Göttingen
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 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 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 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 exhibits 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 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.
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 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 involved 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 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 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 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!”