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 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 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 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 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 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 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 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.”
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 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 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 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.
HOLLAND, ENGLAND, AND THE SEASON OF WAITING, IN GERMANY.
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.”
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 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 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 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.