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 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
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 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:
“For a little while things went ill that day,
For they taught him manners, they taught him right;
They hunted him shamefully far away,
And his flaming castle they gave him for light.
But go ahead slowly, go ahead slowly,
So that we may all hear it well.”
The last stanza greets the new Duke thus:
“And not long after another man came,
That can rule the land far better than he;
So hurrah with me for that man’s name,
That frees us from the yoke of tyranny.
But go ahead slowly, go ahead slowly,
So that we may all hear it well.”
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
collecting 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:
“If any man doth damage to
This quarry or its products, do,
He shall be punished according to law
And the state of the circumstances.”
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 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]
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 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
successfully 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.”
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 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 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 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!”
BERLIN.
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 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
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 discourse, 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, 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.”
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.