The Journeyman. — Paris
Before the close of the examination Richard had already written admirable letters to his father, in which he consulted with him, as one friend would with another, as to what he should do after graduating. Paris was at that time still esteemed the centre of learning, and to work for a time in Paris was to give one’s studies the final polish and to place the crown upon them. Even Lepsius had yet much to gain there, and therefore we see the father grant his consent that the young doctor should bring his apprenticeship to a final close upon the Seine.
He arrived in Paris on the fourteenth of July, 1833, a year after the death of Champollion, the first decipherer of hieroglyphics. The diary which he kept during his residence there, (in after years he only made occasional short notes in memorandum books arranged as calendars), as well as the letters to Bunsen which were kept to the very last fragment, and the less perfectly preserved letters to his father, all testify to the zeal, the discretion, the cheerful courage, and the alert attention with which he made use of his long sojourn in what was then the “focus of the intellectual life of the world.”
The period spent in Paris had a still more decisive influence upon him than that at Göttingen. During this time the youth matured into a settled man; his scientific inclination received a new bias, and its objects became plainly defined.
Champollion had said, in his introductory lecture, that the science of archaeology was a beautiful maiden without a dower. This aphorism was at that time entirely appropriate, yet not only the young scholar himself, but his father also, knew the wonderful charms of the bride, and every possible exertion was made by both, to win her for the ardent wooer. The “court president” in Naumburg was an official of the higher class, in good standing, with moderate property, and many children, nevertheless he allowed his highly gifted son the necessary means with which to remain for a time in Paris and devote himself, free from care, to his scientific education. But the young investigator felt that he would not have attained his purpose at the end of the “several months” which his father had originally contemplated. He did not wish to leave France or its capital, until he had gained all that was there to be won, and especially (this he insists upon repeatedly), not until he had acquired perfect command of the French language. In order to earn the necessary means for a longer stay he at first thought of translating into French his vademecum, Otfried Müller’s Handbook of Archaeology, which, to him, was such a dear and familiar friend. But this undertaking was not carried out, and he began by giving German lessons to two renowned scholars. From one of them, Dureau de la Malle, membre de l’Institute, whom he calls a specimen of a dissipated, frivolous Frenchman, he received five francs an hour, from the excellent De Witte only four. “He learns more for his four francs than the other for his five.” Meanwhile the desired opportunity soon presented itself for earning in a suitable manner the necessary addition to the yearly allowance from his father. The learned Duc de Luynes, “such a duke as is seldom seen, a ἀυὴρ καλὸς κἀγαθὸς in the fullest sense, who is also well-versed in the classical languages,” commissioned Lepsius to collect for him from the Greek and Latin authors the material which he needed for his archaeological-philological work. “On the Weapons of the Ancients.” Lepsius received a handsome monthly salary for this work, which he could easily manage in addition to his other studies, and he executed it so entirely to the satisfaction of the duke that the latter afterwards awarded him special remuneration.
Lepsius was now in such a position that he could conveniently, and without material anxieties, profit by all that Paris offered in the way of instruction, and at the same time participate in all the intellectual pleasures of life in the capital. We see him working indefatigably in his pleasant apartment, and in his leisure hours enjoying the society of his friends and playing on his own good piano. He was very musical and sang well and correctly. The public libraries and museums are at his disposal, and he makes diligent use of them; private collections are also opened to him, and he attends the lectures of the most eminent professors at the university. Those of the great philologist and archaeologist, Letronne, appear to him particularly attractive, and among them one especially “On the Ancient History of Egypt.” He praises these lectures for their great critical acumen and clearness, and declares that Letronne takes pleasure in contradicting everything not capable of proof, and in denying all earlier influence of Egypt upon Greece, (before Psammetik. Twenty-Sixth Dynasty.) Letronne only accepted what was indisputable of Champollion’s discoveries, and it was he who especially roused and fostered in Lepsius the distrust which he too bore towards the great investigator, and which caused him to hesitate about entertaining Bunsen’s proposition that he should devote himself to Egyptology.
Alexander von Humboldt, with whom he had become acquainted in Berlin, had commended him warmly to the celebrated philologist, Hase, and from him and others he had received excellent introductions. He was highly esteemed also by the members of the Institute, on account of his admirable first work. Thus he was enabled to make the acquaintance of the greatest Orientalists, philologists and archaeologists of France, and was most cordially received by Silvestre de Sacy, Quatre-Mère de Quincy, Raynouard, Raoul-Rochette, the Duc de Luynes, etc. He became intimate with Panofka, and the learned Stahl, secretary of the Asiatic Society, invited him to drink German beer in his apartment. This man he calls “a paragon of the learning of the whole world.” “He may be called greedy in regard to time and knowledge. He sleeps seven hours, cooks his dinner,—a little rice,—himself, spends almost no time at all on all the externals of life, such as eating, dressing, shaving, visiting, etc., and all the moments thus gained he spends in study. He knows a host of Asiatic languages, Chinese among others, and almost all the European, is incredibly conversant with the history and geography of all countries and times, as well as with all literatures, swims and fences very well, is a sturdy pedestrian, conducts the whole Asiatic correspondence, etc.” Yet, “this phenomenon of learning” had been in nowise distinguished at school, and had usually occupied the lowest places there. A genius he cannot call him, for his power of original production has suffered from his erudition, and with all his attainments he has never written any complete work. But Lepsius understood how to learn from him, and obtained through him an insight into the construction of Chinese. Stahl’s opinion, that among the Chinese as also among several uncivilized nations, intellectual conceptions were developed before sensuous, seems to Lepsius entirely contrary to reason; and he only apprehends from this that we have become acquainted with the intellectual culture of the Chinese at a very late, and consequently intellectually abstract, period.
He seeks to profit by the learning of other Parisian scholars, as well as by Stahl’s surpassing erudition. Amongst the noted Germans with whom he associated on the Seine, he names Wagen, the historian of art from Berlin, Müntz, Himly, Urlichs, the painter Bonterweck, Tix, Dübner, Stickel, Spach, the Alsatian Lobstein, and the historian Zinkeisen.
He also devoted many precious hours to learning engraving on copper and lithography. He used his first independent attempt in the art of engraving on copper, (the central portion of the plan of Paris), to adorn the sheets of letter paper on which he wrote home to his family, and on this neat engraving he marked in fine writing the houses which he most frequented, the museum of the Louvre, the Library, the Institute, the two restaurants where he usually took his meals, and even the dwellings of Panofka, Müntz, and Count de Bouge, between whose wife and himself a charming friendship existed, and whose salon he often visited on Sunday.
As if he already foresaw at that time to what an extent he would afterwards have to call upon these reproductive arts for his scientific work, he wrote, after taking home with him the first lithographic stone for the purpose of drawing upon it: “There are many advantages in investigating the technique of every prominent branch of art and science, even if I do not need to make use of lithography later for my own inscriptions.”
But this he did, and if the publications which were prepared for him by this method of reduplication surpass all others in neatness and beauty, it should be credited to the score of the technical knowledge which he acquired in Paris.
There, also, he committed to paper his first musical compositions. A song, written by himself, which he set to music with an accompaniment, was followed by others, for at that time he everywhere kept up his proficiency in this art, and particularly while in Paris. Not only the antiquarian collections, but also the exhibitions of new paintings and statuary were constantly visited, and, no less frequently, the theatre. His diary shows with what quick sympathy and keen judgment he listened to tragedies, comedies, and opera. The representation of French tragedy is most severely censured. “The performance of Corneille’s Cid was bad beyond measure, and fearfully French.... The players of to-day, who act Corneille and Racine, have preserved nothing of the tragic art but the tragic mask, and this they fasten on behind instead of in front, so as not to hide their lovely French faces.” The only one who compelled his unlimited admiration was Mars, who, as an old woman of sixty-eight, at that time filled the most youthful roles with admirable sweetness and naiveté. Montrose and Mademoiselle Dupont he also rates very highly. He bestows the warmest encomiums on the Cirque Olympique, conducted by Loiset. “Here is actual art, not only feats of skill. Painters and sculptors should come here to study, as Phidias and the Grecian sculptors did in their gymnasiums. Superb figures are displayed here, and strength, dexterity, freedom and ease are combined with real beauty of form, such as one vainly seeks in the ballet. Our ballet has almost lost rank as an art; the sole laudable exception is Taglioni, whom I have seen here in the Sylphide, and admired, as I did in Berlin. If any one wished to fashion a worthy statue of Terpsichore it might perhaps be possible from Noblet, Foncisy and all the rest of them, to construct a passable pair of legs: it would only be necessary to take a cast of Taglioni, and there you would have it in perfection.”
All that is beautiful and remarkable in Paris passes under the vigilant eye of this indefatigable scholar. He is active as collector, student and investigator, and during the latter part of the time in a department of science which had till then been as good as unknown to him. But he is also busy with both hands and brain in earning meat to go with his bread, and in producing a new and difficult original work. We see him attend public festivals, ride out into the country, examine every corner of the city, give his attention to the industries of the Parisians, go to parties and salons as a welcome guest, sing and play with friends, and through all this we can trace the progress of an essay on Sanscrit palaeography from which was afterwards developed the excellent treatise on “Palaeography as a Means of Etymological Research.”11 For this,—an almost unheard-of honor,—the youth of three and twenty receives the Volney prize.
He says, at a later period, that Paris was always to him a city rich in interest, instruction and manifold benefits. During his first sojourn there it appeared to him “in one respect” (undoubtedly in respect to the animation and refinement of social life,) “the capital of the world.” But in spite of his youth Lepsius in no wise allowed himself to be dazzled by the glittering aspects of French life. It was in the public libraries that he first became sensible of the drawbacks in the conditions of the Parisians. “The management of the libraries is abominable,” he writes, “no zeal, no knowledge, not even good-will. Miserable officials, lack of everything that is not French. It is true that I am spoiled by the Göttingen and Berlin libraries, etc.”
Since that time many improvements have been made in these institutions. The special attention given to them by Lepsius was of use to him as “Chief Librarian,” in the evening of his life.
From the first he had devoted himself with great ardor to the study of the French language. But, although he was pleased with his progress, he did not allow himself to be blinded in this regard either, and, after he had spent four months in the cultivation of his French style, he wrote, “A Frenchman only needs to think correctly and truly, and he is sure to write properly and well; in German a good style is far more difficult, for there one must know all the deeps and shallows not to steer crookedly or clumsily, or even run aground. The French language is a level surface, and one slips along as if skating on ice; the German language has depths over which it is more dangerous and requires more skill to steer, but one can go farther on it. When water is deep and moves rapidly it never freezes, and neither does the boundless sea. So the German with his language can make the whole world his own; the Frenchman is restricted to his mirror-like surface. One must cherish one’s hatred against everything French not to lose one’s own depth. As soon as one takes pleasure in French things one’s spirit rests on enervating down feathers. Yet one should always learn, even from one’s enemies.”
Lepsius took the most lively interest in every event of importance that occurred during the time of his sojourn in Paris. He devotes a large space in his diary to the great popular festival, celebrated on the anniversary of the Revolution, from the twenty-seventh to the twenty-ninth of July, 1843, and to the unveiling of the statue of Napoleon on the Vendôme column. This took place on the second day of the grand festival. The statue was enveloped in a green cloth, besprinkled with stars. “The impression made by the unveiling,” he writes, (and we gladly make room here for the account, both for its own sake and as a specimen of the German style of young Lepsius,) “the impression, especially amidst these surroundings, was very striking. Above this seething mass, these convulsions of a struggling mob, this shouting and quarrelling, this motley throng, this glittering of military display, there suddenly appeared, not like a rock in the sea, (to which possibly the column might have been compared,) but like a supernatural power, the calm, majestic presence of Napoleon. What can produce a greater impression than the power of a mind which manifests itself in a composed bearing and a commanding expression, face to face with the unruly passions of similar human spirits?”
In these words he presents to us the ideal of his life, and we shall see how well he himself ever succeeded in preserving such a commanding attitude towards unruly passions. “This expression of command,” he continues, “is still grander than the great yet inanimate nature, which is sometimes admired in contrast with nature, or even humanity, in a state of excitement. A like impression, too, was unconsciously depicted on every face, and a general shout, ‘Vive l’Empereur! Vive Napoleon!’ burst from the innumerable throng, which really seemed for a moment entirely to forget the oppressive present. For one moment every lineament expressed admiration, pleasure, satisfaction.” Then he describes how Louis Philippe conducted the review, and continues, “However, not the least enthusiasm was manifested for him, which, in my opinion, is mainly owing to his personality. His external appearance presents nothing that is at all imposing, nothing attractive; no intellectual power of any sort is expressed in his figure or his face; he impresses you as a stout citizen, returning thanks for the great honor which is done him. And yet here in France, if anywhere, at least a semblance of intrinsic greatness is needed for the eyes of the people, since the mystic vail of royal greatness has so entirely fallen from the head of the citizen king. As the king rode past one only heard a clamor, such as springs from gratified curiosity.” From this festival, as Lepsius describes it, can be inferred the historical events which must of necessity occur later: the expulsion of Louis Philippe and the acclamation of a Napoleon to the French throne.
With the appearance of the citizen king Lepsius’ exalted frame of mind is dissipated, and he tries to fix the note which he can designate as prevalent in the general din. With the aid of the interval between the lowest note of his own voice and the sound which formed the key-note of the clamor, he found it to be the treble e. Thus does the spirit of research ever demand her due of him. The linguist everywhere scrutinizes the value and significance of sounds and tones. He does not disdain to amuse himself with them occasionally, and to determine the relation between them and other perceptions of the senses. “O,” he writes at one time in his diary, “seems to me brown, a, light blue, e, colorless, a clear faint color, i, bright yellow.” At that time, while writing his essay on Sanscrit palaeography, he thought he discerned that in all languages the vowels had formed themselves by degrees, like colors, from the a, but that originally there had been no distinction between vowels and consonants. The words, he thought, had been divided according to their sounds, in such a way that each consonant with the vowel which followed it constituted an inseparable whole. Hence in Sanscrit a originally was even considered as a consonant, or rather as a combination of the Greek Spiritus lenis and the a which necessarily followed it.
In Paris Lepsius is at first a linguist solely, and does not concern himself with Egyptological studies. But by the end of October, through Panofka, he is first invited to come to Italy in the name of Gerhard, who had kept him in mind since their meeting in Berlin, and then he receives a letter from the Alsatian Lobstein, who had met him in Paris, and who has been authorized by Bunsen and also by Kellermann to make him a serious proposition to come to Rome. There he is first to busy himself with a collection of Umbrian, Oscan, and Etruscan inscriptions, for which his dissertation would seem especially to qualify him, and secondly to devote himself seriously to the study of the writing and language of the ancient Egyptians. The first proposal is entirely acceptable to him from the beginning, although it is only for the sake of completeness that he will include in his corpus inscriptionem the Etruscan inscriptions, on the deciphering of which “many a man may yet wear out his teeth.” The second proposition, on the contrary, causes him the most serious deliberation. It is true that Gerhard, through whom he had been most warmly commended to Bunsen, had already in Berlin urged him to the study of hieroglyphics, and had assured him that he should himself undertake it if he were but younger. It is also true that he felt his own powers had now become fit to cope with the greatest difficulties, but yet it seemed to him advisable to await the appearance of Champollion’s grammar, in order to learn how the matter actually stood. He could thence gather and decide whether the foundations had been so well laid that by rational and scientific investigation he should really be able to accomplish something substantial on a field which, with the exception of Champollion himself, had up to that time been almost exclusively occupied by bunglers and incompetent dilettanti.
The prudence with which the youth of three and twenty proceeded in this important question of his life, is most remarkable. In the letters which he addressed to his father, in order to obtain his advice, he sets forth clearly and exhaustively all the reasons on both sides. Bunsen, from whom these proposals emanate, is a person of great influence, and if he, Lepsius, finds Champollion’s preparatory work satisfactory, and it is possible to realize his patron’s plan of finally entrusting him with the direction of the fine Egyptian collection at Berlin, there then opens before him the prospect of an assured future, as far as the material circumstances of life are concerned. This it is usually far more difficult for an archaeologist and philologist to secure than for a grammarian and teacher. He would not be content, he writes, to gain his livelihood by book-writing. He had already written to his father from Berlin, March thirteenth, 1833, “I do not know whether I should have any special talent for the profession of teaching, since I have never yet tried it, and even if I should adopt it, from inclination, and with the expectation of finding contentment in it, yet, in truth, it is not a great career.” If he can hope, (thus he continues to write to his father, after Bunsen’s invitation,) to find in Egyptology a satisfactory field for research, and if Bunsen can give him in advance the most positive prospect of the patronage of the Prussian government, and the hope of afterwards obtaining an appointment in the fine Egyptian collection at Berlin, then he will decide to go to Rome, and to turn his studies in the new direction which Bunsen desires; but otherwise not.
His father could only assent to his doubts and deliberations, and so, on December twelfth, 1833, the son wrote to Bunsen the following letter, which was to give both to his studies and his life a tendency so peculiarly propitious for his character and talents.
“The kind confidence which, judging by an invitation lately sent me through H. Lobstein, you appear to feel in my abilities, has aroused in me no less pleasure than serious doubts as to how far I may myself confide in my own powers. I in no wise mistake the importance of these doubts, especially at my age and in my circumstances. How I shall solve the problem of life depends chiefly on their right or wrong solution, and therefore, as long as they are still unsettled, every impulse from without is of infinite moment to the whole inner life and aspiration. You could neither be aware of the soil on which your words, perhaps but carelessly meant, had fallen, nor still less of the connection in which they stand with my own inclinations and mental tendency. It is not as if I had previously entertained the idea of attempting the deciphering of hieroglyphics; rather, till now, I have been chiefly attracted towards archaeology and general comparative philology, upon the broader field of that science to which, in any case I had resolved to devote myself. Although these did not give me much prospect of an assured livelihood for the future, yet I wished to prosecute the two studies together in Paris, because they have so many points in common, and indeed seem to me in their essential substance to form a more perfect whole. Then latterly I was led by chance to a subject which attracted me more the farther I pursued it, and at last prompted me to collect the results in a short treatise which I am about to have published in Berlin. This treatise is immediately concerned with palaeographic researches into Sanscrit writing, but I was soon led from the peculiarities of this writing, which in many respects is wonderfully consonant with nature, to more universal palaeographic laws. I found myself forced at last, by the subject itself, to express my views on the organic and essentially necessary connection between writing and language considered in their broadest relation, and on the value of a scientific palaeography in the investigation of language. Indeed, I could not refrain, at the close, from referring to Egypt itself, where there seems to open such a splendid and fertile field for this new science as never before in Europe, or even in Asia. Thus, on one hand, I am attracted by the idea of an Egyptian palaeography which cannot possibly be sought for except in accordance with the universal laws of writing and language, and therefore must be capable of rational scientific treatment. Yet, on the other hand, I cannot avoid noticing the special obstacles, of other than a scientific kind, which present themselves, and particularly the precarious direction which might be permanently given to my studies by an over-hasty decision. It is true that on this path also archaeology and comparative philology would be the guides and companions whom I should most desire. But in their Egyptian costume they would probably be still less able to secure me a settled position in life, than in their Greek and Roman dress, unless, in that case, I might consider myself assured of substantial assistance from the government, and of a situation in the public service in case I succeeded in fulfilling all reasonable expectations. But if this were possible, and, above all, if I had become convinced by examination of the authorities hitherto accessible, and especially of Champollion’s grammar, that the foundations had been so laid as to give hope of greater results to be attained by conscientious and scientific treatment, then I would gladly devote all my ability, time and energy to a subject, the advancement of which may rightly lay claim to the most universal interest, although the handling of it at present can only fall to the lot of a favored few.”
Bunsen sent an encouraging answer to this letter, which, like the diary and the letters to Father Lepsius, did not deviate by one hair’s breadth from the true circumstances and inclination of the writer. After the young philologist and archaeologist had satisfied himself that new researches might indeed be profitably based upon the preparatory work of Champollion, and that great results could perhaps be attained in the field of science thrown open by him, he decided thenceforth to devote himself with all his energy to the study of Egyptology.
It is now time for us to cast a glance at this new science, and to point out how far it had progressed, at the time when Lepsius first commenced to devote himself to it and to continue the labors of Champollion, who had died shortly before his arrival in Paris.