian Tablets.{50}

What Lepsius showed Gerhard of his dissertation[9] pleased the latter exceedingly, and after it was finally completed and handed in to the Faculty it was received by that body also with such commendation and unqualified approval that it won for the candidate the highest testimonial. This work, as solid as it is ingenious, is dedicated to his father, and it soon contributed, more than anything else, to attract the attention of eminent men to the son, and prove him qualified to continue the labors of the great decipherer of hieroglyphics, Champollion.

In the prescribed disputation his opponents were the DR. JUR. Goeschen, the DR. PHIL. Kaempf, and the CAND. PHIL. Gottheiner. In his eleventh thesis, he honored Godfrey Hermann, his old teacher at Leipsic, by maintaining that his was the only correct interpretation of the three hundred and fifty-seventh verse of the Agamemnon of Aeschylus.[10]

On the twenty-third of April his uncle Glaeser wrote to his father, “To make up for these cares (concerning the practical matters of the graduation) I have had the greatest pleasure, one of the most delightful moments of my life, when, after two o’clock, my Richard came home accompanied by one of his friends and opponents, and I could greet him as Doctor, and embrace him with the happiest emotions. We sat{51} down together and drank a bottle of the very best. Yesterday evening I gave him his doctor’s banquet, and we were all as merry as possible together till two o’clock. Believe me truly, my dearest brother, if Richard, in addition to his scientific training, had not this practical savoir faire, he would never have made his way so easily and quickly through this wilderness of cares of all sorts.”

Lepsius had now completed his life as a student, and with the highest honors which the greatest of the German universities could bestow. He was a sound philologist, archaeologist, Sanscrit scholar and linguist, but at no time had he given any thorough study to the Oriental-Semitic languages, and he had paid no attention whatever to the Hamitic (ancient Egyptian, Coptic, etc). His neglect of the former was often afterwards an embarrassment and matter of regret to him; of the latter he became an expert master after the formal completion of his studies, in consequence of notable circumstances with which we are about to become acquainted.

Before the close of the examination Richard had already written admirable letters to his father, in which he consulted with him, as one friend would with another, as to what he should do after graduating. Paris{52} was at that time still esteemed the centre of learning, and to work for a time in Paris was to give one’s studies the final polish and to place the crown upon them. Even Lepsius had yet much to gain there, and therefore we see the father grant his consent that the young doctor should bring his apprenticeship to a final close upon the Seine.

He arrived in Paris on the fourteenth of July, 1833, a year after the death of Champollion, the first decipherer of hieroglyphics. The diary which he kept during his residence there, (in after years he only made occasional short notes in memorandum books arranged as calendars), as well as the letters to Bunsen which were kept to the very last fragment, and the less perfectly preserved letters to his father, all testify to the zeal, the discretion, the cheerful courage, and the alert attention with which he made use of his long sojourn in what was then the “focus of the intellectual life of the world.”

The period spent in Paris had a still more decisive influence upon him than that at Göttingen. During this time the youth matured into a settled man; his scientific inclination received a new bias, and its objects became plainly defined.

Champollion had said, in his introductory lecture, that the science of archaeology was a beautiful maiden without a dower. This aphorism was at that time entirely appropriate, yet not only the young scholar himself, but his father also, knew the wonderful charms of the bride, and every possible exertion was made by{53} both, to win her for the ardent wooer. The “court president” in Naumburg was an official of the higher class, in good standing, with moderate property, and many children, nevertheless he allowed his highly gifted son the necessary means with which to remain for a time in Paris and devote himself, free from care, to his scientific education. But the young investigator felt that he would not have attained his purpose at the end of the “several months” which his father had originally contemplated. He did not wish to leave France or its capital, until he had gained all that was there to be won, and especially (this he insists upon repeatedly), not until he had acquired perfect command of the French language. In order to earn the necessary means for a longer stay he at first thought of translating into French his vademecum, Otfried Müller’s Handbook of Archaeology, which, to him, was such a dear and familiar friend. But this undertaking was not carried out, and he began by giving German lessons to two renowned scholars. From one of them, Dureau de la Malle, membre de l’Institute, whom he calls a specimen of a dissipated, frivolous Frenchman, he received five francs an hour, from the excellent De Witte only four. “He learns more for his four francs than the other for his five.” Meanwhile the desired opportunity soon presented itself for earning in a suitable manner the necessary addition to the yearly allowance from his father. The learned Duc de Luynes, “such a duke as is seldom seen, a ἀυὴρ καλὸς κἀγαθὸς in the fullest sense, who is also well-versed in the classi{54}cal languages,” commissioned Lepsius to collect for him from the Greek and Latin authors the material which he needed for his archaeological-philological work. “On the Weapons of the Ancients.” Lepsius received a handsome monthly salary for this work, which he could easily manage in addition to his other studies, and he executed it so entirely to the satisfaction of the duke that the latter afterwards awarded him special remuneration.

Lepsius was now in such a position that he could conveniently, and without material anxieties, profit by all that Paris offered in the way of instruction, and at the same time participate in all the intellectual pleasures of life in the capital. We see him working indefatigably in his pleasant apartment, and in his leisure hours enjoying the society of his friends and playing on his own good piano. He was very musical and sang well and correctly. The public libraries and museums are at his disposal, and he makes diligent use of them; private collections are also opened to him, and he attends the lectures of the most eminent professors at the university. Those of the great philologist and archaeologist, Letronne, appear to him particularly attractive, and among them one especially “On the Ancient History of Egypt.” He praises these lectures for their great critical acumen and clearness, and declares that Letronne takes pleasure in contradicting everything not capable of proof, and in denying all earlier influence of Egypt upon Greece, (before Psammetik. Twenty-Sixth Dynasty.) Letronne only accepted what was indisputa{55}ble of Champollion’s discoveries, and it was he who especially roused and fostered in Lepsius the distrust which he too bore towards the great investigator, and which caused him to hesitate about entertaining Bunsen’s proposition that he should devote himself to Egyptology.

Alexander von Humboldt, with whom he had become acquainted in Berlin, had commended him warmly to the celebrated philologist, Hase, and from him and others he had received excellent introductions. He was highly esteemed also by the members of the Institute, on account of his admirable first work. Thus he was enabled to make the acquaintance of the greatest Orientalists, philologists and archaeologists of France, and was most cordially received by Silvestre de Sacy, Quatre-Mère de Quincy, Raynouard, Raoul-Rochette, the Duc de Luynes, etc. He became intimate with Panofka, and the learned Stahl, secretary of the Asiatic Society, invited him to drink German beer in his apartment. This man he calls “a paragon of the learning of the whole world.” “He may be called greedy in regard to time and knowledge. He sleeps seven hours, cooks his dinner,—a little rice,—himself, spends almost no time at all on all the externals of life, such as eating, dressing, shaving, visiting, etc., and all the moments thus gained he spends in study. He knows a host of Asiatic languages, Chinese among others, and almost all the European, is incredibly conversant with the history and geography of all countries and times, as well{56} as with all literatures, swims and fences very well, is a sturdy pedestrian, conducts the whole Asiatic correspondence, etc.” Yet, “this phenomenon of learning” had been in nowise distinguished at school, and had usually occupied the lowest places there. A genius he cannot call him, for his power of original production has suffered from his erudition, and with all his attainments he has never written any complete work. But Lepsius understood how to learn from him, and obtained through him an insight into the construction of Chinese. Stahl’s opinion, that among the Chinese as also among several uncivilized nations, intellectual conceptions were developed before sensuous, seems to Lepsius entirely contrary to reason; and he only apprehends from this that we have become acquainted with the intellectual culture of the Chinese at a very late, and consequently intellectually abstract, period.

He seeks to profit by the learning of other Parisian scholars, as well as by Stahl’s surpassing erudition. Amongst the noted Germans with whom he associated on the Seine, he names Wagen, the historian of art from Berlin, Müntz, Himly, Urlichs, the painter Bonterweck, Tix, Dübner, Stickel, Spach, the Alsatian Lobstein, and the historian Zinkeisen.

He also devoted many precious hours to learning engraving on copper and lithography. He used his first independent attempt in the art of engraving on copper, (the central portion of the plan of Paris), to adorn the sheets of letter paper on which he wrote home to his family, and on this neat engraving he{57} marked in fine writing the houses which he most frequented, the museum of the Louvre, the Library, the Institute, the two restaurants where he usually took his meals, and even the dwellings of Panofka, Müntz, and Count de Bouge, between whose wife and himself a charming friendship existed, and whose salon he often visited on Sunday.

As if he already foresaw at that time to what an extent he would afterwards have to call upon these reproductive arts for his scientific work, he wrote, after taking home with him the first lithographic stone for the purpose of drawing upon it: “There are many advantages in investigating the technique of every prominent branch of art and science, even if I do not need to make use of lithography later for my own inscriptions.”

But this he did, and if the publications which were prepared for him by this method of reduplication surpass all others in neatness and beauty, it should be credited to the score of the technical knowledge which he acquired in Paris.

There, also, he committed to paper his first musical compositions. A song, written by himself, which he set to music with an accompaniment, was followed by others, for at that time he everywhere kept up his proficiency in this art, and particularly while in Paris. Not only the antiquarian collections, but also the exhibitions of new paintings and statuary were constantly visited, and, no less frequently, the theatre. His diary shows with what quick sympathy and keen judgment he lis{58}tened to tragedies, comedies, and opera. The representation of French tragedy is most severely censured. “The performance of Corneille’s Cid was bad beyond measure, and fearfully French.... The players of to-day, who act Corneille and Racine, have preserved nothing of the tragic art but the tragic mask, and this they fasten on behind instead of in front, so as not to hide their lovely French faces.” The only one who compelled his unlimited admiration was Mars, who, as an old woman of sixty-eight, at that time filled the most youthful roles with admirable sweetness and naiveté. Montrose and Mademoiselle Dupont he also rates very highly. He bestows the warmest encomiums on the Cirque Olympique, conducted by Loiset. “Here is actual art, not only feats of skill. Painters and sculptors should come here to study, as Phidias and the Grecian sculptors did in their gymnasiums. Superb figures are displayed here, and strength, dexterity, freedom and ease are combined with real beauty of form, such as one vainly seeks in the ballet. Our ballet has almost lost rank as an art; the sole laudable exception is Taglioni, whom I have seen here in the Sylphide, and admired, as I did in Berlin. If any one wished to fashion a worthy statue of Terpsichore it might perhaps be possible from Noblet, Foncisy and all the rest of them, to construct a passable pair of legs: it would only be necessary to take a cast of Taglioni, and there you would have it in perfection.”

All that is beautiful and remarkable in Paris passes under the vigilant eye of this indefatigable scholar. He{59} is active as collector, student and investigator, and during the latter part of the time in a department of science which had till then been as good as unknown to him. But he is also busy with both hands and brain in earning meat to go with his bread, and in producing a new and difficult original work. We see him attend public festivals, ride out into the country, examine every corner of the city, give his attention to the industries of the Parisians, go to parties and salons as a welcome guest, sing and play with friends, and through all this we can trace the progress of an essay on Sanscrit palaeography from which was afterwards developed the excellent treatise on “Palaeography as a Means of Etymological Research.”[11] For this,—an almost unheard-of honor,—the youth of three and twenty receives the Volney prize.

He says, at a later period, that Paris was always to him a city rich in interest, instruction and manifold benefits. During his first sojourn there it appeared to him “in one respect” (undoubtedly in respect to the animation and refinement of social life,) “the capital of the world.” But in spite of his youth Lepsius in no wise allowed himself to be dazzled by the glittering aspects of French life. It was in the public libraries that he first became sensible of the drawbacks in the conditions of the Parisians. “The management of the libraries is abominable,” he writes, “no zeal, no knowledge, not even good-will. Miserable officials, lack of{60} everything that is not French. It is true that I am spoiled by the Göttingen and Berlin libraries, etc.”

Since that time many improvements have been made in these institutions. The special attention given to them by Lepsius was of use to him as “Chief Librarian,” in the evening of his life.

From the first he had devoted himself with great ardor to the study of the French language. But, although he was pleased with his progress, he did not allow himself to be blinded in this regard either, and, after he had spent four months in the cultivation of his French style, he wrote, “A Frenchman only needs to think correctly and truly, and he is sure to write properly and well; in German a good style is far more difficult, for there one must know all the deeps and shallows not to steer crookedly or clumsily, or even run aground. The French language is a level surface, and one slips along as if skating on ice; the German language has depths over which it is more dangerous and requires more skill to steer, but one can go farther on it. When water is deep and moves rapidly it never freezes, and neither does the boundless sea. So the German with his language can make the whole world his own; the Frenchman is restricted to his mirror-like surface. One must cherish one’s hatred against everything French not to lose one’s own depth. As soon as one takes pleasure in French things one’s spirit rests on enervating down feathers. Yet one should always learn, even from one’s enemies.”

Lepsius took the most lively interest in every event{61} of importance that occurred during the time of his sojourn in Paris. He devotes a large space in his diary to the great popular festival, celebrated on the anniversary of the Revolution, from the twenty-seventh to the twenty-ninth of July, 1843, and to the unveiling of the statue of Napoleon on the Vendôme column. This took place on the second day of the grand festival. The statue was enveloped in a green cloth, besprinkled with stars. “The impression made by the unveiling,” he writes, (and we gladly make room here for the account, both for its own sake and as a specimen of the German style of young Lepsius,) “the impression, especially amidst these surroundings, was very striking. Above this seething mass, these convulsions of a struggling mob, this shouting and quarrelling, this motley throng, this glittering of military display, there suddenly appeared, not like a rock in the sea, (to which possibly the column might have been compared,) but like a supernatural power, the calm, majestic presence of Napoleon. What can produce a greater impression than the power of a mind which manifests itself in a composed bearing and a commanding expression, face to face with the unruly passions of similar human spirits?”

In these words he presents to us the ideal of his life, and we shall see how well he himself ever succeeded in preserving such a commanding attitude towards unruly passions. “This expression of command,” he continues, “is still grander than the great yet inanimate nature, which is sometimes admired in contrast with{62} nature, or even humanity, in a state of excitement. A like impression, too, was unconsciously depicted on every face, and a general shout, ‘Vive l’Empereur! Vive Napoleon!’ burst from the innumerable throng, which really seemed for a moment entirely to forget the oppressive present. For one moment every lineament expressed admiration, pleasure, satisfaction.” Then he describes how Louis Philippe conducted the review, and continues, “However, not the least enthusiasm was manifested for him, which, in my opinion, is mainly owing to his personality. His external appearance presents nothing that is at all imposing, nothing attractive; no intellectual power of any sort is expressed in his figure or his face; he impresses you as a stout citizen, returning thanks for the great honor which is done him. And yet here in France, if anywhere, at least a semblance of intrinsic greatness is needed for the eyes of the people, since the mystic vail of royal greatness has so entirely fallen from the head of the citizen king. As the king rode past one only heard a clamor, such as springs from gratified curiosity.” From this festival, as Lepsius describes it, can be inferred the historical events which must of necessity occur later: the expulsion of Louis Philippe and the acclamation of a Napoleon to the French throne.

With the appearance of the citizen king Lepsius’ exalted frame of mind is dissipated, and he tries to fix the note which he can designate as prevalent in the general din. With the aid of the interval between the lowest note of his own voice and the sound which{63} formed the key-note of the clamor, he found it to be the treble e. Thus does the spirit of research ever demand her due of him. The linguist everywhere scrutinizes the value and significance of sounds and tones. He does not disdain to amuse himself with them occasionally, and to determine the relation between them and other perceptions of the senses. “O,” he writes at one time in his diary, “seems to me brown, a, light blue, e, colorless, a clear faint color, i, bright yellow.” At that time, while writing his essay on Sanscrit palaeography, he thought he discerned that in all languages the vowels had formed themselves by degrees, like colors, from the a, but that originally there had been no distinction between vowels and consonants. The words, he thought, had been divided according to their sounds, in such a way that each consonant with the vowel which followed it constituted an inseparable whole. Hence in Sanscrit a originally was even considered as a consonant, or rather as a combination of the Greek Spiritus lenis and the a which necessarily followed it.

In Paris Lepsius is at first a linguist solely, and does not concern himself with Egyptological studies. But by the end of October, through Panofka, he is first invited to come to Italy in the name of Gerhard, who had kept him in mind since their meeting in Berlin, and then he receives a letter from the Alsatian Lobstein, who had met him in Paris, and who has been authorized by Bunsen and also by Kellermann to make him a serious proposition to come to Rome. There he is first{64} to busy himself with a collection of Umbrian, Oscan, and Etruscan inscriptions, for which his dissertation would seem especially to qualify him, and secondly to devote himself seriously to the study of the writing and language of the ancient Egyptians. The first proposal is entirely acceptable to him from the beginning, although it is only for the sake of completeness that he will include in his corpus inscriptionem the Etruscan inscriptions, on the deciphering of which “many a man may yet wear out his teeth.” The second proposition, on the contrary, causes him the most serious deliberation. It is true that Gerhard, through whom he had been most warmly commended to Bunsen, had already in Berlin urged him to the study of hieroglyphics, and had assured him that he should himself undertake it if he were but younger. It is also true that he felt his own powers had now become fit to cope with the greatest difficulties, but yet it seemed to him advisable to await the appearance of Champollion’s grammar, in order to learn how the matter actually stood. He could thence gather and decide whether the foundations had been so well laid that by rational and scientific investigation he should really be able to accomplish something substantial on a field which, with the exception of Champollion himself, had up to that time been almost exclusively occupied by bunglers and incompetent dilettanti.

The prudence with which the youth of three and twenty proceeded in this important question of his life, is most remarkable. In the letters which he addressed to his father, in order to obtain his advice, he sets forth{65} clearly and exhaustively all the reasons on both sides. Bunsen, from whom these proposals emanate, is a person of great influence, and if he, Lepsius, finds Champollion’s preparatory work satisfactory, and it is possible to realize his patron’s plan of finally entrusting him with the direction of the fine Egyptian collection at Berlin, there then opens before him the prospect of an assured future, as far as the material circumstances of life are concerned. This it is usually far more difficult for an archaeologist and philologist to secure than for a grammarian and teacher. He would not be content, he writes, to gain his livelihood by book-writing. He had already written to his father from Berlin, March thirteenth, 1833, “I do not know whether I should have any special talent for the profession of teaching, since I have never yet tried it, and even if I should adopt it, from inclination, and with the expectation of finding contentment in it, yet, in truth, it is not a great career.” If he can hope, (thus he continues to write to his father, after Bunsen’s invitation,) to find in Egyptology a satisfactory field for research, and if Bunsen can give him in advance the most positive prospect of the patronage of the Prussian government, and the hope of afterwards obtaining an appointment in the fine Egyptian collection at Berlin, then he will decide to go to Rome, and to turn his studies in the new direction which Bunsen desires; but otherwise not.

His father could only assent to his doubts and deliberations, and so, on December twelfth, 1833, the son wrote to Bunsen the following letter, which was to give{66} both to his studies and his life a tendency so peculiarly propitious for his character and talents.

“The kind confidence which, judging by an invitation lately sent me through H. Lobstein, you appear to feel in my abilities, has aroused in me no less pleasure than serious doubts as to how far I may myself confide in my own powers. I in no wise mistake the importance of these doubts, especially at my age and in my circumstances. How I shall solve the problem of life depends chiefly on their right or wrong solution, and therefore, as long as they are still unsettled, every impulse from without is of infinite moment to the whole inner life and aspiration. You could neither be aware of the soil on which your words, perhaps but carelessly meant, had fallen, nor still less of the connection in which they stand with my own inclinations and mental tendency. It is not as if I had previously entertained the idea of attempting the deciphering of hieroglyphics; rather, till now, I have been chiefly attracted towards archaeology and general comparative philology, upon the broader field of that science to which, in any case I had resolved to devote myself. Although these did not give me much prospect of an assured livelihood for the future, yet I wished to prosecute the two studies together in Paris, because they have so many points in common, and indeed seem to me in their essential substance to form a more perfect whole. Then latterly I was led by chance to a subject which attracted me more the farther I pursued it, and at last prompted me to collect the results in a short treatise which I am about to have{67} published in Berlin. This treatise is immediately concerned with palaeographic researches into Sanscrit writing, but I was soon led from the peculiarities of this writing, which in many respects is wonderfully consonant with nature, to more universal palaeographic laws. I found myself forced at last, by the subject itself, to express my views on the organic and essentially necessary connection between writing and language considered in their broadest relation, and on the value of a scientific palaeography in the investigation of language. Indeed, I could not refrain, at the close, from referring to Egypt itself, where there seems to open such a splendid and fertile field for this new science as never before in Europe, or even in Asia. Thus, on one hand, I am attracted by the idea of an Egyptian palaeography which cannot possibly be sought for except in accordance with the universal laws of writing and language, and therefore must be capable of rational scientific treatment. Yet, on the other hand, I cannot avoid noticing the special obstacles, of other than a scientific kind, which present themselves, and particularly the precarious direction which might be permanently given to my studies by an over-hasty decision. It is true that on this path also archaeology and comparative philology would be the guides and companions whom I should most desire. But in their Egyptian costume they would probably be still less able to secure me a settled position in life, than in their Greek and Roman dress, unless, in that case, I might consider myself assured of substantial assistance from the government, and of a{68} situation in the public service in case I succeeded in fulfilling all reasonable expectations. But if this were possible, and, above all, if I had become convinced by examination of the authorities hitherto accessible, and especially of Champollion’s grammar, that the foundations had been so laid as to give hope of greater results to be attained by conscientious and scientific treatment, then I would gladly devote all my ability, time and energy to a subject, the advancement of which may rightly lay claim to the most universal interest, although the handling of it at present can only fall to the lot of a favored few.”

Bunsen sent an encouraging answer to this letter, which, like the diary and the letters to Father Lepsius, did not deviate by one hair’s breadth from the true circumstances and inclination of the writer. After the young philologist and archaeologist had satisfied himself that new researches might indeed be profitably based upon the preparatory work of Champollion, and that great results could perhaps be attained in the field of science thrown open by him, he decided thenceforth to devote himself with all his energy to the study of Egyptology.

It is now time for us to cast a glance at this new science, and to point out how far it had progressed, at the time when Lepsius first commenced to devote himself to it and to continue the labors of Champollion, who had died shortly before his arrival in Paris.{69}

For nearly fifteen hundred years all direct knowledge of the hieroglyphic writing of the ancient Egyptians had been lost, and nothing more was known of the monuments of the time of the Pharaohs than was incidentally mentioned by classic authors, or travellers who had visited the Orient. It is true that in Rome and Constantinople stood obelisks which had been transported to the imperial residences from the temples of the Nile, while mummies and smaller Egyptian relics were preserved as curiosities in the libraries and museums of Europe. But the interest in the life of the ancient Egyptians, as well as in their art and science, which had enjoyed such a high degree of esteem amongst the Greeks, had been lost. And although, after the prime of the humanities had faded, an Athanasius Kircher,[12] and after him other scholars such as the Dane Zoega or Barthélemy, ventured to attempt the deciphering of the inscriptions with which the Roman obelisks were covered, yet they were soon forced to desist from their fruitless endeavors, for want of any fixed basis from which they might have prosecuted their difficult operations with success. Then the First Con{70}sul of the French Republic, General Napoleon Bonaparte, undertook that adventurous march into Egypt by which he hoped to break up English influence on African soil, to cut off the nearest route to India from the British armies, and also to gather laurels for himself. “For,” he had said, “the greatest glory in the world is only to be won in the Orient.”

Every one knows the course of this campaign, which indeed ended in favor of England, but brought far greater fame to France than to her opponent. History does not forget such battles as that beneath the pyramids, and in the annals of science a place of honor will ever be accorded to the intellectual achievements of the French scholars who, during the end of the previous and the beginning of our own century, followed the French armies amidst a thousand hardships, dangers, and adverse circumstances. It was by means of this expedition that the life of the old Egyptians was to celebrate its resurrection. No one in Europe had suspected what a wealth of monuments of the time of the Pharaohs had been preserved upon the Nile. People watched with astonishment the arrival in Paris of great folios full of superb drawings in which these were depicted, and numerous volumes containing the descriptions of them. Excellent reproductions of both afterwards found their way all over the world.

In 1799, in the course of excavations at the fort of St. Julienne at Rosetta, in the northern Delta, the French officer of engineers, Boussard, had found the remarkable tablet which was to become so famous{71} under the name of the Rosetta stone. The fortunes of war carried this one monument alone, not to Paris, but to London, where it is worthily conserved in the British Museum. It contains a sacerdotal decree, which awards high honors to the fifth Ptolemy, Epiphanes, for his great worth, and the benefits which he conferred on the country. It is written in three different characters and languages.

Let us imagine, instead of the Egypt of that period, an Italian province of the Austrian monarchy, and let us suppose that the clergy of the place had drawn up a decree in honor of the imperial house; this might perhaps be published in the old ecclesiastical language, Latin, in Italian, and in the German language of the ruling house and its officials. Precisely thus was the decree of Rosetta written; first in the sacred language of the church, habitually rendered in the ancient hieroglyphic character, and only employed in ecclesiastical writings, next in the dialect current among the people, the demotic, which was recorded in a special abbreviated character in which the original form of the hieroglyphics is no longer to be recognized, and finally in the Greek language and character of the Lagid ruling house and its functionaries. Thus the Rosetta stone offered for investigation three tolerably long texts, the first two of which had for foundation a dialect of the ancient Egyptian language. These were in the two kinds of writing, the distinction between which had already been noted by the Greeks, (Herodotus, Diodorus, Clemens of Alexandria, etc.) and beneath them stood{72} the Greek translation. In a special treatise,[13] to which the reader is referred, we have endeavored to show how two scholars, working independently, arrived simultaneously at the same result of correctly deciphering the principal hieroglyphic groups by a comparison of the names of the Ptolemy, of Cleopatra and of Alexander,[14] which were distinguished by being enclosed within elliptical ovals (cartouches), and appeared on the bi-lingual tablet in both hieroglyphic and Greek text. These two scholars were the gifted Frenchman, Champollion, and the Englishman, Thomas Young, an investigator of the first rank, whom difficulties served only to allure, and whose labors in the domain of physiology and optics would have assured him an immortal name. But Young arrived at results which were inaccurate in detail, chiefly by means of mechanical and arithmetical comparison, and then pursued his acquisitions no further, while Champollion applied all the energies of his lifetime to the prosecution and development of his epoch-making discovery. For this reason we ascribe it to him more willingly and with greater justice than to Thomas Young, who, however, undoubtedly presented his conclusions a little in advance of Champollion. Each had arrived at his results quite independently of the other, but, from the first, Champollion’s were the more correct, and what with{73} Young remained a splendid but incomplete exploit of the most magnificent sagacity, was by the Frenchman prosecuted in the most brilliant manner, and reduced to a correct system which, taken as a whole, is still valid at the present day. The great master-pieces of Champollion, the Grammaire égyptienne, (1836-41), and the Dictionnaire égyptien en écriture hiéroglyphique, (1842-44), were first published after his death (1832), and subsequently to Lepsius’ sojourn in Paris. They give an idea of the profound insight into the ancient Egyptian language which had been attained by this scholar who died so young. Had Fate granted him a longer life his great works would have gained immensely in value, for his brother, Champollion-Figeac, who had undertaken to edit a portion of the manuscripts[15] of the deceased, which filled two thousand pages, although he fulfilled the task conscientiously and gladly, was yet obliged to take in hand much that was only half completed, and did not prove entirely equal to the undertaking.

It is true that François Champollion, in his Précis du système hiéroglyphique des anciens Égyptiens, (Paris, 1824), had presented a scheme of the hieroglyphic system of writing which, in its general features, was correct. But this work, though extraordinary for that time, was somewhat of the nature of a sketch, and criticism could find in it sufficient grounds for entertaining sundry doubts and scruples. Other scholars{74} especially, who likewise styled themselves Egyptologists, attacked the system of Champollion, and brought forward other systems of their own in opposition to it. Amongst these guides to the labyrinth, whose errors have long since been refuted and lapsed into utter forgetfulness, Seyffarth of Leipsic lifted his voice most loudly. Sickler, also, wished to explain the hieroglyphics by paranomasia. He maintained that each one was intended to represent a whole series of words of similar sound. Klaproth adhered firmly to his acrological system, according to which each hieroglyphic could express all those Coptic words that begin with the same sound with which the name of the hieroglyphic begins.

What was a critically trained linguist to think of a science which had not yet positively decided how to read or explain the characters of that writing, which it was incumbent upon it to interpret, and which could not even declare, with the concurrence of all its collaborators, what language was the basis of the text which it nevertheless sought to translate and expound?

It is difficult to understand how, after the appearance of the Précis du système hiéroglyphique, these card-houses could have stood their ground for a single month beside the well-founded edifice of Champollion. But the more dubious the condition of affairs was with the authors of these false systems, the louder did they raise their voices, while Champollion, without regarding them, worked on with admirable tranquillity, and added stone after stone to his great construction. The prin{75}cipal parts of this he completed, but he was destined to bequeath it to posterity without roof or ornaments.

At the time when Lepsius was invited to make the investigation of the ancient Egyptian the occupation of his life, he had heard as much in favor of Seyffarth, Klaproth and Sickler as of Champollion. From the beginning he placed greater confidence in the latter. Yet he did well to inform himself exactly as to the true state of Egyptology at that time before placing at its disposal his energy, his ability, and his time. He was of too prudent a disposition to embark for the journey through life on a paper boat.

A deeper insight into the system of Champollion reassured him, and soon led him to a decision. He might undertake the work with favorable expectations, for Lepsius could feel himself far superior in thoroughness of preparation and synthetic acumen to those intellectual imitators of the giant Champollion, who, even during his lifetime, had ventured forth with their own works. We shall have to tell with what blunt sickles they destroyed the grain which they thought to reap. Destiny had forbidden the master to train up worthy disciples, for after the first professorship of Egyptology in the University of Paris had been conferred upon him, and when he had scarcely entered on his office as a teacher, the fine vigorous man of forty-one was overtaken by death.

Prior to this, however, he had already found disciples in Salvolini and Rosellini. The latter had followed him to Rome, Turin and Naples, after having{76} taught at Pisa as Professor of Oriental Languages. The extraordinary talent of E. de Rougé was developed later. Birch in London and Leemans in Leyden were indeed his contemporaries, but should be called his successors, not his pupils, and published their first Egyptological works after his death, and after Lepsius had decided in favor of this science.

When our friend entered the arena of Egyptological research the nature of the demotic writing was as yet entirely undetermined, for although the greatest Orientalist of this century, Silvestre de Sacy, had addressed his attention to the demotic portion of the Rosetta stone, and it had been examined not only by Thomas Young, but also by the sagacious Swede, Åkerblad, neither they nor Champollion had been able to come to any satisfactory understanding of it. Lepsius, also did little towards a more thorough comprehension of the nature of the demotic dialect and writing. It was H. Brugsch and E. Revillout who first discovered the significance of the demotic, and proved the importance of this “writing and language of the people” as a middle term between ancient Egyptian and Coptic.

As far as this, (the Coptic), is concerned, it was the language used by the Egyptians in speaking and writing, after the introduction of Christianity into Egypt. It was written in Greek letters, with some additional alphabetical characters for sounds which the Hellenic alphabet would not reproduce. It represents the most recent dialect of the Egyptians, replete with many borrowed and alien words from the Greek, and it succeeded{77} the demotic as this sprang from the ancient Egyptian language which was written in hieroglyphics. As we possess many of the Scriptural books in Coptic translations, and more recent Coptic manuscripts with an Arabic version in the margin, it is scarcely less intelligible for us than Greek and Arabic themselves. The church of the monophysitic Coptic Christians on the Nile employs it to-day in the liturgies according to which divine worship is conducted. The founder of a scientific knowledge of the Coptic language in Europe was the same Athanasius Kircher who attempted the deciphering of hieroglyphics without success. To him we are, however, indebted for the first Coptic vocabularies and essays at grammar, (these were taken from the Arabic, and written in Latin.)

A succession of European scholars afterwards extended and perfected his work, which, although fundamental, was full of defects and errors. When Lepsius began the study of Coptic it had already been treated by Lacroze, Wilkins, Scholz, Woide, Tuki, Quatremère, and Zoega, in part grammatically, and in part lexicographically. Peyron’s lexicon was also approaching completion.

No one had yet ventured to assign this language its proper scientific philological rank. Its three dialects had long been known, and not only Champollion, but Seyffarth also, had made use of them in the interpretation of the most ancient hieroglyphic words.

There was no lack of Coptic manuscripts and{78} books[16] in Paris, but there was a very obvious want of old Egyptian hieroglyphic writings, well published. The inscriptions[17] reproduced in the great Description de l’Égypte, had been copied previous to the deciphering of hieroglyphics. They had been transcribed at random, without accuracy or intelligence, and were useless for the philologist. Rosellini’s work on monuments[18] was prepared as the combined result of the expedition sent to Egypt by France, under Champollion, and that sent by Tuscany under Rosellini. The publication of it had scarcely been commenced when Lepsius obeyed the summons of Bunsen. The same is true of Champollion’s Monuments de l’Égypte, etc.

In the following pages we shall have to show all that had been achieved by Egyptological research in the provinces of history and mythology, and what Lepsius found there, both to clear away, and to build up.{79}

From the very first Lepsius devoted himself with ardent zeal and indefatigable industry to Egyptological studies. Before us lie the letters which he addressed at that time to his new patron and subsequent friend, Bunsen. They show with what benevolent, indeed fatherly, sympathy, the famous scholar and statesman watched the progress of his protégé in the field to which he had invited and introduced him; what pains he took to smooth the way for him both by word and deed, and how perfect was the understanding with which he followed the scientific efforts and achievements of the new Egyptologist. Bunsen also exerted himself to assure the pecuniary position of the young scholar; but as the emperor above the senate, so did Alexander von Humboldt stand above Bunsen. Where the influence of the latter proved insufficient, and his good wishes could not be carried into effect, it became necessary to appeal to the power and benevolence of the man of world-wide fame, who was always ready for vigorous action when it was a question of furthering important scientific endeavors, or helping promising and able young scholars. As Lepsius in the first place was infinitely indebted to Bunsen, so was he in the second instance to A. von Humboldt. It is singular how many of the later German masters of science, besides our friend, were aided by this great and truly humane man{80} as by a Providence. He removed obstacles from their path, built bridges for them, and opened to them portals which no other hand than his was in a position to unfold.

From the letters to Bunsen we learn that Lepsius at first was absorbed in Coptic, and, as might have been expected, as a comparative philologist. At the beginning he was discouraged by the entire linguistic isolation in which this interesting idiom stood, but he soon thought to detect a certain fundamental relationship between it and the Indo-Germanic and Semitic families of languages. On the twentieth of January, 1835, he already invited Bunsen to consider with him, in a quite superficial and cursory manner, the affixes of the pronomen personale, in Coptic and Hebrew, and the relationship of the two formations.[19]

He next exerted himself to place before the public a specimen of Coptic grammar. He wished to begin by publishing a comparative division, which should be chiefly based upon the pronominal stems, and should establish the basis upon which the Coptic language had developed. It was further intended to show what position this should hold among the better known tongues. He had taken the bull by the horns, and was soon to find that little could be accomplished by giving prominence to such similarity in the terminal suffixes as struck the eye, or by the comparison of Indo-Germanic and{81} Semitic numeral words with the Egyptian, between which also many conformities existed.

As the first results of these new studies there appeared two papers on the alphabet and numerical words, which were submitted to the Berlin Academy in 1835, and were printed at the press of that learned institution. The apothegm, that even the loftiest speculation only teaches us to comprehend what is already in existence, occurs in the first of these papers.[20]

By means of this treatise the knowledge of the true principles of the most ancient alphabetical order was advanced by a long step, and what was new therein was combined with the most thorough regard for all that had been previously attained.

In the second treatise[21] he considerably extended{82} previous investigations, and at the same time imposed upon himself voluntary restrictions which offer the most favorable testimony to his early acquired method and critical rigor. He would have been able to arrive at still more important results with the present knowledge of ancient Egyptian numerical words, and the numerical signs in hieratic and demotic.

He never followed up “the manifest connection between the Semitic and the Egyptian-demotic alphabet” which he then thought to have discovered. We entertain no doubt that during his apprenticeship he took certain Parisian hieratic texts for demotic, and if this was the case, then at that time, with the intuition peculiar to him, he had already hit upon the truth which was established many decades later by de Rougé, Lenormant, and ourselves; namely, that the Semitic, and indeed, primarily, the Phœnician alphabet, must be traced back to the Egyptian hieratic. He also worked enthusiastically over the principles of sound in the Coptic. This language, which at first seemed to him quite “chaotic” on account of the “cumulative vowels” which it presents, became more attractive to him after he had learned, by comparison of the manuscripts written in the different dialects to distinguish between them, and to penetrate more deeply into their wonderfully subtle syntactical construction. It was of great advantage to him in these studies that Peyron’s Coptic Lexicon was published just at this time, and that he was able to procure each proof-sheet as it left the press. After he had{83} obtained a good insight into the Coptic he ventured to attack the demotic and ancient Egyptian written in hieroglyphics. As, in the works then published on the ancient Egyptian language, deduction and hypothesis appeared far too much alike, he was extremely glad to receive the ready assistance of Salvolini, the disciple of Champollion mentioned above. This very talented Italian, under the direction of the master, Champollion, had occupied himself with Egyptology exclusively for ten years, and Lepsius was able to inspire him with such interest that he wrote to Bunsen of the young scholar in the warmest terms. But after Lepsius was permitted to examine the literary legacy of Champollion he perceived that Salvolini had secretly made reckless use of another’s labors, and that precisely those things which the younger Egyptologist had considered the most important discoveries of Salvolini, had been made, not by him, but by the master, Champollion.

Biot’s book[22] on the vague year of the Egyptians, which had been published shortly before, led Lepsius also to the study of the calendar and chronology of the Egyptians, and prompted him to make Bunsen fully acquainted with his views on the year of Sirius and the Sothiac cycle. He sent the work mentioned to his patron, and in consequence of a request made by him, furnished him with everything that appeared in Paris in the way of new literary productions.

Bunsen meanwhile was solicitous for the material{84} welfare of his protégé, and it is not a little to be ascribed to his and Gerhard’s influence,—Boeckh too was a zealous advocate,—that the Academy of Sciences at Berlin awarded Lepsius five hundred thalers for his farther improvement in Egyptology, and that Gerhard,—although not officially,—could offer him the prospect of the same amount for a second year.

Before this assistance had been promised him he had written to Bunsen: “It is easy to understand that there may be much opposition to furnishing aid for such a special object, as every one will not regard the importance of it in the same way ... but I am especially anxious because I have not yet been able to present to the Academy anything which could give me an ostensible claim to the assistance which I desire. On this account I have thought that it might be of advantage to my affairs if I should put in order and send to the Academy my treatise on numerical words and arithmetical figures. It seems to me that I have indisputably found the key to this interesting subject in the Egyptian figures and Coptic numeral words. If all this meets with your approval, I would first send this treatise to William von Humboldt, who is most interested in special investigations of this subject, and probably, also, in the method of treating it. The extremely friendly letter, and the favorable opinion (far beyond my expectations), which he sent me, when I forwarded to him my little pamphlet on Sanscrit paleography, have given me hopes of a kind reception from him.{85}”

In fact, the treatise was despatched to Berlin, but when it arrived there William von Humboldt was no longer among the living, and it was with great difficulty that Lepsius was able to recover his manuscript. The Berlin Academy awarded him the sum mentioned without it, for they knew that the recipient was worthy, and that it would produce good fruit to science.

“The death of William von Humboldt,” Lepsius wrote to Bunsen on the thirtieth of April, 1835, “has greatly grieved me, as well on account of the personal kindness which he repeatedly manifested towards me, as on account of the irreparable loss which the science of language has suffered thereby. It was he especially by whom I most hoped to be understood in my philological aims, and whose verdict I had always in mind throughout this last work. You must be aware that he leaves two works in manuscript, one on the Sanscrit languages of the Indian Islands, another on languages in general.”

The handsome stipend of the Berlin Academy smoothed Lepsius’ way to Italy, whither Bunsen summoned him with ever increasing urgency.

Up to that time, Panofka and de Witte, out of scientific enthusiasm, had taken charge of the editorial work for the Institute in Paris. When they retired, Bunsen appointed Lepsius in the place of de Witte, who initiated him into the business. After his predecessor had left Paris, Lepsius took charge, in his absence, of the printing of the annals of the Institute and of the correspondence. These affairs claimed a{86} large portion of his time, and he would have gone immediately to Rome, the headquarters of the Institute, had he not felt that his work in Paris was not completed as far as Coptic was concerned. He also devoted himself with special ardor to ancient Egyptian and hieroglyphics. In these he continued to profit by the assistance of Salvolini, whose rapidly progressing interpretation of the Rosetta stone interested him greatly. Yet Lepsius already began to feel a slight mistrust of him, especially on account of the unfavorable manner in which he expressed himself regarding the industrious Egyptologist Rosellini, whom Champollion had esteemed highly. From Bunsen, too, Lepsius had heard nothing but praise of the latter, and moreover, Rosellini’s historical works served him as a starting point for his own chronological investigations, which began to interest him the more, the better he succeeded in deciphering for himself the names of kings and little historical hieroglyphic texts. For the great rapidity and certainty of his progress he was indebted to the excellent linguistic training which he had enjoyed. He had already exercised his talent for deciphering in handling the Eugubian Tables. The critical method of his philological guides had so become a part of his flesh and blood, that Bunsen could justly describe him as safe against the danger of publishing anything uncertain or untenable, or of announcing good results prematurely.

Before Rosellini had become personally acquainted with Lepsius he magnanimously confided to the prom{87}ising new disciple of his science all of his notes that the latter desired to see, and gave him by letter whatever explanations he wished. This he did in such an amiable manner that Lepsius wrote to Bunsen: “I have taken extraordinary pleasure in the inestimable liberality and courtesy of Rosellini. One meets with the contrary among the French scholars here. If the French were better etymologists they would perceive that in science as in life liberté and liberalité come from the same root.”

The letter which our friend sent to Bunsen on the twenty-fourth of June, 1835, as a draught of a paper to be addressed to the Berlin Academy of Sciences,[23] contains more detailed information as to the history of his first attempts in Egyptology while at Paris. With this communication he also submitted to the Academy the treatises mentioned above on numerical words and the oldest alphabetical systems (see page 81). The allowance of five hundred thalers which we mentioned was only granted for one year, but Boeckh had kindly prevented a motion that the stipend should be granted only once, from coming to a resolution. Thus Lepsius, who knew the state of affairs, wrote confidently to Bunsen: “I cannot think that the Academy will leave me in the lurch later, if, with God’s help, I have made some progress in this fruitful science, and shown them that I am as good a husbandman as another with my plow and ox. Therefore I will henceforth specially aim to deserve the confidence of the Academy, and I{88} believe that I shall best compass this by keeping them informed of my operations on the field upon which I have entered.”

At that time there were, as we have already observed (See page 78), very few good inscriptions published, and in August he had already advanced so far in hieroglyphics that he was constantly looking about for new texts, in order to copy and afterwards study them. To attain the highest ends he felt that it was necessary to know and own all the inscriptions that had been preserved from the time of the Pharaohs. In Göttingen he had endeavored to obtain both material and intellectual possession of all the treasures of the plastic art of the ancients by making copies of them. Thus also in Paris he wished to acquaint himself with all the monuments of the time of the Pharaohs which had reached that city, and either to transcribe the inscriptions upon them, to copy them by tracing, or to obtain them in the form of impressions taken on paper. Copies of such as were accessible had long lain in his portfolio, but he had heard that there was a magazine in which was stored, in utter confusion, a great abundance of Egyptian monuments, especially the larger ones. Yet it seemed impossible to obtain admission to these hidden treasures. “It is the universal complaint,” writes Lepsius, “that Louis Philippe does nothing in any way for the monuments of antiquity, his taste is all for modern works of art, and he now employs all the artists and officers of the Museum on the historical picture gallery in Versailles.{89} Just now, also, several guardians of the Louvre are occupied there, and therefore they represent that it is impossible to detail a guardian for me in the magazine.” He impatiently awaited the decision from day to day, but it did not come; indeed it was still withheld even after Herr von Werther, the Prussian Ambassador, had interposed on behalf of Lepsius, and had procured him permission to copy the Egyptian collection in the Musée Charles X. But this was of far less importance to Lepsius than what was hidden in the magazine, for there were all the sarcophagi and statues, and an exceedingly rich collection of stelae, besides a hundred and fourteen tablets of plaster casts from the walls of Karnak, and a great number of other matters. The time of his departure from Paris drew near, and it would have seemed almost intolerable to the ardent young investigator to leave France without having seen these extremely important monuments. Just then Alexander von Humboldt came to Paris, Lepsius complained to him of the difficulty, the most influential of all men of that time interceded for him, and he was immediately allowed access to the storehouse, at first with a guardian, but afterwards without one.

Lepsius now spent the last weeks of his sojourn in Paris in taking the most careful paper impressions from all the monuments there. About fifty quires of blotting paper were soon consumed, and many a night of vigil did he spend in making fair copies of the descriptions of the monuments from which the impressions were taken, and of the results of his own measurements.{90} These treasures, so laboriously acquired, were of great service to him later, and accompanied him from Rome to Berlin, where they now are.

Furthermore, through Humboldt’s mediation, he had an opportunity to inspect all the drawings and manuscripts of Champollion, and he found them “surprisingly copious and interesting.” He was able to take the first of the forty numbers of Champollion’s great work on monuments, ready printed, to Italy with him. Champollion’s grammar was also soon to be published.

Something had been neglected in regard to Lepsius’ military obligations, which might have been momentous to the farther progress of the ardent investigator, but this oversight did him no injury either, in consequence of the warm commendation which Alexander von Humboldt had given him to the Governor of Mentz, General v. Müffling. It cannot now be ascertained on what grounds the robust and well developed young doctor was released from military service, but before us lies a letter written immediately after he had presented himself, which says, in reference to his military duties: “And now in Mentz I have been relieved of all farther anxiety in this respect.”

“In the latter part of my stay in Paris,” he writes to Bunsen in the same letter, “I have learned to regard Barucchi, the director of the Turin Museum, as a very excellent and courteous man. He has promised me every possible facility and convenience in the Turin Museum for study, so that now I can go there with great confidence of good results.{91}”

Gladly and hopefully he crossed Mont Cenis to Turin; and yet the parting from Paris had become hard for him. He had gained much there, and acquired a fixed aim in life; there he had come to mature manhood, and his whole personality, as well as his scientific activity and solid abilities, had awakened the same good will on the Seine as previously in Germany, at Leipsic, Göttingen, and Berlin. And no wonder! For nature had endowed the youth, intellectually so highly gifted, with a tall and imposing figure, and crowned it with a head whose beauty was to outlast the years. The noble and sharply cut lineaments of his countenance reflected the earnestness, the force, and the acuteness of his mind, and wherever he showed himself in the circle of the leading literati of Berlin, where there was no lack of impressive heads, all eyes were drawn to him, and even strangers were attracted to inquire about him. When his abundant hair had become snow-white he was one of the handsomest of old men. He told us, in an hour of social relaxation, that he was once climbing one of the Swiss mountains in very hot weather—I believe it was the Faulhorn,—and had sat down near the summit, with dripping brow. A strange gentleman, who had joined him, had sunk down beside him, and had responded to his observation that it was frightfully hot: “You ought to be accustomed to that, Professor. When one has climbed the pyramids and made excavations in Ethiopia, as you have—.” Lepsius asked the stranger how he came to know him, and received from the other—as{92} it turned out afterwards, a medical colleague from Heidelberg,—the answer, “How can one forget your medallion-countenance after once seeing it?”

His profile was, in truth, singularly fine. I, myself, first met Lepsius in his forty-ninth year, 1859, as his pupil, but the impression which he made on me at that time was such that I willingly credited the assurance of a Leipsic friend, whose parents’ house Lepsius had frequented as a student, that he had been one of the handsomest young men of his day. The same bearing which he retained throughout his life, and which entirely corresponded to his essential nature, must also have been peculiar to him as a student. It was quiet, yet not stiff, well-bred, and equally appropriate in all circumstances of life. Moreover, with all his industry and earnestness, he was at that time always glad to go into society, and he long preserved and cherished his musical gifts and pleasure in singing, as well as his fondness for chess.{93}

The route which Lepsius took to Rome was entirely determined by the Egyptological studies to which he had devoted himself with such great zeal and success during the latter part of the time in Paris. It led him first to Turin.

There he might hope to find all that was best and of most importance, for the Egyptian museum at Turin is now, and was at that time, one of the largest and richest in the world, and so far exceeded Lepsius’ expectations that instead of several weeks he allowed himself to be detained there for more than three months.

On the twenty-fourth of February he wrote to Bunsen: “I have not thought it necessary to hurry, as Turin is without doubt the most important point of my journey as far as the collection of materials is concerned. One realizes this thrice as strongly when one has staid here awhile and become familiar with the situation. I leave this excellent museum very unwillingly, but one would have to stay for years to exhaust it, and I do not think that I have employed my time ill. You will enjoy the rich harvest which I bring you from here. I have taken paper impressions of all the inscriptions engraved on hard stone; part of them with starch, which makes them indestructible. Unfortunately, I could not continue my Parisian collection of a hundred{94} and twenty stelae in the same way, for they were unnecessarily afraid here of injury to the limestone from the damp paper, so that the most important stelae and many other objects in limestone I have partly counterdrawn with pith paper and partly copied, and have done this to some extent in the colors, the value of which I first learned to appreciate properly here. The greater part of the time, though, I have spent upon the rich stores of papyrus, almost the whole of which, with all the important fragments of every kind, I have counterdrawn or copied. I have taken special pains with the large perfect ritual, which can be found here and nowhere else.” He had not yet seen the stores of papyrus in London and Leyden. “It was a matter of special importance to me to possess some common basis for all the other fragments of the ritual (which are to be found everywhere; a portion of them are at Rome), for the special purpose of beginning an extensive collection of the different readings; very necessary for the study of hieroglyphics. Therefore, I have spared no pains to compare the whole Parisian papyrus, a copy of which I have, with that here. I have noted all the different readings, in the text as well as in the vignettes, and counterdrawn all that is lacking, which amounts to about twice as much as the Parisian copy. So that I now possess the most perfect ritual, in a volume of more than sixty sheets of paper, of half-folio size, stitched together, besides the collation of the Parisian ritual, a preparatory work which will be very valuable for future studies.{95}”

In fact all the material that he so laboriously acquired at Turin formed the foundation for his celebrated edition of the Book of the Dead, of which we shall have to speak hereafter. Many historical dates, which are contained in the monuments preserved at Turin and the famous papyrus of the kings were also collected by him in 1836; yet he found, on his second journey to Turin in 1841, that in his first visit to the museum many of the treasures preserved there had been purposely withheld from him.

From Turin he went to Pisa, partly to make the acquaintance of Rosellini, with whom he had long been in scientific correspondence, partly to study the monuments which the latter had brought with him, and the papyrus and other written records which were intrusted to the care of the Italian Egyptologist.

“Rosellini,” he writes on the twentieth of March, 1836, “received me very cordially, and I find myself well off in this excellent family, where I spend the whole day, from nine o’clock in the morning till nine at night.” The monuments here had less to offer him, “but so much the more do I learn,” he writes, “from Rosellini’s Lexicon of Hieroglyphics. This also contains the accumulations of Champollion, and I shall copy it out in full. Besides this, I derive great benefit from the oral instruction and communications, which Rosellini gives me on all possible subjects without the least reservation. I quickly perceived, that I should not be able to leave this place as soon as I had expected.” The following verses, with which he took{96} leave of the Rosellinis, may show how intimate the relation had become between the young German and the family of the Italian scholar:

Pisa, April 19, 1836.

After Pisa he visited Leghorn, where was lodged the Drovetti collection, which was afterwards purchased{97} for the Berlin Museum, by the special advice of Lepsius. The owner had asked sixty thousand francs, and got thirty thousand. Amongst the monuments was the Colossus of Rameses II, and the valuable fragment of the statue of Usurtasen I. (throne and legs). This is now restored and is the great ornament of the Egyptian collection in the capital city of the empire. It may be seen, from a letter which Lepsius wrote to Bunsen about the collection, that the fragment of the statue of Usurtasen I. had only been brought to Europe by Drovetti in order to restore with it the slightly injured colossus of the same king. The fragment consisted of the same “black granite” (properly graywacke) as the better preserved statue of Rameses II.

In May, 1836, Lepsius at last arrived in Rome, richly laden with treasures. There, for the first time, he met Charles J. Bunsen, who had directed his attention towards Egyptian antiquity, and had assisted him with fatherly kindness during his residence in Paris. Bunsen was at that time living on the Tiber as Prussian Ambassador, under the title of Minister Resident. He presided as chief secretary over the Archaeological Institute, which had been founded by Gerhard, with his assistance, in 1829. Ten years before the arrival of Lepsius, Champollion had visited Rome, and found there an enthusiastic admirer and disciple in Bunsen. Absorbed in numerous affairs, and in other branches of research,[24] the latter could devote but a small portion{98} of his time to Egyptological studies. In Lepsius he believed that he had found the right man to continue the work of Champollion with greater success, and in a more profound and independent spirit, than the Master’s two disciples, Salvolini and Rosellini. He also hoped that Lepsius would be specially fitted to take charge of the business of recording secretary of the Institute in conjunction with Braun. For this he had already proved his ability in Paris.

The affairs of this learned society were at that time in a very bad condition. The most necessary pecuniary means were wanting, differences of opinion, which seemed entirely irreconcilable, divided the Parisian and the Roman-Prussian sections, and indeed there was serious question as to the continued existence of this beneficient Institute. But, as Michaelis, its historiographer, expresses himself, “Danger stimulated Bunsen’s elastic spirit,” and at the right moment Lepsius, together with Braun, “who was delighted with his expert colleague,” stepped into the breach. We will not say that it was Lepsius alone who averted the threatened danger, but it is certainly to be partly ascribed to his warm personal relations with Panofka, de Witte, and the noble Duc de Luynes, who was so influential in France, that the relations of the society to Paris, and its affairs in general, improved soon after his participation in the management. What impression he made on his appearance in Rome may be shown by the following passage from a letter which Bunsen’s wife wrote to her mother on the twelfth of May, 1856: “Lepsius,{99}” says this estimable lady, “has been here since Monday. He makes a very pleasant impression in regard to character as well as talents; in short, he fulfills the expectations roused by his letters, which were clear, upright, intelligent, copious, but not excessive. He has naturally refined manners, but no stiffness, and is neither presuming nor shy. It is incredible, what material he has collected for his study of Egyptian antiquities, and his drawings are wonderfully executed. You can fancy that Charles (Bunsen) is delighted to talk of hieroglyphics with him; yet it does not make him idle,—he is busily occupied the whole day, and only at meal times and in the evenings does he enjoy such a great pleasure.”

At that time Bunsen was already contemplating the execution of his great work “The Place of Egypt in the History of the World,” and from the first was disposed to confide many of the special researches for it to Lepsius. Soon, however, (indeed long before his recall from Rome), he felt inclined to offer him the honor of being his collaborator. “Bunsen and Lepsius” were to appear upon the title-page as the authors; and if the elder scholar and statesmen furnished the great leading ideas, the young doctor, with bee-like industry, collected everything in Rome that might prove useful for the details of the work.

Bunsen knew how to value the labors of the new member of the board of directors and editing secretary of the Institute, and Lepsius soon felt at home in the inspiring atmosphere of his house.{100}

The Ambassador and Gerhard both successfully exerted their influence in Berlin to induce the Academy, which was already well disposed towards the first critically trained German Egyptologist, to grant him additional assistance. It would be impossible to imagine help more energetic, more disinterested, or more efficacious, than that which Lepsius thus received from Bunsen. The hundreds of letters before us, addressed by the former to his patron, show how the relation between them became continually more intimate and cordial. The superscription changes by degrees from “Highly Honored Herr Minister,” to “Dearest Herr Privy Counselor,” “My Dear, Fatherly Friend,” and finally, “Most Highly Esteemed Friend.” When the young scholar writes to his beloved patron on special occasions, his letters, usually calm and confined to the matter in hand, acquire a heartiness and warmth otherwise alien to them. He once wrote to Bunsen on his birthday (1839): “My heartiest thanks for your splendid letter of August twenty-second, and for the delightful lines which I received yesterday. May the Lord grant you his most abundant blessing in the new year of your life just beginning, as in all that follow, and preserve to me your fatherly affection, which has already so often strengthened, encouraged, and refreshed me. I have far greater need of you, and am more dependent on you than it may appear to you. I feel it with every sheet that I receive from your hand, and that surprises me unawares in my disposition to triviality, timidity, and every sort of narrow-mindedness. Your words,{101} even the most unimportant, fall like pearls upon my poverty, and I feed upon them from one letter to another.”

With what sincerity these ardent phrases were meant is evident from Lepsius’ letters to his father and mother, in which he always speaks of Bunsen with enthusiasm and child-like affection.

Even in after years Lepsius’ eye would still kindle, his measured speech grow fervent, when he recalled Charles Bunsen, the inexhaustible wealth of his ideas, the depth of his knowledge, the purity of his character, and the friendship which united the statesman and investigator, though twenty years the older, with the aspiring scholar; which only gained in strength from year to year, survived the death of the one, and was borne to the grave with the other.

Bunsen had the advantage of Lepsius in a rich, poetic, soaring imagination, otherwise they had many great qualities in common.

Frederick William IV. had honored Bunsen with the title of baron. Apart from this, however, he, like Lepsius, deserves to be designated as a genuine noble German freeman; that is, a man of unalterable intrinsic superiority, who derives the right to carry his head loftily, not from external circumstances, but from honest, indefatigable, difficult, and conscientious work. To such labor they both remained faithful through all the circumstances of life, and when we see the leaders of a turbulent party claiming the name of “workman” exclusively for the man with horny hands,{102} and exerting themselves to restrict within the narrowest limits the hours of employment for the day laborer, we would point to these two men, who free from every material solicitude of life, turned their nights into day, bade defiance to bodily fatigue, and only sought refreshment in change of occupation, in order to fit themselves for the exalted enterprise which they had imposed upon themselves.

His first purely Egyptological paper presents the most brilliant evidence of the zeal and sagacity with which Lepsius, from the beginning, devoted himself to the study of the Egyptian writing and language. It appeared in the annals of the Roman Archaeological Institute, in the shape of a letter to his Pisan friend, Rosellini,[25] and ranks among model works of this kind on account of its wonderful succinctness, clearness and comprehensiveness. Lepsius gives in it a complete summary of the whole system of writing of the ancient Egyptians. He distinguishes, with clearness and acuteness, the elements of which this is composed, and from the Master’s list of sound symbols, which was much too large, he singles out those elements which do not properly belong there, and fortunately rejects one of the fundamental errors of Champollion’s system. As we now know, the phonetic part of hieroglyphics, that is the part relating to sounds, consists simply of letters which were sounded,—our matres lectionis,—and syllabic signs. These by themselves alone can{103} represent a syllable. Thus, the mere picture of a mirror is to be read ‘anch,’ but to this picture may also pertain all the sounds of the syllable which it represents: thus, in our case, an ‘a, n, and ch.’ Champollion, on the contrary, had known nothing of syllabic symbols, and thus regarded the mirror as a mere abbreviation of the word ‘anch,’ which he had also met with written out in full.

This error was done away with by Lepsius,[26] and through him that immensely important element of writing, the syllabic symbol, received its due. The observations contained in this treatise on the relation of Coptic (See page 76) to ancient Egyptian, are also of fundamental value.

Lepsius’ letter to Rosellini gives a critical recapitulation of the discoveries of the Master. It is the first really methodical and scientific work of an adherent of the Champollionic system, and although after this Lepsius only returned incidentally to the linguistic and grammatical side of Egyptology,[27] yet in this work, as everywhere where he planted the lever, he has pointed out the right way and method. In the Nubian Grammar, which was one of the chief works of his life, and{104} which was completed at a late date, he showed how firmly he stood upon the grammatical foundation so early won, and how faithful he remained thenceforth to grammatical studies. He did not cease, too, to work at those studies, regarding the sounds of languages and the alphabet, to which he had early devoted himself. His “Standard Alphabet,”[28] which originated long afterwards and amidst great opposition, was intended chiefly to enable missionaries and travellers to reproduce correctly in our own language the sounds of the foreign tongues examined by them. This was to be done by means of letters, easily and conveniently modified by dashes and dots. It became of great practical importance, as it was adopted by the English “Church Missionary Society” as the most available universal alphabet to be employed, according to their directions, by their emissaries. No one can deny that it is also of scientific value. Its applicability has been specially proved with the African languages, and in this department it has been most successfully employed in a great number of grammatical and lexicographical works, as well as biblical translations and the reproduction of narrations, legends, and proverbs in the various idioms. Of the Hamitic branch of the African languages, which is distinguished by grammatical genders, there are seven side-branches, from the ancient Egyptian to the Haūsa- and Nama- (Namaqua-) lan{105}guages, which have been thus examined. Of the more remote native African idioms there are not less than twenty-two. In 1874, during the Congress of Orientalists at London, we ourselves were permitted to hold council with him and other leaders of science, concerning an acceptable universal method of transcription for hieroglyphic writing. Many of his propositions were adopted at that time, but the method of transcription agreed on in the British Museum did not become current, and it is undoubtedly in need of much improvement.

Lepsius had already given particular attention to the two special departments in which he was to achieve the greatest and most fruitful results; first at Göttingen, under the superintendence of O. Müller, then in Paris after the publication of Biot’s work, and finally at Rome, in the company of Bunsen. These departments were first, history, with its numerical groundwork of chronology, and in the second place, mythology.

Here, everything was still to be achieved, for before the hieroglyphics had been deciphered, scholars had been obliged to depend solely upon Grecian accounts of the Egyptian kings and gods, especially upon those given by Herodotus, and therefore had often relied on reports which were most inadequate, and which in many cases were misunderstood. The power recently acquired of reading the writing of the Egyptians disclosed a wealth of original material, which was unexpected, new, and authentic. The incontrovertible importance of this was self-evident, and even during{106} Champollion’s lifetime many rushed upon the freshly discovered mines, and sought to rifle them for historical and mythological purposes. But, although at the outset many mistakes and uncertainties were rectified, and much that was incontestably new was established, yet on the other hand, error after error was introduced into the science by the rash course of the immediate successors of Champollion. They received on faith that which they only half comprehended, and applied it without care or criticism. They instituted comparisons upon bases either false or insufficiently established, and by means of them arrived at conclusions that we can now only regard with scorn and dismay. In place of the imperfect knowledge of former time, there appeared as its evil successor a disorder without parallel. The grateful, but difficult task undertaken by Lepsius, was to clear this away, and compel Egyptological research to conform to the same critical method which has become obligatory for other branches of study, and without which there can be no soundness in science.

Out of vague and unregulated fancies concerning Egyptian history and mythology, he formed a true Egyptian history and science of Egyptian divinities. By his strong hand were restrained the more or less ingenious and active divagations of Champollion’s successors, and he pointed out the path by which alone Egyptology could succeed in winning the name of a science.

His course was at the same time bold, prudent, and dexterous. He considered the whole extent of the{107} monumental material collected by himself, or otherwise attainable, separated it into groups, sifted these, and treated the essential constituents which he thus extracted according to the same critical method to which he had become accustomed in other departments of science, under the tutelage of Hermann, Dissen, Müller, Bopp, Lachmann, and Boeckh.

After his journey to England and Holland, of which we shall soon have to speak, he possessed a sovereign comprehensive view of all of the written relics of the Egyptians to be found in Europe. But he carefully guarded himself against drawing conclusions from them which had not been thoroughly worked out, or from using them, like many other followers of Champollion, in the building of card houses.

In the historical group of his collectanea, which were arranged with the orderliness peculiar to himself, he brought together all the kings’ names which it was possible to obtain, and all texts provided with dates, as well as all writings on stone or papyrus which concerned the genealogical relations of the Pharaonic families. Thus, too, during his sojourn at Rome we see him chiefly occupied in collecting the building stones only for that chronological-historical edifice to be reared in more tranquil days, and which he expected to erect in common with Bunsen.

This self-control was to be well rewarded, for on his first and most important expedition to Egypt there flowed in upon him an affluence of new material, especially regarding the earliest epoch of Pharaonic{108} history, which supplemented and in many ways modified that previously obtained. We can now take a comprehensive view of all the acquisitions of that time, and if we compare them with the two folio volumes of his Book of Kings,[29] or rather with the first draught of the same as he completed it in 1842, we must be astonished at the wealth of material which he had collected by the close of his sojourn upon the Tiber. The work mentioned contains in its present form all the names of the Pharaohs which have been preserved on monuments or papyrus, and is an indispensable handbook to anyone occupied in the study of Egyptian history. Its accuracy is equal to its copiousness, in which it had of course gained immensely, compared to the first sketch, which he willingly and frequently showed us.

The production of a new book of this kind could only mean the giving of a new title to Lepsius’ Book of Kings, for the arrangement of this great work is so fine and faultless that a change could but injure it. If we regard the first draft of the Book of Kings, which was completed before the Egyptian journey (it was never printed), as the foundation of Lepsius’ later chronological labors, we must acknowledge that at that time it would have been entirely impossible to add anything new to what was there collected.

It is with such weapons as these that victories are won, but he who had forged them imposed upon him{109}self one preparatory labor after another before he entered upon the combat, and used them for the great historical purposes which he had in view.

In Turin he had also laid the foundations for his later researches in mythology, especially that of the ancient Egyptians, and in this group of studies we see him proceed with exactly the same method and circumspection as in his chronological works. His predecessors had found the innumerable and motley figures of the Egyptian Pantheon, often accompanied by their names, portrayed upon monuments of stone and papyrus, and had compared them with those divine beings of the Egyptians mentioned by the classic writers. They had attempted to explain the significance of these figures, and in so doing, where the sources of information at their command would not serve them, they had given free play to their imaginations,—it is only necessary to remember the ingenious phantasies of Creuzer, Roth, etc. The gods throng through their writings in a wild confusion, and it had occurred to no one, not even to Champollion (whose Panthéon égyptien[30] must nevertheless always be characterized as a valuable preparatory work), to proceed to an organization of the great crowd of gods, and to point out the historical principle by which they were to be classified.

This task Lepsius imposed upon himself, but here too, during his stay in Italy, he contented himself with{110} sifting and studying all the materials at hand, and we are enabled to take a survey of his introductory labors in this province also. During his first sojourn in Turin he had already discerned that innumerable religious texts, existing in all the museums, on papyrus rolls, sarcophagi, mummy cloths, amulets, etc., belonged collectively to a larger work, to which he gave the name of “Book of the Dead.” This work, composed from many fragments, never reached a canonical conclusion, but the larger specimens of it included all the chapters which occurred alone, or in lesser number, on smaller papyri or monuments. Lepsius recognized the true significance of this book, which Champollion erroneously considered a book of ritual (rituel funéraire), that is, a book which comprised the prayers and formulas to be repeated and the hymns to be sung at the burial of the dead. It was usually found on the body of the deceased, under the mummy cloths, or in the coffin, and its contents only referred incidentally, and to a certain extent in a recapitulatory manner to transactions which were to take place on earth. The destiny of the soul which sprang from Osiris resembled the destiny of the god himself, and it is with this destiny that the “Book of the Dead” is occupied. It was given to the departed to carry with him into the grave as a passport and aid to memory. For in the other world it was necessary to sing hymns of praise, and with the help of the “right word,” which they imagined as endowed with magic power, to ward off demons and hostile beasts, to open gates, to{111} procure food and drink, to justify oneself before Osiris and the forty-two judges, and finally to secure for the deceased all his claims as a god. Everything depended on being acquainted with the magical “right word,” and in order that it should always be at the command of the traveller through the next world, it was first written on the sarcophagus and then on the grave-clothes. From the collection of these formulas, then, arose the “Book of the Dead,” the vade mecum, the cicerone, for the pilgrim through the mysteries of the other life.

After the dead had received back all the faculties of the body which he possessed on earth, and when, after the justification in the hall of judgment, he had also received his heart, he advanced from portal to portal, and from degree to degree, until he had attained his final goal, apotheosis. In this last stage the pure spirit of light was freed from all the dust of this life; and then, being one with the sun-god Ra, as a shining day-star, he crossed the heavens in a golden bark, and received, himself a god, the attributes and the reverence of gods and the homage of men. Endowed with the power of clothing himself at will in any form he desired, he was permitted by day or night to sail through the firmament as sun or star in divine light, to mix with mortals upon earth, to soar through the air as a bird, or as a lotos flower, blooming beautifully, to repose in serene blessedness and breathe forth perfume.

As might be expected from what has already been said, in this book are to be found the elements of the{112} Egyptian religious belief and doctrine of immortality. Although these are difficult to understand on account of the inflated mode of expression, as well as the confused superabundance of symbols, allegories, metaphors, and illustrations (unfortunately, these obscure the sense far more frequently than they elucidate it), and although much of it must have been misunderstood by Lepsius at the age of thirty, yet it could not escape him that a searching study of this fundamental book must precede any critical treatment of Egyptian mythology. On this account, as we know, in 1836 he made a copy of the large and very perfect hieroglyphic specimen of the “Book of the Dead,” and amended it during a second sojourn in Turin in 1841. In the year 1842, as we shall see, he published[31] the great roll of papyrus, fifty-seven feet and three inches long. The seventy-nine tablets contained in this fine publication were transferred to the stone by the careful and skillful designer and lithographer, Max Weidenbach, a Naumburg fellow-countryman of Lepsius. This man, as well as his no less skillful brother, certainly deserves mention here, for under the direction of Lepsius they both succeeded in mastering Egyptian writing so thoroughly that their hieroglyphic manuscript was in no respect inferior to that of the best hierogrammatists of the time of the Pharaohs, It is to them that the publications of Lepsius owe the rare purity of style which distinguishes them, and we are indebted above all to the delicate apprehension and the skillful hand of the{113} brothers Weidenbach that the hieroglyphic types which were restored for the Berlin Academy under the superintendence of Lepsius, turned out to be such models of beauty and style, that they are at present universally employed. Even in Paris the types produced in the French government printing office were set aside in their favor.

If at the present day we critically consider Lepsius’ edition of the “Book of the Dead,” we must certainly regret that it had for a basis the Turin copy, which is replete with errors of writing and defects arising from hasty work, and which dates from a comparatively late period. But, on the other hand, we must praise the industry, care and ability with which its editor studied the text before the excellent “preface” was written and the distribution of the whole into chapters was accomplished. This distribution has stood till the present day, and when we now speak of the first, seventeenth and hundred and twenty-fifth chapters as the most important sections of the “Book of the Dead,” in so doing we follow the construction given by Lepsius. In a few months there will be published a collection of the finest texts of the “Book of the Dead” from the best period, prepared by the excellent Genoese Egyptologist, E. Naville, under the auspices of the Berlin Academy. It was Lepsius, again, who gave the impulse to this great and useful undertaking at the Oriental Congress in London, 1874; and even in this most recent edition of the “Book of the Dead”[32] the{114} classification given by him will be preserved. It is precisely this which is wonderful and unique in his works; that they are of lasting stability, and that their substructure remains permanently fixed no matter what alterations may be made in details by more recent acquisitions. There is almost no edifice in the whole domain of Egyptology where the foundation stone does not bear the name of “Lepsius.”

Let us here anticipate by mentioning that throughout his life Lepsius did not cease to busy himself with the “Book of the Dead,” and that even in 1867, in a large and excellent work,[33] he made an effort to trace out the origin of the whole work collectively, and of its principal parts. The sarcophagi of the ancient kingdom and the funereal texts which cover them, constitute the foundation of this important publication, which once more points out the path for research, and upon which many special investigations have already been, and in the future must be, based.

After his sojourn in Egypt, Lepsius was able for the first time to bring to a positive conclusion the studies on Egyptian mythology, which he had begun in Italy. Yet he wrote to Bunsen from Thebes that he had almost despaired of any real progress in the field of mythology, and had only collected the materials in obedience to a blind instinct. “Now,” he continues, “I have found the red thread, which will lead through this apparently endless labyrinth. I have made out{115} the divinities, great and small, and also the most important data for the history of Egyptian mythology. The relation between the Greek accounts and the monuments has become clear to me; in short, I know that an Egyptian mythology really can be written.”

That which he found in Thebes he combined, at a comparatively late date, with what he had gained in Italy, and the results of all these collections, studies, and combinations were finally accumulated in his epoch-producing work on the first Egyptian Pantheon.[34] This proves that even with the motley swarm of Egyptian Gods it is possible to follow the historical principle of classification. Lepsius was the first, not only to discover and more nearly determine the “group of the superior gods,” but also to establish clearly the reasons why the adored beings of whom it consists are associated together. Where variations occurred he explained their origin from local or temporal causes in a convincing manner. His conjectures as to the age of the Osiris myth have been confirmed by the inscriptions in the lately opened pyramids.

In his treatise on the gods of the four elements[35] there is much with which we cannot now agree. Contrary to his opinion their names occur much earlier than the time of the Ptolemies. But in spite of this and other errors the paper stands, as far as method is concerned, on an equal footing with its predecessors, and it is here that he has summed up in a brief phrase{116} the rule which he steadfastly obeyed during his long and active scientific career: “In all antiquarian investigations it will always be safest to begin with a chronological analysis of the material, before proceeding to a systematic arrangement thereof.”

Lepsius also adhered firmly to this rule when he entered upon that department of his science towards which at Rome he was impelled, not only by the influence of the Archaeological Institute to which he belonged, but by the tendency of his whole life. He there turned his attention to the art of the ancient Egyptians, and chiefly to their architecture. In his parents’ house at Naumburg he had seen the preference with which his father cultivated this branch of art; on all his journeys he filled his note-book with observations on the remarkable buildings which he encountered, and accompanied them with little drawings. We know how eagerly, particularly at Göttingen, he had followed the progress of the archaeology of art, which was greatly promoted at that time by the influence of Winckelmann. The air of Rome, too, was as thoroughly permeated with art then as it is now, and with even more enthusiastic artistic interests. There all conversation between aspiring friends so easily took, as it still takes, the form of a conversation on art. So that Lepsius, as well as Bunsen, who a few years later was to publish his celebrated work on Christian basilicas, felt the liveliest interest in these subjects and was forced by an inherent necessity to give special attention to the remarkable art of that people to whose{117} resurrection he had pledged the best powers of his life.

In 1838, then, there appeared Lepsius’ dissertation on the columns of the ancient Egyptians, and their connection with the Grecian columns.[36] When we designate this work also, which lay outside of the master’s special field of research, as original, and unsurpassed of its kind, in so doing we are in no wise “burning incense to our dead” but simply judging it as it deserves to be rated. Here, as elsewhere, Lepsius applies the law quoted above, by dividing chronologically the material which he has first thoroughly collected, and pointing out how the Egyptian columns arose from their original beginnings and developed themselves independently, here in cave-building, and there in open-air edifices;—he scrupulously maintains the division between the two. This classification alone is a real achievement, and any one who follows the progress of cave-building step by step with him, will see the Doric column with all its component parts develop organically before him. Even he who, out of regard for the omnipotence of the genius of Hellenic art, is averse to considering the Doric column as an architectural constituent borrowed by the Greeks from the Egyptians, will not be able to deny that the transformation of the pillar in the so-called proto-Doric column of the Egyptian cave-architecture (first and chiefly in the vaults of Beni Hassan), can be proved to{118} be natural and necessary, while the Greek-Doric column, even in the oldest temples of the Doric order, makes its first appearance as a thing complete, and as fallen from heaven. It indeed forms from the beginning an organic and essential part of the monument of architecture to which it belongs, but while its origin cannot be definitely pointed out on Hellenic ground, it can be easily and positively traced in the Egyptian cave-architecture. Lepsius reverted to this question after his Egyptian journey, and in an academical treatise[37] he criticized sharply yet admiringly the fundamental conditions, the properties, and the merits of that Egyptian art, whose development he here, as elsewhere, followed with peculiar interest. He gave his attention also to the canon of proportions, that is, the binding rule according to which the Egyptian sculptors were obliged to measure and shape the relative proportions of the different parts of the human body. He had already been interested in the study of this subject in Rome, for in October, 1833, he saw a little bust in the Palin collection which was furnished on the under surface and both side surfaces with mathematically exact squares, the sides of which appeared to give him the unit of the canon. “The whole bust,” he tells Bunsen, “is wrought by this unit, which, in fact, according to my measurements of various statues, is contained about twenty-one times in the whole height.{119}”

This canon was well known to the Greeks, and Diodorus refers to it in the last chapter of his first book. According to him the body was to be divided into twenty-one and a quarter parts, and Lepsius now found that this rule conformed to the teachings of the later sculptors of the Ptolemaic era, who undoubtedly divided the human form up to the top of the forehead into twenty-one and one-quarter parts, but up to the crown of the head into twenty-three parts. Previous to this mode of division the canon had been twice altered, and both of these older rules (the more recent refers to the sculptures of the time of the pyramids), had for a fundamental unit the foot, which, taken six times, corresponded to the height of the body when erect, not indeed, as one would have expected, from the sole to the crown of the head, but only to the top of the forehead. The distinction between the first and second canon principally concerns the position of the knee: in the Ptolemaic canon, known to Diodorus, Lepsius found the general distribution itself changed. This he first discovered at Kom Ombos. We have always found the estimates of Lepsius entirely confirmed by our own measurements; yet, as the labors of Charles Blanc in the same department demonstrate, some other unit than the foot might be the basis of the canon of proportions, such as the finger in men, the claw in lions—ex ungue leonem.

The application of this obligatory rule (of the canon) impressed upon the works of Egyptian plastic art that stamp of uniformity with which it has been so{120} often and so bitterly reproached. Yet we must regard the artistic talents of the Egyptian sculptors from the first with great respect when we consider the oldest specimens of Egyptian sculpture, which far excel the later in freedom of method and in realistic fidelity to nature, and which nevertheless are in no way inferior to them in all that concerns delicacy of execution.

Let us then suppose that this most ancient artistic race was surrounded by pure barbarians, who in the struggle for the bare necessaries of existence had no superfluous force to expend in the adornment of life; it is easy to understand that the guardians of Egyptian culture, the priests, must have made every effort to protect against retrogression and ruin the possession which was so recently won, and which was exposed to constant peril. The canon of proportions held Egyptian sculpture firmly fixed upon the lonely pinnacle so painfully attained, and even though it checked farther progress in a lamentable manner, yet, on the other hand it had this merit, that by its aid Egyptian plastic art preserved untouched through every epoch its remarkable purity of style and great technical skill. This latter even extended to the production of the simple household furniture. Lepsius teaches us to value this law correctly, and explains the peculiarity of the methods of sculpture by the special qualities of the Egyptian national character, which gave its full value to every detail with great fidelity, and only accorded the second place in its regard to the aspect of the whole. The same people whose language was rich in{121} pronominal substantives and who, in an objective sense, said, “I give to thy hand,” rather than “I give to thee,” “the speech of his mouth,” rather than “his speech,” was obliged to do justice to each separate portion of the body. For this reason, in figures in alto-relievo and in paintings, the eye was set en face in a countenance in profile, in order that it might have its full value, regardless of the detriment which accrued to the whole figure from such an error.

Lepsius teaches us to regard and value Egyptian sculpture correctly and to consider the detached figures which we see ranged in the museum in connection with the architectural surroundings for which they were originally intended. The erroneous view that Egyptian sculpture was architectural in its spirit and execution has long been subverted by the figures in the round from the ancient kingdom, found during the last decade. These are true to nature and well preserved, and Lepsius knows how to set forth their merits properly.

In his investigations concerning the canon of proportions, we see him apply the measuring-scale for the first time, and his researches in the province of Egyptian metrology were subsequently to yield a rich harvest to science.

With all this purely Egyptological work, and his extensive labors for the Institute, he did not neglect his old linguistic studies, and resumed the investigations to which his dissertation on the Eugubian tablets had given the impulse. The opportunity for the prosecution of this work had formed no insignificant element of his{122} attraction to Rome, and we see him make a fine collection of Umbrian and Oscan inscriptions, and draw up two papers on ancient Etruria, which did not appear in print until several years later, and formed the extra profits, as it were, of his sojourn in Italy. It is hard to understand how he found time so far to complete them that from 1840 to 1842 he only had to correct them, and to oversee their passage through the press, when we consider that he in no wise withdrew himself from the social life of Bunsen’s house, and from intercourse, grave and gay, with eminent strangers. Lepsius himself calls the years in which he had the good fortune “to build huts at Rome,” “a great holiday of life, earnest and serene, instructive and elevating, a determinative period in his development.”

Under Bunsen’s guidance, he says, he had learned to know life and science upon classic ground from their highest and noblest sides.

In his intercourse with Bunsen he also acquired the interest in politics, and especially in ecclesiastical politics, which he cherished throughout his life, as is proved by his letters to his patron the statesman, and to his father, as well as his own journals and the diaries of his wife. In one of his note-books we find the plan, which, however, was never taken into consideration, for a new episcopal order for Germany. The seat of the supreme leader of the church and the counselling authorities was to be Magdeburg.{123}

In July, 1838, Lepsius was obliged to take leave of Rome with an unwilling heart, in order to attend to business of importance for the Institute, first at Paris and afterwards at London. He had to enroll new and active members for it, and to organize its connection with the English literati. Afterwards, by his own wish, he returned to his native land, released from editorial labors for the Institute, although he still continued to work for it as a member of the board of directors.

On the way from Paris to London he turned aside to Holland, in order to study the celebrated collection of Egyptian antiquities at Leyden, which since 1835 had an excellent director in C. Leemans. Here Lepsius found an unexpected wealth of the most valuable monuments and papyri, and on September 12th, 1838, he wrote to Bunsen: “I was going to leave to-day, but now I shall be glad to stay for a few days more, as I can not return again, and so must finish here once for always.[38] Besides, Leemans, with whom I am staying, is a charming man; admirable alike in head and heart, and full of ability in every direction. He helps me wherever he can, and has already made Leyden a city of delight to me.{124}”

In England he was most cordially received by Bunsen, who had resigned his post at Rome, and left that city before our friend. The reason of this was that he had not succeeded in making an amicable adjustment of the ecclesiastical complications in Prussia (the quarrel at Cologne and the imprisonment of the Bishop of Droste-Vischering). Lepsius had long been adopted as a beloved comrade by the Bunsen family, and his letters show what a hearty interest he felt in every member of it, especially in the lad George, who was afterwards to become a prominent member of the German National Assembly.

It was an easy thing for Bunsen, whose admirable wife was descended from an English family of distinction, to smooth the way for Lepsius, not only in London but throughout Great Britain, and to open to him the doors of the best houses and of the collections most difficult of access. In this way the young German scholar not only learned to know English life on all sides, but also obtained admission to all the collections of Egyptian antiquities, whether they belonged to the government or to private individuals. He knew how to turn these favorable opportunities to good account, and in all England there were few hieroglyphic inscriptions which Lepsius did not carry away with him, either in impressions or copies, when he quitted hospitable Albion. His intercourse with Bunsen was especially delightful when he visited him at beautiful Llanover, the country place of his mother-in-law, Mrs. Waddington. Speaking of this subject, Hare says in{125} his biography of the Baroness von Bunsen, “The friends were accustomed to wander over the hills for hours together in enthusiastic conversation about Egypt and its antiquarian writings, or to sit in profound conversation in the churchyard of Llanffoist under an oak tree a thousand years old.” They had much to say of the affairs of the Roman Institute, which Lepsius found to be very badly managed in England. The subscribers there had received none of the publications for years, many of them not since 1830, and on this account had stopped paying their dues. Others had supposed that the Institute had been dissolved, and the difficult task of correcting these errors and determining and collecting the arrears fell to Lepsius. His plan of publishing a separate volume of annals in London was not adopted, but he had the good fortune to secure S. Birch as an assistant in the management, and the latter was now entrusted with the affairs of the English section, in place of Millingen.

The conservative subject of the absolute monarch, Frederick William III., also learned in Great Britain to know the advantages of civil freedom and of parliamentary life.

He had much to settle with Bunsen himself regarding the work of which they were to be the joint authors, and he wrote from London to his faithful patron: “I have never labored with such love and devotion as now at our, that is, at your work. For it is you who have conceived the idea, and at the same time pointed out and assured its place in European science; you{126} have spun the thread of its life and given the framework for the whole. Finally, you have provided the means for carrying it on, and everything that I accomplish and record I only do according to your ideas and for you, and as I work I naturally think of no other reader than yourself. I see that I must visit you to get you to give me a few quiet days in which we can come to a definitive understanding and agreement about the impending publication.”

Bunsen labored at the part of the work which fell to his share, as Lepsius at his, and the day seemed not far distant when the two would compare, combine, and publish their manuscripts. But there had already arisen many differences of opinion between the collaborators, and these seemed particularly important in the department of chronology, where Lepsius was to execute the lion’s share of the labor. While Bunsen, as was afterwards proved, reposed far too much confidence in the list of Eratosthenes, Lepsius had so high an estimate of Manetho as to place the greatest confidence in those lists of the series of kings which he considered the genuine work of that priest. He also made freer use of the historical inscriptions and the data of ancient Egyptian origin, (with which he had a much more intimate acquaintance than Bunsen), and attributed to them far greater importance, than seemed justifiable to the latter. The materials for his “Book of Kings” and his Chronology developed, and took the form of independent works, and although both were intended as a part of the book to be published in{127} common by him and Bunsen, they yet contained, as we perceive from the letters of that period, a number of details which were in direct opposition to Bunsen’s views. At the end of the year 1839 it was already difficult to comprehend what path the fellow-workmen could pursue in order to arrive at a practicable agreement.

The confidence which Lepsius inspired in the highest circles of English society is shown by the circumstance that the Duke of Sutherland wished to take him into his household as mentor and tutor to his son. But the young scholar declined this flattering offer, which was associated with great material advantages, and wrote to Bunsen: “My one-sided talent in the dissection of organic structures has never been united with any readiness for presenting things broadly, as is necessary in teaching, and especially in teaching the young. Besides, I am not qualified for an instructor, because I perceive every day that I myself have not yet passed the season of education.”

These words sound somewhat strange on the lips of so thoughtful and able a young man; he was then twenty-nine years old. But at that time he was still striving after the ideal of life which hovered before him, and such expressions were partly dictated by modesty, partly by the disinclination which he had previously expressed for the vocation of a pedagogue, and partly also by a longing for Egypt. During his stay in England (1839) this became stronger and stronger.{128}

After he had declined the offer of the Duke of Sutherland, he took serious council with himself as to how his future should be spent, and wrote to Bunsen: “A decision as to my immediate future is constantly becoming more imperative. But no matter in what direction I send forth my thoughts, not one of them brings me back the olive branch. I cut myself off from Italy,” (by giving up his situation in the Institute at Rome, although he was still to work for it in Germany), “I cannot stay in England.” Bunsen had been appointed Prussian Ambassador to Bern, and while in England Lepsius’ affections had become engaged, although he would not yield to the impulse of his heart, as his uncertain future did not permit him to woo a maiden who was apparently as poor as himself. “I have nothing to do in France, and it would be too soon for me to go to Germany. So Egypt is all that remains to me, and that is still the pole-star in all my deliberations. Some day or other Egypt must be devoured; this is my time, there is no war there now, etc. An Egyptian journey would be a great recommendation for me afterwards in Germany. In any case this would be the most natural course for my affairs to take. Ought it not be possible to attain this goal in some way? The first and most agreeable thought always leads to Berlin. Therefore, I ask you if an extraordinary effort might not be made there. An urgent application from you to the Crown Prince would be the main thing. I would appeal especially to Humboldt. Gerhard would certainly be willing to{129} undertake the personal conduct of the affair. If this course seems to you entirely impracticable, or if it miscarries, I must try to start from here.... If the worst comes to the worst, I will raise the necessary money somewhere or other in Germany, and go to Cairo at my own risk.”

In this letter, he gives open expression to the desire of his heart for the first time. Bunsen thought him right, promised his young friend to do everything possible in the affair, and in conjunction with Humboldt to interest the Crown Prince, (soon afterwards Frederick William IV.), in his Nile journey. But he begged his protégé not to be over-hasty, and represented to him how detrimental it would be to break up their common enterprise, as well as the undertakings begun by Lepsius alone. His Umbrian and Oscan inscriptions finished at Rome, as well as two treatises, were still to be printed; and the edition of his “Book of the Dead,” besides several other things, was not yet concluded. Yet more, previous to his departure the Egyptian chronology and lists of kings, for which Bunsen was impatiently waiting, must be set in order, and the German translation of Gaily Knight’s “Development of Architecture,” also awaited its completion. This had been prepared by Lepsius’ father, and he had himself undertaken to revise and provide it with an introduction.

The impatient young Egyptologist yielded to these monitions of his experienced and benevolent patron, and in November, 1839, we see him again among his{130} family at Naumburg. The ensuing months he spent partly in his native town, partly in Berlin, working indefatigably, while Bunsen (who had meanwhile arrived at Bern as Prussian Ambassador), and A. v. Humboldt exerted themselves to promote his Egyptian journey. The great influence of the latter had only increased, since the Crown Prince of Prussia, on June seventh, 1840, had ascended the throne as Frederick William IV. Lepsius was permitted to enter into closer relations with the famous friend of the King, as he satisfied Humboldt’s desire to possess a list of the stones and metals mentioned in the hieroglyphic texts. This he did in a fashion which surprised the natural philosopher, who was ever hungry for knowledge, and filled him with gratitude. Instead of a catalogue, Lepsius presented to him a treatise, of which he says himself that the style in which it was written gave him great pleasure. “These researches concerning stones,” he writes, “have brought to light many a jewel for myself, which I have deposited in my hieroglyphic store-chamber.” All that he then acquired remained lying there until, in 1871, it celebrated its resurrection in his model dissertation on the metals in Egyptian inscriptions.

The proposition made to him at this time to enter the Foreign Office, and devote himself to a diplomatic career, he declined positively and without long consideration.

In Naumburg was completed the printing of Gally Knight’s work,[39] and of the introduction by Lepsius.{131} This fills forty-six pages, and treats of the extensive employment of the pointed arch in Germany as early as the tenth and eleventh century. His observations begin with the Naumburg cathedral, which his father had studied with special thoroughness, and where he had actually found pointed arches of the eleventh century.

This introduction raised a great deal of dust, and when, thirteen years afterwards, Lepsius wished to carry through an affair of importance with the King, the royal adviser on art matters at that time, was not well disposed towards him, because in the views of Lepsius on the early application of the pointed arch in Germany, he saw an attack upon his own opinions. For the rest, the note-books of the Egyptologist, full of architectural drawings, and his letters to his father, show that in all his subsequent journeys he paid the keenest attention to all the edifices which he met, and when he was in a position to construct a house for himself, he built it in the English-Gothic style, and placed his beloved pointed arch over the doors and windows.

Meanwhile, he also published two smaller academical treatises.

In the winter of 1841, he undertook a new journey to Italy across the Alps, which were covered with snow and ice. The exclusive object of this was to complete the editing of the “Book of the Dead,” which had been already prepared, and which was mentioned above on page 95. As a well-known{132} scholar and member of the board of directors of the Archaeological Institute at Rome he was now received at Turin with particular consideration, and had freely placed at his disposal a new copy of the great Turin “Book of the Dead,” which had been brought thither by Barucchi, the manager of the museum. But this was not sufficient for him, and there was still much for him to do before his own copy gained that accuracy which distinguishes it.

“I ought to leave here to-morrow in order to keep to the time fixed upon,” he writes to Bunsen, on February 18, 1841; “but it is not possible for me to finish yet. I need at least two days more to complete all that is of most importance. I go to the museum at half-past eight; they are not up there before that; I stay there the whole day, except from four till quarter of five, my meal-time; from the table I go back again and work until ten or half-past ten o’clock. I cannot work at the great papyrus by candlelight, for fear of injuring something, but then, I have the finest things to look over to select for copying, all of which I had not found when I was here first.” Altogether, he now perceived that during his former visit much had been intentionally withheld from him; this time everything was entrusted to him, and he made the most profitable use, for his chronological purposes especially, of the large “Papyrus of the Kings.” He had busts cast in plaster, from the finest images of the Pharaohs, for the Berlin museum, and amongst the treasures of Turin the idea occurred to him of publishing the most important{133} records of the time of the Pharaohs as a separate work. This accordingly appeared in 1842.[40]

He employed the draughtsmen Weidenbach before mentioned, on this work and on the edition of the “Book of the Dead,” and he expressed to Bunsen his delight over the great progress made by these artists on the path which he had indicated to them.

On his way home he visited Bunsen in Bern, spent several happy days in the circle of the ambassador’s family, and then tarried for some time in Munich, where v. Zech was his “cicerone,” and where he established relations with Cornelius and other men of celebrity. He enjoyed the most frequent and agreeable intercourse with Schelling, of whom he says “his nature is as great as it is lovely.” The latter had just accepted a call to Berlin, (at first for one year only) and Lepsius says he was going thither with great hopes of success and of exercising a salutary influence. “He is convinced beforehand of the victory of his good cause, since it is not a question of bare negation and opposition, such as he reproaches Stahl with, (who only filched from him), but he has something to advance which is new and positive, and will make a place for itself. He must either be refuted, or he must convince and prevail. As, according to his firm conviction, he cannot be refuted, the latter must take place. Besides the foregoing alternatives, it is true that another occurred to me, but about that I naturally kept silence. Good fortune to him!{134}”

Refreshed and satisfied with the results of this journey he devoted himself at home with all his energy to the editing of the Umbrian and Oscan inscriptions[41] which he had collected in Rome.

In the following year two more of the fruits of his Italian labors came to maturity,[42] and were received with universal commendation.

One sees with what bee-like industry he made use of this time of waiting. This was duly recognized, for before he set out on the Egyptian journey, he was appointed Professor Extraordinary at the University of Berlin, and thus the first chair of Egyptology was founded at that university. There was already a similar one at Leipsic, but the improper course adopted by Seyffarth, for whom it had been founded, gave little encouragement to other universities to extend support to Egyptologic studies. In this way it had happened that Lepsius’ proposition, that a professorship in the Berlin University should be conferred upon him, had been rejected; but Humboldt had recognized the qualifications of the applicant, and in 1841, as soon as he returned home from a protracted stay in Paris, he interested himself in the matter. As usual, he carried through what he desired, and on the twenty-sixth of January, 1842, Lepsius received the appointment as Professor Extraordinary of Egyptology, and in addition, the grant of a small salary. It is true that the newly appointed Professor could not begin to lecture; for the{135} completion and publication of the works mentioned above claimed much of his time, and the preparations for the Egyptian journey still more.

Frederick William IV., of Prussia, was a monarch whose unpractical, romantic disposition took the greatest delight, not only in the luxuriant, many-colored, fragrant bloom of Indian civilization, but also in the mysterious and immemorial magic of the Egyptian. He had given willing audience to Humboldt and to Bunsen. The ambassador had been exchanged from Bern to London in 1841, especially in order that he might carry out the wishes of his master regarding the evangelical episcopate in Jerusalem. Both these men were in particularly close relation with the king, and on this account they were more likely than any others to succeed in winning the monarch over to Lepsius’ project of travelling.

Already, as Crown Prince, the King had acquired the Passalacqua collection of Egyptian antiquities, as well as negotiated for the purchase of other similar collections.[43] He had taken pains to place this treasure in the Monbijou palace at Berlin, and entrusted the{136} care of it to Passalacqua. In his youth the scientific event of the deciphering of hieroglyphics had excited his special attention, and Bunsen, who had long been in close relations with him, both as a man and as his most eminent statesman, had been assiduous in preserving his interest in Egyptian antiquity. He had kept the monarch informed as to the progress of Egyptology, before his own protégé had even thought of undertaking a voyage on the Nile.

Humboldt now joined with Bunsen to induce the king to bestow his powerful support upon the young Prussian, who, even at that time, might be considered the most worthy of Champollion’s successors.

Lepsius had his plans to make; Humboldt talked over each separate point with him in the most careful manner, and thus there ripened in them both the wish, to transform the journey of a single scholar into a scientific expedition. Lepsius must of course keep the leadership, and there was also committed to him the choice of those persons to be especially employed in carrying out his own purposes. But he had to consult with Humboldt on the greater or less fitness and necessity for the appointment of the corps of assistants who were to be taken, as well as on the capabilities of each single member of the expedition. He had to submit to him exact estimates, both in writing and by word of mouth, in regard to the prospective expenses and the time to be consumed, as well as of all that he hoped to gain, and the collections which he expected to make on the way, before Humboldt would undertake{137} to present to the king the “memorial” which had been drawn up for the purpose, and to influence him to the final decision.

Lepsius had designated, as one of the principal objects of his journey, the collection of beautiful and interesting monuments of the time of the Pharaohs, to be added as a new embellishment to the Egyptian museum in the palace of Monbijou at Berlin. This purpose of the expedition, which Humboldt knew how to dilate upon, won the entire approbation of the King, and accordingly he approved the contents of the “memorial” which had been presented to him, endowed the expedition with abundant pecuniary resources, and commended it, and especially its leader, by means of a warm autograph letter, to the great Muhamed ‘Ali, who at that time ruled over the valley of the Nile with a strong hand. He also bestowed upon the travellers superb vases, from the porcelain manufactory at Berlin, as a gift for Muhamed ‘Ali, in order to lay the viceroy himself under an obligation and to secure for the expedition the favor of that monarch.

Everything was now ready for the departure, but before Lepsius started he had to set his affairs in order. Several undertakings had been brought to a successful issue, and all the most important preparatory work was finished for the book which he and Bunsen were to publish in concert. Yet it was this very enterprise which filled him with the greatest solicitude. Frankly and honorably he disclosed to his revered patron everything that disturbed him, in the admirable letter in{138} which he tried to induce Bunsen, to absolve him from co-operation in the work which they had planned. The differences of opinion between them had become more and more sharply defined, and the elder scholar had been as little able to convince the younger, as the younger to convince him. It seemed to Lepsius impossible to present side by side two different opinions in a work which must yet pretend to unity of thought. He justly attributed to Bunsen the most magnificent ability for the handling of great historical problems; but considering his wide command of this field, and that in chronology also he was able to pursue his way independently, Lepsius regarded his own intervention as a mistake, both practically and essentially. He was indeed most disturbed by the circumstance that no one would be in a position to distinguish between his and Bunsen’s work, whence they must both be subjected to erroneous criticisms. He, Lepsius, wished to reserve his manuscript till the completion of his travels; Bunsen would soon be able to send his work to press. He besought the latter not to wait till his own return from the journey, but to proceed independently without delay, and to use as entirely his own, all the material regarding which they had come to an agreement. To put it off would only be to renew the old doubts, and to begin afresh the conflict which had been once waged without result. He would be ready and glad (and this promise he fulfilled), to make an abstract for him of all the names of kings written in hieroglyphics, and prepare them for the press.{139}

Thus, in the work entitled “Egypt’s Place in Universal History,” the first volume of which was published in 1845, before Lepsius’ return from Egypt, the whole historical statement, which takes the loftiest point of view and is rich in novel and suggestive ideas, is entirely Bunsen’s own work. His young friend only placed at his disposal much historical and chronological information, which he had happened upon in the course of his researches among the monuments.

It is unquestionable that if the fellow-laborers had adhered to their original plan, and had not separated, Bunsen’s work would have gained a more stable foundation and assumed a much calmer and more succinct shape than it actually had. The stream of Bunsen’s eloquence, which was often too glittering and too diffuse, would have been confined within bounds by the conciseness and severity of Lepsius. His aspirations after grandeur and breath, would have been kept down to earth by Lepsius’ fidelity and care for the smallest detail.

The candor of the letter in which Lepsius abandons the enterprise, and the manner in which Bunsen took the withdrawal of his protégé, do them both the highest honor, and this incident never in the least disturbed the friendly relation between them.[44] Lepsius, when he{140} could finally leave Berlin, went by way of London, was received there in the most affectionate manner by Bunsen, and accompanied by him to Southampton, where on the first of September, 1842, the young Egyptologist embarked for Alexandria. Together they had thoroughly talked over all that might be attained and all that might be gained, before the steamship weighed anchor.

On the eighteenth of September, 1842, after a stormy passage through the Bay of Biscay and a short stay in Gibraltar and Malta, Lepsius, who was proof against sea-sickness, and had been perfectly well throughout the voyage, first set his foot upon Egyptian soil at Alexandria.

The choice of his companions had been fortunate, and answered perfectly to the needs of the expedition. We will first mention Erbkam, an excellently trained{141} young architect, distantly related to Lepsius, who was to make surveys, and draw maps and sketches. He showed himself so entirely equal to the task that the architectural and topographical drawings executed by him under the direction of Lepsius have long been acknowledged to be model productions and faultlessly correct.[45] We have already said all that is necessary of Lepsius’ Naumberg fellow-countrymen, the brothers Weidenbach, and their work as hierogrammatists. Lepsius had made the acquaintance of the painter Frey, from Basle, when in Rome. In the book on monuments, which will be described hereafter, many of the beautiful colored landscapes and architectural pictures from lower Egypt are by him; others are by the Dresden painter, George, a jovial and talented artist, who joined the expedition after Frey had become seriously ill, and been sent home.

The moulder, Franke, at first rendered excellent service by making casts of such monuments as could not be brought away, and by preparing the many thousands of paper impressions which it was necessary to take of the inscriptions and bas reliefs. But subsequently he had to be dismissed and sent home on account of inadmissible conduct.

The expedition was also accompanied by H. Abeken of Osnabrück, who had been with Bunsen, first at Rome and then at London, as chaplain of the Prus{142}sian Embassy. He had made the acquaintance of the leader of the expedition on the Tiber, and was closely associated with him during the remainder of his life. Under the guidance of Lepsius he occupied himself with Egyptological studies, even after he had relinquished theology and entered the diplomatic service. This is the same Abeken, diplomatic Privy Counsellor and Acting Counsellor, who afterwards accompanied Prince Bismarck to France during the war of 1870-1, and proved of great service there. On the tenth of December, 1842, he joined the expedition in which he served incidentally as chaplain. He was the most agreeable companion to Lepsius, “with his invariably cheerful temper,” and his “witty and learned conversation.”[46]

With these Germans were associated two Englishmen. The first was the sculptor Bonomi, who at that time had already won celebrity as a traveler in Egypt and Ethiopia, and of whom Lepsius himself said: “he is not only full of practical knowledge about the life there, but he is also a connoisseur in Egyptian art, and a master of Egyptian drawing.”[47] The second was the{143} young and “genial” architect Wild, who was of great assistance to Erbkam.

The leader of the expedition had himself scarcely passed his thirty-first year, and was so young and vigorous, that when he desired to hire a kavass, that is, a Turkish constable, to superintend the servants, the intercourse with the authorities, etc., he wrote home: “In Europe I should have felt more than sufficient confidence in my own ability to manage the entire practical conduct of the expedition.” He had, besides, sovereign command of the most thorough scholarship in all those departments wherein the expedition was intended to add to existing knowledge.

He had garnered the whole harvest to be reaped in Europe from every field of Egyptian archaeology, and all that could be gathered anew from the banks of the Nile only needed to be stored in the receptacles which, already set apart and half-filled, stood ready for the expected gains.

The conditions under which he traveled, and studied the localities of the monuments, were such as to fill us later investigators with envy. For in 1842, there was no museum of Boulak, which now lawfully claims all antiquities from Egyptian soil as soon as they are brought to the light of day. At that time there existed only the first beginnings of a collection of Egyptian monuments, and these had no supervisor nor director.

The subsisting law against the exportation of antiquities was set aside in favor of Lepsius, compulsory{144} labor was not yet abolished, and Muhamed ‘Ali, who governed in his viceroyalty with the irresponsible power of an absolute despot, wished to extend every assistance to the expedition. He caused a firman to be issued for Lepsius, which gave him unconditional permission to make any excavations which he might consider desirable. All the local authorities were charged to assist him in his undertakings, and Lepsius said that by means of the kavasses who had been assigned to him by the government, and on the strength of the firman, they obtained from the sheiks of the nearest villages and the mudirs of the provinces all the workmen and appliances needed for making and transporting his collection of antiquities. The necessary payments had of course to be made, but they never met with a refusal. At Fayoum, for instance, he employed a hundred and eight workmen in the excavation of the building which he considered to be the Labyrinth. Each man received two copper piasters a day (about twenty pfennige) and each child ten pfennige, or, if it was very industrious, fifteen pfennige, a day. Besides this some bread was given them. Under such conditions great things may be accomplished with comparatively small means.

Nowadays it is only under exceptional circumstances, and within carefully prescribed limits, that a European is permitted to make excavations. The laborers ask quite a high price,—in Thebes I had to pay each man six full piasters (one mark, twenty pfennige)—and, if one disinters any monuments, even under the most favorable circumstances, only such{145} single specimens are permitted to leave the country as the vice-regal museum is already rich in. Lepsius was more fortunately situated. The monuments which he found in Ethiopia and wished to add to his collection were brought from Mount Barcal to Alexandria on government vessels, and to these were also added three tombs, from the neighborhood of the pyramids of Ghizeh, which had been carefully taken to pieces with the help of four workmen sent expressly for the purpose from Berlin. On his departure from Egypt he received a special written permit for the removal of the collection, and the objects obtained were themselves presented to King Frederick William IV. of Prussia, by Muhamed ‘Ali.

With full authority to take possession of all that might embellish the Berlin collection, Lepsius appropriated what was most desirable and most interesting wherever he found it, and ventured, as we have seen, to remove whole tombs from the necropolis of ancient Memphis to the Spree. This could not be done without injury to the adjoining tombs, as they had consisted of a number of rooms collectively, and envy, ill-will and stupidity were quickly at hand to accuse the Prussian expedition of having, like impious Vandals, plundered and injured the monuments in pursuit of their own purposes. But this accusation was entirely unfounded, and any one who knows the condition of Egypt at that time can only rejoice that so many treasures, which were neglected and exposed to wanton destruction in their native country, were at a favorable{146} moment removed to Europe and preserved in a fine public museum.

No farther assurance is needed that Lepsius and his companions neither laid hands upon nor destroyed a single stone unnecessarily, but it will be expedient to mention here that since the French expedition and the completion of the great work on monuments prepared by it, a series of ancient edifices portrayed therein have vanished from the earth.

Between our first and second visit to the Nile an interesting little temple at Erment had been turned into a sugar factory, and in the same space of time the fine remains of a Grecian portico of white marble, which had adorned the old Bes-Antinoopolis, had found their way to the lime-kiln. This could occur at a time when the monuments were lovingly and jealously guarded by the vigilant eye of Mariette, and hence it is easy to conjecture what dangers threatened them as long as they were left entirely at the mercy of every encroachment of the fellahin.

In a letter from the necropolis of Memphis, long before the above-mentioned accusations were brought against him, Lepsius wrote: “It is really shocking to see how every day whole trains of camels come here from the neighboring villages, and march back again in long files, laden with building stones. Fortunately,—for everything is fortunate under some circumstances,—the lazy fellahin are more attracted by the Psamatik tombs than by those of the oldest dynasties, whose big blocks are too unwieldly for them.{147}”

Therefore we may confidently designate the removal to Berlin, just at that time, of the three tombs from Memphis and the other monuments, as an act of protection. Only the pillar which Lepsius removed from the perfectly preserved tomb of Seti I. at Thebes, should have been left in its place.

The travellers, filled with enthusiasm for their task, had a long and difficult journey to take in the course of their investigations and search for spoils. It led them all, by ships, upon the backs of camels, and on foot, with many delays and digressions, into the heart of the African continent, as far as Khartoum at the junction of the two sources of the Nile. Then, alone except for the company of Abeken, Lepsius sailed on up the Blue River as far as the village of Romali, between Sennar, the celebrated ancient capital of the Sudan, which he visited, and Fazokl.

The last letter from our wayfarer is dated from Smyrna, and was written on the seventh of December, 1845, much more than three years after his arrival at Alexandria. From the very first, a long period of traveling had been contemplated, and the leader had taken pains to establish his own position with regard to the whole party, and the rights and duties of each individual member of it, as well as to provide for “suitable intellectual diet.” The commanding nature of his distinguished and imposing personality had, if we except the excesses of the moulder Franke, obviated throughout the whole time any illegitimate opposition to, or rebellion against, his position as chief. How{148} justly, kindly and wisely this was maintained may best be shown by the friendship and attachment manifested towards him till death by Abeken, Erbkam, the Weidenbachs, and all the other members of the expedition, with the exception of Franke.

And this is no light matter, for nowhere do disagreements of every kind occur more readily than among a small party, who, separated from their native civilization, have to endure, in addition to many deprivations, the burden of an enervating climate; and who, tormented by discomforts, fatigue, and homesickness, yield only too easily to gloomy and discontented moods, beneath whose spell it is hard to be just and to submit cheerfully to the will of another. Lepsius himself says that from the beginning he tried to diversify the life of his party, and especially the irksome and very monotonous work of his artists, not only by the weekly holiday of Sunday, but also, as often as an opportunity offered, by cheerful merry-makings and pleasant diversions.

One must himself have lived and worked in the Orient, far from the bustle of cities, to appreciate what it is to pass on from days to weeks and from weeks to months as on a monotonous road without stopping-places. In such a place and at such times one feels the blessing of our Sunday holiday, and Lepsius’ fellow-travellers would certainly have fallen a prey to fatigue and disgust during their long period of traveling and working together, if their chief had not observed the feasts and holidays peculiar to their own{149} country, and had not kindly and judiciously taken account of their spiritual needs. One of the most beautiful memories of our own life is that of the moment when, after many months of wandering through Moslem lands, we unexpectedly heard a church bell ring on Christmas day. It was long, long since we had listened to the sound, and for the first time we fully appreciated its elevating loveliness, when standing in front of the little Protestant church in Upper Egypt from whose modest tower it resounded.

Like a thirsty man after a cool drink, we returned to our labors with fresh pleasure and fresh enthusiasm. The Sunday holiday of the Prussian expedition not only recompensed and blessed them with the necessary rest, but kept them in communion with the life of their dear ones at home.

It would exceed the limits prescribed for this biography if we should follow from spot to spot the travels, excavations, researches and collections of the party led by Lepsius. He has himself relieved us of this very tempting task, for his “Letters from Egypt, Ethiopia and the Peninsula of Sinai,”[48] is a book which can and should be read with pleasure and profit even by the general reader. It is by no means confined to the results of his scientific investigations, but makes the reader familiar also with the personal experiences of the author, and is distinguished by a clear, concise, vivid and often charming style. It is in many respects a{150} book of importance for his fellow laborers in the same department, since it places them in living contact with the sources whence sprang many of the most important discoveries and works of the author.

During his long stay at the necropolis of Memphis he succeeded in elucidating the details of the history of the “Old Empire.” The intuition by which he separated the twelfth dynasty from the eighteenth,[49] assigned its correct place to the incursion of the Hyksos, and even anticipated all that afterwards received documentary corroboration by Dümichen’s discovery of the great Tablet of the Kings at Abydos, will ever remain an intellectual feat worthy of admiration.

From Memphis he undertook, with the assistance of Erbkam’s technical knowledge, to investigate the architectural system employed in the construction of the pyramids. The results were recorded, even before the close of the journey, in a dissertation in which the subject was treated in the most fundamental manner.[50] These conclusions have been maintained against all attacks, and even against the attempt to modify them made by the excellent Perrot. In this work Lepsius confirms and explains the statement of Herodotus that the pyramids were completed from above downwards, and were built “in successive steps.” The work cited also contains a well considered and convincing answer to that other question which presents itself to the{151} thoughtful observer of these remarkable monuments. As soon as a Pharaoh ascended the throne he began the construction of his mausoleum. It was at first of modest dimensions, since he erected, as a nucleus of the whole, a truncated pyramid with steep sides, and in doing so often took advantage of the natural rocks. When he was overtaken by death, the pinnacle was first placed upon this nucleus, and its inclined sides were then continued to the ground. If time and power were still left after the completion of the first nucleus and before the pinnacle was set on, the truncated pyramid was invested with a new outer layer in the form of steps, and so it was continued until a point was reached where each new addition constituted of itself a gigantic labor. Whenever the time came to bring the monument to completion it was always necessary first to set on the pinnacle; the steps lying nearest to it were then filled out, and finally those at the bottom. There are pyramids of all sizes, and what we have said explains how it came to pass that one king erected for himself a monument of prodigious dimensions, while another was contented with one much smaller; why we can only point to two unfinished pyramids, and how Cheops, the builder of the largest pyramid, found courage to undertake a work for the execution of which the average duration of a reign would in no wise suffice, while yet the completion of it could not be exacted of his successors, who would have their own mausoleums to provide for. Everything is made clear, if we assume with Lepsius that the size of the pyramid was regulated by{152} the duration of its builder’s life, and that the latter had it in his power at any time to complete the work.

Lepsius believed that he had found the Labyrinth at Fayoum, and he was perhaps right in so thinking. But, even if this remarkable ancient building should be re-discovered on some other site of the old “lake country,” yet to Lepsius would still belong the credit of having determined the position of Lake Moeris, first indicated by Linant de Bellefonds, and of having proved that the Pharaoh Amenemha III., of the twelfth dynasty, was the Moeris of the Greeks.[51] He also was the first to investigate and make known all that was accomplished by this prince in regulating the inundation of the Nile.

We know that his researches in Egypt and Ethiopia extended even beyond the limits of the region of monuments. Within that zone he has, if we may be allowed the expression, left no corner unexplored. He met with the most abundant returns at Beni Hassan, Thebes, (especially upon the return journey) Gebel Silsile, the island of Philae, Abu Simbel on the second cataract, among the ruins of Ethiopian Meroë far in the South, and also on the peninsula of Sinai.

Within the bounds of the temple of Isis, on the lovely island beyond the first cataract, he made a succession of discoveries, upon which he afterwards based great and original works. He first found here an ecclesiastical ordinance,[52] similar to the decree of Rosetta,{153} drawn up in two languages, that is in hieroglyphics, and also in the demotic (popular) writing and language. The numerous names of the Ptolemies, which occurred in the inscriptions of the temple of Isis, also impelled him to study more thoroughly the succession of the Egyptian kings of the house of the Lagidae and to determine finally the order of this series of rulers, of such great importance for the history of other countries.[53] Here, as everywhere, he paid special attention to the Greek inscriptions, which are very numerous on Philae. By his sagacity and quick insight great additions were made to the Egypto-Grecian inscriptions previously collected by Letronne and others. Those which had been previously known received manifold corrections and additions owing to the extreme accuracy peculiar to him. He afterwards devoted a special treatise to the hieroglyphic form of the name of the Ionians.[54]

On the return journey he was not able to stop for as long a time as he had desired in the well-preserved Ptolemaic temples of Denderah and Edfu. These are thickly covered with inscriptions, and therefore he left behind him at those places, for Dümichen, Mariette, Naville, Brugsch and other Egyptologists, not only rich gleanings, but really the greater part of the substantial work still to be accomplished. But his attention was especially attracted in Edfu by an inscription which was afterwards to be of great service to him. In it were recorded the possessions in landed property of this tem{154}ple during the reign of Ptolemy XI. (Alexander I.)[55] The surface measures which occurred in it he was afterwards able to use to advantage in his studies on the linear and square measures of the ancient Egyptians.

After the expedition had passed the first cataract and entered the Nubian dominion the leader not only turned his attention to the remains of the temples there, which had as yet been examined in a very insufficient manner, but he also, with indefatigable industry, devoted himself to studying the languages of all the tribes on whose territories he touched. The description which he gives of the Nubian language, in a letter from Korusko, dated the thirtieth of November, 1843, presents with extreme conciseness the essential characteristics of this remarkable idiom. In his farther travels towards the south he afterwards investigated all the dialects of this same group of languages, and acquired such an excellent knowledge of it that he could venture, at a later date, to publish a translation of the Gospel according to St. Mark in Nubian.[56] In publishing this translation he made use of the standard alphabet which he had himself invented and which has been previously mentioned. Indeed it was on this account that he first began the difficult task of preparing the universal alphabet, which he was afterwards asked to extend to a great number of languages for various special purposes. During the journey he prepared a grammar and dictionary of three dialects; the Nuba language{155} spoken by the Nuba or Berber tribe, the Kungara language of the negroes of Dar-Fur, and the Béga language of the Bischarin inhabiting the eastern Sudan. This he did so perfectly that he himself hoped that the publication of these works would at least afford a clear idea of the languages mentioned. After his return home he continued to pursue these studies unremittingly, and thus obtained that profound insight into all the idioms of the African continent, which gives its great and permanent importance to his last long work, the Nubian Grammar, to which we shall again refer. Lepsius at first devoted himself with special ardor to the study of those languages which in his own day still flourished on the domain of the ancient Ethiopians, because he cherished a firm hope of finding in them the key, by which to decipher the popular writing of the Ethiopians, many examples of which he had discovered on the site of ancient Meroë. This writing is intended to be read from right to left, and the words are always separated by two points. But its significance is unsolved up to the present time. In deciphering the demotic-Ethiopian inscriptions little assistance is to be looked for from the Ethiopian-hieroglyphic as, whatever strange variations these may contain, they correspond almost entirely to the Egyptian, in form as well as in the language which underlies them. Like our own Latin inscriptions, they are composed in the writing and language of an alien people. As we shall see, Lepsius afterwards became convinced that the key to the Ethiopian-demotic inscriptions of which we{156} speak was not to be sought in the Nubian, but in the Cushite Bischariba language.

On the domain of ancient Meroë everything was still to be done, for Cailliaud, through whom the monuments there had first become known, had seen and described them without technical knowledge of the subject. It was, therefore, reserved for Lepsius to dissipate, once for all, the popular conjectures of a “splendid primeval Meroë,” whose inhabitants had been the predecessors of the Egyptians and their instructors in civilization. He proved that all the native monuments which had been preserved there dated from a relatively late period, which should not be fixed before the time of the Ethiopian Pharaohs of the twenty-fifth dynasty. The majority, he considered, could be assigned to a much later period and had scarcely originated previous to the first century before Christ. The little to be found dating from an earlier age owed its existence to the Pharaohs and their artists.

The fine granite rams which bear the name of Amenophis III., (eighteenth dynasty), and one of which at present adorns the Berlin museum, were transported thither at a later period. They came, probably, from Soleb. Ninety-two fellahin spent three sultry days in dragging down to the Nile on rollers the “fat sheep” which weighed one hundred and fifty hundred weight, and was to be transported to the Spree.

Lepsius advised the purchase for the Berlin museum of the gold and silver ornaments discovered in 1834, by the Italian Romali. They were found in a pyramid at{157} Meroë which had a Roman vaulted antechamber. This advice Lepsius gave after he recognized that they had probably belonged to a specially powerful and warlike Ethiopian queen, whose image has been preserved at El-Naga in rich attire, and with pointed finger nails, nearly an inch long. At present the ornaments mentioned form one of the embellishments of the Egyptian collection at Berlin.

An entertaining anecdote is connected with the so-called Ferlini discovery at Meroë, and with the recollection of the sojourn of the expedition and their labors there. The natives, naturally, could only regard as treasure-seekers the strange men who busied themselves so indefatigably among the old monuments, who applied measuring line and rule to them, covered them with wet paper, poured plaster over them, gazed at them, note book and pen in hand, and penetrated into their innermost recesses.

When one of our colleagues afterwards visited this neighborhood, an old sheik told him that he knew well that the King of the Germans had only acquired the resources to vanquish the French, through the treasures which the Howadji Lepsius had found at Meroë and sent back to his native land.

Lepsius’ sojourn in Ethiopia led him to the conviction, only confirmed by all subsequent investigations, that there could have been no ancient and original Ethiopian civilization and culture. In respect to this, all the reports of the ancients which do not rest upon a pure misunderstanding refer only to Egyptian culture{158} and art, which, during the dominion of the Hyksos, had taken refuge in Ethiopia. The outbreak of the Egyptian power from Ethiopia at the founding of the New Egyptian Kingdom, and its advance even far into Asia, was transferred from the Ethiopian country to the Ethiopian people, first in the Asiatic and afterwards in the Greek traditions respecting this event; for no knowledge had penetrated to the northern peoples of a still older Egyptian Kingdom, and its proud but peaceful prime.

During the long journey which led the expedition once more northward, and towards home, and which was now uninterrupted by side excursions, a number of short inscriptions on the rock were discovered at Semneh[57] and Kummeh. These yielded important historical information, for they proved that the solicitude of Amenemha III. (the Moeris of the Greeks, twelfth dynasty), for the regulation of the inundation of the Nile had extended to this point; that the Sebekhotep must be added, as the thirteenth dynasty, to the twelfth, and that four thousand years ago the river rose higher by twenty-four feet than it does in our day.

The principal purpose of the expedition, the one which Lepsius ever kept in view, and which decided the choice of the monuments to be copied, was historical. When he could believe that he had achieved everything possible in pursuance of this object, he felt that he might consider himself satisfied. If we remember this we can easily understand how he was almost{159} wearied by the examination of those temples belonging to the Ptolemaic and Roman periods which he inspected cursorily before coming to Thebes; these were Philae, Kom Ombos, Edfu, Esneh, Erment. We can see especially that the inexhaustible but more lately built temple of Edfu could detain him but for a disproportionately short time. But in Thebes, which he reached more than two years after leaving Europe, he found once more the old delight in, and impulse for, research, and he could therefore write, in a letter dated November twenty-fourth, 1844; “Here, where the Homeric figures of the mighty Pharaohs of the eighteenth and nineteenth dynasties meet me in all their splendor and magnificence, I feel once more as fresh as at the beginning of the journey.” And one must credit his assurance, and profoundly admire the man’s elasticity and enthusiasm for his task, when one surveys the great treasure of inscriptions which he and his assistants amassed there, and the wealth of admirable surveys, maps, sketches, and pictures, which the expedition found time to execute. Five and a half months he devoted to Thebes, and did not leave off until there, too, he had attained his purpose, although he was already on his homeward way and surrounded by unspeakable difficulties and privations, while before him, on the contrary, beckoned with outstretched hands everything to which his heart clung, and which could bring him peace, recreation, honor and spiritual refreshment.

His friend Abeken had been forced to leave him at{160} Philae, and although there was no lack of occasional European visitors in Thebes, yet it would have been natural if his taste for travel had by this time abated. But, on the contrary, his passion for research seems just then to have gained a new impetus, and the trip which he undertook from Thebes to the Peninsula of Sinai, after indicating the course to be followed during his absence by the members of the expedition in their various labors, was begun and carried through as though he had just quitted his native land, with an immense surplus stock of energy and enthusiasm.

Accompanied only by the younger Weidenbach and the necessary servants, he chose to proceed from Keneh to the Red Sea, not by the usual caravan route, but by the road through the midst of the mountains to Gebel-es-Set. This promised to save time, and he hoped to find on it something interesting and new.

In the Wadi Hammamat the Arabs refused to follow him upon this route, which was destitute of water, little known, and not free from danger. But he succeeded in inducing them to consent, and came within a hair’s-breadth of losing his life when, in his search for the porphyry quarries, he went astray on Gebel Dukhan, the Mons porphyrites of the ancients. But he was not the man to resign easily a scientific prize when he beheld it before him, and therefore we see him, though scarcely escaped from destruction, begin his search anew, and once more attain his aim.

He had ordered a ship to be ready at Gebel-es-Set, and thence he went across the Red Sea to Tur. His{161} companion, Weidenbach, is now living in Australia, in easy circumstances, and we can readily understand the sigh with which he declared that this was the most fatiguing part of all the journey, when we consider that Lepsius was obliged to limit his whole sojourn upon the Peninsula of Sinai to the time between the twenty-first of March and the sixth of April, and observe, from his other writings,[58] as well as the great work on monuments, all that he accomplished in that period. With this must be included, too, all the inscriptions and designs which he copied. The days began at sunrise, and before the travellers lay down to their brief sleep in the evening all that had been discovered through the day had to be reduced to order and set down in writing.

Lepsius visited only a small portion of the Peninsula of Sinai, but with the exception of the neighborhood of Petra, it was the most interesting part, and he explored it in every direction with diligence and sagacity. He copied or took home with him in the shape of casts whatever Egyptian inscriptions or paintings of interest he found there, and he afterwards published, from his excellent paper casts, many of those incisions upon the rocks of the Peninsula of Sinai which are known by the name of the Nabathean Inscriptions. The most important elevations in that locality were all ascended by him, and he{162} took from their summits the points of the compass, for the cartographic works to be undertaken in the future. His sagacity and erudition established that which the king of Oriental travellers, Burckhardt, had suspected before him, namely, that the mountain from which the Law was given was not the Gebel-Musa group, which is at present held to be the Sinai of the Scriptures, but the magnificent Serbal. The author of this biography, during his own journey to Sinai, was also obliged to adopt the view of Lepsius; he furnished fresh arguments to confirm it,[59] and is of the opinion that sooner or later it must be generally accepted as correct, in spite of the opposition which it still encounters on many sides.

After Lepsius had returned to Thebes from this excursion, he wrote to Bunsen: “Fortunately the journey to Sinai now lies behind us, and in truth I am heartily glad of it, not only because it was the hardest and most dangerous part of our whole pilgrimage, but also because it presented the most important and difficult problems which still remained to be solved on our return journey. Now nothing remains but the departure from Thebes and from Cairo; and, this, too, is only a question of getting ready to leave, there is nothing more of importance to be undertaken. When I consider all the material which we have collected in the three years it almost terrifies me, for I shall never{163} be in a position to work it up, even if we succeed in bringing it home.”

Nevertheless, he was afterwards able, as we shall see, to make the whole of it accessible to science.

From the Peninsula of Sinai Lepsius went back to Thebes, where he found that his instructions had been excellently carried out. Thence he returned to Cairo, making only short stops in the places where the most important monuments were to be found. On the way he met Dr. Bethmann[60] an old university friend, who had come over from Italy, in order to make the return journey through Palestine with him. Before his departure to the Promised Land, Lepsius superintended the despatching of the treasures which he had collected, and the taking apart of the tombs from the pyramids to be transported to Berlin. Lastly he visited the localities containing the most important monuments in the Delta.

In a letter of the eleventh of July, 1845, he stated the plan according to which he hoped to see the Egyptian antiquities arranged in the new museum at Berlin. This was to be on an historical basis, and was afterwards executed in the manner proposed. He had heard at Cairo, much to his delight, that they had not yet begun to build the halls intended for the Egyptian department of the new museum at Berlin, and that his desire to see every part constructed in the Egyptian{164} style of architecture might yet be carried out from the very foundation.

“I think,” he wrote, “that to produce a generally harmonious impression, we must preserve the characteristic styles of building of the different periods, and especially the order of the pillars, in their historical sequence, and also with all their rich colored decoration.”

Lepsius still kept his attention fixed upon Egyptian antiquity even during his rapid journey through Palestine, and he was afterwards able to publish,[61] and also to incorporate in his great work on monuments, the best copy of the celebrated tablet chiselled on the living rock, which commemorates the victory of Rameses II. on the Dog river (Nahr-el-Kelb). This is the Lycos of the ancients, and lies north of Berytos (Beirut).

When Lepsius finally turned homewards from Smyrna, (he had chosen the route through Constantinople), much more than three years had passed since he first set out upon his journey, and these years had been employed in a manner which far exceeded all the expectations and hopes of his monarch, his patrons and his friends. Not only had the tasks imposed upon him been perfectly fulfilled, but the emissary had bethought him upon the way of imposing new ones upon himself, and now returned home with an unprecedented number of acquisitions in the way of inscriptions,{165} maps, works of art and notes on language. The really enthusiastic reception which he met with everywhere, and especially in Berlin at the beginning of 1846, was well deserved. All the newspapers lauded the brilliant achievements of the returning expedition. The name of the leader became famous in all countries; it spread far beyond the circle of his professional collaborators and countrymen, and won that world-wide celebrity which it will retain as long as historical and philological research exist.

His King, Frederick William IV., was the man to recognize the value of his acquisitions, and his friend and fellow-workman, Bunsen, his patron, A. v. Humboldt, the Director of the museum, v. Olfers, and others, did not grudge due appreciation to the great services of the returned traveller. They were able to induce their monarch to grant him the means of turning to good account the abundance of treasures which he had sent home, and of placing them at the disposal of the learned world in the best and most appropriate manner. Thus, without regard to the enormous expenses which must be entailed by such an undertaking, Lepsius was able to set to work at the preparation of the great book on monuments which was to make his name immortal, and to give renown to his native land and his royal patron.

As far as his expenses upon the journey were concerned, he had not exceeded his estimates, and these funds had paid for all excavations and purchases. Humboldt considered the journey “cheap beyond{166} measure.” It had cost altogether thirty-four thousand, six hundred thalers.

Humboldt estimated the expenses for the publication of the store of inscriptions and monuments collected, as well as the maps and pictures prepared upon the journey, at sixty to eighty thousand thalers. Lepsius thought at the time that he had rated it too high, but it afterwards proved that it could not be completed even for this large sum. The King had received Lepsius most graciously, and never wearied of hearing his accounts of his journey and his acquisitions. This is confirmed by v. Reumont, and the following extract is taken from his book, “The Days of King William in Sickness and Health:” “After Lepsius’ return (from Egypt) in 1846, the importance of the results which he had achieved and the beautiful things which he had sent home, procured him the most gracious reception at court, and he was a frequent and welcome guest there, animated and suggestive, clever in relating his many experiences, etc.” It was therefore natural that the king should immediately grant him the fifteen thousand thalers, which according to Humboldt’s estimate was the first instalment necessary for the preparation of the work on monuments.{167}

On the twenty-third of August, 1846, Lepsius was appointed a regular professor at the Berlin University. This was followed, in 1850, by his election as member of the Academy of Sciences, and in 1855 by his appointment as co-director of the Egyptian museum, in conjunction with Passalacqua, who, although a person of superficial education, was a good man, and could not be set aside. Lepsius thus obtained the necessary leisure to devote himself uninterruptedly to the great and varied labors which awaited him.

Now that his probation as a journeyman was completed, he established a home of his own, and on the fifth of July, 1846, was married to Elizabeth Klein. The lovely bride, then eighteen years old, was an orphan, the child of the celebrated musician and composer of the same name.

In 1856 were completed the twelve volumes of the great work on monuments which Lepsius had been commissioned by his king to prepare. At the time that he left Egypt he had thought that it would exceed his powers. It was published in sixty-two numbers, and the eight hundred and ninety-four plates which compose them are in folio form, and exceed in size all previous works of the kind. The size interferes with the convenience of the book for handling, and is the{168} sole point to be found fault with in what is otherwise a model production. The late Mariette once said to us in jest: “One needs a corporal and four soldiers to use your Lepsius’ ‘Monuments,’” and it is true that these twelve gigantic volumes demand too much physical strength, and too much space on the study-table, when one is obliged to consult them one after another. Yet the labor is substantially lessened by the incomparable order in which the author has arranged them. “The Monuments of Egypt and Ethiopia”[62] embrace all the archaeological, palaeographic and historical acquisitions of the expedition. They contain the prodigious wealth of hieroglyphic, Greek and other written records which the travellers collected on the way, in addition to maps, sketches, landscapes and architectural pictures, many of which are finely executed in colors.

The thousands of sheets of paper containing the impressions taken in Egypt, from which the majority of the inscriptions were copied and transferred to the lithographic stone, are preserved in the Egyptian museum as valuable documents. Let it be noted here that Lepsius was the first to apply successfully and efficiently this excellent method of copying by means of paper impressions. It is now, however, only on rare occasions of minor importance that the investigator finds it necessary to refer to the original impressions of the expedition, so wonderfully accurate are the reproductions of them. In the great publications{169} of Champollion and Rosellini, (page 78) we frequently find alterations and inaccuracies on comparing them with the monuments, but in the “Monuments” of Lepsius such defects are almost unknown. Yet still greater commendation is due to the classification of the immense material comprised in this inexhaustible mine. There is scarcely the least change to be made in the historical sequence of these hundreds of closely filled plates, although later researches and excavations have furnished much that is new, and many details have been elucidated by the monographic works of Egyptologists since 1850. Before his departure for the Orient Lepsius had already examined the succession of the Egyptian dynasties. Amidst the monuments of the Nile he succeeded in finding answers to all that had appeared questionable to him while in Europe, and in thus bringing light into darkness. While carrying forward his work on the “Monuments” he also established a scientific groundwork for all the knowledge which he had previously accumulated, and was thus able to assign their correct places to the ruling families or dynasties, and to the several Pharaohs among them. It was easy to give their proper positions to the latter, as in the historical inscriptions are recorded the names of the Pharaohs under whom they were made. For such as were not dated the ingenuity and experience of the savant fixed their correct places according to the indications of style, or on palaeographic or other grounds.

To the inquiry which of the achievements of Lep{170}sius we consider the greatest, we do not hesitate to answer, the classification of his “Monuments,” when we consider the lamentable condition of Egyptian historical research at the time when it was produced, and the prodigious amount of new information to be reduced to order. In this work we see him surmount the mass of material which had been collected by his own energy, and transform the chaotic whole into a beautiful and faultlessly-proportioned organism. He never loses his broad outlook over the entire field, and nevertheless he gives the smallest detail its due with painstaking consciousness. We discern the divine likeness most clearly in a great man when he keeps in view the great whole, and yet does not disdain to give heed to small things; like the eternal and mysterious power which prescribes their wide and immutable orbits to the stars, and yet forgets not to give its antennae to the tiny insect.

This colossal work is accompanied by no explanatory text,[63] and the excellence of the classification makes it easy to dispense with one. Each separate inscription can only be sought for in the place where it occurs, and the marginal notes inform us as to the locality whence it came, and the ruler under whom it originated. Whoever wishes to know to what period the Pharaoh in question should be assigned, must consult the Book of Kings, which was begun by Lepsius{171} at an early date, and completed in 1859. He will there find the desired information.

In the middle of the fiftieth year of this century, the time had not yet come for giving continuous and exact translations of great hieroglyphic texts, and therefore the editor of the “Monuments” wisely abstained from doing so. Such an undertaking would also have far exceeded the powers of one person. Even now an abundance of difficult problems are still presented to Egyptian philology, great as are the advances which that has made, by this unparalleled corpus inscriptionum. It contains the most important Egyptian inscriptions, from the most ancient times up to the period of the Roman emperors, classified in the most rigorously systematic manner.

The “Monuments” is, and must ever remain, the chief and most fundamental work for the study of Egyptology.

Its classification presupposes a deeper study into the history of the Pharaohs hitherto unheard of. We have seen how, when a journeyman, Lepsius devoted himself by preference to the study of historical monuments, and while in Egypt he everywhere laid the greatest stress upon this.

As a master workman too, after his return to Berlin in 1846, he remained faithful to his historical bias. He had at his disposal, in complete shape, all that was furnished by the monuments in the way of historical information. The systematic arrangement of the work on monuments which he had in view already imposed{172} upon him the task of restoring in a critical manner the main skeleton of history, (chiefly Egyptian,) and of ascertaining the periods of time which separate the chief historical events from each other and from our own age. In other words, he was obliged to devote himself with all his energy to the study of Egyptian chronology.

As a matter of course the monuments were always the foundation from which he proceeded, but it was also necessary to consult and to fix the worth of such other historical records as were in existence.

Amongst these the highest rank was held by the Egyptian history of Manetho of Sebennytos. This had been written, or was said to have been written, for Ptolemy II. Philadelphus (285-247 B.C.) by Manetho, an Egyptian priest familiar with the Greek tongue. During the Christian era several other works, (the Book of Sothis and the Old Chronicle), were falsely attributed to this writer. The heathen Greeks had held the histories of the priestly scholar in little esteem, but, except by the Jew Flavius Josephus, they were diligently used by chronographers of the Christian era in their efforts to establish a chronological reckoning for the legendary and historical events in the Old Testament. Amongst these writers are found the lists of the Egyptian kings compiled by the Sebennite, with an estimate of the duration of their reigns. But there is a frequent disagreement in the facts as given by them, for each individual chronographer adapted the figures to his own system, and altered them arbitrarily to suit{173} his special purposes. Therefore the fragmentary information gathered from Manetho as to the succession of rulers, can only be used with great prudence. Lepsius submitted these statements, as well as other accounts of Egyptian history occurring in the classics (Hecateus of Miletus, Herodotus, Hecateus of Abdera, Diodorus, etc.), to a severe criticism, in the attempt to separate the genuine work of Manetho from all that had been interpolated or perverted in his writings. As a result of Lepsius’ supposition that some of the ruling families enumerated in the lists did not reign successively, but contemporaneously, he arrived at the conclusion that Manetho would reckon the duration of Egyptian history, from the first King Menes to the end of the reign of Nectanebus II,[64] at three thousand five hundred and fifty-five years, and that the accession of Menes to the throne should therefore be fixed at 3892 B. C. On the correctness of this computation he insisted up to the time of his death, and by the aid of his innate fine mathematical sense he showed the connection between this and the other calculations, as subtle as they are clever, which lie at the basis of his system of reckoning.

Rosellini’s industrious attempt to compile an Egyptian history was of little service to him, but he found many fruitful ideas in Bunsen’s fine publication.[65] This had been meantime completed with the advisory aid of{174} the able English Egyptologist S. Birch, and Lepsius himself had furnished many contributions to it. No less a man than Boeckh[66] had, a short time before, addressed himself to a criticism of Manetho, incited thereto partly by Champollion’s and partly by his own investigations. In France, also, Biot,[67] Lesueur and Nolan had published able works on Egyptian chronology. Ideler’s hand-book, which came out in 1825, was still highly esteemed, although this acute but far too versatile scholar was entirely ignorant of the monuments.

Lepsius had the advantage over his predecessors in his comprehensive knowledge of all the monuments, and his understanding of hieroglyphic writing. He took his stand upon the monuments, and on this foundation which at that time was a safe and favorable one for him alone, he labored with perfect independence, but without overlooking the prior works mentioned above. These, however, in most cases he was forced to controvert. As far as the chronology of Bunsen was concerned, he was obliged to shake it to the foundations, and he found himself forced to apply critical standards very different from those of his learned friend to the lists of Eratosthenes, the value of which, as we know, the latter had far over-estimated. Although on this account he naturally arrived at results which contradicted those of Bunsen, yet he dedicated to him the{175} great work,[68] the first volume of which was published in 1849, in the midst of his arduous labors in editing the “Monuments.” The second and third volumes originally planned by him remained unwritten. While the first volume was mainly occupied with criticism of the authorities, the two latter were to have contained the applications and proofs in detail. All these are now to be found in the folio volume of text which accompanies the plates of the “Book of Kings”[69] previously mentioned. In the beautiful dedication of his chronology to Bunsen, he declared that he offered him this work as “a public token of gratitude.” Lepsius knew that Bunsen, like himself, had only the truth at heart, and agreed with him that the final truth could only be attained by a keen comparison of all possible differences of opinion. Such differences of opinion existed between Bunsen and Lepsius, but, however candidly they were expressed, they had no power to shake the real attachment of these two men.

Unlike Bunsen’s great book, Lepsius’ work was not intended to establish the place of Egypt in universal history, but only in the external frame thereof, the annals of time. It made no attempt to be a history, but was a chronology solely. The problem involved is solved in the first volume of which we speak, and is treated in an original and at the same time broad manner. Here, as elsewhere, Lepsius never loses cogniz{176}ance of the general aspect of his subject, whilst always carefully and even lovingly considering the smallest detail and assigning it its place as a part and factor of the whole.

He first criticizes the chronology of the Romans, the Greeks, the Hindoos, the Chaldeans in Babylon, the Chinese and the Hebrews. In so doing he makes it clear that among all these nations the conditions for a very early computation of time were lacking, and proves that no nation and no country possessed more favorable conditions for an early chronology and history than the Egyptian. He then proceeds to consider the astronomical basis of the Egyptian chronology, and goes thoroughly into the question of the divisions of time employed by the ancient Egyptians. Here, in addition to the monuments, which he always considers as of the first importance, he cites the classic authors, and ascends in regular progression from the smaller divisions of time, the thirds, seconds and minutes, to the days, weeks, months, intercalary days and years. He dwells for some time upon these latter, and explains with remarkable clearness his views regarding the vague year and the fixed year of Sirius. After these fundamental principles are established he turns his attention to the longer periods of time, beginning with the Apis period of twenty-five years, and concluding with the conjecture that the Egyptians possessed the knowledge of a longest astronomical period of revolution of thirty-six thousand years. According to our reckoning this should undoubtedly be only twenty-six thousand{177} years, yet the period given can be recognized in the thirty-six thousand five hundred and twenty-five years which Syncellus alleges to have been the Egyptian period of universal apocatastasis of the heavens.

He then reviews the Egyptian calendar, its introduction and reforms. Although no one knows so well as he that events are commonly reckoned upon the monuments, not from an era, but according to the years of the separate reigns, he attempts to prove that the Sothiac cycle of one thousand four hundred and sixty years had been used as an era for such purposes as necessitated the conception of a longer distinct period of time.

To many of our readers the words “Sothiac cycle” and “year of Sirius” will be but empty sounds. We will therefore give an explanation of them, in accordance with our promise to be intelligible even to the general reader. Let us adhere as closely as possible to the statement of Lepsius himself!—In the Egyptian heavens was visible a sidereal phenomenon which in a very remarkable manner corresponded perfectly, except for a mere trifle, to the Julian year of three hundred and sixty-five and a quarter days. It continued for more than three thousand years, and in fact was precisely coeval with the duration of the Egyptian empire. This was the heliacal rising of Sirius; that is, the reappearance of Sirius, the brightest fixed star, before sunrise. For a time this star was invisible, on account of its rising simultaneously with the sun. The early rise of which we speak occurred regularly one{178} day later at the expiration of every four (civil) years of three hundred and sixty-five days, which was the simple basis on which the Egyptian calendar had been established at an early period. Thus when the New Year’s day of the fixed year of three hundred and sixty-five and a quarter days fell upon the first of the New Year’s month (Thot) of the civil year of three hundred and sixty-five days, then, after four fixed years, it fell upon the second of the New Year’s month, Thot, after 2 × 4 upon the third, after 3 × 4 upon the fourth of Thot, and so on. After 365 × 4, that is, when, after one thousand four hundred and sixty fixed years, it had run through all the days of the civil year, the next New Year’s day of the fixed year fell once more upon the first of the New Year’s month Thot, and the two forms of the year had thus readjusted themselves, so that one thousand, four hundred and sixty fixed years of three hundred and sixty-five and a quarter days were exactly equivalent to one thousand, four hundred and sixty-one civil years of three hundred and sixty-five days. We cannot here take cognizance of the slight error which resulted from the fact that the true solar year does not exactly amount to three hundred and sixty-five days and six hours, but only to three hundred and sixty-five days, five hours, forty-eight minutes and forty-eight seconds; nor can we now speak of the compensation therefor. In any case, it follows from what has been said that the Egyptians, during their whole history, had in their year of Sirius, computed according to the heliacal or early ascension{179} of that star, the most perfect sidereal model ever possessed by any nation for their simple annual reckoning of the year of three hundred and sixty-five and a quarter days. Therefore Lepsius is right when he maintains that the Egyptians had a perfectly exact astronomical period in the Sothiac cycle of 4 × 365; that is, in the one thousand, four hundred and sixty years of Sirius, during which the civil year, shorter by a quarter of a day, readjusted itself by being renewed one thousand four hundred and sixty-one times.

Thus closes, on page 240, this full and noble introduction. The review of the authorities then begins. After a preliminary survey of these, Herodotus and Diodorus undergo a searching criticism, which proves the uselessness of these authors for chronological purposes. In the subsequent chapters Lepsius exerts himself to show the relation of the Egyptian to the ancient Hebrew chronology, and he rightly applies to the Biblical reckoning the same rules of criticism which he has employed in regard to that contained in secular writings. In so doing he proceeds on the sole tenable principle that the truth discovered in the course of the healthy development of any science cannot be opposed to Christian truth, but must rather promote it. “For all the truths in the world,” he says, “have from the very beginning presented a union and solidarity against all untruth and error. But in order scientifically to separate truth from error in any department, theology possesses no other method than that which belongs to every other science; namely, rational and cautious{180} criticism. Whatever this may affirm, it is only possible to amend or refute by a criticism which is still better and more cautious.”

To him, as to us, the practical religious significance which the Old Testament must have for every Christian reader, seems to have no connection with the recorded dates regarding early periods of time of which the authors and compilers of those Scriptures could have had no exact knowledge, except by means of a purposeless inspiration.

“Science must be pursued with reverence and freedom.” With these beautiful words of Bunsen, Lepsius agreed, and he demanded reverence for all that was venerable, holy, noble, great and well-proved, and claimed freedom wherever it was a question of attaining and declaring the truth and his own conviction thereof. This noble principle he also impressed upon his disciples, and we would like to recall it to the memory of those younger men who, in our day, so readily absolve themselves from all that goes by the name of “reverence,” and hold themselves so much the greater and stronger if they can succeed in shaking that which is established, in detecting a blemish upon greatness, or discerning a spot upon the source of light. They have received criticism as an inheritance; but there is only too good foundation for the complaint often repeated by Lepsius, that by them the noblest of all weapons is wielded sacrilegiously, and with special delight for the purposes of destruction. They can learn from the Master, who prescribed the method for{181} a whole science, and aided to erect its mighty edifice, that it is possible to practise reverence and gratitude, and yet maintain one’s own opinion with manly independence, and attack error with the sharpest criticism.

The last and perhaps the most important portion of the “Chronology” is occupied with Manetho and the authorities which can be traced back to him, and also with the relation of these authorities to each other. A special chapter is also devoted to Eratosthenes and Apollodorus.

This work embraces the whole foundation of Egyptian chronology, and indicates the methods according to which all chronological investigations, no matter in what direction, should be conducted. The detached historical-chronological researches on special subjects[70] which followed the “Chronology” are so many model specimens of the consistent application of this method.

In the “Chronology” itself the fine and thorough humanistic training of its author is manifested in a specially happy manner. There are modern scholars who, as students, confine themselves to their special provinces, and, peasant-like, do not look beyond the space where they plow and sow and reap. These may learn from Lepsius how, without straying too far afield, it may yet be possible to establish a connection between that which they themselves have gained, and the acquisitions which have been made in other and{182} kindred departments of science. They may observe how details can be treated in the most thorough and fundamental manner, without losing cognizance of the whole. Lepsius was an able philologist, linguist, archaeologist and historian, before he became an Egyptologist. From an acquaintance with the main principles of science, and from broad generalities, he descended gradually and without a break to a knowledge of the separate parts. Vulgar learning amasses the material of knowledge, and leaves all that has been thus acquired heaped together in confusion; genuine learning proceeds from the general to the special, connects the details with the whole, and always subjects the former to the latter. It was thus that the scientific activity of Lepsius was exercised, and if we inquire what it was that elevated him above even the most industrious and ingenious of his fellow workers, we find that he owed his lofty position to his truly scientific method of development, research and work. This makes his productions a true system of learning, in contrast with the knowledge amassed by so many others who have labored without regard to the general principles animating the whole.

Thence, too, it results that his “Chronology” is available for every purpose, and is employed as a guide and source of instruction, not only by the Egyptologist, but also by every historian who wishes to devote himself to the study, either of the chronology of all nations, or of any special people. Although many of the details of this work may have become disputable and un{183}tenable in consequence of the latest advances of science, yet for all time to come it must remain the starting point whence all investigations in this domain are forced to proceed.

In spite of the manifold and profound researches on which this work was based, and in spite of the time and strength demanded by the editing of the “Monuments,” Lepsius, during the years following his return to his native land, himself superintended the embellishment of those rooms in the new museum at Berlin which were destined to hold the Egyptian collection. He also attended personally to the arrangement and cataloguing of the collection. He took peculiar pleasure in this work, and pursued it with indefatigable zeal.

The aged Passalacqua, a man eager for knowledge, had gone to Egypt in the capacity of a merchant, and had afterwards made himself acquainted, as a dillettante, with the discoveries and works of Champollion. He now filled, “conscientiously and with pleasure to himself,” the post of superintendent of the collection of monuments and relics which he had brought from the Nile. Frederick William IV. in buying his collection had taken him with it into the bargain; no one wished to remove him from his position, and thus it came to pass that Lepsius could only be appointed co-director in 1855, and it was not until 1865, that he was appointed chief superintendent.

The Berlin collection of Egyptian antiquities consisted of the collections of v. Minutoli, Passalacqua, v. Koller and Bartholdy. Prior to its removal to the new{184} museum it had been lodged in the palace of Monbijou, and while there had received many additions, especially by the purchase of the third collection of Drovetti. This man, who had been French consul-general at Alexandria under Napoleon I., had some time before collected the rich stores which now form the Egyptian museum at Turin. (See pages 93 and 132.) He had already sold another smaller collection, (See page 97), to King William IV., upon the solicitation of Lepsius and in consequence of his intervention. Bunsen only concluded the purchase in 1837, as the authorized agent of that prince. In 1839, there was added to the Berlin collection that of the state-counsellor Saulnier at Paris, and in 1843, that of d’Athanasi at London. From the pamphlet published in 1880, entitled “History of the Royal Museum at Berlin,”[71] and from the portion of the same dedicated to Dr. S. Stern of the Egyptian department, we learn that there were already five thousand numbers in that department in the year 1849, that is, previous to the incorporation of the treasures which Lepsius sent home from Egypt.

The expedition whose travels and labors we have recorded had sent home not less than fifteen thousand Egyptian antiquities and plaster casts. Especially valuable among these were the three tombs already mentioned from the necropolis of ancient Memphis on the plain of the pyramids at el-Gizeh, as well as many{185} sculptures and inscriptions from other tombs of the Old Kingdom. The colored portraits of Amenophis I. and his celebrated mother Nefertari, long worshipped as divine, are also of great importance. These the expedition took, together with the fragment upon which they were painted, from a tomb. They also took a pillar from the tomb of Seti I. Both of these monuments came from Thebes. With them and with a column taken from the temple of Philae was connected the reproach brought against the expedition of having destroyed venerable monuments to further their own special purposes. Against this accusation we have hitherto defended the expedition in perfectly good faith, but unfortunately, as far as the pillar from the splendid tomb of Seti was concerned, there was some foundation for the charge. Of the other acquisitions of Lepsius we will also name an obelisk and many columns from tombs, a portrait in relief of Thothmes III., a colossal bust of King Horus, the naophore statue of Prince Setau-an, an altar from Ben-Naga, and, in addition, the ram sphinx from Mount Boreal mentioned on page 156. Together with these were numerous monuments from Meroë, many of which were covered with those Ethiopian-demotic inscriptions, the key to which is still wanting. He also sent home several beautiful sarcophagi of stone and wood, the tablet of Moschion, with a Greek-demotic inscription, many bricks with the stamp of the Pharaohs of the eighteenth and nineteenth dynasties, and finally, in addition to numerous lesser relics, valuable papyri.{186}

The casts taken by the expedition while on the Nile were intended to complete the collection of casts begun by the advice of Lepsius. Large and fortunate additions were afterwards made to this collection, and its founder always, and with justice, attributed great importance to it. By means of these casts it was possible to supply in an available and desirable manner the inevitable deficiencies with respect to an historical sequence of the original monuments. Other museums imitated that of Berlin in instituting collections of casts. The finishing and painting of the halls which had been renovated for the Egyptian collection were begun and completed under the superintendence of Lepsius, who had entire liberty in the matter. In every respect it was done to correspond with those ideas and wishes which he had already expressed in Cairo. All the demands of the Egyptian style were observed in the three halls at his disposal, and the walls, pillars and ceilings received that decorative and highly-colored pictorial ornament with which the temples and tombs of the time of the Pharaohs are adorned. The most interesting pictures from the tombs and sanctuaries on the Nile were reproduced here, and Ernest Weidenbach, upon whom devolved the execution of the multitude of paintings selected and arranged by Lepsius, performed the task with that delicate feeling for the characteristics of Egyptian style which was peculiar to himself. They had at their disposal the rooms situated in the northern half of the ground floor of the new museum. The entrance leads immediately into the{187} anteroom, where a column from Philae with a palm capital is stationed. If one turns thence towards the hall adjoining on the right, one has before him a series of rooms which can in some measure represent the chief divisions of an Egyptian temple; vestibule, hypostyle and sanctuary. In an Egyptian temple the court was usually surrounded by colonnades, whose architraves contained the dedication of the building. In the midst stood an altar. Behind these sacred halls there were smaller rooms, the last of which, in the axis of the building, was the sanctuary containing the statue of the god of the temple. In a general way the rooms of the Berlin Egyptian collection correspond to this customary arrangement. They contain the court, covered with glass and surrounded by columns, the hypostyle adjoining, and the cella in the background. At the side of this central temple lie three main rooms; to the right are the mythological hall and the hall of tombs, while the historical hall extends along the whole length of the left side.

Let us turn first to those rooms situated on the right and towards the east; these are the mythological hall and the hall of tombs. In the former are arranged the sarcophagi and coffins, and the spectator is there impressed by that serious mood so easily awakened in our souls by objects which remind us solely of death. There he finds himself in the company of the gods, and every picture on the walls relates to them, and is connected with the mythological tenets of the most religious of all peoples. The divine constella{188}tions of the Egyptian heavens look down upon the visitor from the ceiling, as in the great passages of the rock tombs and the consecrated halls of the temples. Every picture has its astronomical and mythological significance. In the rear portion of this space, which is partitioned off, is the hall of tombs, and here are the tomb chambers from Memphis, and the other monuments of the Old Kingdom.

The middle hall is divided into the portico, the hypostylic hall, and the sanctuary of an Egyptian temple. The portico, which lies to the south, and which in Egypt is covered only by the bright blue arch of heaven, is intended to arouse in the spectator the sensation of being still in the open air. Therefore the beautiful landscapes with which modern artists have adorned the walls, and which remind us of the most remarkable localities and the sites of the most venerable monuments of Egypt, are extremely appropriate here, where are also grouped the colossal statues and sepulchral stele. In the hypostylic portion of this hall the paintings transport us among the subjects of the Pharaohs, and numerous illustrations of the private life of the old Egyptians make us familiar with the high and peculiar culture which took root and blossomed in the valley of the Nile much earlier than in any other spot on earth. Carefully-selected papyri are hung on the walls of this room. In the sanctuary, which lies altogether to the north, stands the statue of King Horus.

The third or historic hall, (to the left or west,) is adorned with pictures connected with the history of the{189} kingdom of the Pharaohs, and also with representations of battles by land and water. The long series of ovals inscribed with the names of the old royal rulers of the Nile valley in hieroglyphics, form a suitable decoration, and attract the eye of all who are desirous of knowledge. Those monuments which are distinguished for their historical importance are arranged here in order according to the time of their origin. The plaster casts are in a special room beside the vestibule, and are beginning more and more to overflow it.

If the Egyptian museum in Berlin has long been among the most famous in the world, on account of the wealth of treasures there preserved, it has also gained a value peculiar to itself from the historical ideas introduced and carried out by Lepsius. There we see exhibited the artistic epochs of Egyptian history arranged in groups according to their chronological succession. Yet at the same time the effort to keep together objects which are mutually connected, such as sarcophagi and coffins, has been successful. Also, where it was necessary to form distinct divisions, the historical method has been applied within the limits of each separate group.

There can be but one opinion as to the propriety and the scientific advantages of Lepsius’ historical method of classification; but the decoration of the rooms in the Berlin museum by no means meets with such universal approbation. It is indeed conceded that it is in the best possible taste, and is both beautiful and attractive, but it is maintained by many people that the pictorial representation on the walls, that is,{190} the accessories, draw the attention of the visitor too strongly and distract him from the contemplation of the monuments, which are certainly the real objects of importance.

There is some reason for this objection; but yet these pictures serve the immediate purpose of bringing visitors to the collection and it is this very decoration of the Berlin-Egyptian museum which renders it peculiarly attractive.

Whoever goes there with any knowledge of the monuments will pay attention to them, and not to the decorations of the hall. But the layman will there become interested in the culture and artistic ability of the old Egyptians, as he would not do in a museum where the monuments stand in bare halls, and have to speak entirely for themselves. The pictures attract him, and at the same time introduce him to Egyptian antiquity. They make him familiar, in a trustworthy manner, with the Egyptian civilization from whose soil have sprung the works of art there assembled. They teach him to understand the connection between these and the organic whole of which they are the separate parts, and, in many cases, the most beautiful blossoms. In one place there are pictorial representations, and in another monuments, to direct and instruct the visitor so that he may comprehend every stage of the development of this great whole. Whoever enters these rooms with a mind open and alert will soon perceive the relation between the decorative pictures and the monuments, and will easily succeed in connecting them with the depart{191}ments of Egyptian life and activity to which they belong. He will transport the coffin, upon which he can lay his hands, into the funeral procession shown him in the painting; when he gazes up at a colossus he will place it mentally in that spot at the temple gate where it really belongs, according to the picture on the wall. Indeed, the decorative paintings will show him the Egyptian artist at his work, and the prince whose monument stands before him upon his war chariot in the tumult of battle. They will make him familiar with the gods who are mentioned in the hieroglyphic texts of coffins, stele and papyri. Thus these paintings possess great value for instructive and illustrative purposes, apart from the attraction which they present to the eye, and the appearance, as peculiar as it is pleasing, which they lend to the halls of the museum. Therefore we would not willingly be without them. He, who permits himself to be distracted from the monuments by them, will yet not have visited the museum in vain, but will have learned something authentic and interesting concerning Egyptian antiquity.

By the beginning of the year 1850 the arrangement of the Egyptian relics in the new museum was completed, and after Passalacqua’s death, when Lepsius had officially assumed the management of the collection, he caused Ernest Weidenbach to be employed as assistant in the Egyptian department. He also immediately drew up a full description of the pictures on the walls,[72] for the use of visitors to the museum, and{192} afterwards prepared a little catalogue.[73] In 1878, he had the larger monuments furnished with short explanatory labels. After his appointment as chief librarian he nominated Dr. L. Stern as first assistant superintendent. Dr. Stern aided him in all his labors concerning the museum with diligence, judgment and technical knowledge; he was an able Egyptologist and had a thorough knowledge of the Coptic language. The Egyptian collection received continual additions under the direction of Lepsius, and the complaisance with which he placed its treasures at the service of foreign scholars was universally recognized.

As an academical instructor Lepsius also manifested the high intellectual qualities and admirable ability peculiar to himself. His first lecture was delivered on the twenty-ninth of October, 1846, and related to the condition of Egyptological science in France and Italy, compared with what had been accomplished on the same field in Germany. It went off excellently, and amongst his hundred auditors appeared officials of high rank and military men. As his lectures proceeded he took advantage on their account of the collection intrusted to his care, and we remember with pleasure the weekly lectures which he read amongst the monuments in the halls of the museum. The special discourses delivered in the directors room were usually succeeded by rambles through the museum, as instructive as they were interesting.

The public lectures in the museum attracted{193} students from all the faculties, but the private lectures, which he delivered at his own house to a few youthful scholars who desired to devote themselves to the study of Egyptology, were models as regarded the well-considered arrangement of the material. Amongst them we must praise as especially instructive the historical and chronological lectures. These were attended with profit by many young students of history. The purely grammatical lectures were confined to the ancient Egyptian grammar, and only incidentally touched upon the hieratic or the later linguistic forms of speech of the demotic and Coptic. His delivery was always simple, and nevertheless the surpassing faculty of judgment and the severe critical method of the teacher always enchained the attention of his hearers. The material was always as copious as the arrangement was excellent.

Lepsius gave to the writer of this biography the strongest proof of the seriousness with which he regarded his office of instructor and the lovely benevolence which was united with his other great qualities. When a young and enthusiastic student I was obliged by illness to keep the house during a whole winter term, and I shall be forever grateful to Lepsius for the great and rare kindness with which he visited me on a certain day of every week, and went over the essential parts of the lectures of which my illness had deprived me. These private lectures, or rather these lessons when the pupil worked under the direction of the master, for which of course no material equivalent could be given, are among my most delightful memories, and a{194} more liberal gift I have never received. Those of his scholars who afterwards rendered special service to Egyptology were J. Dümichen, professor at Strasburg, and E. Naville, the eminent Genoese Egyptologist. A. Erment, professor at Berlin, and A. Wiedemann, private lecturer at Bonn, attended his lectures during subsequent terms. The younger Egyptologists educated by me at Leipsic, he liked to call his “grandpupils.”

At that time, and indeed in 1856, there was submitted to the Berlin Academy and offered to it for sale, by professor Dindorf of Leipsic, a palimpsest containing the work of Uranius mentioned by Stephen of Byzantium, Αἰγυπτίων βασιλέων ἀναγραφῶν βίβλοι τρεῖς, (three books of lists of the Egyptian kings). Up to that time this had been supposed lost. On the first examination, at which Lepsius was present, there appeared to be no reason to doubt the genuineness of the manuscript. It was written between the lines of a genuine text of the twelfth century. The traits of the Greek uncial writing, skilfully reproduced in the style of the first centuries after Christ, would not be suspected by a palaeographer of the present day, although it is now proved that the codex is a counterfeit. When it was learned that the manuscript belonged to the Greek Simonides of ill-repute, some doubts were raised, and yet the rediscovery of the Uranius would have been of such eminent importance for the historical and chronological studies in which Lepsius was then engaged, that he furnished from his own pocket half the price, as a deposit in order to secure it for Berlin and for{195} himself. Dindorf had declared that in consequence of an agreement with Simonides he could not leave the manuscript behind in Berlin for closer inspection without such a deposit. This examination was committed to Lepsius, and on searching more thoroughly the lists of kings which Simonides represented to be those of Uranius, he soon found there could be no question but that he had before him a bold and unprecedently skilful counterfeit. Indisputable arguments were soon added to the internal reasons which had led Lepsius to this conviction, and it then became a question of recovering from the counterfeiter his plunder of twenty-five thousand thalers. In this Lepsius was successful, owing to the cleverness and prudence of Stieber, the chief of police, who accompanied him to Leipsic. Thus the Berlin library was protected from loss and imposition, and science from unspeakable confusion, through the sagacity of our friend. Lepsius himself furnished information as to the particulars of this affair in a clear and exhaustive explanation.[74] Simonides appears to have continued to drive his trade as a counterfeiter, for it is hardly possible that it was any one else than he who produced the manuscript of the Persians of Aeschylus, which reached Leipsic by way of Egypt, and (not without our own humble coöperation) was recognized by Ritschl as a forgery.[75]{196}

During his life in Berlin as a Master Workman, Lepsius also addressed himself to those metrological studies which he continued to pursue up to the time of his death. If we look over the Transactions of the Berlin Academy of Sciences we shall also find that he was faithful to research in the department of languages. This was entirely apart from his special and unceasing labors on the Nubian Grammar and in the examination of the fundamental laws of construction of the other African languages.

During his sojourn in Egypt amongst the monuments of the Pharaonic period, his attention had been specially called to the measures of the ancient Egyptians. He had subjected many of the monuments to measurement, and also found certain stamps of linear measure, with accompanying figures, upon some of those of the Old Kingdom. These he studied according to the same method which had already approved itself to him throughout his previous labors. He collected all existing material from the monuments with a thoroughness and in an abundance thitherto unknown, and subjected all previous investigations and measurements to severe criticism. From the information thus gained he sagaciously and cautiously deduced positive inferences. In his investigations he also included the kindred measures of other ancient peoples.

In his fine work on the ancient Egyptian ell and its subdivisions[76] he arrived at the conclusion that the small ell of 0.450 of a meter “was the true unit {197}under-lying the whole system.” The great royal ell, which was in use at the same time, he considered a special ell, distinct from the common one and added to the measures at a very early date. The cause of the increase of the small ell used in private life appeared to him to have been “that the kings or priests paid the same compensation for the great ell, in building, as formerly for the small ell, as the overplus of labor was considered as compulsory service, and not paid for.” In addition to all the greater and lesser units of the Egyptian linear measure[77] he also directed his attention to other measures of the ancient Egyptians,[78] and after familiarizing himself with the results obtained in Assyriology, (which at that time was making rapid progress), he occupied himself with comprehensive researches into the linear measures of the ancient nations in general. He took special pains to subject the celebrated tablet of Senkereh,[79] in which he discerned one of the most important bases of Asiatic metrology, to a searching examination, and in doing so he received the assistance of the most eminent Assyriologists. He restored the whole tablet, and recognized it as a table of comparison, by the aid of which Babylonian-Assyrian measures could be reduced to ells, which were reckoned according to the sexagesimal system. He proved that the metrical systems of the Assyrians,{198} Babylonians and Persians were entirely distinct from each other, although he could grant them one point in common, the building ell of 0.525 of a meter, which was regularly in use in Egypt in the fourth century before Christ, and was employed in the building of the pyramids.

Although Lepsius had worked with sagacity and caution in the realm of metrology, yet his conclusions in that field were not to remain unchallenged, and he found himself forced to defend the results of his investigations, first against the distinguished Assyriologist Jules Oppert, and then against the attacks of the architect Dörpfeld. This young scholar, who had distinguished himself by his very excellent work in his own special province, attempted to tax Lepsius with a fundamental error, and to prove that the small ell which the latter considered, and was obliged to consider, as a special unit of measure, was in fact nothing of the sort, but should only be regarded as a subdivision of the great royal ell. But the grey-haired scholar, although he had been struck by apoplexy, still rejoiced in a keenness of mind which many a younger man might have envied, and defended himself bravely. He not only opposed his adversary in a controversial treatise scarcely a year before his death, but he also energetically refuted Dörpfeld’s reply in the last of his works, “The Linear Measures of the Ancients.”[80] This appeared a few days before his decease. We have examined both opinions impartially, and cannot but{199} range ourselves on the side of the Master, Lepsius, who had the advantage of his opponent in a knowledge of all the monuments and an understanding of hieroglyphic writing. It was in his favor in the controversy that his adversary partly relied upon perverted translations and on dubious authorities, or those which he was obliged to take at second hand. The old warrior knew how to bring such errors skilfully into the foreground, and thus, at the very beginning, compromise his adversary, who in other respects had worked with good faith in the correctness of his cause. The controversial paper of Lepsius has not the least appearance of being written by an old man suffering from illness. He may have drawn the force of his reply from the conviction that he was in the right. Besides, the vigorous grey-beard saw all that he had won by painful and conscientious labor unexpectedly endangered, and “therefore,” thus he says himself in his last book—“I both desired and was obliged to make a plain answer in a matter which but few understand. Otherwise the greatest confusion might be occasioned in the minds of half-instructed readers by the influence of such an extensive, bold, and yet entirely unfounded attack from a man otherwise estimable, and who, in his own department, has decided merit.”

Lepsius’ last work, on the linear measures of the ancients, included all the results of his metrological studies. In it he took a high standpoint from which it was possible to survey all the multitude of details as{200} one great whole. He considered the linear measures of the Egyptians, Hebrews, Greeks, Romans, Assyrians and Persians, and the Philetarian system. This latter he found to be employed in Egypt, especially in the temple of Denderah. But he was not contented with treating them monographically, but also investigated the relations of all these systems to each other, and showed that in all probability a historical connection existed between them.

The treatises on language written by Lepsius were all published in the transactions and monthly reports of the Berlin Academy of Sciences, and the greater number of them have been already cited.

Up to the year 1866 he remained in Berlin, occupied with ceaseless labors, and only in the autumn holidays did he undertake long journeys for recreation or in pursuit of his scientific aims. Several times he went to London, especially on account of affairs relating to his standard alphabet. He was always attracted towards Paris, and once went there (1857) on a commission from the government to bid at an auction of Egyptian antiquities for the Berlin museum. He also reaped a fresh scientific harvest in the year 1852, during a second and longer visit to the museum at Leyden, where he was most cordially received by the Leemans and the mother of the excellent Director.

In the beginning of 1866, he undertook his second journey to Egypt, and was again accompanied by his faithful hierogrammatist, E. Weidenbach. On the second of April he left for Cairo, and this time with{201} the design of visiting the Eastern Delta and the localities of the ruins there. These were of special importance for Biblical geography. He first inspected the Persian-Egyptian monuments which had just been excavated by the workmen on the Suez Canal. According to his views these had been dug up from the canal constructed by Darius, and were memorials intended to adorn that great undertaking. After also examining the other monuments found in the neighborhood of the excavations of De Lesseps, together with their surroundings, he proceeded in quest of the site of ancient Pelusium.[81] The shingle bed which covers the whole Gesiret-el-Farama is bounded towards the east by a continuous bank, which can be traced till beyond the western Tell-el-Her, and whose fortress-like curves separate the shingle field upon its declivity from the sand dunes of the desert. Lepsius believed that he had found there the locality of the ancient Hauaris (auaris), so often sought for, and thus proved that this was not to be looked for in Tanis, but on the site or in the neighborhood of the later Pelusium. In the Herin Tell-el-Her he thought might perhaps be recognized a remnant of the old name Ha-uar, the ancient Egyptian form of Auaris. These conjectures have not been shaken by any later investigations, but on the other hand Lepsius’ opinion, previously expressed, that Tell el-Maschuta, which he visited before Pelusium, was the Ramses of the Bible, seems to be disproved by the latest excavations of Naville, and this place must now{202} be regarded as the Biblical Pithom and Succoth, in spite of the opposition which that view afterwards encountered from the Master.[82]

His greatest prize was to fall into his hands at San, the Tanis of the Greeks, the Zo’an of the Bible, whither he was accompanied by the Viennese Egyptologist Reinisch. This acquisition was of such great and epoch-making importance as to throw into the shade all the other gains of the journey. The discovery of the decree of Tanis, or the Tablet of Canopus, amongst the ruins of San, is one of the most important discoveries made in Egypt since the finding of the Rosetta stone. It furnishes proof of the correctness of the results which had been obtained up to 1866, by the Egyptologists with the aid of the Rosetta key and Champollion’s method of deciphering hieroglyphics.

This rare monument consists of a stela of solid limestone, and has on its front surface a hieroglyphic inscription of thirty-seven lines, and the Greek translation of the same in seventy-six closely written lines. On the edge of the tablet, though Lepsius did not notice it at first, is the same text in demotic writing, that is, in the popular dialect of the later heathen Egyptians. The whole stone, including the rounded upper surface, is 2.16 meters high and 0.78 of a meter wide, and is at present kept in the museum of Bulak. It is in excellent preservation, and Lepsius could easily read both texts at the first trial.

The translation of the hieroglyphic decree, which{203} was made on the basis of Champollion’s method of deciphering and by the aid of the grammars and lexicons published between the time when that was discovered and the year 1866, agreed perfectly with the Greek version thereof upon the same stone. With this valuable monument for a basis it was thus once for all positively determined that the study of the Egyptian language was being pursued according to the correct method.

The decree discovered by Lepsius was dated in the ninth year of Ptolemy Euergetes I. Like the decree upon the Rosetta stone it had been passed by priests, who had assembled at Canopus for the celebration of the birthday of the king. In the first part of it were enumerated the benefits conferred by the ruler of the land, which had caused the hierarchy to accord to him many new honors in addition to those conferred upon his predecessor. In the part establishing a new popular festival to be celebrated in honor of Euergetes in all the temples of the country, there occurred certain arrangements of the calendar from which, as Lepsius immediately perceived, it must be inferred that a mutable year had been in use at an early period, in addition to the fixed year. It was also evident that in the ninth year of Euergetes I. the fixed Julian year had already come into use in the civil affairs of Egypt.

The hieroglyphic names for Canopus, Syria, Phœnicia, the island of Cyprus and Persia, could be determined with the aid of the Greek translation. This weighty document also furnished much important in{204}formation regarding history, chronology and the calendar. Egyptian philology is indebted to these inscriptions for confirmation only, if we except a few additions to the dictionary, and some peculiarities of the dialect of Lower Egypt in which they were written.

Lepsius immediately made the monument which he had discovered the common property of science, in a model publication[83] containing both texts, which he accompanied by thorough translations and most important explanations. In so doing he gave an example worthy of imitation to Mariette, the great autocrat of all the monuments in Egypt, who always published the inscriptions which he excavated long after their discovery.

Invested with a new and illustrious honorary title,[84] Lepsius returned to Berlin, and there resumed his old labors with all his energy.

Henry Brugsch, a scholar who, quite independently of Lepsius, had become one of the most eminent leaders in the science of Egyptology, had in 1863 founded an organ of his own for Egyptological research, under the name of “Zeitschrift für ägyptische Sprache und Alterthumskunde” [Journal of Egyptian Language and Archaeology:] A profound estrangement, increased by adverse casualties and incidents, had up to this time kept these two eminent men asunder. But Brugsch, after successfully conducting{205} the new journal to the end of its first year, obtained a place in Egypt in the Prussian consular service, and left Europe. The relations between him and Lepsius at this time became more friendly, and Lepsius undertook, “with the coöperation of H. Brugsch at Cairo,” the management of this journal of Egyptology. Scholars from all countries furnished contributions to it, and for some time it remained the chief organ for the special investigations of Egyptologists. It also received Assyriological works. It had afterwards as competitors, first in France the Vieweg “Recueil”[85] and then the “Revue Égyptilogique”[86] founded in 1880, by Revillont and Brugsch, and in England the “Proceedings of the Society of Biblical Archaeology.”[87] Yet, in spite of the rivals mentioned, the German journal maintained its rank and its importance. This was the case even after Lepsius, overwhelmed by his official duties and with enfeebled health, resigned the lion’s share of the editorial work to the distinguished young Egyptologist, A. Erman. Erman taught as a private lecturer at the Berlin University in the time of Lepsius, and has lately been appointed professor there.

H. Brugsch-Pasha still worked for the “Zeitschrift,” even after he had founded the “Revue Égyptologique{206}” in conjunction with Revillout, and his relation to his older colleague became more friendly with time. After the death of Lepsius, Brugsch again became editor of the “Zeitschrift” and dedicated to the senior master an obituary which was couched in the warmest terms.

In the autumn of the year 1869, Lepsius undertook his third and last journey to Egypt, and was present at the opening of the Suez Canal. His hasty trip to Upper Egypt could yield little fruit to science, but it served to give him great pleasure, and in his letters to his wife he could not sufficiently praise the amiability of the Crown Prince, to whom, as cicerone, he showed the monuments.

A great number of distinctions were conferred upon the Master during the latter portion of his life, but in consequence thereof, at a time of life when others feel the desire for rest, he was induced to assume a burden of duties which would have oppressed many a man in his prime.

In 1873, he was appointed privy counsellor to the government, and was entrusted with the temporary direction of the Berlin library. We were witness to the extreme and careful deliberation with which he considered the matter before assuming this onerous office. He did not conceal from himself that it would hinder the completion of many an enterprise which he had already begun and which was very dear to him; but on the other hand he told himself that he was the right man to regulate and carry through numerous affairs{207} which he knew would be of benefit to the important institution which he was to conduct.

The broad and firm foundation of his education, his prolonged work as a student at Paris, Rome and London, and his practical intelligence, specially fitted him for the place of a chief librarian. He entered upon the post on the twenty-fifth of March, 1874.

Pertz had formerly been a very useful man, but had now become enfeebled by age, and was difficult to manage. We learn from the most authoritative of all sources that Lepsius, at the instance of Delbrück, then vice-chancellor, undertook to induce Pertz first to resign the management of the collection of the archives of the German people, (the Monumenta Germaniae), and afterwards to retire from his office of chief librarian. After Lepsius had succeeded in this—the wits of Berlin called him Propertz, as the successor of the aged Pertz,—the Minister, Falk, invited him in April, 1873 to assume the management of the Royal Library. The place was at first provisional, but when he definitively assumed the office in March, 1874, he did it under the condition that the Budget for the library should be considerably increased, and that provision should be made for erecting a new building. Of this there was and is urgent need, for the limited amount of space in the old “roccoco-cabinet of Frederick II.,” produced, and still produces, incredible disadvantages. After inspecting many large foreign libraries during the long vacation of 1873, and taking into consideration everything which he found there suitable for the end{208} in view, Lepsius looked over the plans of the grounds available for this purpose. As the result of his reflections a bold idea saw the light of day. The place which he chose for the future library of the capital city was the great square enclosed by Unter den Linden, Charlotten, Dorotheen and Universitäts streets. This was a bold but extraordinarily happy project, which might perhaps have been adopted, had it been earlier laid before the Government and the chambers. But the golden days of flood in the Prussian treasury were passing away. Lepsius succeeded in arranging that the rear portion of the Dutch palace, towards Behren Street, should be specially appropriated as journal rooms, whereby space was procured for from one to two hundred thousand volumes more. But he did not live to see the realization of his project. Nevertheless, the impulse given by him is still working, and the day cannot be far distant when a worthy domicile will be provided for the treasures of the Berlin library.

Lepsius did much for the internal regulation of the library. He spoke with special pleasure of the system introduced by him for the disposal of newly-procured books as well as of the cataloguing, and the following innovations: Here, as elsewhere, the titles of the books desired by different individuals were written upon cards and handed in. If it was impossible to satisfy the demand thus expressed, the card was simply returned, and such returns were far more frequent in the Berlin library than in any other. Lepsius therefore directed that thenceforth the cards containing such{209} demands as could not be complied with should be kept, and he made it the duty of the higher officials of the library to find out whether the refusal was owing to any negligence of the subordinate employees. The cards requiring books which could not be furnished were preserved, and it was soon evident that certain books were repeatedly called for. These were naturally such as were particularly important for students, and Lepsius caused several copies of them to be immediately procured. He also invited the most experienced professors to supply him with the names of those works which were of special weight in their own departments, but too costly to be procured by individuals of narrow means. He proceeded upon the correct principle that precisely those books which students could not buy for themselves should be at their disposal in the library. According to his own reckoning, up to that time a third of the books demanded had not been delivered, while a year after he took the management only one-twelfth were not delivered. The scant courtesy, indeed the incivility, of the Berlin library under Pertz, had been really notorious, and presented a glaring contrast to the obliging spirit encountered in the other large German libraries, especially those of Göttingen, Munich and Leipsic. This bad reputation was in some measure improved under the administration of Lepsius.

The multitude of duties which devolved upon the chief librarian did not hinder him from continuing to hold the office of president of the board of directors of{210} the Archaeological Institute. This, although it conferred honor, yet consumed much time. Lepsius had held the post since Gerhard’s death in 1867, and when he became manager of the library the directors were no less men than Haupt, Curtius, Mommsen, Kirchhoff, and afterwards Hercher. Under his presidency the Institute had been enlarged from a Prussian institution to a scientific institution of the whole German empire. The construction of a stately building at the capital had been authorized and completed. It was also largely owing to Lepsius that the scholarships for young archaeologists were increased in number and amount. The application for them constantly became more numerous, and among the archaeologists were many philologists, who wished to participate in the benefits of the Institute. The archaeologists generally received the preference, but Lepsius specially and rightly interested himself for the young private professors of the university and the teachers at the gymnasiums. He desired that they might acquire more elevated views of art, and a more enlightened conception of science and of life, by a sojourn on the classical soil of Italy, where the whole spiritual existence of a well-prepared and susceptible youth is so easily broadened and ennobled. Entirely apart from whatever scientific gains he may have won, the memory of Italy must illumine the teacher’s life, his academical discourses, and even his dryest teaching, and lend to all a higher inspiration. Lepsius was also enthusiastically interested in the founding of a{211} subordinate branch of the Roman Institute at Athens, and exerted all the influence in his power in favor of it. Ernest Curtius, “whose intellectual Fatherland is Greece,” showed himself most active in carrying out this project. The correspondence which Lepsius had to conduct, as president of the board of directors in Berlin, had so increased that in 1874 he was obliged to write about eighty letters in a quarter of a year. Since 1833 he had belonged to the Institute as a corresponding member, since 1835 as a regular member, since 1836, first as a director, and finally as presiding member of the central board. When he retired in 1880 the Institute awarded him the well-deserved honor by electing him an honorary member.

He had been made a Doctor of the Theological Faculty in Leipsic in 1859.

Since 1850 he had been a member of the Berlin Academy of Sciences, and since 1858 a corresponding member of the Institut de France. He had besides been elected member of almost half a hundred learned societies. After the death of Trendelenburg, when the office of secretary of the Berlin Academy of Sciences was vacant, he was asked if he would be inclined to assume it, and only after his decided refusal, and at his suggestion, was E. Curtius chosen. In 1872 he received the most honorable of all German decorations, the order pour le mérite for science and the arts. He had already, in 1869, been appointed a knight of the Bavarian order of Maximilian, which was closely related to the foregoing. In 1883 he was appointed{212} Government Upper Privy Councellor. The unusual and numerous ovations which he received during the same year upon the occasion of his Doctor’s Jubilee of fifty years, were such as have fallen to the lot of but few scholars.

His later works on Egyptian art and the oldest texts of the “Book of the Dead” have been already mentioned. Connected with these were a series of valuable monographs[88] published in the Transactions and Monthly Reports of the Berlin Academy of Sciences, and in the “Zeitschrift für ägyptische Sprache und Alterthumskunde.” In his seventieth year, after an apoplectic attack which slightly crippled his arm, he presented his long-expected Nubian Grammar[89] to science.

This work, which marked an epoch, comprised the results of many years of study. Throughout his whole life as a master workman he had been engaged in arranging the philological material which he had acquired while in Ethiopia and on the Blue Nile. He had illuminated this mass of knowledge by profound study, and so greatly added to it that, as far as the works then in existence permitted, he had gained a mastery over all branches of language upon the African continent.

The introduction to this book, consisting of a hundred and twenty-six pages, is in itself a colossal achieve{213}ment. We devoted a special treatise[90] to it soon after its appearance. By means of it the reader is as it were raised upon a hovering cloud, whence he can survey all Africa, and pass in review a portion of the early history of its peoples. He is able, under the guidance of the most skillful of commentators, to obtain thence a general view of all the African nations and their languages. These are presented to him classified into zones and groups, and in fact, in all those stages of their historical existence which are accessible to investigation. This is particularly the case with regard to those peoples with whom the book is especially concerned. The author had recognized in the Nubians a branch of the original African population, who never possessed a historical literature in their own language, and it was no slight matter, from the records of the Egyptians and the occasional reports of the Greeks, Romans and Arabians, to construct the general outlines of a history which begins at such an early period as the building of the pyramids, and ends with the destruction of the great Christian Nubian kingdom at the end of the thirteenth century after Christ.

Lepsius was also induced to construct a history of the Kushite peoples from the records on the monuments of the struggles which the more feeble Nubians had to sustain against that race. At an early date the Kushites were in possession of both shores of the Red Sea, and had also made themselves masters of the{214} eastern bend of the Nile adjacent thereto. Lepsius was also inspired by the desire to approach more nearly to a solution of the problem whether the so-called Ethiopian stone inscriptions, which were yet undeciphered and many of which are to be found between Philae and the confluence of the two sources of the Nile, were written in the African tongue of the Nubians, or in the Kushite language. Of this latter the present Begá language, which is comparatively little known must be considered the successor. This portion of his work is one of the author’s boldest intellectual feats. The chapters which he devotes to the Kushite Puna, as the predecessors of the Phoenician colonists on the Mediterranean, and to their emigration to Babylon, have roused much opposition, and have encountered serious doubt even in ourselves. But other portions of this same historical statement are of great value, and must give repeated impulse to fresh investigation.

The final result of all these researches is that the key to the “Ethiopian” inscriptions so frequently mentioned is to be sought, not in the Nubian but in the Begá language, and the future, we think, will prove the correctness of this supposition. Had Lepsius, during his long journey, been in a position to arrive at those conclusions whence he afterwards inferred the high historic and linguistic importance of the Begá language, he would have given it the first place in his philological researches. He would have devoted to it the thorough study which, as a matter of fact, he gave to the{215} Nubian tongue. The fundamental and comprehensive manner in which he prosecuted this latter study is proved by the second part of the work mentioned above, which comprises the Nubian grammar and its rules of pronunciation, etymology and syntax, as well as reading exercises. These include the whole Gospel of St. Mark, the “Our Father,” and a series of Nubian songs, besides the lexicon and scheme of the Nubian dialects. Good old Achmet Abu Nabbut, a native of Derr, who was perfect master of two Nubian dialects, (the Kennez and Mahas), and first introduced Lepsius to the Nubian tongue, has been for months in my own service, and assures me that Lepsius was the only European who knew how to write the language of his native land. After Lepsius returned to Germany the Nubian ‘Ali wed Schaltuf, whom Count W. von Schlieffen had brought from Africa with him, also did him good service. The Nubian Grammar is certainly a useful work in itself, but the magnificent introduction which precedes it is of yet greater weight and higher significance. It may be described as the beautiful and enduring result of many years of faithful industry and difficult preparatory labor,[91] upon a wide domain of research which had been almost untrodden before.

Max Müller, a faithful friend of the departed, and of his family, has made the following appropriate remarks on this introduction: “While most comparative philologists are at present absorbed in details regarding the character of the possible dialectal diversities of in{216}dividual vowels and consonants, Professor Lepsius draws with bold strokes the mighty outlines of a history of language which covers four or five thousand years, and embraces the whole continent of Africa and the neighboring coasts of Asia. As the admirers of Gerard Douw shake their heads before the immense surfaces which Paul Veronese has covered with color, so we can readily understand that scholars who are absorbed in the question whether the Arian language had originally four or five distinct “A’s,” turn with a sort of terror from investigations like those of Lepsius, where languages are traced back to a common origin. Happily there is room for both in science, for the Gerard Douws and the Veroneses; indeed it is to be sincerely desired in the interests of science that the two styles may ever exist side by side. There is still much rough work to be done among the hitherto unstudied languages of the world, and for this work the bold, far-seeing eye of the huntsman is far more necessary than the concentrated labor of the philological microscopist.”

For the rest, the Grammar contains much which shows with how fine an ear and sense of detail its author was endowed. He has also proved himself to be a microscopist in his chronological and metrological investigations. To these, as we know, he remained faithful to the end. The effects of his apoplectic attack could not break down his vigorous nature, and his last papers in the “Zeitschrift für ägyptische Sprache and Alterthumskunde,” his controversial treatise against Herr Dörpfeld, his “Linear Measures of{217} the Ancients,” best prove that the vigor and acuteness of his mind were entirely untouched by this ominous misfortune, and by the heavy blows of destiny which he encountered during the last years of his life.

Lepsius’ career as a Master Workman ended with his life. He was a diligent and faithful laborer up to the boundaries of this earthly existence. He, the Senior Master of a most ambitious branch of study, has laid down his office of pioneer and leader. Egyptology, to which he consecrated the best part of his great powers, will deserve the name of a science so long as she follows the way which the departed pointed out to her. In him the Berlin university lost one of its ornaments, and the Fatherland an investigator who, far beyond its borders, was accounted one of the most eminent of his time.{218}

Since Lepsius’ fortunate entrance into the haven of matrimony we have devoted our whole attention to estimating his scientific achievements as a master workman, leaving unmentioned his personal experiences, except so far as they fell within the sphere of his schol{219}arly labors. We thought it better to depict his domestic life, and the man Lepsius, in the circle of his family and friends, quite apart from his scientific occupations. These latter were carried on in the sanctuary of his study, in the lecture room, or in the public library. No one ever understood more thoroughly than he how to disengage his mind from his special pursuits, and to enjoy intercourse with wife or child, with individuals or general society. None better knew how to participate with both intellect and heart in animated conversations on art or literature, science or politics. His special acquirements remained hidden until a desire was expressed for information on such subjects, and he was appealed to.

The Lepsius who returned from the Orient and founded a home of his own, was essentially different from the young scholar who had been reckoned among the conservatives in Göttingen, and whom we saw indignantly quit Schleiermacher’s lectures on the Life of Jesus, in Berlin. During a long sojourn in England, which had brought him into connection with the leaders of political life, he had learned to appreciate the rights of the people, and the advantages of a free state under a constitutional government. He had spent three years in the East under unusual conditions, always in a position of authority and subject to none. What can so quickly expand even the most limited views, what can more certainly conduce to an unfettered and vigorous use of existence, what can more strengthen even the feeblest self-confidence, what can{220} lead with more imperious necessity to self-examination and to knowledge of one’s own faults and merits, than a prolonged sojourn in the East, and in the silent desert?

He had returned home entirely self-reliant, understanding himself and his aims, and capable of maintaining his own stand in the face of opposition. He had become a free-thinker of dispassionate and temperate views, who had learned to despise the barriers which prejudices and one-sided opinions of every kind malevolently set between men. He no longer held to the dogmas and formulas of a circumscribed confession, but he still adhered to that Christ to whom his free-thinking father had taught him to look up as the harbinger of pure self-sacrificing human love.

And the choice of this man had fallen upon a maiden of eighteen years. All who knew her as a bride speak of her as a charming, happy creature, full of childlike archness. But nevertheless passionate blood ran through the veins of this young girl; Elizabeth’s finely cultivated mind was restless and over-active, and her soul was completely filled with ardent and fanatical religious zeal.

What contrasts! Seldom has there been a pair in every respects so different; and yet they confirmed Schiller’s lines: “For where the severe with the tender, where the strong and the gentle unite.” Love was the metal of that bell whose voice had drawn them together, and bound them to each other for a life time. It gave forth a pleasant sound, and only one discord,{221} which became especially perceptible in their latter years, and which was produced by the great difference in their religious convictions. This disturbed his ear but slightly, for, calm and assured of his own aims, happy in his work and in his life, he devoted his time to labor and science, and his intervals of recreation to his children, to social pleasures, to the learned societies of which he was a member, to his garden, to music, whose pleasures he gladly shared with his wife, and to his beloved chess. At first she had attempted to realize the dream of her girlhood, and to kindle his heart with the fire of her own enthusiasm; but in vain. Tranquilly and cheerfully he accompanied her to church, and whenever his occupations permitted it, usually on Sunday, he took part in the daily household worship which she had instituted. He allowed her to train the children, and to instil into them that religious feeling in which he himself was not wanting, and in which he recognized the loveliest flower of the soul, and of the feminine soul especially. But he warned her against excess and exaggeration, which were so alien to his own nature, and possibly this unsympathetic attitude towards what to her was highest and holiest, only contributed to cause in her ardent heart still warmer devotion to the doctrines of her positive Protestant faith. We should here assert, in the most decided manner, that this devotion was of the most unobtrusive kind. Frau Lepsius never gave it public manifestation, and the only ones whom she allowed to share in it were her nearest relatives, her pastor, and{222} her diary. She was ever averse to the course of the zealots and pietists, who enjoyed such palmy days under Frederick IV., and once, on hearing a sermon by the famous pastor Knak, she left the church in indignation. The noble Jonas and the excellent Kögel were her pastors, and certainly had more frequently to moderate than to kindle her zeal. Her husband saw no reason for serious interference with the excessive religious aspirations of her soul, for to him she gave everything that a man can ask from the companion of his existence: a heart overflowing with love, esteem heightened to admiration, and a warm interest in all his labors and productions, even the most abstruse. In addition to this she cared with prudence, skill and indefatigable industry for the management and embellishment of the home, and there were few houses where the hostess was able to make her guests so thoroughly at ease. Nothing was farther from her thoughts than a puritanical renunciation of the pleasures and delights of this world, and she gave a zest to the household festivals by the inexhaustible fertility of her ideas in the way of original representations and spectacles. She pleased in society by her amiability and wit; she was the best of mothers; and as the children grew up she was so excellent and untiring a teacher that he, who had never had any confidence in his own ability as a pedagogue, was glad and thankful to resign to her the charge of the mental and moral education of the children. Among them were boys who were hard to govern, yet they all turned out{223} excellently. In matters of charity he gave her entire liberty.

The inner being of this rare woman lies plain before us, and we are permitted to follow the life of the Lepsius family almost from day to day. We ourselves visited the house of Lepsius only as a friend and guest, but the diary of its mistress, some twenty volumes, makes us a member of the household. It is honest, simple, and yet written with great intuitive perception. A number of poems are intermingled with the excellent prose. They are mostly of religious tenor, and many of them are distinguished by their lofty strain and beautiful thoughts. The perusal of this journal has therefore afforded us genuine pleasure, and it has exhibited to our soul as well as to our sight, the character of a woman so singular and noble in her love, her activity and her aspiration that we separate from it with sincere admiration, but also with deep regret. It would be to abuse a great trust, were we to yield to the desire to portray the character of its author from the avowals contained in this journal, and yet this would excite quite different, and tenfold greater, interest than that of her husband. For how much less alluring to the psychologist is the calm progress of a man who came early to maturity, his successful contests with the impulses of youth, and his tranquil labors after the goal was attained, than the ceaseless struggles of a woman distinguished above thousands by the ardor of her soul and the keenness of her intellect. Yet we may be at least allowed to{224} extract from the diary all that can serve to give the reader a clear idea of life in the home of Lepsius, its intercourse with the outside world, and the experiences of its head as a husband, and as a member of a select society.

Every betrothal has its history. Lilli (Elizabeth) Klein,[92] who was greatly admired, had done some friends the favor to appear at an entertainment as the fourteenth guest. The ominous number thirteen was caused by Lepsius’ declining the invitation at a late moment. But, nevertheless, he appeared, after all the guests were assembled, and it was on this occasion that she made his acquaintance. “Oh Superstition” she wrote in her diary, “for the first time I bless thee.”

Even this first meeting had carried the day with{225} her. The next Sunday she could not help thinking of him during the sermon, and when she visited him with several of her relations, amongst whom there were some young ladies, to inspect the curiosities which he had brought with him from the Orient, her young heart was not only disturbed, but deeply troubled, because he seemed to have paid more attention to her sister than to her, and she already loved him.

The following day put an end to her anxiety. It was a Palm Sunday, and that evening he wrote in his term-calendar “To-day the palm of life is won,” while, at a later hour, she confided to her diary the rejoicings of her heart. She prefaced the sentences with which she gave expression to her rapture by Chamisso-Schubert’s “I cannot understand it, I cannot believe it.”

She continues: “God, my God, how shall I thank thee for this unutterable bliss! No, it is too great and too much, my Heavenly Father. ‘Beloved!’ Beloved by him! My heart is full, but I cannot write! My soul rejoices in the thought; Beloved by him! But how can I prove myself worthy of him?”

The letters which he wrote to Elizabeth also lie before us, and it is not without deep emotion that we read these beautiful effusions of tender passion from the profoundly touched heart of a man to whom we had been accustomed to look up as an earnest teacher, and the dignified senior master of our science. Here we see him succumb with lovable weakness to a beautiful human emotion.

The passion for his “Lilli” compensates him for{226} the magic of the East, which he had felt so deeply a short time before, and he calls her his “Shulamite” and his “Rose of Sharon.” Yet even in the bonds of love he preserves the fundamental instincts of his soul, and he writes to her: “Often and earnestly do I ask myself, my dear Lilli, whether it is not after all ignoble selfishness, when I feel such intense bliss in your devoted love, and in the consciousness that I have won you, so ardently beloved a spirit, for my own. But then again I feel that through your love all that is good in me is helped and strengthened, and I become capable of a higher and purer love towards God and our fellow beings, and then it seems as if it could not be wrong to desire such a relation with all the strength of one’s soul; as if this happiness were our vocation, seldom however to be attained untroubled, and never entirely unalloyed, upon this earth. Oh, my Lilli, what a rare and rich life would lie before us if the thoughts which we have exchanged in our letters should one day become an actual living reality, not only in word but in deed.”

The pure exultation of a maiden’s heart, overpowered by true love, re-echoes from her diary throughout the whole time of the betrothal. It is true that there were many differences of opinion between the betrothed, especially when religious questions were discussed, but his cheerful serenity was always able to make amends for whatever might have wounded her feelings in such disputes, and, taken as a whole, their betrothal was one long happy festival. He taught her{227} the hieroglyphic alphabet, and wrote out for her little protestations of love in the picture writing of the old Egyptians. The learned man of five and thirty was unwearied in the invention of tender speeches, and it must have pleased Elizabeth-Lilli to have heard herself called, both in his letters and from his lips, by eighteen pet names,—she counted them herself. There was no lack on his side of verses, flowers, and acts of homage. In the house of the Partheys, who had adopted the orphan niece as a daughter, entertainment followed upon entertainment, gay excursions to the country were arranged, and masquerades, at which Elizabeth was obliged to appear in Turkish dress. But this gay life was contrary to her inclinations and to his likewise. The wedding was celebrated on the fifth of July, 1846, not in the old Nicolai house in Behren Street, where they had first known each other, but at Dresden. The excellent pastor Jonas, from Berlin, performed the marriage ceremony in the Church of Our Lady, and after a brilliant wedding banquet the young couple went to Pirna, the first stopping-place in a longer wedding trip which took them, by way of Paris, to England. There they were cordially received by the Bunsens, and the young wife found the eminent statesman and patron of her husband so kind and friendly that her fear of appearing embarrassed before him proved entirely unfounded.[93] She described vividly everything noteworthy that occurred to her,{228} and depicted with a bold and ready pen the impression made on her by men and things. She saw her Richard received everywhere with the same respect and cordiality; the light of his fame enveloped and delighted her, but on their journey home a charming attention fell to her lot also, for at Cologne her father’s great mass, which she never yet heard, was performed in the most admirable manner as a mark of respect to her.

On the seventeenth of September they returned to Berlin, and “Richard” writes Elizabeth, “was forced to laugh at the childish delight which I showed in the beautiful big house, our own house, (in Behren Street) where I am to be mistress.”

They were soon installed, and the young couple, who were freed from all material anxiety by the comfortable property of the wife and the salary of the husband, could now return the hospitality which had been offered them on all sides. In spite of her strict piety the wife showed herself as much inclined as was her husband to social intercourse with agreeable guests. A few weeks after their return the young couple entertained a number of friends, and who these were we see from the memoranda before us. On the third of November, 1846, there met at their house Gerhard, v. Olfers, Homeyer, Max Müller, the Grimm brothers, Parthey, Carl Ritter, Ehrenberg, Lachmann, L. Ranke and E. Curtius. On the fifteenth of December there were assembled there A. v. Humboldt (who also visited them on other occasions, and for whom, Frau Elizabeth writes, she felt a genuine affection) v. Olfers,{229} Boeckh, Pertz, Cornelius, v. Reumont, the Grimm brothers, Homeyers, Strack, the Partheys, Schelling and Bethmann.

Such a company of illustrious men could at that time be brought together nowhere but in Berlin, and if we consult the diary of Frau Lepsius and Lepsius’ later note-books, and appeal to our own memory, we shall und that the assemblage of noted colleagues and countrymen was constantly increased by a number of eminent strangers. Amongst them were scholars, travelers, statesmen, artists, and even the ambassadors of foreign powers, who were unwilling to leave Berlin without having visited the house of Lepsius. The most faithful friend of the family, beside the Partheys and Pinders, was the valued traveling companion of the young husband, Abeken, who had renounced his career as a divine, and was constantly rising to higher and higher positions in the Foreign Office.

How kindly Frederick William IV. was disposed to Lepsius may be inferred from the fact that soon after the return of the latter from his wedding trip the King sent him fifteen hundred thalers towards the establishment of the new household. Frau Elizabeth writes: “It is altogether a peculiar feeling; to have in hand such a large sum that seems as if it had fallen from heaven. I was quite troubled about our great good fortune in material things, and I reminded Richard of the ring of Polycrates. But as I read the day after in a letter from C. P. to Richard: ‘Whoever has behind him such a fruitful and undesecrated youth as you{230} have, has a right to make claims upon life, which will not fail to reward you abundantly.’ Nevertheless one is astonished, and such a distribution of fortune seems almost unjust, if one considers what an immeasurable sum and what great wealth such a gift would be to poor people, and how to Richard it was only a pleasant proof of the King’s good-will, which he calmly put in the fund for setting our house in order. Five hundred thalers he reserved for current expenses, and soon it had all vanished as it had come.”

In his own house Lepsius stood at the helm with a steady hand, but his wife ever strove to make his voyage through life pleasant and happy.

Her struggle for greater calmness and a more equable nature is touching, as is the loving humility with which she recognizes his superiority; and often does a phrase, an interjection, in the midst of matter-of-fact records, give expression to her true and tender love. She says: “It is grand in Richard, that he can take everything so naturally. It comes from his perfect honesty; if I could only educate myself up to him.” When her first little daughter was able to stand alone she wrote: “Richard and Anna, these names embrace my whole happiness, the fragrant blooming shower of blessings which Our Father in Heaven pours upon me from the abundant horn of plenty of His grace and love.”

The diaries are replete with such expressions. Especially neat and pointed are the little sketches of eminent men drawn by the young wife. Whoever was{231} personally acquainted with Master Peter Cornelius, (he was a friend of my mother’s, and indeed once made a portrait of me as a boy), will admit that it would not be possible to depict his external appearance more neatly and pointedly than in the following words from the diary of Frau Lepsius. She writes: “A little, thick-set man, with a black peruke, piercing black eyes, wide, kindly mouth, and with thought upon his wrinkled brow.”

On the twenty-fifth of July, 1847, a daughter was granted to the young couple. She received the name of Isis Anna. Minister Jonas, the liberal-minded pastor of the household, found nothing wrong in the choice of the name of the heathen divinity Isis, but strange to say, Bunsen took serious exception to it, and gave expression to his disapproval in a letter. The happy father answered in the following letter, in which we see pleasantly manifested the joyous zest in life by which he was at that time animated.

Little Anna was followed by a second girl, Elizabeth,[95] and the latter by four boys, to the delight of the grandfather in Naumburg. For although he had been blessed with six sons and three daughters, strangely enough, he had had bestowed upon him no other “Lepsius” grandchildren that those who sprung from the marriage of his son Richard.

After the christening of Anna the family spent some delightful weeks in lovely Ilsenburg. The winter was passed in cheerful sociability and quiet enjoyment of their first-born, till in February, 1848, all other interests were entirely overshadowed by the news of the revolution at Paris. Lepsius had already foreseen when in{234} Paris the downfall of the citizen king Louis Philippe, and though he hoped that the next movement for freedom in France would be of benefit to the political development of Germany and Prussia, yet he feared that in those countries also violent uprisings of the people would be unavoidable.

Each day was filled with increasing anxiety, the danger approached more closely, and yet,—a notable sight—there was no break in the fulfillment of the husband’s duties, and everything held its accustomed course in the household, as well as in the social life of the capital. Apprehension was aroused for Vienna, on account of the dreadful Metternich administration; all ears were on the watch for every rumor. The Emperor of Russia was said to have been poisoned, Metternich to have been seized with an apoplectic fit in consequence of the news from Paris, and the Pope to have taken flight, and abandoned Rome. In spite of the tumult of the people on the streets during every evening of this remarkably beautiful month of March, anxiety for Berlin was dissipated, as in well informed circles they believed it certain that the King was inclined to make great concessions. At last political interests overcame all others, and the grave academical instructor Lepsius, in his private lectures conversed with his pupils on the events of the day, instead of discussing Egyptology. Then on the eighteenth of March the Berlin revolution broke out, in the midst of the concessions of the King, and the rejoicing of the populace. We are in possession of interesting information{235} on the course of this revolution, from the husband as well as from the wife. In those days politics had such power over every true man that even Lepsius took part in them incidentally. When Abeken brought him a paper much needed just at that time, a good concise proclamation for the Prince of Prussia, whom Lepsius especially esteemed, he immediately carried it to the press which was working for him, and had the foreman print, post, and distribute it. He understood perfectly that the revolution indicated a great step forward in the political life of his Fatherland, and his wife says that the Kreuzzeitung people, in an underhand way, placed them in a false position. The Bismarck family had lived in the same house with the Lepsiuses, and once when popular songs of liberty and “Not yet, not yet, is Poland lost,” had been sung during a social evening at their rooms, Frau Elizabeth writes: “Thank God that the Bismarcks have left, or he would have got us into the Kreuzzeitung as Republicans.” How times and men change! These latter, fortunately, sometimes to better and greater.

In September, 1848, Lepsius went to Frankfort, and from his letters to his wife we know with what warm interest he there followed the parliamentary transactions in St. Paul’s Church. He had learned many things from the statesman Bunsen, and we have seen (page 122) how keenly he followed, from time to time, the course of ecclesiastical politics in Prussia. On the whole his political opinions agreed with those of his patron in London. He wished to be not only a{236} scholar and father, but a citizen also, and in 1848, he held it right “that every one should at least follow some banner, and a bad one rather than none at all.”

In the beginning of the year 1849, the political situation threatened to make it intolerable for his father to remain in Naumburg, under the authority of the town commissioners of that place (he had resigned his public office in 1847). Therefore Richard wrote to him: “If you should actually resolve to leave Naumburg, here in Berlin you would certainly find much the greatest satisfaction for your higher intellectual pursuits and interests, which in themselves rank far above all political interests. Libraries, art collections, learned societies of every kind would be open to you, and in the more restricted circle of our own household, our relations and most intimate friends, you would once more find, as of old, peace, happiness and love, which have grown to be the greatest necessity of your life.”

In spite of the slight value which he allotted in these sentences to political interests, he yet followed the political development of his Fatherland to the last with warm sympathy. In 1849 he attributed the King’s change to a policy independent of Austria to Bunsen’s influence, and as events continued to shape themselves in a more and more gloomy fashion, he constantly insisted upon the necessity for a stronger exhibition of Prussian power, as due to the hegemony of Germany.

He owed great gratitude to Frederick William IV. and acknowledged very thankfully the favor which this{237} monarch had manifested to him personally, and the appreciation which he had always shown for his works and efforts. But in 1850, he already spoke with deep anxiety of Prussian politics. The Waldeck Process filled him with indignation, and in 1850, Frau Elizabeth, who was the echo of her husband’s opinions, writes in the journal: “Our proud Prussia, the only refuge of German hopes, once more subject to the commands of Russia and Austria!... I have never seen Richard so depressed on account of politics as he is now. I have seen tears in W. Grimm’s eyes over Prussia’s,—Germany’s,—disgrace.... The Prince of Prussia must be beside himself at the shameful turn of affairs.... He will now be looked upon by all parties as the sole salvation of Prussia.” After the humiliation at Olmütz, and the brave stand of the Hessians for their constitution, she writes: “Jacob Grimm said lately, ‘I am proud to be a Hessian.’ Alas for us, poor creatures, that we must say ‘Let every Prussian be ashamed!’ In the worst days of the revolution people were not so desperate and hopeless, so utterly overwhelmed as now.... The king approves of everything, and is pleased and cheerful!” Nevertheless she was warmly attached to Frederick William IV. and says of him: “What a character! So noble, so conscientious, so kind, with such a comprehensive mind,—and yet he is not a great man.” Later, after Frederick William IV. had left Berlin and removed to Potsdam, Lepsius wrote to his father: “Here the departure of the king has the effect of a death upon us. The recollection of{238} him is very painful. On the other hand, new life springs up with the regency of the prince. Without precipitation, and with due calmness, many changes will soon be made, first in the leading men, and afterwards in the general tendencies.” Lepsius gave lively expression to his delight at the dawn of the so-called “new era.”

With what enthusiasm did he afterwards follow the upraising of his Fatherland under King William I. Our noble Emperor was ever a gracious master to him, and Lepsius was always among the chosen few invited to the evening tea-drinkings in the imperial palace. To our colleague Dümichen the Emperor spoke of Egyptology as “a science which our Lepsius has called to life in Germany.” To the author of this biography also the same great emperor, in the presence of their royal highnesses, the Grand-Duke and the Grand-Duchess of Baden, expressed himself with a warmth bordering on friendship regarding the great master of his science.

The following occurrence, related by Frau Lepsius, is characteristic of Frederick William IV. and his relation to Humboldt. A friend had been invited to Potsdam with Lepsius and some others, and while there ingenuously begged the king to speak a good word for him to the Duke of Brunswick, who was also present. The applicant wished to be appointed Musical Director at Brunswick. The monarch answered: “I cannot do anything for you in this matter; you must apply to Humboldt.{239}”

All men of intellectual eminence who came to Berlin always visited the house of Lepsius. The excellent missionary, Krapf, was once a guest there, and was invited to court with Lepsius. At table, the king asked the missionary, philologist and geographer, “How long do you propose to remain in Africa?” and the latter answered: “Until I am dead. All my family are buried there, and where they are is my home.”

Besides his colleagues from the university and native and foreign scholars, deputies to the Chamber, of all shades of opinion, also frequented Lepsius’ house. It not only gave Frau Elizabeth the greatest pleasure to listen to the conversation of these men, which often took the form of lively debates, but it was also of real advantage to her. Three years after her marriage she writes: “These distinguished persons, with their different ways of thinking, strengthen the tolerance which lies in Richard’s character, and teach me to accept and find pleasure in each one as he is.”

On the ninth of November, 1851, was solemnized the baptism of the third child and first son.[96] The godparents were the grandfather Lepsius, Bunsen, represented by Abeken, Jacob Grimm, the great geographer Charles Ritter, Ehrenberg, and several other ladies and gentlemen.

Lepsius had invited Bunsen to become a sponsor in the following words:{240}

At the christening it turned out that George and not Jacob had been chosen as the third name. This was after the first known ancestor of the Lepsius family, George Leps.[97] The christening feast was a{241} merry one, and the godmother has given a brief account of the toasts which were drunk. That delivered by Jacob Grimm to the health of the godfathers is so characteristic of him that to everyone acquainted with this magnificent scholar and man it must seem as delightful as to the godmother it must have been agitating. “I like,” so he began, “to come to the christening of a child: it is always more agreeable than a wedding or a funeral feast, where one usually sees nothing of the principal persons.” He then found fault with the christenings of the present day, the numerous godfathers, wherein the young Charles George Richard was not lacking, and said that “formerly it was much more solemn than now. Then there were only two godparents, the child was entirely stripped—there was more to be seen—and it was first plunged under water in the font, and then covered with a little shirt. More account was made of the godparents. After baptism the child had to go to them on every holiday, and received a gift from them. The church regarded baptism as a regeneration, and therefore it was considered of much greater importance; on this account the child was baptized immediately.” Then he said that usually the godparents did not long survive{242} the child’s baptism (general contradiction), “his godfather had died half a year after his christening; however the boy could learn his name out of the books. The boy had three names, and that was particularly stupid.” (This word was strongly emphasized, and Frau Lepsius’ temper waxed hot). “He certainly only needed one, for when he was fooling around on the street with other boys and his mother wanted to call to him out of the window, she would not cry: ‘Charles-George-Richard come here,’ but ‘Richard, come here!’ He had waited and listened, to see if the minister would not pronounce ‘Jacob’ too, but in vain. What was there though in that name to take exception to? It was indeed a Jewish name, but still Jacob had been a good man, and he could tell of many excellent people who had been called Jacob. The name pleased him very well, and it grieved him that the child had not been called by it.”

To these latter words Frau Lepsius adds the remark: “It grieved me too very much at that moment, and still more afterwards.”

Here we will break off the description of this toast. It had touched the honest man very nearly that he had to share with so many others the honor of being godfather to the first-born son of his beloved Lepsius, and he would have liked to see the little one grow up with his own good name, as he had been led to expect. It was never his way to conceal his feelings; but nothing was farther from the childlike nature of this man, who in science was a giant, than any intention of giving pain.{243}

His image still lives most vividly in my soul. For many years my mother, and I with her, inhabited the same house with the Grimms, in Lenné street, and I know how right Frau Lepsius was, when she said in her diary that there was in all the world nothing more benevolent and kind-hearted than William Grimm’s wife: that every one must feel to her as towards a beloved mother. The kindness and cheerful friendliness with which she added to the happiness of all of us brothers and sisters,—who among us has forgotten them? When Jacob met me on the way to school he always stroked my hair, and said: “Hurry, Flaxen-head.” It was Jacob Grimm who afterwards introduced me to Lepsius: Frau Grimm I saw for the last time when I was ill in bed, and she brought me a delicious cooling drink of fruit juice. Every memory of her is connected with something kind and lovely.

If we except Abeken, the most beloved of all the learned friends of the Lepsius family were the Grimms and Gerhard, whose wife was Frau Elizabeth’s intimate friend. This cordial feeling also extended to the children of William Grimm, and especially to Hermann, whose first poetic essays they watched with affection, but with impartial criticism.

So passed the weeks and months. The winter was given to work and social pleasures in the city; in the summer the wife and children went into the country. Longer journeys, such as the trip to upper Italy, were usually undertaken in the autumn. The family were very comfortable at Park-Birkenwäldchen near Berlin.{244} In 1852 this was completely in the country, but it has long since been absorbed by the metropolis of Berlin. The husband often went thither to see his family, friends accompanied him, and in the repose of this rustic life Frau Elizabeth prepared the index for the letters from Egypt and Ethiopia. They were dedicated to A. v. Humboldt, and he received them with gratitude and emotion, although, to Lepsius’ regret, the friendship between them had been troubled, in consequence of an affair which concerns people who are still living, and therefore cannot be spoken of here.

In the summer of 1852, the first numbers of the great work on monuments were completed. But they had not yet been sent out, although Lepsius for several months had been insisting on their distribution. Finally he went once more to Sans Souci to urge the expediting of the matter upon Niebuhr, and found him walking with Gerlach upon a terrace. Just then the King stepped out on an upper terrace, and when he became aware of the Egyptologist called down to him “Lepsius, Lepsius.”

The monarch then shook him by the hand, and a conversation ensued which, on account of its characteristic turn, we will give just as it was recorded immediately afterwards.

King: “I have not seen you for along time. You have grown quite stout.”

Lepsius makes some reply, and then speaks of the delay in distributing the completed numbers of the great work.{245}

King (to Niebuhr): “Tell me exactly how it stands?”

Niebuhr: “It is just as Lepsius represents it. Your Majesty has commanded the distribution, but the order has not been carried out.”

King: “Why, what delays it?”

Niebuhr: “I have already written three times to the Minister about it.”

King: “What Minister?”

Niebuhr: “Raumer.”

King: “Oh, then I understand it! If he has anything to do, it is always a year before it is finished. But don’t repeat that to him. Complain once more, Niebuhr!”

“Richard has also heard from Humboldt that the object of Niebuhr’s mysterious mission this spring (1852), was to invite Bunsen to resign,[98] which he, naturally, politely deprecated. And who was it they wished to put in his place? Bismarck Schönhausen, that smart, self-conceited young fellow! This is grand!”

Later Frau Elizabeth learned to appreciate fully this “smart young fellow.”

That autumn Lepsius went alone to England and Scotland. In London he worked successfully for the introduction of his standard alphabet. He went by way of Leyden, and again immersed himself in the treasures of the museum there, and enjoyed the hospitality of the excellent Leemans. It was at Warmond,{246} on the estate of the mother of the distinguished Egyptologist and Director of the Museum that the idea of making a similar delightful summer house for his own family first occurred to him.

In September Frau Elizabeth journeyed to meet him at Strasburg, where she was hospitably received by the family of Kreis, her husband’s student friend. She then returned home with her husband by way of Stuttgart, Munich and Nüremberg.

The old life began anew after their return. In addition to the accustomed guests came also General von Radowitz and Count Raczynski, both of whom Frau Lepsius characterizes sharply and aptly. She concludes with the following parallel, after she has mentioned how astonishing the wit and knowledge of Radowitz appear to her: “Raczynski does not lead the conversation, he rather watches it, and lets himself be talked to; on this account he likes the society of clever people, while Radowitz prefers an astonished and attentive audience, as he is always striving to make an impression.”

But such distinguished visitors were the exception: their large and inspiring circle of acquaintances was almost exclusively composed of the leaders of the Berlin literati. When there was no company in the evening, and Lepsius was not attending any of the societies of which we shall have to speak, he played chess, and liked to have his wife play on the piano at the same time. Often too there were “musical evenings” in which both husband and wife took part, together{247} with guests, like Hermann Grimm and others, who were not members. In the winter of 1852-53, a numerous company assembled nearly every week at the Lepsius house. On the seventh of April we hear of their giving a large ball. “The Old Guard comes to the front,” writes Frau Elizabeth. “Even I resolved to dance again after an interval of eight years. At first it seemed strange to me to be whirling round, but by degrees I took pleasure in it again, especially in dancing with Richard, who was really a very delightful host. It is so charming in him,—the way in which he does everything that he has to do with his whole heart and without any reserve, whether it be grave or gay.”

The pleasures of this winter were soon brought to an end, for the mistress of the house lost her dearest friend, and in April died the excellent father of the master of the house. The affliction of Lepsius was great.

“Of all the family his father was nearest to him,” says Frau Elizabeth. “He always felt the greatest delight and the most genuine sympathy in everything that concerned Richard, in all his labors, his successes, his honors; with him Richard could talk freely of all his intellectual interests, for he understood all abstruse questions, and had, besides, the strongest paternal feeling; delighted in our children, etc.... Richard thinks now with every book that when he has written it, he can no longer give his father pleasure by sending it to him.”

A quiet season followed, and in their domestic re{248}tirement during the ensuing months they made some experiments at table-tipping, according to the current fashion at that time. They were very successful, and the enthusiasm of the mistress of the house and her interest in the supernatural were strongly excited; Lepsius himself treated the subject more coolly. “Richard, Abeken and Edward saw that we lifted up our hands by degrees, and yet the table moved; but, because it did not do so again, Richard thinks we had deceived ourselves.”

When at last the formal mourning was laid aside, and life again imposed its demands upon the Lepsiuses, the remembrance of the festival of 1852-53, formed the foundation for many charming performances, whose theatre was to be the new house which the married pair were about to build.

In October, 1853, the family had received notice to quit their dwelling in Behren Street, on account of the sale of the property, and they had therefore resolved to build a home of their own. With the same enthusiasm with which she threw herself into everything, Frau Elizabeth became interested in the carrying out of this idea, and, scale in hand, drew plan after plan, until she at last completed a design which met with the approval of her husband and his friends the architects, especially Erbkam. In fact it provided for all the family needs; but the choice of a building site was difficult. Lepsius at first fixed his eye upon the great Seeger lumber yard, which was at that time on the drill ground, now the Royal Square. It was then{249} just about to be divided up, but the lots there were so dear, and the owner felt so confident of the purchase of the whole plot by the Treasury, that Lepsius was forced to look about for another situation. Long weeks passed in this search, and, among other strangers, the Lepsiuses received Oscar von Redwitz, before breaking up housekeeping for the summer to go with some intimate friends on a journey to Lübeck. The diary says of him: “He is the poet of the sentimental-religious Catholic Amaranth, which is so much read, (though not by us), and admired. He is a lively young Viennese, naïve, but not at all sentimental, so that he is better than his work.” The future undoubtedly proved that this talented poet was capable of things far more charming than what were at that time his most celebrated works.

The wife and children passed the rest of the summer in beautiful Friedrichroda, Elgersburg and Ilmenau in Thüringia, while the husband went to Schlieffenberg in Mecklenburg, whither he had been invited by Count Schlieffen, who had traveled through Egypt intelligently and with open eyes and who had brought home with him a Nubian from the neighborhood of the Cataract. As we know, Lepsius made use of this African, named ‘Ali’, who was an intelligent man and had entire command of his own language, to supply many deficiencies in the Nubian grammar, at which he still continued to work.

In January, 1854, the Berlin Academy of Sciences had resolved to have type cast for printing Lepsius{250}’ standard alphabet, and before the beginning of February, he traveled once more to London in order to assure the acceptance of it on the other side of the Channel. The well-known missionary Kölle had already declared that he should make use of it. While Lepsius was working there with tact and success to introduce his alphabet, his wife became the mother of a boy, who, after the father’s return, received the name of Bernard at a merry and delightful christening feast. This was the Christian name of Frau Lepsius’ father, the celebrated composer, B. Klein. Among the many god-parents of the child were A. v. Humboldt, the Counts von Schlieffen and von Usedom, Peters, etc. Frau Lepsius was especially pleased with the presence of Humboldt after the estrangement which had taken place between him and Lepsius, but the obliging manner in which he said to her: “I thank you especially for having had the kindness to give the child my name,” could not inspire her with any warmth of feeling. E. Curtius’ daughter, Dorothea, was baptized at the same time with little Bernard. She afterwards became the wife of Richard, the eldest son of the Lepsiuses. Jacob Grimm toasted the two children, and this time in a very poetical and delightful manner. In the course of the toast he compared the boy with hail, which descends roughly and impetuously, and the maiden with snow, which murmurs softly and gently down.

The spring was passed in searching for a building {251}site and in pleasant social intercourse. On the twenty-fifth of May, 1854, they met Paul Heyse for the first time at Schott’s, and Frau Elizabeth wrote in her diary: “It is a long time since I have seen Richard so fascinated with anyone as he was with this young, animated, candid, handsome, excellent, enthusiastic, most lovable poet.”

Very painful to Lepsius was the downfall of his old patron and friend Bunsen, which occurred at this time. He had been offered the position of Minister of Ecclesiastical Affairs at Berlin, but in the beginning of ’54, while in London, he declared that in case of necessity Prussia would side with England. This set the King quite beside himself and General von Gröben was sent to London to reprimand Bunsen. The attempts at mediation of his son Ernest, whom he had sent to Berlin, were vain, and, in spite of the Prince of Prussia’s eager intercession for him, the Camarilla, and especially Gerlach and Manteuffel, had such strong influence over the King that he forsook his friend Bunsen, and permitted him to be dismissed.

But the anxieties of house-building were soon to place all others in the background, for a suitable plot was finally found in Bendler Street, (which at that time was sparsely built up,) and was bought on favorable conditions. The space at their disposal was large enough to permit of laying out an extensive garden, beside the roomy house.

At the laying of the corner stone, on the eighteenth of October, 1854, Lepsius made an admirable speech, from which we shall give some extracts later on. This{252} was of course the occasion of a festal celebration, and friend Abeken composed the following sonnet for it:

Lepsius had intentionally caused the corner stone to be laid where the living room of the mistress of the house was afterwards to be raised, and in his dedicatory speech he explained his motives for this in beautiful words. The house when finished had a fine and stately appearance, with its Gothic arches over doors and windows, its battlements on tower and roof, its handsome entrance, its covered piazza on the ground floor, and open balcony on the upper story, and its inscriptions in carved stone.

When it was ready for habitation, Abeken, the former divine, added the following second sonnet to the first:{253}

On the twelfth of July, 1856, Lepsius with his own hand wrote the following maxims in a new diary of his wife’s.

The second motto was cut in stone, in Gothic letters and surrounded by arabesques, over the broad projecting window of the wife’s room, on the side of the building towards the street; the first was over the front door. The palms over the entrance gate were intended to call to memory the Palm Sunday on{254} which Lepsius and his wife had been betrothed. The wish expressed in the first motto was fulfilled, for the house in Bendler Street was truly a temple of peace, under the visible favor of God. Until the growing city of Berlin laid claim to the broad extent of the beautiful garden and Lepsius felt himself forced to sell it, their house was the home of true love, intimate family life, steadfast reverence for God—in the man no less than in the wife,—and earnest, unwearied labor, as well as cheerful song and music, and a happy hospitality.

The father of Lepsius died before the house was completed, but he was able to invite his mother to come and live with him “at Berlin, in the country.” However, the beautiful outlook “towards the canal and Schöneberg” was soon built up. The house was constructed in the English Gothic style, which he had learned to like in Great Britain, and which few understood as well as he (see page 131). To his delight, its pleasing appearance, with the slightly-pointed arches over windows and doors, and the balcony, with its Gothic parapet of sandstone, proved so attractive that, as he wrote to his mother: “our neighbor has also built in the Gothic style, and, indeed, two houses at once.” “I am to assist him with money,” he continued, “for the third, on the corner, and the man on the other corner will also build a Gothic house. That makes a whole Gothic quarter.”

But how differently things turned out! The stately building which was to have been a home for remote{255} descendants has vanished from the earth, and only a few traces remain of the Bendler Street Gothic. During the first years after they moved into the new house they improved every opportunity which offered to exhibit the beauty of the chosen style of architecture. When for example it was necessary, on account of any festivity, to “illuminate,” they lit up the whole front, and especially the large balcony, with little lamps which followed the lines of the arches.

The fine garden gave special pleasure to Lepsius. After he had had tea at his writing table he always took a walk there, in winter as well as in summer, and whether the weather was good or bad. He felt a “special interest in it, and knew it all by heart.” The trees which soon overshadowed it had been planted on various happy occasions by dear guests and friends of the household, in memory of the delightful hours which they had passed under the roof of Lepsius, and as a visible symbol and token of the friendship which burgeoned and blossomed anew with each year. Alexander von Humboldt, Bunsen, the Grimms, Ehrenberg, E. Curtius and many others had planted their trees, and on each was a little tablet which bore the name of him who had set it in the earth. Foreign friends too, who could not come to Berlin and attend to the planting themselves, sent small trees to be set out. For example, the Director of the museum at Leyden, already mentioned several times, (see pages 123 and 245) sent a variety of Betula which had been named after him Betula Lemansiana, by a nursery gardener at War{256}mond. As the trees which he first sent did not arrive he despatched others, and these throve and long reminded the Lepsius family of their Dutch friend. The garden was a living and shady temple of friendship, and what beautiful festivals were celebrated there!

Plays and spectacular performances were often given in the fine spacious apartments of this house on the birthday of the head of the family, which occurred shortly before Christmas. They were distinguished by the same thoughtful intelligence which had given rise to the tree-planting and laid the corner stone under the living-room of the mistress of the house. The ideas were usually furnished by Frau Elizabeth. Thus a fable was once represented, interspersed with tableaux vivants, which the children and their little friends undertook to produce. The subject was the standard alphabet (see page 104) of their father, which was personified as Miss Alphabeta Standarda, and represented in the different stages of its development. The dialogue was both sprightly and well written, in the best style of fable, and seasoned with many merry and satirical allusions. At one time there were tableaux vivants after antique personages and the pictures of Flaxman, and then again the trees from the garden made their appearance. Before this, the treasure-house of Rhampsinitus had been represented according to Platen. Similar performances, always original, thoughtful, and excellently executed in detail, delighted the guests, the children who usually had to take part in them, and especially the host himself. When a ball{257} was given, too, they never failed to have particularly pretty and original cotillion figures, for which the poet and faithful friend of the family, Abeken, composed the verses.

On July the fourteenth, 1857, the third boy was born, and at his baptism on the second of August, he received the name of Reinhold. He was named after the brother who had never been forgotten, and who had expired in Rome, when twenty-nine years old, in the arms of the godfather.

In September of the same year the Lepsiuses had the great pleasure of welcoming Bunsen for the first time in their own house. He had been invited by Frederick William IV. to take part in the assembly of the “Evangelical Alliance” which met at Berlin. The King had indeed dropped him as a statesman, but the letter of invitation which he sent to Heidelberg, where the former ambassador then lived, was as cordial and urgent as if the monarch had preserved his old friendship for him whom he had “deserted.” Bunsen must come, wrote the King, firstly on account of the business itself, secondly for the sake of his own (Bunsen’s) renown, and thirdly to please the King. The latter wrote with great enthusiasm of the “Alliance.” Finally, he added most cordially that Bunsen must not refuse to let an old friend be his host and care for his journey there and back and his entertainment in the palace. On Bunsen’s arrival the King embraced him before the whole court, but only sent for him once afterwards to converse with him. The Camarilla hated the{258} man of independent thought, and the King had already accustomed himself to submit to it.

But on the other hand, Lepsius’ delight at receiving his revered patron and fatherly friend in his own home, and showing him his house, was unbounded, and as great as it was heartfelt. “On Sunday,” (September thirteenth, ’57), writes Frau Elizabeth, “Bunsen was as lovely and splendid as ever. At table he proposed our healths, with a little speech, in which he first expressed his delight at being once more in Berlin, where he had believed he could never come again, and whither he had now been summoned in so honorable a manner that he could return with pleasure. But to find us so agreeably and excellently settled was one of the brightest spots of his sojourn here. In the most sincere and heartfelt manner he expressed his happiness in our family fortunes, and wished that God would still continue to bless us, and that; ‘Thy wife shall be as a fruitful vine, thy children like olive-plants round about thy table.’ He reminded us, too, that his friendship with Lepsius had now lasted for more than twenty years, that he loved him like a son; indeed the dear man even included me (Frau Elizabeth) in the circle of his affections; ‘I love you like my own children.’

“How warmly and deeply were we touched by this speech, of which I have here repeated only an imperfect fragment! If it were possible, I should be fonder than ever of Bunsen. Where else, in a man of such distinction, can one find such warmth and cordiality of feeling, such sincere and faithful friendship?{259}”

Every leisure hour was spent by Bunsen in the Lepsius’ house, which at this time was the scene of a great celebration. This was arranged in honor of the beloved and revered guest, and some of the most distinguished members of the Alliance were invited to be present at it. It is not necessary to say how pleasant it must have been to the scholarly statesman to find assembled here Ehrenberg and Gerhard, J. Grimm, whom he had not previously known, and with whom he conversed at length, Pertz, Peters, Pinder, Geffken, Schelling, Stüler, Olfers, Abeken, the former chaplain of his embassy, General Superintendent Hoffman, Dr. Barth, the divine from Würtemberg, and many other leading men in science and in the evangelical church. Lepsius was especially delighted just at that time by once more meeting Lobstein, who had first invited him in Bunsen’s name to take up the study of Egyptology, and who had since become French ambassador to Sweden.

The members of the Alliance had assembled from all parts of the world. They met in Berlin, held sessions, and listened to many orators, but the great results which had been anticipated from this congress failed to manifest themselves, or were dissipated in smoke; indeed, shortly before its close the stamp of absurdity was set upon it by Krummacher of Westphalia, who was a strictly orthodox pastor and the cousin of the Berlin minister. At the last meeting but one this zealot openly, and in a spirit of denunciation, expressed his regret that the famous French preacher, Merle{260} d’Aubigné, had, on the steps of the railway station, embraced and kissed a man whose rationalism and Romanism must be a terror to the assembly. The man thus proscribed was no less a person than Bunsen. Unfortunately this absurd attack was not disregarded, but called forth a most unpleasant controversy.

After these days of excitement life went on in its accustomed course for the Lepsius household. The hours of leisure were agreeably spent in the favorite diversions of the husband, boccia in the garden, and chess in the house. New guests were added to the old. Among them were Wichern the founder of the “reformatory for vagrant children” at Hamburg, whose efforts filled Frau Elizabeth with enthusiasm, von Putlitz the poet, and the charming Erdmann from Halle, who seasoned many a meal for them with his delightful humor. Humboldt, too, came occasionally, and told them much of the mournful condition of the King. The former was once conversing on serious scientific subjects, and with the entire concurrence of the monarch, but when Potsdam was spoken of, although he was staying there at that time, the unhappy sovereign could not remember where the place was. At this time, (1852), Lepsius presented his Book of Kings, which was then completed, to the Prince of Prussia, (our Emperor.) The latter showed himself full of interest in it, and after this audience the author said he had been especially struck by the quiet, simple, benevolent nature of the Prince, in contrast to the intellectually active, restless character of the King.{261}

Mommsen had been summoned to Berlin in 1857, and enjoyed meeting the family of Lepsius, but with regard to scientific, and especially chronological, questions, there was many a dispute between these two great scholars.

Lepsius worked much in the garden for the sake of his health, and whatever this plot of ground yielded, in the way of vegetables, fruit, eggs and milk, (they kept chickens and a cow of their own), was named Hathor-cabbage, Hathor-apples, etc. Hermann Grimm had given this name to the special products of his friend’s place, and thus recalled the great goddess who at Dendera was styled the “dispenser of all the goods of life,” and to whom, as the feminine principle in nature, pertained all the gifts which furnish sustenance and pleasure to man.

In 1858 the brothers Schlagintweit also returned from their successful journey through Asia. They came to Berlin, and wished to sell their collections there, but many things were unfavorable to this project, and, altogether, they met with no good fortune in the Prussian capital. Frau Lepsius relates that they had succeeded in bringing a white ass from the Himalayas to Berlin, in good health and lively. When he arrived his transport had already cost two thousand thalers. It was necessary to take him from the railway station to the zoological garden; but in going through Potsdam Street he became refractory, and would not follow his leader any farther. They put a rope around his neck, to pull him forwards by force,{262} and the consequence was that the white ass from the Himalayas choked, and met with an unforeseen death at Berlin in Potsdam Street.

During the latter part of the summer of 1858 the family again stayed at Ilsenburg in the Hartz, and in December of the same year Frau Elizabeth presented her husband with the fourth and last boy. He received the name of Richard Ernest John, and amongst the godfathers was the faithful college comrade of the head of the family, A. Kreiss,[99] at that time a minister at Strasburg, as well as E. Curtius, “our splendid, ideal friend.” After the christening Frau Elizabeth wrote: “May his name John ever remind me that it is my great and sacred task to rear him to be a true John; one who loves his Lord and follows in his footsteps.” This John has now became a divine, after having produced several promising first works as a philosopher and student of æsthetics.

In April, 1859, Lepsius traveled to Munich, for the centennial anniversary of the Academy, and there made the acquaintance of the excellent Thiersch, J. v. Liebig, Riehl, E. Geibel and other scholars and artists. He spent much time with his old friend, the celebrated architect, v. Klenze, and he also visited Kaulbach in his studio. In the summer of 1859 Lepsius refreshed himself by an excursion to Rügen with his friend Wiese, and late in the autumn he took a trip with his wife and the oldest little girl to Saxon Switzerland and Dresden, where they also made the acquaintance of{263} Schnorr von Karolsfeld. “I looked up,” wrote Frau Elizabeth, “with a sort of devotion, to the old and thin but fine and intellectually vivid face of this man, whose compositions express such deep and fervent Christian feeling.” We also learn here that the famous little castle of Souchay at Loschwitz on the Elbe is an enlarged copy of the Lepsius house, which had especially pleased the owner of the castle and his architect Arnold, in Berlin, whither they had gone to investigate the different styles of house-building.

Lepsius and his wife were deeply distressed by the death of Alexander v. Humboldt, on May sixth, 1859, but in the following months they encountered other losses by death which were still harder to bear. Soon after their return home Jonas, the faithful, large-hearted pastor of the household, died, and his departure filled the family with grief. Among those who knew him, and his truly admirable, profound and infinitely lovable character, his memory must long be cherished for the candor and courage with which, by words and actions, he defended the freedom of religious conviction during the darkest days of church life in Prussia. But yet another and more painful loss was ordained for the family, for on the twenty-eighth of November, 1860, died Bunsen, the man to whom Lepsius was most deeply indebted, and to whom he had clung with the love of a son. Also on the third of January, 1861, Frederick William IV. died, and the reverential words respecting him with which the wife filled many pages of her diary, are to be considered as{264} an echo of the feelings with which the husband regarded this king, whose weaknesses he could not overlook but whose great qualities he was glad to exalt in order to give them grateful praise.

Among the old friends of the family were the Pinders and Partheys, Erbkam, the Grimms, Trendelenburgs, Brandis, Olshausens, v. Sybel, Beselers, Geffken, Duncker, v. Tiele, who was afterwards Assistant Secretary of State, George v. Bunsen, the Wilmowskis, Count Usedom, and the witty Strauss, who had traveled through Palestine, Wichern, Meyer von Rinteln, the amiable Mrs. Curtis, with whom we ourselves were well acquainted, the publisher Hertz, Count Schlieffen, Weidenbach, the Homeyers, the Balans and Salpius, the Wieses, the two married couples of Peters and Drakes, the traveler Robinson, Weiss, and so on. To these was added Droysen, who had received an appointment at Berlin in 1859. But the highest place among them all was held by “Uncle Abeken.” There is some ludicrous association with this able man, on account of the passages regarding him which appear in Busch’s interesting book on “Count Bismarck and His People.” But Frau Elizabeth’s diary shows us that he had a deep and faithful nature, that his quick intelligence apprehended and appreciated the poetical aspect of every incident in life, that he was a good adviser and ready in that capacity to render every service, and also an indefatigable worker. Where duty demanded it he knew how to keep silence as few men do, though he was of a communicative disposition, and had made{265} himself so at home in every department of science that Lepsius counted him one of the most learned men of his time. If he was questioned about political affairs, such as the restoration of the constitution of 1831 in Hesse, the preparation of which had devolved upon him, his only answer was: “I have not read the papers to-day.” He had been no less faithful to the Bunsens than to the Lepsiuses, and his little failings will be willingly overlooked by any one who knows with what steadfast courage he stayed by the ambassador’s wife at Rome during the worst cholera season, and what sacrifices he was ready to make for his friends in case of need. One whom Prince Bismarck so trusted could be no insignificant man. That in him which provoked a smile was chiefly his low stature, his manner, which was sometimes immoderately vivacious, and that sentimentality which even to Frau Bunsen was not always agreeable. Nevertheless this distinguished lady esteemed him very highly, though she occasionally begged him to write her less about his feelings and more about facts. But at least this sentimentality had nothing artificial about it. It sprang from an ardent spirit, which was perhaps only too tender and impressible.—As long as he taught at Göttingen, the favorite guest of the Lepsiuses was E. Curtius, and his recall to Berlin afforded the greatest happiness to that household. Max Müller too, when he came from Oxford, was received with open arms, and the attachment which Lepsius felt to him, may be discerned from the journal of his wife, as well as from his letters to Bun{266}sen. Amongst their younger friends George v. Bunsen had best known how to win the hearts of the family.

Frau Elizabeth superintended the details of the children’s education with the greatest care and affection, and in so doing often fatigued herself to the point of exhaustion. The father directed the plan according to which he desired the training of the boys to be conducted, but it was only in questions of moment that he interposed and gave his decision. Two ladies who were sisters of Hofmeyer the family physician, and who had at one time conducted the principal school for young ladies in Berlin, told Frau Lepsius at Easter, 1862, of a twelve year old orphan, of English descent and good family, who was alone in the world and entirely unprovided for. Frau Lepsius immediately declared her willingness to adopt her, and receive her as a seventh child among her own six. Her husband quickly consented, and they never regretted this kind act, for, to their delight, Ellen grew up to be a lovely young girl. She was always treated in every respect like one of the daughters of the house, and, like them, she long since married.

After the accession of King William, Lepsius continued to observe the course of politics attentively, and never neglected any of the duties of a citizen. In 1862 he was chosen as an elector of the first electoral class for his district, and by the conservatives, although he in no wise approved of their efforts. His views coincided with those of the party which at that time was{267} called “Old Liberal.” His friend, Meyer von Rinteln, stood well at court, and was full of court anecdotes. He once told how the Elector of Hesse had got in a passion, and hurt himself so seriously by giving his valet a thrashing, that he had been obliged to keep his bed. Thereupon Herman Grimm improvised the following riddle.

Queen Augusta, Meyer reported, had correctly guessed “Kurfürst.”

Meyer was also a very talented poet, and he once read his tragedy of “German Youth” at Lepsius’ home, in the presence of General v. Willisen, who had had to oversee the Prussian execution at Hesse. The tendency of the play was to show that only under the Prussian imperial rule could Germany obtain tranquility, peace and new power. Frau Lepsius had long before confided the same thought to her diary, and Willisen agreed with it warmly.

The wife was as fond of traveling as the husband, but during the first half of the summer he was kept at home by his duties as professor, and she by her interest in their own beautiful garden, and in the education of the children. By midsummer Berlin became unendurable to them both, and they were accustomed{268} to leave home usually in July with the children, who then had their holidays. In the autumn of 1863 they took a longer journey, to Cologne and the Swiss Rhine, with their elder daughter Anna and Uncle Abeken. Shortly before the master of the house commenced his lectures they returned to Berlin, where their delightful social life began anew. Frau Elizabeth suffered from many physical ailments, especially “tic douloureux,” and had also assumed an almost oppressive number of domestic, pedagogic, social and benevolent duties. When she felt greatly in need of refreshment she retreated for a few days to Sacrow, a pretty and charmingly situated little village on the Havel near Potsdam, and on returning home she would resume with renewed strength the labors which awaited her.

After the death of Jonas, the family pastor was first Snethlage, who was then growing old, and afterwards the vigorous and manly Court Chaplain Kögel. In spite of his tendency to greater strictness, this latter entirely filled the place to Frau Lepsius of the deceased friend whom she so deeply lamented. After one of his sermons (1865) she wrote in the diary: “To be able to preach like Kögel! I should think that the highest earthly happiness. What a blessing for us!”

On the twenty-eighth of February, 1866, Lepsius started on his second journey to Egypt, the details of which are given on page 201. He was alone except for the faithful draughtsman Weidenbach. While he was on the way, Uncle Abeken became engaged to,{269} and subsequently married, Fraulein Helene von Olfers, a daughter of the Director of the museum. The fear lest the old friend of the house should change proved unfounded, for as a married man he still preserved his old friendship for the Lepsiuses.

The master of the house returned home sooner than he had been expected. He had given up the journey to upper Egypt for several reasons, chief among which was the great inundation of the Nile. He was met at Berlin by the clang of arms. A civil war appeared inevitable, and Bismarck was as little of a favorite in Bendler street as in other constitutional circles of the country, though the sagacity of Lepsius and the information derived from Abeken, who always regarded his chief with fervent admiration, had caused the Lepsiuses to repose great confidence in him. At court, too, he had many more bitter opponents and enemies than friends, and when, shortly before the war, Bismarck injured his foot, a gentleman who held a situation near the Queen uttered the pointed bon-mots, “His foot hurts him because he has gone too far,” and “The cloven hoof is showing.”

But never did the feeling of a nation towards a great man undergo such a sudden, universal and complete revolution as that towards Bismarck during the short months of the war of 1866. At that time Frau Lepsius, with the ardent enthusiasm peculiar to herself and with the assistance of her daughters, made herself most useful in the Hospital Association and still more in the Elizabeth Hospital. The diary records the pre{270}liminaries of peace with anxious interest, and contains the following anecdote, perhaps from the mouth of Abeken: “At the negotiations for peace Benedetti began to speak cautiously of slight enlargements of the French boundaries, as Prussia was now so well rounded out. Then Bismarck cried: ‘Give me that in writing! To-morrow I must present a demand for a credit of sixty millions for war expenses to the Chamber; with this paper in my hand I can ask for double the sum.’”

Before the war many an angry word had been uttered against Bismarck in Bendler Street, but when a party of literati had assembled there on the twenty-second of July, 1866, they soon began to talk of politics, and each one gave expression to the admiration with which Bismarck’s greatness inspired him. Even Frau Lepsius praised the man whom she had previously judged none too mildly. (See page 245.) They all agreed that it was now possible for the first time to understand this great statesman’s aims and mode of action, and that as an envoy to the Diet he must undoubtedly have already grasped the idea which had now been carried into execution in such a wonderful manner. But Wichern thought he should have allowed his great intentions to be perceived a little more plainly, so that he might have been better understood and not so much hated. Lepsius then rose, and responded to this opinion of the clever master of the “reformatory,” that it was the great characteristic of Bismarck as a statesman that he knew how to keep silence for years, and to pursue his aims quietly. A{271} few days before this the great Chancelor, on the occasion of the celebration of victory at Kroll, had proposed his beautiful toast to “The Children of Berlin,” who were a little rash in word, but had head and heart in the right place.

The wave of enthusiasm rolled high at that time. Every Prussian heart beat full and quick for its King. Lepsius had always greatly extolled his direct and honest nature, and his clear intelligence, which could never be confused. He was delighted therefore at the Monarch’s saying to him, “I myself proposed you,” when he received the red order of the eagle of the second class in 1867, on the annual celebration of the founding of that order.

The Court Chaplain Snethlage, who had been a faithful friend of the family, resigned his office in July, 1867, and the diary contains the following touching anecdote: “On a certain day one of the men of his parish comes to Snethlage, assures him of his fidelity and reverence, and then says to him, ‘But now I have a request to make of you: Preach no more; it will not do any longer!’ Thereupon the Court Chaplain held his peace for a short time, and then said, ‘You are right, it will no longer do, and I will give up preaching.’”

In September of the same year Lepsius went to Paris and London with his daughters, and in the autumn of 1869 he went to Egypt for the last time, and chiefly on account of the celebration of the opening of the Suez Canal.{272}

When the war between Germany and France broke out, in 1870, the oldest son, Richard, who was just approaching his examination previous to matriculation, begged his parents to be allowed to take the field, and both, with ardent patriotism, accorded him permission. But he was rejected, as not yet sufficiently strong, and therefore, after passing the examination, he visited the arena of war but once, under the command of the army chaplain at whose disposal he had placed himself. His mother meanwhile with restless zeal and the practical ability characteristic of her, was working for the wounded. To put herself in a prominent position was repugnant to her, her only object was to be of real service to the hospital, and this she accomplished with the aid of her daughters and others upon whom she was able to call. Many people brought their donations to her and a large part of the linen and clothing for the Berlin hospital, especially that for the chief depot, was got together by her, and sewed and made ready under her supervision. In doing this she was able to furnish remunerative work for so many poor women that she wrote in the diary: “That is the only good thing about a war, that one can employ so many needy women.” She forgot that it is war which plunges so many women into poverty.

Lepsius was always ready to give and to advise, and delighted in all that his wife and daughters accomplished. The news from the seat of war was awaited with feverish excitement, and the successes of the victorious troops were celebrated with enthusiasm. The{273} inmates of the Lepsius house received news at first hand from their many friends in high places. Amongst these was now Dr. Stephan, the head of the post-office department. The husband and wife also had a great liking for the minister Frommel; a divine whose sermons Lepsius, who was no regular churchgoer, liked because he “did not preach dogmatically but from and of real life.” These are Lepsius’ own words, and he esteemed Frommel not only as a divine, but as a clever, well-informed and agreeable companion.

During the following years life flowed on more quietly. One after the other the boys left school, and made substantial progress in their professions. The girls became mistresses of families and mothers, the garden ceased to be the scene of the merry games of childhood, the big house, deserted by many of its younger inhabitants, became too large for those who remained; but the old social life did not languish, and the father, with undiminished energy, was still busied in his work rooms. If a large number of friends was assembled in the Lepsius salons among them was usually the Minister of the American Republic. This was at first the grey haired historian Bancroft, afterwards the noble and accomplished poet, Bayard Taylor, who successfully translated Faust into English, and lastly Andrew White, the erudite and liberal-minded promoter of science in the new world.

When Lepsius did not prefer to play chess,—often four-handed chess, or, still better, with three players and a dummy,—he devoted many evenings, as of old,{274} to the “Herrenkränzchen,” or social club of learned friends, in which he bore his part with pleasure, both giving and receiving.

Lepsius belonged to the old or little “Griechheit” during the first years of his marriage and before he built his own house. Its members were: Lepsius, E. Curtius, Gerhard, Abeken, Brandis, Wiese, and other intimate friends. They read Greek classics, and so kept up their familiarity with them and with the world of ancient Hellas, but this was not the sole object of the “Griechheit,” which was rather intended to enable friends of similar tastes and education to pass pleasant and inspiring evenings together, where they might be happy, unconstrained, and free from every sort of pedantry. After the reading and the discussion which followed it, two chosen friends, the diplomat v. Schlözer and the zoologist Peters, were admitted as so-called “commensals,” and they all went to supper. The wife of the member at whose house the society met presided at table, and often the friends remained till a late hour over the merry meal, amidst the clinking of glasses, and pleasant conversation.

With Abeken’s late marriage in 1866, the little “Griechheit,” so dear to all its members, came to an end, though its resurrection was celebrated some years afterwards. But in its new form the more critical and sharper spirit of the present learned society of Berlin prevailed, instead of the inoffensive cheerful tone, and the ideal humanistic thought of its predecessor. Members of the various Faculties, Mommsen, the philoso{275}pher Zeller, the mathematician Kronecker, H. Grimm, Wattenbach, the lawyer Bruns, the archæologist Schöne, v. Sybel, and Waitz took part in it, and among them, as representatives of the older “Griechheit” were E. Curtius and Lepsius. The English ambassador, Lord Russel, the Greek ambassador, Rangabé, and George v. Bunsen were also members.

The Wednesday or Literary Club had been founded by Bethmann-Hollweg and Dorner, who was also a friend of the Lepsiuses. The Berlin literati lived at wide distances apart, and this club was begun with the intention of enabling them to meet, and thus giving an opportunity to those who were conducting researches in the various domains of science to enrich each other intellectually, through conversation, and mutual communication of knowledge.

Each member was bound in turn to deliver a discourse upon some subject within his special department of science. Another member had to provide the entertainment, and thus the society met first at one house and then at another. Of the old members many are now dead; those who survive will recollect with satisfaction the delightful evenings in which Lepsius participated with such pleasure.

To this society belonged Bethmann-Hollweg (the president), Dorner, Braun the botanist, E. Curtius, Duncker the historian, Beseler and Bruns the lawyers, Müllenhof the student of German law, language and history, Twesten the grey-haired and vigorous theologian, Friedrichs the archæologist, and also, for several{276} years, Wichern, and Bancroft the historian and American ambassador. Of the younger members we may name the astronomer Förster and the geologist and geographer v. Richthofen, who had returned from China, bringing with him important scientific results. After Hermann had made himself at home as president of the Supreme Church Council in Berlin, Dorner immediately inducted him into the “Wednesday Club.” The architect Adler also found admittance to this select circle, which was no less attractive to Lepsius than the “Griechheit,” which met on Friday.

He scarcely went once a year to the Monday Club, although he was a member of this very old society, to which Nicolai had once belonged, It was composed of officials of high rank, and a few scholars. When there was any matter regarding which Lepsius wished to have a personal interview with one of the former, he was glad to go thither to find him and engage his attention.

The Archæological and Geographical Societies he visited occasionally from scientific interest.

If we did not have Lepsius’ own assurance that nothing so refreshed him as the exhilarating intercourse with superior men, it would be hard to understand how, during the latter lustrums of his laborious life, he could conduct such numerous and profound researches to their conclusion, when we consider that he was quite frequently bidden to the evening tea-drinkings in the imperial palace, that even when chief librarian he was never to be counted among the negligent members of{277} the Griechheit or of the Wednesday Club, and that in addition to this he had official and social duties. But his mind, cheered and invigorated, soon retrieved by the active labors of the morning those evening hours which had been spent at the “Clubs.”

One after another the children had all flown from the parental nest. A portion of the beautiful garden had to be sold, when Hildebrand Street was made to connect Thiergarten Street with the grand canal. The latter we used to know as a modest sheep pond, upon which the green duck-weed floated like mould, and across whose sandy shores a few isolated trees cast their shadow. Lepsius yielded to the demands of the growing city of Berlin, and the vigorous old man, ever ready for new enterprises, decided to sell the dear old house. In consequence of the great rise in its value it had become too expensive a dwelling for its few inmates, especially as Lepsius had just at that time encountered heavy pecuniary losses. But neither he nor his wife wished to leave the dear old home, and therefore they caused it to be moved, after they had found a suitable lot of ground in Kleist Street on the borders of Charlottenburg, in the extreme western part of Berlin. There it was once more reared, and anyone who once knew the old house, and now seeks and finds the new, will feel, as all of us of that generation must, that he is under the power of a magic spell; for there before him stands the old Lepsius homestead, just as it was in Bendler Street. The interior too has undergone no change, and it is not only that the new house re{278}sembles the old, but, in a certain sense, it is the same, for Lepsius did not sell the materials of which his first dwelling-place had been constructed, and after the new owner had torn down the scholar’s home in Bendler Street, in order to erect a large apartment house on the site, Lepsius had it carried to Kleist Street, stone by stone, door by door, and window by window, and thus actually succeeded in living in the old house on the new site. Unluckily, the good fortune which had so long remained faithful to him did not follow him to the new home. He there saw beloved members of his family fall a prey to severe illness, and when he had enjoyed the new dwelling for a short time he was himself attacked by the malignant disease which deprived us of our revered Master, and his children of their dear father.

But, on the other hand, the old house had fully and completely fulfilled the destiny to which its builder had consecrated it in a beautiful speech at the laying of the corner-stone, August fifth, 1854. He then said, speaking of his children and his wife: “This house is not meant chiefly for us, but for our children. But for them we should never have thought of building a house. To them it will be the home of their parents, where their youth will develop, therefore it shall give them as large a portion of the fresh air of heaven and of nature’s green, as it is possible to obtain in a large city. They will people every corner with their childish phantasies, and throughout life their recollections will cling to every tree and shrub.{279}”

Thus it happened; and the wife too, in the old house, which then was new, took the very place which he awarded her in the same speech; “But besides the children,” he had said, “it is to the woman, to the mistress of the house, that the house belongs. There indeed the man may often command or rebuke, but there the woman rules. The husband will live there, but the wife will work there, will govern and provide. Her heart, her eye and her mouth are the true homes of domestic peace, that beautiful jewel of a happy home. As was said of old, she is the ‘house honor;’[101] that is, upon her rests the honor of the house, and to her is due the honor of the house. The proverb says ‘Every wise woman buildeth her house.’ That has been a true saying in this case, for many times has the whole plan passed through the sieve of her wisdom, and each time it has come out finer. Therefore it is just that we should lay the foundation stone exactly here, under the future room of the housewife, as the corner-stone of the house’s honor and the house’s peace.”

The children and friends were attracted to the new home in Kleist Street as they had been to the old, and it gave Lepsius special gratification to build a studio, as an annex to the family dwelling, for his son Reinhold, who had meanwhile developed into a very promising portrait painter. In the evening of his days Lepsius saw his two eldest sons lead home as brides the daughters of two of his friends.

{280}

Grandchild after grandchild grew up beside the pair who were now waxing old. The wife had many things to attend to and to watch over, now here and now there; during the last lustrum, too, she had to care for her husband, whose vigorous body had been spared by serious illness until the slight apoplectic attack, already mentioned, impaired the use of his hand. In November, 1883, when we last visited our revered teacher and dear friend, we found him and his wife animated and cheerful in spite of the many terrible blows of destiny which they had encountered. His letters, which, after the apoplectic attack, had been written with a trembling hand, had long since exhibited almost the same firm strokes of the pen as in earlier days, and the writings which date from his latter years show that his mind had retained its old elasticity and depth. But soon after our farewell visit a disorder of the stomach began to undermine his vigorous health, and at the same time his mind was greatly disturbed by the severe illness of his beloved wife.

At Easter, 1884, he felt a premonition of his approaching end and faced it with that serenity of mind which had always distinguished him. At that time, when, without being really ill, he began to feel weak, he often spoke of his impending death. At Whitsuntide he was forced to take to his bed, and he now steadfastly regarded his approaching departure, and quietly prepared for it. He caused his children to be summoned, and clearly and thoughtfully talked over with them everything in his and their material affairs which still required to be set in order. He made a{281} new will, as it had become necessary to change that already in existence on account of the illness of the faithful companion of his life, which was such as to preclude any hope of recovery. After that he was a little better again. The physicians believed that the ulcer of the stomach might heal, on account of the unusual vigor and soundness of the rest of the system: but he did not share their hopes, although he allowed his children to depart.

But soon afterwards the physicians became convinced that the ulcer had developed into an incurable cancer of the stomach. Nevertheless he would not cease work, and his last efforts were devoted to his science.

A polemic article against a Heidelberg colleague had already been sent to press, and had been put in type, in order that it might appear in the next number of the Journal of Egyptian Language and Archaeology. But before this occurred he felt the precursors of death, and recalled the controversial paper and had the type distributed, because he would not close his scientific career “with a discord.”

Then, while in bed, he himself corrected the last pages of his “Linear Measures of the Ancients,” and with the same careful, indeed painful, accuracy which had distinguished his work in the days of health. He also directed to what persons this book should be sent. Like a true German scholar, Lepsius died in the midst of his labors. During the last three days he for the first time occasionally lost his clearness of thought, in{282} consequence of bodily exhaustion, as for the five previous weeks he had been able to take very little nourishment. His end was painless, and his failing eyes looked round upon his children, to whom it was granted to stand beside his deathbed. At the end he tried to speak to his eldest son, but the brothers and sisters could only distinguish the name “Richard.”

Lepsius drew his last breath on the tenth of July, at nine o’clock in the morning. With entire interest and consciousness he, together with all his children, had eight days before received the holy sacrament from the faithful pastor of the family, the chief Court Chaplain, Kögel. The words spoken beside the coffin of the deceased by that excellent divine were a model of what a funeral discourse should be, and proved that it had been given to Kögel to recognize fully those great qualities of mind and heart which had ennobled the departed.

The reader of this biography, who has followed with us the development and the subsequent life of Richard Lepsius, will think that he has learned in him to know a character whose estimable and tranquil nature needs no closer inspection. He will consider it a simple one, and therefore of little interest. For although he has followed the life of our hero step by{283} step from his school days to the climax of fame, from childhood to an advanced old age, yet he has at no time observed in it any noticeable alteration. The reader has seen no great blows of destiny interrupt the earthly existence of our friend, until a short time before his death. Where obstacles have appeared in his path they have been seen to sink of themselves, as if to be the more readily surmounted. For this man Fortune seemed to have changed her nature, fickleness to have been transformed to fidelity, and treachery to truth. But a perfectly happy life is like summer at the North Pole where there is no night; always bright, and without timidity or terror. Yet, though strange, it is monotonous, and therefore the longer the day endures the more destitute is it of charm.

The great natural talents, and the fullness of years granted to this man, were used by him wisely and prudently. He left school and university with the highest testimonials, and always fulfilled his duty with the same active zeal and conscientious earnestness, whether as a young scholar in Paris, Rome and London, as the prudent chief of a great expedition which was crowned with rare success, as the famous master and leader of a progressive science, as a teacher at the university, as the director of a museum, or as chief librarian. Every honor which it was possible for him to attain fell to his lot, and he conducted great undertakings to their conclusion with circumspection, energy and discernment. From his youth up his superior character, as well as his personal appearance and bearing, secured him esteem{284} and consideration, and where it was necessary for him to lead he commanded wisely, justly, vigorously and discreetly.

When he was six and thirty years old he found an admirable consort, who loved him with all the warmth of an ardent young heart, and never ceased to recognize his superiority with happy pride and to honor his great qualities. In his own home his wife ruled freely, and yet he was ever the absolute master. Four fine sons promised to maintain the honor of his famous name, and his beloved daughters endowed him with charming grandchildren. When he closed his eyes he might say that his work, and with it his fame, would endure as long as the science to which he had rendered such great services. He presented his complete works to his native town, Naumburg, that all which he had accomplished might be preserved at his birthplace in the Bibliotheca Lepsiana.

It is true that the story of this life shows few shadows amid many lights, and he whom it presents to us underwent no marked change during his years of maturity. Nevertheless, he had not, from childhood up, been this unimpassioned and prudent master of himself, who knew how to control every quick impulse, that he might follow or abandon it as his searching mind decided on its worth or worthlessness. No! for him, too, there must have been a time when an honest man could not have affirmed as he did to his wife in his sixtieth year, that he never had anything to repent, because he always did that which he thought right.{285}

He was considered by many to be essentially a cold man of intellect, in whom feeling was overshadowed by the fully developed and carefully polished mind. This opinion sprang from his dispassionate prudence, the well-bred reserve by which he knew how to hide the weaker parts of his nature, the measured dignity with which he met strangers, and the quiet and thoughtful composure which came from his habit of always holding a dominating position and directing his own affairs as well as those of others. To these were added the imposing dignity of his figure, the clear symmetrical outlines of his fine features, the natural grace of his movements, the finished tones of his speech, and especially the earnest and utterly intolerant severity with which he opposed all falsehood and injustice wherever he encountered them. It was impossible to forget, too, with what energy, wherever he held command, he sought to reduce all that was disorderly to order, or with what independence he, when an attempt was made to depreciate his well won right to the directorship of the Museum,[102] unhesitatingly declared that he would resign his professorship and leave Berlin if his well-founded claims were not accorded to him.

Yet in spite of all this those who would deny him warmth of soul are wrong, indeed we can maintain this confidently, although even to his wife the qualities of{286} her husband’s intellect were always more apparent than those of his heart.

Let us hear the judgment which she pronounced on him; not during the first ten years of marriage, when, overflowing with love, she found in him something new to admire every day, but after she had shared the pleasures and pains of life with him for nearly a quarter of a century, and had come to feel with bitterness that she would never succeed in leading him to the same conception of a strictly Christian and contrite life which she had herself arrived at many years before.

She had sought once more, on Christmas eve, 1869, to win him over to the charms of that pious faith in miracles which filled her own soul, and to lead him to that fountain “whence alone flowed strength and happiness for her.” He answered her that she should not desire impossibilities, and should hold to that which was good in him, as he gladly contented himself with the many things that were excellent in her. Thereupon she wrote, “Truth and uprightness are family virtues of the Lepsius race. They have usually serene and well disposed natures, noble minds, which despise everything that is trivial, and a strong sense of honor. Richard adds to these a disposition to mediate and reconcile which makes him greatly beloved. Intelligence and clear sobriety of thought prevail among all the brothers and sisters. Richard has attained self-control and moderation amongst the manifold relations of life, and to this his prudence and his knowledge{287} have added. Vain he is not; in short an homme comme il faut. At every moment he does what he thinks right, and therefore never has anything to repent of, (he once told me so himself.)” She then calls his character a well-regulated and symmetrical one, with a prevailing intellectual tendency, and, (we repeat), she exclaims after a married life of four and twenty years, and speaking with irritation, “If there were even any positive faults that I had to bear in Richard—but there are no faults, he has none, it is only community of faith which I miss.”

In this analysis of his character there are certainly many words of warm appreciation, and indeed his uprightness was such that every judgment, every expression of opinion which we hear him utter either publicly or in writing to his acquaintances, corresponds exactly to what is contained in confidential letters to his family, and the memoranda intended for himself alone. But his own wife sees in him only the well-meaning, faultless and stainless man of intellect, and forgets that for him, too, there must have been a time when he had to strive against those impulses and emotions to which few men are strangers. Regarding this conflict he had written to her in former years a beautiful and perfectly unreserved letter.

In this document, which gives us a key to the understanding of both his intrinsic and his external qualities, he writes: “I recognize an impulsive disposition as an old fault in myself, and I think I have observed it also in you. Impulsiveness is often beautiful and{288} charming, and often resembles, in a small way, that which, on a large scale, is among the most splendid products of human inspiration and noble self-sacrifice. But it does not go deep, is not enduring in action, dissipates itself for inferior aims, impedes the quiet and blessed development of those tender and precious germs of grace, resignation, cheerful peace, and ready receptivity for whatever is good in all things and men, which slumber in every well-disposed nature. An impulsive temperament shows itself in every quick emotion which outruns kindness, in hasty judgment which so easily becomes prejudice, in a variable temper, upon which the blood should have no influence, in a tendency to complaint, against oneself as well as against others, and in love of criticism of oneself and others. On this account the diaries which I have sometimes kept have only helped me on the wrong way. The best remedy for an impulsive nature, and one which never fails in the long run, is a determination strengthened by religious conviction and faith to acknowledge to ourselves every disagreeable, disturbing, passionate impulse as wrong and unworthy of ourselves, and simply to put it aside, without regret and without considering ourselves martyrs. Besides this, there is great benefit in a regard for external forms, and refined, gentle manners. These require for their outer clothing freedom from passion, delicate and careful consideration, and an upright endeavor to reach what is really unattainable, and please all at once, except the wicked. It is an enviable thing to please whether among cour{289}tiers or in a students’ tavern, and yet to be neither a courtier nor rude. As you see, I say all these and a great many more things like them to myself, but do not follow them much in practice.”

This beautiful monition from a rigorously truthful man contains the confession that impulsiveness was an old fault of his own. But it includes at the same time a strong condemnation thereof, and a summons to battle against it. The remedy which he here declared to be efficacious he had tried on himself, and who knows with what grievous struggles he arrived at that dominion over the impulses of a strong nature, that restraint of external forms, and the practice of those refined and well-bred manners, which already distinguished him when he came to Rome, and which awakened the regard of Frau v. Bunsen (See page 98). It was certainly his honest and firm will and his manly strength, which led him to victory, but not these alone, for through his admonition we can hear the echo of Luther’s “Nothing is done by our own might, ... may the Right Man aid us in the fight.” His firm trust in God, his simple but genuine Christianity, free from every misinterpretation, self-torment and extravagance, supported him in that hard conflict.

In the beginning of his twentieth year he had already set before himself his ideal of life, and this, supported by the energy of his harmoniously constituted nature, he pursued to the end, first with struggle and conflict, and finally without any extraordinary effort, and as if of his own free will.{290}

In Paris, on the occasion of the unveiling of the Vendôme column (Page 61) he wrote: “What can make a deeper impression than the strength of mind which shows itself in a composed bearing and an expression of control, in contrast with the unbridled passions of similar human minds.” To win this “composed bearing,” to acquire perfect command over unbridled impulses, was the aim of all his labor with himself. No, the character of a Lepsius did not come into the world as a thing completed, did not spring like Pallas Athene from the head of Zeus: it was won by hard, prolonged and repeated struggles.

In this campaign against an adversary who, however often he may be slain, continually wakens to new life, he accustomed himself to consider impulsiveness as an enemy, as a peace-breaker, as a disease of sound human nature. This latter, to his eyes, could only be truly great when ruled by calm self-control. Here we find an explanation of the words which he wrote to Bunsen when twenty-nine years old, and which must appear paradoxical and startling to the uninitiated. During his sojourn in England in 1839 his heart had been won by a lovely maiden, but his material circumstances would not permit him to woo her. All this he confessed to his sympathetic patron in reply to his enquiries, and added, “I hold every passion to be a defect in love, and why shall I, at the very outset, declare myself too weak to preserve the purity of true love, and keep it from cooling into passion?”

To all asceticism the healthy nature of this man,{291} with his keen enjoyment of life, was a stranger, but for him the words “impulse” and “impulsiveness” had come to embody everything which transgresses the limits of an orderly and law-abiding life, everything which compels the rider, who should seek to govern his steed and guide it according to his will, to follow the animal instead wherever it may bear him. He at least knew how to compel the steed to submission. In England he seems to have shed warm heart’s blood in his effort to obtain the mastery over himself. There, where he found friendship, love, and the fullest inspiration, we often see him dissatisfied with himself, and hear him complain of “faint-heartedness and every sort of bondage.” (See page 100). He chiefly means here by “bondage” his faulty control over the powerful impulses of his nature, which he endeavors to subdue. Here he confesses to Bunsen (See page 127), that he daily feels he has not yet passed beyond the period of education.

His vivacious wife was astonished, when he was a mature man, to behold him rule over himself with entire and sovereign power, and guide the ship of his and her life. She was often forced to give expression to what she felt at this sight. “Richard,” she says, “always the same, I always depressed or excited.” On one occasion she compares herself with her husband in a different way, and says: “It is very true that it is better and makes one’s path easier through life, to be so passionless. One does not hope for too much, one is not so timid, one is not so much troubled, one{292} does not have to struggle so much. But that is the way I am made, and at the bottom, I would not even care to be so self-poised; if one has a harder struggle, one has also more ardor and heartfelt delight.”

But the nature of this man cannot be called so perfectly self-poised, for he was as much beloved as a companion as he was esteemed as a scholar. He never showed in his manner the least trace of pedantry, and, as she herself had previously acknowledged, (See page 247) he gave himself up entirely and thoroughly to everything in which he engaged, whether it was social pleasures or the most serious affairs.

The admirable method of life which he recommends as a means of subduing unruly impulses, distinguished him to the end. It was his fortune to be equally a welcome guest whether at the imperial court or amidst the gay ringing of glasses in the friendly circle, and this was because he was able to take part in the sharpest exchange of opinions, and to experience the heartiest pleasure, without exceeding the limits of good breeding. He could play with his children and knew how to establish himself in their youthful souls. His student comrades remained the friends of his old age, and his travelling companions, over whom he had ruled as a leader, clung to him with affection until his or their death. Who ever showed greater fidelity or firmer friendship than he did towards those equals and colleagues who had come into close relations with him in scientific matters or in family intercourse? They remained closely linked to him in the bonds of affec{293}tion for decades. From his school-days on, he felt the need of friendship, and when a youth in Paris he gave expression to his thoughts on friendship, and wrote: “A circle of four friends bears the same relation to one of three that a four-legged table bears to a three-legged. Thus two friends form a line and three a surface.” His choice of friends fell exclusively on men of intellectual prominence, but the “intellectual” in its modern, and especially in its Berlin, sense, was repugnant to him. Manfully did he defend the interests of those whom he knew to be men of ability and of whose labors he had availed himself. After the designer Weidenbach had done him invaluable service in Egypt and in the preparation of the great work on monuments and the embellishment of the museum at Berlin, he was left without employment. Lepsius wished to procure him a permanent situation in the museum, and with good right, for his best years had been passed entirely in works ordered by the government, and these he had executed in the best possible manner and without regard to the more lucrative situations which were offered him. Nevertheless the Minister, v. Raumer, coolly refused the petition for this very deserving artist, with the remark that Weidenbach might look for some other employment. Thereupon Lepsius replied to the high official, who was a man of strict piety but little human feeling, and whose ministry has long been recognized as pernicious, “So you think as Talleyrand did, who to the appeal of a suppliant “Mais il faut pourtant que je vive,” replied: “Je n’en{294} vois pas la nécessité.” Lepsius knew how to procure the desired situation for his protégé, in spite of Raumer, and Weidenbach filled it admirably to the end.

How is it conceivable the man lacked feeling who, during his whole lifetime, was the object of the warmest attachment from men of such tender feeling as Bunsen, the Grimms, Carl Ritter, Ernest Curtius, Max Müller, and many others. Who can venture to accuse of heartlessness the man who knew how to win the hearts of the best men and women, as he did? On October 17th, 1838, Frau v. Bunsen wrote to Abeken from Llanover: “Lepsius has won the first place in the heart of my mother, (a truly venerable old lady of great experience) and is praised and admired in different degrees by all.” And from how many friends and relations who did not live in Berlin do we hear that it was a festival for them when they received a visit from this great man, who, with all his personal dignity, was most cheerful and sympathetic. His own mother had died early (1819), but his father had married her younger sister, and had found in her a worthy companion for himself, and the most faithful, loving and discreet care-taker and educator for his children that could have been imagined. After the death of the President of the Court the widow’s share of his property amounted to so much that Frau Julie’s future appeared to be assured. Nevertheless, her stepson Richard, our Lepsius, with the cordial assent of his noble wife, immediately declared himself ready to renounce in her favor the not inconsiderable inheritance{295} which would fall to his own share. The old lady did not accept this gift, but Richard appears to have been always the favorite among her stepsons. Do I need to recall the fatherly love and fidelity which he showed to the adopted daughter, whom he brought up with his own six children?

Before us lies a large quarto volume beautifully bound. It contains in forty-eight manuscript pages an excellent description of Thebes. This is entitled: “A cyclorama of Thebes, sent as a greeting from the distance to my dear parents on their silver wedding, April, 1845.”[103] The whole has the appearance of a “festal congratulation,” such as children offer to their parents, and its beautiful penmanship evinces the most loving care. Yet the author and writer was no less a person than the celebrated leader of a great expedition and was then four and thirty years old. The conclusion of this “congratulation” runs thus:

“We close to-day, with the week, both our sojourn and our labors in the Memnonia of ancient Thebes. They have kept us fully occupied for fourteen weeks. To-morrow, as a farewell to our Theban capital, I intend to celebrate a little festival, which I have privately arranged. It will be on the top of our hill, where this description was written. I am going to have a new tent raised there and have it decked with green pennons, and will share these pages with my travelling companions, as a little celebration of your wedding{296} feast. They are accustomed to feel a friendly sympathy in all that nearly concerns or moves me, and therefore in you. Thus, in the immediate enjoyment and observation of this beautiful and remarkable scene, we will once more impress the principal points upon our memories before our departure. We will remember you and the large family circle, which, we hope, will have gathered from the south and the north to surround you in undisturbed happiness. But I shall think of you most vividly, since I cannot myself hand to you both this greeting from the Nile. But so much the more impatiently do I hope to follow it in a few months.”

These words were written by a warm-hearted man, and to them he appends the following significant verses:

We have already repeatedly shown the beautiful and intimate relation which bound Lepsius to his father, and pointed out how zealously he ever tried to impart to his father everything that could please or interest him. He never forgot what he owed to the{297} guide of his youth and childhood,—and it was not little. Above all others, the gift which he had received from his father was the strong love of truth and order by which he was distinguished. It was not only that this lightened his most difficult labors, but it rather made many of them possible. Hand in hand with this went the painstaking accuracy with which he worked. He never laid aside anything which was not entirely completed and finished up to the last detail. Thence it comes, for example, that the second and third volumes of his chronology, announced in the preface, were never published. He had begun important preparatory works for them, but as these were not entirely finished he only gave them to the press in detached monographs, which he could regard as completed. If, with the exception of the Decree of Canopus, and a portion of the seventeenth chapter of the Book of the Dead, we possess no continuous translation of hieroglyphic texts by him, this circumstance is also to be explained by his dislike to letting anything leave his hand and go to press which contained flaws or was not perfectly completed and filled out. All that he translated from ancient Egyptian into German gives the most sufficient evidence of his mastery of this branch also, but the critical philologist never prevailed upon himself to deliver a line which was only half known as one that was known. The fragment of his translation of the “Book of the Dead” which we have previously mentioned, and which has for its basis a critical comparison of all the texts obtainable, shows much greater{298} ability than the translation of the entire “Book of the Dead” which has recently been prematurely attempted by a later Egyptologist.

It would be an error to call Lepsius a genius. He lacked the strong imagination, the winged creative power which achieves feats that soar beyond the conception of men of pure understanding, as well as the indifference to the things of this world and the ardent temperament of a genius. But he was a man of talent of the first order, with wonderful intensity of intellect, and the rarest strength of will and capability for learning and work. Besides this he was not only, as his wife said, an “homme comme il faut,” that is, a man fitted to appear in society, but also the model of a scholar, and what is more, of a man. It is true that warm feeling is necessary for the latter, and we remain true to our conviction that he possessed this.

In his Parisian diary, which was intended for himself alone, he tells of the fall of a platform on the occasion of a public festival. A boy, who was a stranger to him, was injured by it; he took him in his carriage, and subsequently wrote: “I held him afterwards for a long time in my arms, so that at least he should see something of the unveiling of the statue.” On the 25th of July, 1834, he wrote in the same journal: “A disagreeable and entirely unfounded slander will perhaps put an end to my Egyptian project,” and immediately afterwards: “Heap coals of fire on the head of thy enemy.”

This is what we call “kind-hearted,” this is chris{299}tian in the right sense of the word. He had absolute control of the property and never restricted the beneficence of his wife, half of whose life was devoted to the care of the poor and the like occupations. Even such sums as five hundred thalers he willingly gave away when it was a question of saving a poor family. Just as he visited me as a teacher, and gave me a portion of his precious time, when a protracted illness prevented my going out of the house, so did he seek out in the hospital a needy scholar as soon as he heard of his severe illness, and there extend to him the most cordial assistance, though the young man had never been personally intimate with him, and had not been, like me, recommended to him by a Grimm. And how many such things, which never came to my knowledge, could be told of him!

Although those who cling to the letter of the faith would not approve his Christianity, yet his life was a truly christian one. He ever made an open confession of faith in God and Christ, he took, whenever he felt the need for it, the holy sacrament, he experienced in himself the blessings which Christianity had brought into the world, he recognized them in history, and he allowed his children to be educated by his pious wife without opposition. He declared to her, to Trumpp, and to others, that the highest duty of human beings was “to love God above all others, and one’s neighbor as oneself.” The new conquests of natural science had no power to shake his faith in God, although he followed them with interest after two of his sons had{300} devoted themselves to such studies. When doubts arose in him he imposed upon his own acute mental powers the task of dissipating them, and an interesting composition was found among his papers, in which he attempts to subvert the two principal propositions in an eloquent masterpiece of Bois-Reymond’s[104] which had disturbed his mind.

There has gone to the grave in Lepsius a true man, a noble and admirable human being, and, (if we except the last years of his life) a fortunate one; a man who was among the greatest, most zealous, and most successful scholars of his time, and whose name and works will outlast the centuries. We will close this biography with the earnest and reverential words addressed to us by G. Maspero, the greatest of living French Egyptologists and the worthy successor of Mariette in the guardianship of all the monuments and excavations in Egypt, after he had received the intelligence of the departure of our Senior Master.

“Lepsius,” he says, “était un des derniers survivants de notre âge héroique, et il avait été pendant longtemps nôtre maître à tous. Je ne demande qu’une chose pour mon compte: c’est que plus tard au moment où l’on en sera venu à dire pour moi ce que je dis pour lui, on puisse affirmer que j’ai fait pour la science la moitié de ce qu’il a fait pour elle.{301}”

Among the letters to his father is the certificate signed by General von dem Busche, which permitted Lepsius to remain longer in Göttingen. For many students this tempest in a tea-pot was to have very disagreeable consequences, for a rescript from the King dated January 11th, 1831, commanded all Hanoverian subjects studying in Göttingen to leave the town immediately. Those who should remain in spite of this were deprived of all right to any situation in the public service of the King. The foreigners among the students were also expelled, and could only obtain permission for a longer stay by means of special intercessions. “Above all” the lectures were stopped until Easter.{308}

Somewhat more than a year and a half ago I began the study of Egyptian antiquity by the path which had been substantially opened to modern science, and firmly trodden by her, since Champollion’s important discoveries regarding phonetic hieroglyphs. I did so with a generally diffused doubt as to the soundness of the new doctrine which had been almost exclusively founded and embraced by a French scholar. The system of Champollion was a purely empirical one, which had not yet been reduced to order. It affirmed more than it proved, and appealed to me less at the beginning, in proportion as I had become accustomed in those of my previous studies which related especially to philology, to seek organic coherence in science, and only to admit as a foundation there for reasons of intrinsic worth. I began with the Précis hiéroglyphique, as the most comprehensive statement of the new discovery, and found on every side assertions which seemed to me undemonstrable, and evidence which seemed to me imperfect. I reserved to myself some doubts as to the reading of the names Ptolemy and Berenice, which would need to be solved to satisfy reasonable criticism. But in the phonetic hieroglyphs the substitution of the vowels seemed to me too arbitrary, and the mixing of the phonetic with the figurative{309} and symbolical hieroglyphs, to represent one and the same word, seemed quite inadmissable. In my earlier palaeographic researches amongst occidental and oriental writings I had always found the strictest economy and a surprising significance in the original signs for the sounds, united with an accuracy which has hitherto been far too little regarded. But here I had to accustom myself to a superfluity, I might say a prodigality, of signs, which yet only imperfectly attained their object, and therefore seemed so much the more to be chosen arbitrarily and multiplied in a chaotic manner.

Nevertheless, I did not allow myself to be discouraged from proceeding further, because at the same time I saw plainly that there were many things which were incontestably correct, and I also believed that I had found a coherence in the system, and several isolated proofs of it, which had escaped the discoverer himself. Thence I began to believe that it was a question of method, and that it was only necessary to separate the certain from the uncertain in order to make clear the true condition of affairs, and the real extent of what had so far been achieved on this field. Here other workers had preceded me, some of whom sided with and some against Champollion. More especially since the French Expedition an immense literature has begun to investigate, describe, and profit by every aspect of Old and New Egypt. By making myself as thoroughly as possible acquainted with this, I endeavored to keep myself as free as possible from a one-sided apprehension and criticism of hieroglyphics, and of Egyptian learning in general, so far as it rests upon native authorities.

A problem which was to be solved above all others concerned the Coptic language. Even the purely historical researches in the “Recherches sur la langue et la littérature de l’Égypte” by Etienne Quatremére had{310} not been able to satisfy me regarding the identity of this tongue with the ancient Egyptian, or, at least, its direct descent therefrom. But on a closer acquaintance with this language, and its application on the hieroglyphic and demotic monuments, every doubt must be dispelled as to its being the sole key to the ancient language of the Egyptians, and the only one which could lead to the end in view. I have since applied myself chiefly to the study of the Coptic language, to which I also felt myself especially attracted by my previous linguistic studies. Within a few days there have arrived in Paris the last sheets of a Coptic lexicon which has been prepared from the most copious sources by Amadeo Peyron, and shows extensive learning. From the first I have directed my labors on the Coptic tongue to the end of preparing a grammar of that language, especially intended to lighten the study of hieroglyphics, and in accordance with the philological science of the present day.

In order to give you, most highly esteemed Herr General Secretary, a comprehensive idea of the course of my studies up to the present time in the department in question, I must further mention two circumstances, which were especially favorable to me. One was my sojourn in Paris, which is the place altogether best adapted to obtaining an initiation into Egyptian antiquity. The first broad foundation for this science was laid on the part of the French in the “Description de l’Égypte.” A French scholar first procured access to the native monuments of Egypt, and for a number of years he was the center of Egyptian studies on account of his admirable talent, which seemed made for the deciphering of the Egyptian monuments. I need not say that for these reasons there can be no lack in Paris of the most perfect aids to study, as regards both literature and monuments. But that to which I attribute{311} yet greater weight is that there is always a large number of men assembled there who take the most lively and direct interest in the discoveries of their countryman, and are in a position to give thorough information, generally directed by their own opinions, on all the different parts and details. They were frequently more instructive to me through their conversation than any books could have been. I often felt there the great value of the viva voce correction of many unavoidable errors in the judgment of persons, objects and facts. These are of far greater importance in so young a science than in one which has been long founded. As a second favorable circumstance I would mention my early acquaintance with a young, learned and talented man, François Salvolini. For ten years he educated himself exclusively for the study of hieroglyphics under the personal direction of Champollion, he took copies of the most important drawings and manuscript works of his teacher, part of which are still inaccessible to the public, and with the greatest liberality he opened to me his important collections, and allowed me the freest use of them. Under the auspices of the Sardinian government he is occupying himself with a comprehensive work on the Rosetta inscriptions, specimens of which he communicated to me. He also gave me a verbal explanation of the details. I thus became acquainted in the most rapid and thorough manner with the real value of the system of Champollion, and the development which it has thus far attained. It is true that the principal doubts which I had entertained were not entirely removed, but I believed in the difficulties which still remained to see, not a refutation of the system, but only a want of completeness. Especially I became aware that many difficulties might be removed when some other linguistic standpoint than that previously employed should be adopted.{312}

At the same time it seemed to me of the greatest importance to come to a positive opinion as to the relation of the Egyptian language to the other civilized languages of the ancient world, and to my great satisfaction I have now arrived at the conviction that the primitive Egyptian language is by no means so far removed from the Semitic and Indo-Germanic as, on a superficial examination, it has hitherto been almost universally considered. I believe that I shall not in all subsequent investigations into Egyptian antiquity allow myself to lose sight of this comparative point of view, since the great interest which the history of Egyptian civilization offers, as one of the most ancient of which we have a general historical knowledge, is without doubt greatly increased when we learn to know it also in its original relation to other civilizations. It also seems to me a worthy and useful task to draw the Egyptian people within the circle of those great groups of nations, whose most ancient history has in modern times acquired an altogether different aspect by means of the comparison of languages. I propose to preface my Coptic grammar with a special chapter on the relation of the Egyptian to the Semitic and Indo-Germanic primitive languages. I most respectfully beg you, Herr General Secretary, to present to the most favorable consideration of the very worshipful Academy two treatises in which I have attempted to prove the linguistic relationship of these two families of language. These papers treat of distinct points which would find no place in the Coptic Grammar. The first relates to the numerical words, the second to the arrangement of the alphabet, among the different nations.

Thus I have chiefly made use of my sojourn in Paris to acquire a general knowledge of Egyptian science, and am thereby placed in a position to adopt a decided course for the future according to the needs{313} which seem to me most urgent, and to those abilities of my own which I believe to have been best developed by my previous studies. Therefore it now becomes a matter of special importance, in order to arrive at the best possible conclusions of my own, to procure correct copies of the numerous Egyptian monuments scattered about through the various French museums, and especially in Italy.

To undertake a journey to Italy for this purpose must be all the more desirable for me since a corresponding member of the Academy, whose name will always be mentioned beside that of Champollion as one of the most distinguished promoters of Egyptian science, H. P. Rosellini of Pisa, has offered, with the most noble disinterestedness, to reveal to me the rich treasures which he has brought back from Egypt, and, under his own invaluable guidance, to place them at my service.

Since I could not have been able to undertake this journey on my own resources, I have to thank the resolves of the most worshipful Academy alone, if I can directly pursue the object which is the aim of my scientific career. I must appreciate the more profoundly the special encouragement which I have thus received as up to the present time I have been able to present no sort of security on my part to the most worshipful Academy. For this reason I will make all the more conscientious use of the appropriation granted me. I will from time to time lay before the most worshipful Academy an account of the expenditure thereof, and seek to prove myself worthy of the confidence which has been shown me by the greatest zeal in the promotion of this most fruitful science, which has been so little cultivated in our own country.

With the most distinguished esteem and respect.

Richard Lepsius.
{314}

Berlin, March 12, 1846.

The antiquarian Expedition to Egypt, Nubia and the Peninsula of Sinai, ordered in the year 1842 by his Majesty, our most gracious and illustrious King Frederick William IV., and committed to my leadership, is completed.

My reports, transmitted to your Excellency from time to time, will have convinced you that it has been executed entirely in accordance with the plans advised by the Royal Academy of Sciences, most graciously approved by his Majesty, and submitted to your Excellency before departure. You will also observe that the annual sum of money appropriated at the beginning has not been exceeded, and that it has also been made to cover the important excavations, transportations and purchases, for which no special appropriation had been made. The journey of two years has, however, extended itself to three and a half. My companions were not able to return before the end of last year, and I myself not till the 27th of January of this year; a possibility which had been already foreseen in the advice of the Royal Academy.

With regard to the material welfare of its members{315} the Expedition may be called in every way a very fortunate one, and especially favored by Providence. The members were eight in number, with the addition of three others who joined as volunteers, and all returned in good condition to European soil. The painter Frey alone could not support the climate, and on that account was obliged to return from Lower Egypt to Europe, where he has since recovered. As a contrast to this, the company of Professor Ehrenberg lost nine members, in spite of the greatest care. They were, however, under much more unfavorable conditions, and through his advice we profited by their experiences. It was still worse with the English under Clapperton. The French Tuscan expedition also lost both its leaders, besides many other members, in consequence of the journey. As we did not, like the expeditions mentioned, have a physician with us, we were obliged to redouble our direct attention to ourselves, and I ascribe the fortunate result, next to the protection of Providence, chiefly to the excellent conduct, mutual helpfulness and strict regard for order of all the members. There was but one exception, the moulder Franke, whom I was forced to dismiss on account of unseemly disturbances of this order. This harmony and admirable disposition of the members also greatly facilitated the management for me, and I cannot but praise this spirit especially in our architect, Herr Erbkam, who stood by me on every occasion as a true and helpful friend.

As far as the scientific results are concerned, I must first observe that scarcely any other expedition had been undertaken under such favorable circumstances. Amongst these circumstances I reckon chiefly the definiteness of the tasks which were set before us, and which we were able on this account to pursue with perfect system. The expedition most immediately{316} comparable with ours was Champollion’s, but that was more a voyage of discovery, and necessarily suffered from the very deficiencies which we were easily able to supply. The advantages which he had as founder of the science and from his incomparable ability as a student of monuments, were for us more than counterbalanced by the firmer and broader foundations of the science, the last results of which are now presented to us in Bunsen’s remarkable work on history. Added to this was our greater previous knowledge of the interesting localities which we had to investigate. From the very beginning of the journey we could within wide limits strive for completeness, without suffering from any want of new, unexpected and most highly important discoveries. Especially had Champollion left behind to us, practically uncommenced, the investigation of the oldest Egyptian history, that is, the epoch of the first Pharaonic kingdom from about 3000 to 1700 years before Christ, which extends the history of the world for almost 1500 years. He had only ascended the valley of the Nile as far as the second cataract, beyond which there still exist a great multitude of old Egyptian monuments of all kinds, as yet entirely uninvestigated. There the whole of Ethiopian antiquity, which cannot be separated from the Egyptian, must find its interpretation and, if I do not deceive myself, has done so through us.

Thence it follows that our results are by far the most important in chronology and history. The pyramid fields of Memphis, whose importance had not been recognized by Champollion, and which had therefore scarcely been touched by him, have placed the Egyptian civilization of those remote ages before us, in four hundred large pictures. The representation which they furnish must for all future time be regarded with the highest interest and considered the beginning of in{317}vestigable human history. Those earliest dynasties of the Egyptian rulers now offer us more than a barren succession of empty, unknown or doubtful names. They have not only been raised beyond all reasonable doubt and been critically arranged in order and according to the correct periods of time, but through the contemplation of the political, civil and artistic popular life which bloomed under their reigns, they have preserved an intellectual and often very individual historical reality.

This is the greatest success of our journey and must always be a convincing proof of the great and lasting service rendered to science by our expedition and its illustrious promoter. I pass over for the present the details of the evidence, which can only be rightly estimated by those co-workers on this field who shall make later and more extensive investigations. But I will mention that in Middle Egypt up to Thebes we found eight separate places of sepulchre, belonging to the Old Kingdom, which the French Tuscan expedition had passed by without suspicion. Of some of these we were the discoverers, and others we were the first to recognize as belonging to that period, and to excavate. We could not fail, also, to make a great number of more or less substantial restorations, corrections and additions to the history of the most flourishing period of the New Empire, which was peculiarly the prime of Thebes, as well as to that of the following dynasties. Even those Ptolemies who were apparently completely known in the light of Grecian history, have appeared in a new aspect in their Egyptian representations and inscriptions, and indeed have been recruited by some individuals scarcely mentioned by the Greeks and whose existence has hitherto been considered doubtful. Finally the Roman emperors, in their character of Egyptian rulers, have also appeared to us on the Egyp{318}tian monuments in greater and almost perfect completeness. They have been carried down, from Caracalla, (who had till now been recognized as the last whose name was written in hieroglyphics,) through two later emperors to Decius. Thus the whole extent of Egyptian monumental history has been increased at the latter end also by a number of years.

Egyptian philology, too, has made no insignificant advances during the journey. The lexicon has been increased by the addition of some hundred signs or groups, and the grammar has received manifold corrections. Besides this a wealth of material has been gathered, especially by means of the numerous paper impressions of the most important inscriptions, the gradual interpretation of which must lead to substantial progress in the science. According to the great age established for the earliest written monuments the history of the Egyptian language now embraces a period of nearly five and a half thousand years, and thus acquires an entirely new significance in relation to the universal history of human language and writing. In matters of detail one of the most important discoveries on this field was two bi-lingual decrees, written in hieroglyphics and demotic, which were discovered in Philae. One of these repeats the inscription of Rosetta, and there is promise of important results from a comparison between them. The news of this seemed so important to the French that they resolved on sending out the famous scholar Ampére, with an artist, expressly to copy this one monument. I first became aware of their intention through the publication and philological exploration of that inscription, now just appearing in print.

According to my opinion Egyptian mythology, in spite of countless works upon the subject, has hitherto been without any firm foundation. I had almost aban{319}doned the hope that our expedition would achieve any actual advance for this science, when upon the return journey I discovered in the Theban temples a series of monuments which threw so much unexpected light upon its essential nature and historical phases, that I have come to the conclusion that upon this basis Egyptian mythology may for the first time be presented according to its true import and in its historical development.

The history of art has never been worked out from the present standpoint of Egyptology. To accomplish this was necessarily one of the chief objects of our expedition and the advanced chronological knowledge of the monuments conduced greatly to progress in this direction. For the first time we have been able to trace the various divisions of the history of art in the Old Egyptian Empire, previous to the invasion of the “Hyksos,” and thus to extend it, as well as Egyptian history in general, for about thirteen centuries upwards and for some decades downwards. We were also obliged to regard the history of art almost exclusively in the selection of our collection of monuments, of which I shall speak again hereafter. Amongst the different branches of Egyptian art, architecture, which had been entirely neglected by Champollion and Rosellini, was especially well handled by our skillful and industrious architect Erbkam. From him it received the treatment befitting the important position of this special branch, in which the artistic element of grandeur, bestowed upon the Egyptians above all other nations, could be and was most highly developed. The rendering of the sculpture and painting fell to the other artists who accompanied us. They soon learned to reproduce with praiseworthy skill the peculiar Egyptian style, which in spite of all the childish constraint that characterizes Egyptian art, yet contains an unmis{320}takable and finely perfected ideal element. If the Grecian genius had not received art from the Egyptians as a child so severely, chastely and carefully reared, it could never have given to it such a positive character of blooming freedom. The chief task of the history of Egyptian art is to show wherein consisted this culture of art, which no ancient Asiatic nation shares with the Egyptian. I will adduce as one of the most important details belonging here, that we have found three separate canons of the proportions of the human figure, in numerous examples, upon uncompleted monuments; one for the old Pharaonic kingdom, another for the New Empire since the eighteenth dynasty, and a third which first came into general use shortly before the time of the Ptolemies. This latter involved an entire change of the principle of distribution, and remained in force under the Roman emperors to the end. These discoveries are also of decided importance in judging of the Greek canon.

Next to the history of art, however, a great part of our time and attention was claimed by Egyptian archaeology in its widest sense. This was a field which had already been worked with success and industry, especially by Wilkinson and Rosellini. It contains an inexhaustible wealth of detached monuments of common life, and representations thereof of all kinds, far exceeding in abundance all other remains of antiquity. And on this account this branch of study needed much more a vigorous prosecution of its aims and elevation of its standard, than a farther accumulation of details. Nevertheless these are continually coming in from all sides and have been collected by ourselves in great quantity as material.

Finally, geography and chorography, to which travellers are always expected to make additions, demand special attention. In Fayoum we have for the{321} first time thoroughly investigated the Labyrinth. It lies beside Lake Moeris, which was discovered by Linant, but is now dry. We have been able to assign the Labyrinth its place in history through the discovery of the founder’s name. Our description of the ruined cities and monuments of antiquity in the land of the Nile, up to Senaar, will be more complete and exact than any previously given. So also will be our account of the rarely travelled dependencies of the dominion of the Pharaohs, such as the Ethiopian countries, the eastern mountains between the Nile and the Red Sea, and the colonies in the copper region of Mafkat (of the Peninsula of Sinai.) Only the oases of the western desert we have unfortunately been obliged to leave unexplored. In more modern geography, which must always accompany and correct the ancient, I have devoted special care to obtaining the Arabian names accurately, in order to counteract as far as possible, at least upon the region traversed by us, the intolerable confusion of designations. I have prepared upon the way accurate geographical maps of various parts of the eastern mountains of Egypt and the Arabian copper region. Respecting the border lands of Mahommed Ali’s dominion, towards Abyssinia, I have collected and recorded graphically important geographical information from particularly well-informed people of that region. On the Peninsula of Sinai I have not only for the first time investigated more exactly the ancient Egyptian copper mines, the working of which, according to the pictures on the rocks and inscriptions, preserved at Wadi-Magara, goes back to the time of Cheops, about 3000 years before Christ, but I have also traced out the route of the Israelites to Sinai. In doing so I have come to the conclusion, which I have sought to prove in a preliminary report to his Majesty, that a tradition of comparatively late origin has{322} wrongly designated the mountain which the monks call Gebel Mûsa as the Sinai of the Bible, and that Horeb or Sinai, the Mount of God, corresponds rather to the present Serbâl, which lies some days’ journey to the north of Gebel Mûsa. A noteworthy contribution has been made to the history of the physical conditions of the Nile valley through the discovery of the nilometer of Semneh in the region of the Nubian cataracts. From this it is apparent that about 4000 years ago, under the rule of Amenemha-Moeris, the Nile at that place rose in average years twenty-two feet higher than now, while in Egypt at about that time it stood at least ten to fifteen feet lower, so that the Nile at the intervening cataracts fell thirty-five feet farther than at present. This gradual leveling of the bed of the stream has had the most decisive influence on the cultivation of the valley, and the history of its whole population, since the shore of the Nubian country lying along the stream was made inaccessible to the natural inundation by this great sinking of the water, and thence became dry and unfruitful.

Besides all our acquisitions in the ancient Egyptian language we have made some not unimportant gains for the science of language in general. In the upper countries of the Nile I have obtained three African languages, the grammar and lexicon of which I have made out and noted down from the communications of the natives, with sufficient completeness to present a clear idea of them. They are: 1. the Congâra language, a negro language of the interior, spoken in Darfur and the adjoining countries: 2. the Nuba language, which is spoken in two dialects in a portion of the valley of the Nubian Nile, and in the neighboring districts to the southwest. This appears, moreover, to be of primitive African origin. It has never been written, and I have collected for the first time a considerable quantity of{323} Nubian manuscript literature, by getting a Nubian sheik, who was entire master of the Arabian language and writing, to translate from Arabian into Nubian, the fables of Lokman, the Gospel of St. Mark, and a portion of the Thousand and One Nights. I also had him write down and translate into Arabian about twenty Nubian songs, some in rhyme, and some only rythmical. In doing this he displayed a wonderful talent for the correct comprehension of linguistic relations. 3. The Béga language of the race of the Bishareen who are widely scattered between the Red Sea and the Nubian Nile. This appears to be a most important branch of the original Asiatic-Caucasian family of languages, and deserves our attention so much the more since it seems that it can be historically proved to be the present form of the ancient Egyptian language of Meroë. I have also found in those countries, and in the pyramids of Meroë, a great number of old Ethiopian inscriptions, which are recorded in an alphabetical writing until now entirely unknown. Subsequent inscriptions are in an alphabet formed after the Greek, and they can probably both be deciphered by the aid of the Béga language. Finally we have also made the completest possible collection of many hundreds of paper impressions from Grecian inscriptions. These are now of great value as a contribution to the knowledge of Grecian-Egyptian antiquity, which has been industriously cultivated on several sides. We have also made another collection of the numerous so-called “Inscriptions of Sinai” which were cut into the rocks by a Christian population who lived on the Peninsula of Sinai in the first centuries of our era. These have not yet been entirely deciphered.

We have only been able to give occasional attention to subjects pertaining to natural science. Yet I have not neglected to collect specimens of stone and soil{324} from all important localities, especially during trips into the remote mountain regions. A chemical investigation and comparison of the specimens of Nile mud collected from different spots and under different conditions will perhaps be of interest. We have visited the old alabaster quarry of El Bosra, opposite Sioot, which has recently been discovered by the Bedouins and is now worked by Selim Pasha. We found there an inscription on the rock dating from the beginning of the eighteenth dynasty. We have also visited the quarries of granite and of “breccia verde” at Hammamât, which have been in use since the most ancient times, as well as the porphyry and granite quarries on Gebel Duchàn (Mons Claudianus, Mons Porphyrites,) in the eastern mountains of Egypt, (see page 160) which were celebrated in Roman times. We have brought back specimens of rock from them all. The most valuable blocks of “breccia verde,” of every size, lie directly on one of the finest and most convenient desert highways, two days journey from the Nile, and would be excellently adapted to removal and exportation. On account of our antiquarian aims we were especially interested in the opportunity of becoming acquainted with the present world of animals and plants in the southern regions of Nubia, which conspicuously resembles the representations on the most ancient Egyptian monuments. It scarcely appears possible to account for this except by the assumption of a universal recession of the more highly developed forms of natural life in the Nile valley from the north towards the south.{325}

THE END.

“This romance has much value, apart from its interest as a narrative. The learned author, who has made the Land of the Nile an object of special study and research, throws a clear, steady light on one of those complicated periods of history when nationality seems submerged in the conflicting interests of sects and factions. The history of Egypt towards the middle of the seventh century, A.D., forms a sort of historical whirlpool. The tide of Moslem invasion and the counter-current of patriotism were temporarily swayed by the intermingling currents of sectarianism, ecclesiasticism and individual self-interest.

“All the leading characters are typical of these contending forces, and also display an unreasoning impulsiveness in both love and hatred, characteristic of a tropical clime.

“The Egyptian heathen, the Egyptian Christian, the Greek Christian, the Moslem and Ethiopian show the feelings peculiar to their political conditions by word and act, thus making their relationship to one another very distinct, and though not an historical study, at least a study of the probabilities of that epoch. It is also a reliable picture of the manners, customs and civilization of a period less generally known than those remote, and consequently more attractive periods of the building of the pyramids, and of the Pharoahs.

“The portrayal of individual character and arrangement of incidents are necessarily secondary to the higher aims of this entertaining and instructive romance. It is only towards the end of the second volume that the significance of the title becomes apparent. The ‘Bride’ was a Greek Christian doomed by the superstitious authorities to be drowned in the Nile as a sacrifice to appease the anger of the creative powers, supposed to be withholding the usual overflow of its waters. She escaped her watery fate, and her rival, an unprincipled heiress, became a voluntary sacrifice through vanity and despair. This author has already won much renown by previous romances founded on interesting epochs of Egyptian history.”—Daily Alta, California.

William S. Gottsberger, Publisher, New York.

OPINIONS OF THE PRESS.

“A story of Russia in the time of Napoleon’s wars. It is a story of the family rather than of the field, and is charming in its delineations of quaint Russian customs. It is a novel of absorbing interest, full of action and with a well managed plot; a book well worth reading.”—Philadelphia Enquirer.

“The story of ‘War and Peace’ ranks as the greatest of Slavic historical novels. It is intensely dramatic in places and the battle scenes are marvels of picturesque description. At other points the vein is quiet and philosophical, and the reader is held by the soothing charm that is in complete contrast with the action and energy of battle.”—Observer, Utica, N. Y.

“War and Peace is a historical novel and is extremely interesting, not only in its description of the times of the great invasion eighty years ago, but in its vivid pictures of life and character in Russia.”—Journal of Commerce, New York.

“On general principles the historical novel is neither valuable as fact nor entertaining as fiction. But ‘War and Peace’ is a striking exception to this rule. It deals with the most impressive and dramatic period of European history. It reproduces a living panorama of scene, and actors, and circumstance idealized into the intense and artistic life of imaginative composition, and written with a brilliancy of style and epigrammatic play of thought, a depth of significance, that render the story one of the most fascinating and absorbing.”—Boston Evening Traveller.

Wm. S. Gottsberger, Publisher, New York.

K A T I A

BY

COUNT LÉON TOLSTOÏ

TRANSLATED FROM THE FRENCH

—AUTHORIZED EDITION—

“It is hard to understand some judgments that have been passed on Count Tolstoï’s ‘Katia,’ recently done into English, to the effect that it is an unsatisfactory work of the great author. In one sense a morceau, it cannot indeed be compared for a moment with those vast works of his genius which make so profound an impression wherever they are read, but the little tale has the Tolstoï flavor and atmosphere, and the story of a woman who becomes careless as to her husband’s love, and longing for it again finds that it can never be hers in the sense that it had once been, is told with the directness, the touching simplicity and the power which are not to be found combined in the work of any other writer still living in discovered countries.”—The Boston Post.

Price, Paper Cover, 25 cts. Cloth Binding, 50 cts.

WHAT I BELIEVE

BY

COUNT LÉON TOLSTOÏ

TRANSLATED FROM THE RUSSIAN

BY

CONSTANTINE POPOFF

Price, Paper cover, 60 cts. Cloth binding, $1.00.

Wm. S. Gottsberger, Publisher, New York.

“There must always be some difference of opinion concerning the right of the romancer to treat of sacred events and to introduce sacred personages into his story. Some hold that any attempt to embody an idea of our Saviour’s character, experiences, sayings and teachings in the form of fiction must have the effect of lowering our imaginative ideal, and rendering trivial and common-place that which in the real Gospel is spontaneous, inspired and sublime. But to others an historical novel like the ‘Martyr of Golgotha’ comes like a revelation, opening fresh vistas of thought, filling out blanks and making clear what had hitherto been vague and unsatisfactory, quickening insight and sympathy, and actually heightening the conception of divine traits. The author gives also a wide survey of the general history of the epoch and shows the various shaping causes which were influencing the rise and development of the new religion in Palestine. There is, indeed, an astonishing vitality and movement throughout the work, and, elaborate though the plot is, with all varieties and all contrasts of people and conditions, with constant shiftings of the scene, the story yet moves, and moves the interest of the reader too, along the rapid current of events towards the powerful culmination. The writer uses the Catholic traditions, and in many points interprets the story in a way which differs altogether from that familiar to Protestants: for example, making Mary Magdalen the same Mary who was the sister of Lazarus and Martha, and who sat listening at the Saviour’s feet. But in general, although there is a free use made of Catholic legends and traditions, their effort is natural and pleasing. The romance shows a degree of a southern fervor which is foreign to English habit, but the flowery, poetic style—although it at first repels the reader—is so individual, so much a part of the author, that it is soon accepted as the naive expression of a mind kindled and carried away by its subject. Spanish literature has of late given us a variety of novels and romances, all of which are in their way so good that we must believe that there is a new generation of writers in Spain who are discarding the worn-out forms and traditions, and are putting fresh life and energy into works which will give pleasure to the whole world of readers.”—Philadelphia American, March 5, 1887.

William S. Gottsberger, Publisher, New York.