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. 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.
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, 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 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 retirement 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 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’ 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 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 was of course the occasion of a festal celebration, and
friend Abeken composed the following sonnet for it:
“Within the ground all life doth first have birth,
Richly the tree unfolds its leafy pride,
Yet in the earth’s dark night its germ must hide,
And downward still the root strikes into earth.
And that this house may reach its highest worth,
The master now, with wisdom for his guide,
In the firm soil lays the foundations wide,
That he may bind it firmly with the earth.
Yet is there _one_ firm ground where build we must,
On which our house’s peace we gladly found,
That still its sacred hearth with joy be filled;
This is fixed faith in God and happy trust,
With which forever love and hope are bound,
And thus a temple with the house we build.”
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:
That here the temple with the house should blend
On the foundation stone we wrote, and lo!
Sank it far underfoot, that even so
The darkling earth its strength to us might lend.
Yet must from Heaven the mighty power descend
That upward bids the earthly germ to grow,
And Life and Love must still from Heaven flow,
The sacred fire on the hearth to tend.
Therefore we lift our hands and hearts to Heaven,
And humbly here its blessing we await,
Praying for peace and safety as is due,
That Love and Light and Spirit may be given
Our handiwork henceforth to consecrate,
That this the home may be a temple true!
On the twelfth of July, 1856, Lepsius with his own hand wrote the
following maxims in a new diary of his wife’s.
God’s peace from Heaven
To this house be given.
Unless God’s grace we gain
Our building is in vain.
Within this little book be you
To these, our house’s mottoes, true.
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 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 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 Warmond. 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 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 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?”
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 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.