Chapter IV: Part 4

Lepsius’ letter to Rosellini gives a critical recapitulation of the discoveries of the Master. It is the first really methodical and scientific work of an adherent of the Champollionic system, and although after this Lepsius only returned incidentally to the linguistic and grammatical side of Egyptology,[27] yet in this work, as everywhere where he planted the lever, he has pointed out the right way and method. In the Nubian Grammar, which was one of the chief works of his life, and which was completed at a late date, he showed how firmly he stood upon the grammatical foundation so early won, and how faithful he remained thenceforth to grammatical studies. He did not cease, too, to work at those studies, regarding the sounds of languages and the alphabet, to which he had early devoted himself. His “Standard Alphabet,”[28] which originated long afterwards and amidst great opposition, was intended chiefly to enable missionaries and travellers to reproduce correctly in our own language the sounds of the foreign tongues examined by them. This was to be done by means of letters, easily and conveniently modified by dashes and dots. It became of great practical importance, as it was adopted by the English “Church Missionary Society” as the most available universal alphabet to be employed, according to their directions, by their emissaries. No one can deny that it is also of scientific value. Its applicability has been specially proved with the African languages, and in this department it has been most successfully employed in a great number of grammatical and lexicographical works, as well as biblical translations and the reproduction of narrations, legends, and proverbs in the various idioms. Of the Hamitic branch of the African languages, which is distinguished by grammatical genders, there are seven side-branches, from the ancient Egyptian to the _Haūsa-_ and _Nama-_ (_Namaqua-_) languages, which have been thus examined. Of the more remote native African idioms there are not less than twenty-two. In 1874, during the Congress of Orientalists at London, we ourselves were permitted to hold council with him and other leaders of science, concerning an acceptable universal method of transcription for hieroglyphic writing. Many of his propositions were adopted at that time, but the method of transcription agreed on in the British Museum did not become current, and it is undoubtedly in need of much improvement.

Lepsius had already given particular attention to the two special departments in which he was to achieve the greatest and most fruitful results; first at Göttingen, under the superintendence of O. Müller, then in Paris after the publication of Biot’s work, and finally at Rome, in the company of Bunsen. These departments were first, history, with its numerical groundwork of chronology, and in the second place, mythology.

Here, everything was still to be achieved, for before the hieroglyphics had been deciphered, scholars had been obliged to depend solely upon Grecian accounts of the Egyptian kings and gods, especially upon those given by Herodotus, and therefore had often relied on reports which were most inadequate, and which in many cases were misunderstood. The power recently acquired of reading the writing of the Egyptians disclosed a wealth of original material, which was unexpected, new, and authentic. The incontrovertible importance of this was self-evident, and even during Champollion’s lifetime many rushed upon the freshly discovered mines, and sought to rifle them for historical and mythological purposes. But, although at the outset many mistakes and uncertainties were rectified, and much that was incontestably new was established, yet on the other hand, error after error was introduced into the science by the rash course of the immediate successors of Champollion. They received on faith that which they only half comprehended, and applied it without care or criticism. They instituted comparisons upon bases either false or insufficiently established, and by means of them arrived at conclusions that we can now only regard with scorn and dismay. In place of the imperfect knowledge of former time, there appeared as its evil successor a disorder without parallel. The grateful, but difficult task undertaken by Lepsius, was to clear this away, and compel Egyptological research to conform to the same critical method which has become obligatory for other branches of study, and without which there can be no soundness in science.

Out of vague and unregulated fancies concerning Egyptian history and mythology, he formed a true Egyptian history and science of Egyptian divinities. By his strong hand were restrained the more or less ingenious and active divagations of Champollion’s successors, and he pointed out the path by which alone Egyptology could succeed in winning the name of a science.

His course was at the same time bold, prudent, and dexterous. He considered the whole extent of the monumental material collected by himself, or otherwise attainable, separated it into groups, sifted these, and treated the essential constituents which he thus extracted according to the same critical method to which he had become accustomed in other departments of science, under the tutelage of Hermann, Dissen, Müller, Bopp, Lachmann, and Boeckh.

After his journey to England and Holland, of which we shall soon have to speak, he possessed a sovereign comprehensive view of all of the written relics of the Egyptians to be found in Europe. But he carefully guarded himself against drawing conclusions from them which had not been thoroughly worked out, or from using them, like many other followers of Champollion, in the building of card houses.

In the historical group of his collectanea, which were arranged with the orderliness peculiar to himself, he brought together all the kings’ names which it was possible to obtain, and all texts provided with dates, as well as all writings on stone or papyrus which concerned the genealogical relations of the Pharaonic families. Thus, too, during his sojourn at Rome we see him chiefly occupied in collecting the building stones only for that chronological-historical edifice to be reared in more tranquil days, and which he expected to erect in common with Bunsen.

This self-control was to be well rewarded, for on his first and most important expedition to Egypt there flowed in upon him an affluence of new material, especially regarding the earliest epoch of Pharaonic history, which supplemented and in many ways modified that previously obtained. We can now take a comprehensive view of all the acquisitions of that time, and if we compare them with the two folio volumes of his Book of Kings,[29] or rather with the first draught of the same as he completed it in 1842, we must be astonished at the wealth of material which he had collected by the close of his sojourn upon the Tiber. The work mentioned contains in its present form all the names of the Pharaohs which have been preserved on monuments or papyrus, and is an indispensable handbook to anyone occupied in the study of Egyptian history. Its accuracy is equal to its copiousness, in which it had of course gained immensely, compared to the first sketch, which he willingly and frequently showed us.

The production of a new book of this kind could only mean the giving of a new title to Lepsius’ Book of Kings, for the arrangement of this great work is so fine and faultless that a change could but injure it. If we regard the first draft of the Book of Kings, which was completed before the Egyptian journey (it was never printed), as the foundation of Lepsius’ later chronological labors, we must acknowledge that at that time it would have been entirely impossible to add anything new to what was there collected.

It is with such weapons as these that victories are won, but he who had forged them imposed upon himself one preparatory labor after another before he entered upon the combat, and used them for the great historical purposes which he had in view.

In Turin he had also laid the foundations for his later researches in mythology, especially that of the ancient Egyptians, and in this group of studies we see him proceed with exactly the same method and circumspection as in his chronological works. His predecessors had found the innumerable and motley figures of the Egyptian Pantheon, often accompanied by their names, portrayed upon monuments of stone and papyrus, and had compared them with those divine beings of the Egyptians mentioned by the classic writers. They had attempted to explain the significance of these figures, and in so doing, where the sources of information at their command would not serve them, they had given free play to their imaginations,--it is only necessary to remember the ingenious phantasies of Creuzer, Roth, etc. The gods throng through their writings in a wild confusion, and it had occurred to no one, not even to Champollion (whose _Panthéon égyptien_[30] must nevertheless always be characterized as a valuable preparatory work), to proceed to an organization of the great crowd of gods, and to point out the historical principle by which they were to be classified.

This task Lepsius imposed upon himself, but here too, during his stay in Italy, he contented himself with sifting and studying all the materials at hand, and we are enabled to take a survey of his introductory labors in this province also. During his first sojourn in Turin he had already discerned that innumerable religious texts, existing in all the museums, on papyrus rolls, sarcophagi, mummy cloths, amulets, etc., belonged collectively to a larger work, to which he gave the name of “Book of the Dead.” This work, composed from many fragments, never reached a canonical conclusion, but the larger specimens of it included all the chapters which occurred alone, or in lesser number, on smaller papyri or monuments. Lepsius recognized the true significance of this book, which Champollion erroneously considered a book of ritual (_rituel funéraire_), that is, a book which comprised the prayers and formulas to be repeated and the hymns to be sung at the burial of the dead. It was usually found on the body of the deceased, under the mummy cloths, or in the coffin, and its contents only referred incidentally, and to a certain extent in a recapitulatory manner to transactions which were to take place on earth. The destiny of the soul which sprang from Osiris resembled the destiny of the god himself, and it is with this destiny that the “Book of the Dead” is occupied. It was given to the departed to carry with him into the grave as a passport and aid to memory. For in the other world it was necessary to sing hymns of praise, and with the help of the “right word,” which they imagined as endowed with magic power, to ward off demons and hostile beasts, to open gates, to procure food and drink, to justify oneself before Osiris and the forty-two judges, and finally to secure for the deceased all his claims as a god. Everything depended on being acquainted with the magical “right word,” and in order that it should always be at the command of the traveller through the next world, it was first written on the sarcophagus and then on the grave-clothes. From the collection of these formulas, then, arose the “Book of the Dead,” the _vade mecum_, the cicerone, for the pilgrim through the mysteries of the other life.

After the dead had received back all the faculties of the body which he 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.

The confidence which Lepsius inspired in the highest circles of English society is shown by the circumstance that the Duke of Sutherland wished to take him into his household as mentor and tutor to his son. But the young scholar declined this flattering offer, which was associated with great material advantages, and wrote to Bunsen: “My one-sided talent in the dissection of organic structures has never been united with any readiness for presenting things broadly, as is necessary in teaching, and especially in teaching the young. Besides, I am not qualified for an instructor, because I perceive every day that I myself have not yet passed the season of education.”

These words sound somewhat strange on the lips of so thoughtful and able a young man; he was then twenty-nine years old. But at that time he was still striving after the ideal of life which hovered before him, and such expressions were partly dictated by modesty, partly by the disinclination which he had previously expressed for the vocation of a pedagogue, and partly also by a longing for Egypt. During his stay in England (1839) this became stronger and stronger.

After he had declined the offer of the Duke of Sutherland, he took serious council with himself as to how his future should be spent, and wrote to Bunsen: “A decision as to my immediate future is constantly becoming more imperative. But no matter in what direction I send forth my thoughts, not one of them brings me back the olive branch. I cut myself off from Italy,” (by giving up his situation in the Institute at Rome, although he was still to work for it in Germany), “I cannot stay in England.” Bunsen had been appointed Prussian Ambassador to Bern, and while in England Lepsius’ affections had become engaged, although he would not yield to the impulse of his heart, as his uncertain future did not permit him to woo a maiden who was apparently as poor as himself. “I have nothing to do in France, and it would be too soon for me to go to Germany. So Egypt is all that remains to me, and that is still the pole-star in all my deliberations. Some day or other Egypt must be devoured; this is my time, there is no war there now, etc. An Egyptian journey would be a great recommendation for me afterwards in Germany. In any case this would be the most natural course for my affairs to take. Ought it not be possible to attain this goal in some way? The first and most agreeable thought always leads to Berlin. Therefore, I ask you if an extraordinary effort might not be made there. An urgent application from you to the Crown Prince would be the main thing. I would appeal especially to Humboldt. Gerhard would certainly be willing to undertake the personal conduct of the affair. If this course seems to you entirely impracticable, or if it miscarries, I must try to start from here.... If the worst comes to the worst, I will raise the necessary money somewhere or other in Germany, and go to Cairo at my own risk.”

In this letter, he gives open expression to the desire of his heart for the first time. Bunsen thought him right, promised his young friend to do everything possible in the affair, and in conjunction with Humboldt to interest the Crown Prince, (soon afterwards Frederick William IV.), in his Nile journey. But he begged his protégé not to be over-hasty, and represented to him how detrimental it would be to break up their common enterprise, as well as the undertakings begun by Lepsius alone. His Umbrian and Oscan inscriptions finished at Rome, as well as two treatises, were still to be printed; and the edition of his “Book of the Dead,” besides several other things, was not yet concluded. Yet more, previous to his departure the Egyptian chronology and lists of kings, for which Bunsen was impatiently waiting, must be set in order, and the German translation of Gaily Knight’s “Development of Architecture,” also awaited its completion. This had been prepared by Lepsius’ father, and he had himself undertaken to revise and provide it with an introduction.

The impatient young Egyptologist yielded to these monitions of his experienced and benevolent patron, and in November, 1839, we see him again among his family at Naumburg. The ensuing months he spent partly in his native town, partly in Berlin, working indefatigably, while Bunsen (who had meanwhile arrived at Bern as Prussian Ambassador), and A. v. Humboldt exerted themselves to promote his Egyptian journey. The great influence of the latter had only increased, since the Crown Prince of Prussia, on June seventh, 1840, had ascended the throne as Frederick William IV. Lepsius was permitted to enter into closer relations with the famous friend of the King, as he satisfied Humboldt’s desire to possess a list of the stones and metals mentioned in the hieroglyphic texts. This he did in a fashion which surprised the natural philosopher, who was ever hungry for knowledge, and filled him with gratitude. Instead of a catalogue, Lepsius presented to him a treatise, of which he says himself that the style in which it was written gave him great pleasure. “These researches concerning stones,” he writes, “have brought to light many a jewel for myself, which I have deposited in my hieroglyphic store-chamber.” All that he then acquired remained lying there until, in 1871, it celebrated its resurrection in his model dissertation on the metals in Egyptian inscriptions.

The proposition made to him at this time to enter the Foreign Office, and devote himself to a diplomatic career, he declined positively and without long consideration.

In Naumburg was completed the printing of Gally Knight’s work,[39] and of the introduction by Lepsius. This fills forty-six pages, and treats of the extensive employment of the pointed arch in Germany as early as the tenth and eleventh century. His observations begin with the Naumburg cathedral, which his father had studied with special thoroughness, and where he had actually found pointed arches of the eleventh century.

This introduction raised a great deal of dust, and when, thirteen years afterwards, Lepsius wished to carry through an affair of importance with the King, the royal adviser on art matters at that time, was not well disposed towards him, because in the views of Lepsius on the early application of the pointed arch in Germany, he saw an attack upon his own opinions. For the rest, the note-books of the Egyptologist, full of architectural drawings, and his letters to his father, show that in all his subsequent journeys he paid the keenest attention to all the edifices which he met, and when he was in a position to construct a house for himself, he built it in the English-Gothic style, and placed his beloved pointed arch over the doors and windows.

Meanwhile, he also published two smaller academical treatises.

In the winter of 1841, he undertook a new journey to Italy across the Alps, which were covered with snow and ice. The exclusive object of this was to complete the editing of the “Book of the Dead,” which had been already prepared, and which was mentioned above on page 95. As a well-known scholar and member of the board of directors of the Archaeological Institute at Rome he was now received at Turin with particular consideration, and had freely placed at his disposal a new copy of the great Turin “Book of the Dead,” which had been brought thither by Barucchi, the manager of the museum. But this was not sufficient for him, and there was still much for him to do before his own copy gained that accuracy which distinguishes it.

“I ought to leave here to-morrow in order to keep to the time fixed upon,” he writes to Bunsen, on February 18, 1841; “but it is not possible for me to finish yet. I need at least two days more to complete all that is of most importance. I go to the museum at half-past eight; they are not up there before that; I stay there the whole day, except from four till quarter of five, my meal-time; from the table I go back again and work until ten or half-past ten o’clock. I cannot work at the great papyrus by candlelight, for fear of injuring something, but then, I have the finest things to look over to select for copying, all of which I had not found when I was here first.” Altogether, he now perceived that during his former visit much had been intentionally withheld from him; this time everything was entrusted to him, and he made the most profitable use, for his chronological purposes especially, of the large “Papyrus of the Kings.” He had busts cast in plaster, from the finest images of the Pharaohs, for the Berlin museum, and amongst the treasures of Turin the idea occurred to him of publishing the most important records of the time of the Pharaohs as a separate work. This accordingly appeared in 1842.[40]

He employed the draughtsmen Weidenbach before mentioned, on this work and on the edition of the “Book of the Dead,” and he expressed to Bunsen his delight over the great progress made by these artists on the path which he had indicated to them.

On his way home he visited Bunsen in Bern, spent several happy days in the circle of the ambassador’s family, and then tarried for some time in Munich, where v. Zech was his “cicerone,” and where he established relations with Cornelius and other men of celebrity. He enjoyed the most frequent and agreeable intercourse with Schelling, of whom he says “his nature is as great as it is lovely.” The latter had just accepted a call to Berlin, (at first for one year only) and Lepsius says he was going thither with great hopes of success and of exercising a salutary influence. “He is convinced beforehand of the victory of his good cause, since it is not a question of bare negation and opposition, such as he reproaches Stahl with, (who only filched from him), but he has something to advance which is new and positive, and will make a place for itself. He must either be refuted, or he must convince and prevail. As, according to his firm conviction, he cannot be refuted, the latter must take place. Besides the foregoing alternatives, it is true that another occurred to me, but about that I naturally kept silence. Good fortune to him!”

Refreshed and satisfied with the results of this journey he devoted himself at home with all his energy to the editing of the Umbrian and Oscan inscriptions[41] which he had collected in Rome.

In the following year two more of the fruits of his Italian labors came to maturity,[42] and were received with universal commendation.

One sees with what bee-like industry he made use of this time of waiting. This was duly recognized, for before he set out on the Egyptian journey, he was appointed Professor Extraordinary at the University of Berlin, and thus the first chair of Egyptology was founded at that university. There was already a similar one at Leipsic, but the improper course adopted by Seyffarth, for whom it had been founded, gave little encouragement to other universities to extend support to Egyptologic studies. In this way it had happened that Lepsius’ proposition, that a professorship in the Berlin University should be conferred upon him, had been rejected; but Humboldt had recognized the qualifications of the applicant, and in 1841, as soon as he returned home from a protracted stay in Paris, he interested himself in the matter. As usual, he carried through what he desired, and on the twenty-sixth of January, 1842, Lepsius received the appointment as Professor Extraordinary of Egyptology, and in addition, the grant of a small salary. It is true that the newly appointed Professor could not begin to lecture; for the completion and publication of the works mentioned above claimed much of his time, and the preparations for the Egyptian journey still more.

Frederick William IV., of Prussia, was a monarch whose unpractical, romantic disposition took the greatest delight, not only in the luxuriant, many-colored, fragrant bloom of Indian civilization, but also in the mysterious and immemorial magic of the Egyptian. He had given willing audience to Humboldt and to Bunsen. The ambassador had been exchanged from Bern to London in 1841, especially in order that he might carry out the wishes of his master regarding the evangelical episcopate in Jerusalem. Both these men were in particularly close relation with the king, and on this account they were more likely than any others to succeed in winning the monarch over to Lepsius’ project of travelling.

Already, as Crown Prince, the King had acquired the Passalacqua collection of Egyptian antiquities, as well as negotiated for the purchase of other similar collections.[43] He had taken pains to place this treasure in the Monbijou palace at Berlin, and entrusted the care of it to Passalacqua. In his youth the scientific event of the deciphering of hieroglyphics had excited his special attention, and Bunsen, who had long been in close relations with him, both as a man and as his most eminent statesman, had been assiduous in preserving his interest in Egyptian antiquity. He had kept the monarch informed as to the progress of Egyptology, before his own protégé had even thought of undertaking a voyage on the Nile.

Humboldt now joined with Bunsen to induce the king to bestow his powerful support upon the young Prussian, who, even at that time, might be considered the most worthy of Champollion’s successors.

Lepsius had his plans to make; Humboldt talked over each separate point with him in the most careful manner, and thus there ripened in them both the wish, to transform the journey of a single scholar into a scientific expedition. Lepsius must of course keep the leadership, and there was also committed to him the choice of those persons to be especially employed in carrying out his own purposes. But he had to consult with Humboldt on the greater or less fitness and necessity for the appointment of the corps of assistants who were to be taken, as well as on the capabilities of each single member of the expedition. He had to submit to him exact estimates, both in writing and by word of mouth, in regard to the prospective expenses and the time to be consumed, as well as of all that he hoped to gain, and the collections which he expected to make on the way, before Humboldt would undertake to present to the king the “memorial” which had been drawn up for the purpose, and to influence him to the final decision.

Lepsius had designated, as one of the principal objects of his journey, the collection of beautiful and interesting monuments of the time of the Pharaohs, to be added as a new embellishment to the Egyptian museum in the palace of Monbijou at Berlin. This purpose of the expedition, which Humboldt knew how to dilate upon, won the entire approbation of the King, and accordingly he approved the contents of the “memorial” which had been presented to him, endowed the expedition with abundant pecuniary resources, and commended it, and especially its leader, by means of a warm autograph letter, to the great Muhamed ‘Ali, who at that time ruled over the valley of the Nile with a strong hand. He also bestowed upon the travellers superb vases, from the porcelain manufactory at Berlin, as a gift for Muhamed ‘Ali, in order to lay the viceroy himself under an obligation and to secure for the expedition the favor of that monarch.

Everything was now ready for the departure, but before Lepsius started he had to set his affairs in order. Several undertakings had been brought to a successful issue, and all the most important preparatory work was finished for the book which he and Bunsen were to publish in concert. Yet it was this very enterprise which filled him with the greatest solicitude. Frankly and honorably he disclosed to his revered patron everything that disturbed him, in the admirable letter in which he tried to induce Bunsen, to absolve him from co-operation in the work which they had planned. The differences of opinion between them had become more and more sharply defined, and the elder scholar had been as little able to convince the younger, as the younger to convince him. It seemed to Lepsius impossible to present side by side two different opinions in a work which must yet pretend to unity of thought. He justly attributed to Bunsen the most magnificent ability for the handling of great historical problems; but considering his wide command of this field, and that in chronology also he was able to pursue his way independently, Lepsius regarded his own intervention as a mistake, both practically and essentially. He was indeed most disturbed by the circumstance that no one would be in a position to distinguish between his and Bunsen’s work, whence they must both be subjected to erroneous criticisms. He, Lepsius, wished to reserve his manuscript till the completion of his travels; Bunsen would soon be able to send his work to press. He besought the latter not to wait till his own return from the journey, but to proceed independently without delay, and to use as entirely his own, all the material regarding which they had come to an agreement. To put it off would only be to renew the old doubts, and to begin afresh the conflict which had been once waged without result. He would be ready and glad (and this promise he fulfilled), to make an abstract for him of all the names of kings written in hieroglyphics, and prepare them for the press.